smiles at me before she notices my drawings hanging on the opposite wall. “Oh, these are beautiful. You have quite a talent. Do they have you signed up for art classes at the high school?”
I want to tell her about the notes and the album, about the transfer and how committed my parents still are to Pioneer, but without any real evidence, I feel like I’m not sure if she’ll believe me. Would she actually search my parents’ house if I asked her to?
“Lyla?” Mrs. Rosen prompts.
“What? Oh … I don’t have my schedule yet.”
“How was school today, by the way?” Dad asks from the doorway. He doesn’t look directly at me, but merely in my direction. He knows what Mom just did, but he’s not going to acknowledge it.
There’s no way that I can sit here and watch this little show my parents are putting on for Mrs. Rosen, but I’m not sure how to expose them either. It’s frustrating and scary and makes me feel completely out of control. The only thing that feels in my control is my ability to leave.Without another word I rush past everyone, practically knocking my mom into the wall on my way. When I get to the living area, I notice that the picture of Pioneer that was just hanging above the little kitchen table is missing. She somehow managed to take that down too.
“Lyla? Your father just asked you a question,” Mom says from behind me.
I turn to look at her. Mrs. Rosen, my mom, and my dad are standing there staring at me. Waiting.
Before they can stop me, I hurriedly scoop my bag and coat up off the floor and throw open the door. I take the steps two at a time and take off down the path between the trailers before cutting off to one side and into the woods. I run several yards before I stop to lean against the closest tree and try to catch my breath. I don’t know where to go now. Town is miles away and Cody won’t be back for at least another forty minutes or more. I look back the way I came to see if anyone followed me, but all I can see are the trailers, and beyond them, the hulking silhouette of the barn. I’m alone, but it feels like I’m being watched. Right now one of them could be out here with me, lurking in the shadows, taking more pictures. Every snapping twig or rush of wind makes me more and more certain of it.
We have no life here on this earth. No future. So why should we care about it then?
—Brian Wallace, member of the Community
NINE
“Lyla!” My dad’s voice echoes across the open area between the trailers. They’re looking for me.
Other than underneath the trailers and the woods, there are very few places to hide out here. There’s only this stand of trees and one other one beyond the barn. It won’t be long until they figure out where I’ve gone. I pull my coat on and slip my book bag over my shoulder. I’m close to the barn here. I watch as the light from inside it throws shadows across the ground. It’s darkest at the back end, where the light isn’t bleeding through the cracks in the wood siding.
I look back to see my parents’ shadows advancing between two of the trailers nearest the trees. I lunge toward the back of the barn. There’s a rickety ladder attached to the wall—leading up to a hayloft maybe? It’s dark and high enough from the ground that no one would see me. I veer left, grab the ladder before I can rethink it, and start climbing as fast as I can. Every few seconds I lookdown, expecting to see Mrs. Rosen and my parents come around the corner of the barn and spot me, but I make it to the top and into the loft without any trouble.
The light I saw from outside the barn is coming from the main space below me. I stay on my hands and knees. There isn’t any chanting or singing going on now, but I do hear Mr. Brown’s voice. I slide my feet forward slowly, pushing old hay out of the way as I go. It smells awful—like the hay’s gotten wet and moldy a bunch of times and never dried out. I put a hand over my nose and mouth. The far end of
I want to tell her about the notes and the album, about the transfer and how committed my parents still are to Pioneer, but without any real evidence, I feel like I’m not sure if she’ll believe me. Would she actually search my parents’ house if I asked her to?
“Lyla?” Mrs. Rosen prompts.
“What? Oh … I don’t have my schedule yet.”
“How was school today, by the way?” Dad asks from the doorway. He doesn’t look directly at me, but merely in my direction. He knows what Mom just did, but he’s not going to acknowledge it.
There’s no way that I can sit here and watch this little show my parents are putting on for Mrs. Rosen, but I’m not sure how to expose them either. It’s frustrating and scary and makes me feel completely out of control. The only thing that feels in my control is my ability to leave.Without another word I rush past everyone, practically knocking my mom into the wall on my way. When I get to the living area, I notice that the picture of Pioneer that was just hanging above the little kitchen table is missing. She somehow managed to take that down too.
“Lyla? Your father just asked you a question,” Mom says from behind me.
I turn to look at her. Mrs. Rosen, my mom, and my dad are standing there staring at me. Waiting.
Before they can stop me, I hurriedly scoop my bag and coat up off the floor and throw open the door. I take the steps two at a time and take off down the path between the trailers before cutting off to one side and into the woods. I run several yards before I stop to lean against the closest tree and try to catch my breath. I don’t know where to go now. Town is miles away and Cody won’t be back for at least another forty minutes or more. I look back the way I came to see if anyone followed me, but all I can see are the trailers, and beyond them, the hulking silhouette of the barn. I’m alone, but it feels like I’m being watched. Right now one of them could be out here with me, lurking in the shadows, taking more pictures. Every snapping twig or rush of wind makes me more and more certain of it.
We have no life here on this earth. No future. So why should we care about it then?
—Brian Wallace, member of the Community
NINE
“Lyla!” My dad’s voice echoes across the open area between the trailers. They’re looking for me.
Other than underneath the trailers and the woods, there are very few places to hide out here. There’s only this stand of trees and one other one beyond the barn. It won’t be long until they figure out where I’ve gone. I pull my coat on and slip my book bag over my shoulder. I’m close to the barn here. I watch as the light from inside it throws shadows across the ground. It’s darkest at the back end, where the light isn’t bleeding through the cracks in the wood siding.
I look back to see my parents’ shadows advancing between two of the trailers nearest the trees. I lunge toward the back of the barn. There’s a rickety ladder attached to the wall—leading up to a hayloft maybe? It’s dark and high enough from the ground that no one would see me. I veer left, grab the ladder before I can rethink it, and start climbing as fast as I can. Every few seconds I lookdown, expecting to see Mrs. Rosen and my parents come around the corner of the barn and spot me, but I make it to the top and into the loft without any trouble.
The light I saw from outside the barn is coming from the main space below me. I stay on my hands and knees. There isn’t any chanting or singing going on now, but I do hear Mr. Brown’s voice. I slide my feet forward slowly, pushing old hay out of the way as I go. It smells awful—like the hay’s gotten wet and moldy a bunch of times and never dried out. I put a hand over my nose and mouth. The far end of
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