Benny looked his letter over with his usual sneer and then snorted.
“You really think that’ll make them feel any better?” he asked. Jonathan looked down and didn’t answer. “Fine,” Benny said and handed the letter back. “Now the envelope.”
Jonathan addressed the envelope and sealed his letter inside and slipped it into the mailbag.
He saw, lost in the shadows along the far wall, the Sinner’s Sorrow standing in darkness. He looked at the rest of the boys. Their heads were down, their eyes away, the dim candlelight glinting off the shiny moving metal of their pens. With a last glance at the group, Jonathan ducked away and over to the Sinner’s Sorrow.
In the darkness, the wood was black. He ran his fingers along the top rail, worn smooth by countless sweaty, tortured hands. He bent to touch the biting edge of the sharp kneeling ridge. Outside, rain tapped on the windows. His throat tightened, and his eyes watered. His words would never make his parents feel better, he knew. Benny was right. With trembling fingertips he felt the burns on his arms through his sleeves.
Then he bent down and knelt on the punishing edge.
The pain was immediate, and familiar. He remembered the Admiral’s words from that first night: You have done terrible things, haven’t you, Jonathan Grisby? Jonathan clenched his teeth and nodded and let the growing pain sharpen and fill his brain. His breaths were tight and jerky.
The letter had brought back memories. Memories that Jonathan kept quiet and locked away, down where they couldn’t drown him. He let the pain push them back down, let it flood them away. His breathing eased. His jaw clenched even harder. His eyes closed.
“What are you doing?” The whisper snapped his eyes open. Colin was standing beside him, his eyes concerned, one hand fluttering at his neck, the other holding a half-folded paper crane.
“Leave me alone,” Jonathan whispered back in a shaky voice. He closed his eyes again.
“Thith ith crazy. Why are you on that?”
“Go away, Colin.”
“You thouldn’t let the otherth thee you. You thouldn’t let Thebathtian thee you.” A nervous hand tugged softly on Jonathan’s shoulder.
“What are you tho thad about?”
Jonathan screwed his eyes shut tighter and bit his lip until it hurt as much as his screaming knees.
“Jonathan! Come on, get off it! You’re gonna hurt yourthelf!”
“I know.”
“What? What do you—” Their hissed conversation was interrupted by a commotion behind them, at the tables.
“Sebastian! Sebastian, come look at this!” Benny’s voice was triumphant and angry. There was an ugly delight in it.
Jonathan opened his eyes and looked over. Colin was still looking at him, his pale eyebrows knit together in worry. Jonathan jumped up and brushed past him to join the scene at the tables.
“I just barely caught it!” Benny was saying. He was handing a crumpled letter to Sebastian, who had stalked over with the sword in his hand. “Look! Look at what he wrote in the fold on the back!”
The rest of the boys had jumped up and were crowding around, wide-eyed in the candlelight, a few steps back. One of the older boys, skinny with black, curly hair and a twitchy face, was standing at the table in front of Benny, eyes darting back and forth between Benny and Sebastian. Jason was his name, Jonathan remembered. Walter had said he’d been sent to Slabhenge for stealing cars. He was frowning and chewing at the inside of one of his cheeks. He was one of the ones who had joined Jonathan’s group the night before, to listen to Robinson Crusoe.
Sebastian snatched the letter and turned it over. His eyes scanned the paper and then his lips tightened into a thin, angry line. He glared up at the black-haired kid.
“Really, Jason? You?”
The kid shrugged and looked down.
“Sorry, Sebastian.” His voice was a little shaky but resigned. He wasn’t crying. His eyes slid back up to Sebastian’s. “I hate it here. I wanna go home.”
Sebastian shook his head. He looked like he was going to spit. He held the letter closer to his face and read aloud.
“We’re in trouble. All the grown-ups are gone. Please send help.”
A whisper ran through the crowd.
Sebastian set the sword on the table and reached to pull a candle in a tall brass holder a little closer.