He didn’t want me here.
Of course he didn’t. It didn’t matter how he said it, what words he used to explain it away. I closed my eyes and saw Teachers Agnes, her hands shaking. He didn’t want me. She looked out the window, the water running down the deep creases in her face as if he had just left her a moment ago. I was such a fool. He never wanted me.
Caleb reached for my arm but I shook him off. “Don’t touch me,” I said, backing away.
He was a man, he was always a man, with all his faults and tiny deceptions. And I had let him hold me, let my lips kiss his, given in to all the temptations. I had been a fool.
“I understand exactly what’s going on here. This was a game to you, wasn’t it?”
He shook his head, face pallid. “No, you’re not listening to me. I want you to stay, but you can’t—it’s not safe.” He reached for me again but I dodged his hand. You want to believe the lies, Teacher Agnes had said. It is the believer’s fault for believing.
“Please—just leave me alone!” I cried as he reached for me again. My voice echoed in the empty storehouse. Charlie turned, his hand on the window frame. The remaining boys on the porch looked up.
Caleb rubbed at the space between his brows. “We’ll talk about this later, when we’re back in the dugout. I care about you, but—”
“You care about yourself,” I snapped.
His head jerked back, as if I’d slapped him in the face. Slowly he turned, climbed out onto the porch, and disappeared among the shadows of the others. The boys quietly whispered and then surveyed the pool again, leaping into the dark water.
The room around me expanded, the air cooler without him there. I sat down at the piano, tapping out a long, scratchy C. I closed my eyes as each note of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” rang out in the storehouse, strained and out of tune. As I approached the second theme, tears escaped from my eyes. I paused, wiping them away.
“What was that about?” a voice asked behind me. Leif came down the stairs, the wood creaking with each step. Before I could respond, he collapsed onto the warped bench beside me.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. I turned my gaze to the upper floors. “What were you doing up there?”
Leif dug his fingernails into his beer can until the metal gave way. “Just looking around.” He tilted his head and curled his lips.
I’d grown accustomed to his presence around camp, to squeezing past him in the narrow corridors or acknowledging him with a nod. But right now, the last thing I wanted was another man to talk to. I kept playing the notes, trying to ignore him, but he pulled a paper from his pocket and set it in front of me as though it were sheet music.
My fingers froze on the keys.
“Where did you get that?” I asked. I grabbed the paper.
UPDATE: EVE WAS LAST SEEN HEADING NORTHWEST, TOWARD LAKE TAHOE AREA. TRAVELING ON HORSEBACK WITH ANOTHER FEMALE AND A MALE, BETWEEN SEVENTEEN AND TWENTY YEARS OLD. IF SPOTTED, CONTACT THE NORTHWEST OUTPOST. SHE IS TO BE DELIVERED DIRECTLY TO THE KING.
“I can explain. I’m—”
“Don’t bother.” Leif rested his arm on the piano ledge and pulled in another sip of his beer. His black eyes met mine. “Technically I’m a fugitive, too. I’m sure the King would want me back in his camp, lugging cement blocks on my back like a donkey.”
I crumpled the paper in my hand. I didn’t know whether to thank Leif, or to apologize. I’d moved into his camp, a stranger, put them all in danger, and lied about it. “We’re just stopping through, on our way to Califia.”
Leif appraised me, but this time there was no judgment in his gaze, simply interest. “I never thought you, of all people, would be hunted by the King. What is it you did? Killed a guard? Held a Teacher hostage? He wouldn’t want you for just running away.” He was smiling now, his expression playful. I couldn’t imagine being proud of killing someone, but he seemed charmed, my image suddenly textured in his view, these new shades creating an unexpected depth.
“I’d rather not say.” I felt queasy as I thought of the City, and the man whose face looked out from that gilded frame at School.
He pressed down on the keys, hard, the notes sounding out in the still air. I shook my head. “I know about the terrible things they do, maybe more than anyone. It’s torture living like weasels underground, knowing about the feasts in the City of Sand, the resorts and swimming pools filled with purified water. And you couldn’t imagine the camps.” He stopped playing, his gaze fixed on a clock above the piano. Moisture was trapped inside its face, and its hands were stopped at 11:11. “I had a brother, Asher—”