“I’d know.”
Alyssa’s face crumpled. “You could learn to love me,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with sudden tears.
“Maybe I could have, if I’d met you first. But I didn’t,” I said more gently.
A tear left a glistening trail down her cheek.
What was going on? Her moods shifted gears faster than a NASCAR driver in traffic. I was a jumble. Horny, guilty for making her cry, and angry that she’d put me in this position-all at the same time. “It’s okay,” I said, hugging her in what I hoped was a brotherly fashion. “Don’t cry.” That made her start sobbing for real.
I held her and patted her back until her crying fit ran out. When she seemed calmer, I started buttoning her overshirt back up.
“I’m sorry,” Alyssa said. “I’m not really a slut or anything.”
“I never said you were.”
“Ben and me, we’ve been on our own for five months, ever since Mom and Dad were killed, and it’s, I don’t know, I feel. . maybe lonely sometimes. I mean, I love my brother, but it’s just the two of us. And sometimes I could get the Peckerwoods to do stuff for me, if I did stuff for them, but that wasn’t. . I only got more lonely. And so I thought that you and me. . it would be great to have something real.”
“You do have something real.” I clasped her hand in mine. “We’re friends, okay?”
“Okay.” Alyssa pulled her sweater back on. “Do you think maybe I could stay here while we nap? Just as friends?”
“Yeah. That’d be okay, I guess.” I lay down on my back on Dad’s bedroll. Alyssa snuggled against my side, one hand flung over my chest. In seconds, her breathing evened and slowed. I lay awake, staring at the canvas ceiling until Dad called us for breakfast.
Chapter 63
I finally got a few hours of fitful sleep after breakfast. A draft of frozen air woke me, and I peered out from under my bedding, bleary-eyed. My mother was holding the tent flap open and peeking in.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping that well, anyway.”
“I just. . I had to look at you. To make sure I didn’t dream up yesterday.”
“I’m too sore to be part of your dream, Mom.” I pushed aside the layers of blankets and reached for my overcoat.
Mom brought me a pail of water so cold that a rim of ice had already formed at its edges. I brushed my teeth with Dad’s toothbrush. Icy spikes of cold stabbed my hands and face as I washed. When I finished, Mom took me to see her school.
Several clear plastic tarps were hung from poles in the center of the camp, forming a rough tent about fifteen feet square. Mom pushed aside the corner of the plastic and gestured for me to enter. Inside, about a dozen students, mostly girls, sat in a circle around the perimeter of the tent. A rangy, gray-haired woman stood in the center, reading from a warped copy of
“Melba,” Mom said, “this is my son, Alex.”
The woman looked up. “Pleased to meet you. Will you be joining our class?”
“I’ve already read that book,” I said.
“If you don’t mind,” Mom said, addressing Melba, “maybe Alex could teach this section? A self-defense seminar? He’s got a black belt in taekwondo.”
“Certainly.” Melba closed and pocketed her book.
“You could have given me a little warning,” I whispered to Mom.
“You’ll do fine.”
I stepped into the center of the makeshift room. “Saved by the sub, huh? There’s nothing more boring than English.” I looked around. Nobody was smiling.
Melba stared daggers at me. “Let’s welcome Mr. Halprin properly,” she said, extending her hand.
I reached to shake her hand, but she clasped my thumb instead and did a little stutter step, moving closer to me and bending my arm. Her other hand grabbed my elbow, her foot hooked mine, and suddenly I was flat on my back staring up at her.
“That,” Melba said, “is what is colloquially referred to as a ‘chicken wing.’ My English classes are not
A chuckle passed around the room, and I felt my face flush. “Sorry, I should have warned you,” Mom said. Melba held out her hand to help me up, but I rolled instead, coming up in a defensive stance.
“Good throw,” I said. “You know the counter?”
Melba nodded.
“Let’s demonstrate it,” I held out my hand again, and we worked through the counter-move in slow motion. Taekwondo doesn’t emphasize throws the way judo does, so Melba was better at them, but now that I was prepared, I mostly held my own. Soon I was into the rhythm of the class: demonstrating moves with Melba, coaching students, and pairing them off to practice.
I called a short break after about a half hour. “I’ve got to go check on the other classes,” Mom said.
“There are more?”
“Dozens. We do martial arts in here since it’s the biggest space we have. I call it the LGI.”
“LGI?”
“Large Group Instruction,” Mom snorted. “See you at dinner.”
We repeated the ambush that night using Alyssa as bait again. It was mind-numbingly boring; I had to fight to stay alert all night, and absolutely nothing happened.
Ben had spent the night observing the guards. He joined Dad, Alyssa, and me as we were getting ready for breakfast.
“Did you figure out an escape plan?” I asked Ben.
“Yes. But I need more time to observe the guards and confirm it will work flawlessly.”
“I don’t have more time.” My brain was stuck in a loop, thinking that Darla might not have more time, either.
“We’ve been over this,” Dad said. “You might never find her. You might get killed trying. Our family is going to stick together.”
“I know, but-”
“There’s the minor problem of the fence, razor wire, and guards, too,” Alyssa said.
“It’s not a significant problem,” Ben said. “The guard pattern has vulnerabilities, and with a simple weighted canvas sling the razor wire can be defeated. There’s a device purpose-built for precisely that. .”
Ben kept talking. I figured he might never shut up, so I talked over him. “Dad, I’m going to leave. If you want us to stay together, you’re welcome to come along.”
“That’s not going to happen. Your mother and I have a responsibility here. We’re going to do whatever we can to protect these people. Whatever that takes!” Dad was practically yelling at me, talking far louder than needed to be heard over Ben.
“It’s useless, anyway,” Alyssa said. “Walking around all night freezing my ass off. This is never going to work.”
Ben interrupted his own discourse on methods for breaching fences. “It will work. Statistically, it’s not likely to work on any given night, but with enough trial runs, it’s virtually certain to succeed.”
“Whatever, computer boy. I’m going to get a decent night’s sleep tonight for once.” She wheeled around and stomped toward the breakfast line.
Ben’s hands were fluttering at his side. “No. . no, no, no. The Sister Unit must complete Ben’s plan.”
“Jesus, Ben. It’s not always about you!” she yelled over her shoulder. I’d never seen her dis her brother like that before.
