won’t last long but you have to be sure you don’t let anyone know. Terminals don’t notice. The staff might. You complain of anything, they’ll give you a double dose and force you to take it. There’s supposed to be a cure, but we haven’t found it yet.”
I nodded.
“You’re addicted and you’re coming off the stuff, whatever it is. Remember, they control you. I promise it doesn’t last long.”
I’d heard of addictions. Terminals left Haven Hospital & Halls because they needed help from the outside to make them better—relieve them of the addictions they somehow got here. When they returned, those Terminals looked so spent, so worn out, I couldn’t even begin to wonder what it was that had been done to them.
“Okay,” I said.
In class, it felt like someone had hit me in the back of the head with a tree trunk. I went through the motions almost unable to see, my head hurt so.
Ms. Iverson quieted us clapping—just as she does every day—and the sound was like someone banging on a pot lid inside my skull. I felt the vibrations in my cheeks.
“Are you okay, Shiloh?” she asked. She had opened a book, waiting for the rest of us to follow her. Daniel sort of looked over at me. Abigail didn’t even make a sound. “Are you ill?”
“Oh, I’m fine, Ms. Iverson,” I said. A lie popped into my head. “I stayed up too late reading for class.” I held the book Lord of the Flies aloft. “I know I shouldn’t have, but now I’m tired.”
I blinked. I had never, never lied before because I had to. My nerves jangled.
“No more late nights, Shiloh,” Ms. Iverson said. “They’re not good for you.” She sat on her desk. “Still, I’m glad you like this bit of nonfiction. We can learn a lot about sacrifice and good-doing from the death of Piggy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In his seat in front of me, Gideon shifted. He seemed to have not heard a thing I said. Could anyone hear the banging in my head? How had this happened to the three of them and I not noticed?
* * *
“Listen,” Abigail said at lunch. My face felt fat with the pain. Swollen. “You keep right on pretending you are who you were . Watch what everyone else does and you do it. A few more days and we’re out of here.”
Abigail stood beside me, encouraging me to put more and more and more food on the plate.
“Keep going,” Abigail said. “You have to keep up with your previous intake of nutrition. The staff notices these kinds of things. It’s their job.” She nodded at me. “And anyway, the more in your system, the faster the Tonic clears out.”
I picked up my fork, seeing it tremble in my hand. It took a great effort to eat. My plate was full. Piled high. How did I consume so much before?
And then those side doors opened.
Even with my headache, I jerked my head up. The movement caused pain to shoot down my shoulders and into my palms. I dropped the fork and it spun a couple of times before it fell to the floor. When I leaned over, my skull threatened to explode off the top of my body.
Those doors. So tall. So slow. It was a torture to watch. There was that bit of a squeak, and the whole room went quiet.
I couldn’t move. No one moved.
Not any of us.
We waited.
Count! the voice in my head said. Protect yourself. Protect Abigail. And Gideon. And Daniel and the rest of the Terminals. Count!
Ms. Iverson didn’t look up from her plate. Mr. MacGee settled his napkin in his lap.
“Hello, Terminals,” Dr. King said. His voice boomed in my ears, turned my brain to jelly. A boiling emotion came up inside me, one that had never before filled me about Dr. King.
He was the reason we were all here. He was responsible. I had to look away or I might scream.
He waved, stepping through the sun that fell to the floor in a golden puddle. The sun seemed a lie, too.
Principal Harrison took huge steps, following behind Dr. King, like he needed to catch up. He fingered his ponytail. To the stage they went. Up the stairs
I nodded.
“You’re addicted and you’re coming off the stuff, whatever it is. Remember, they control you. I promise it doesn’t last long.”
I’d heard of addictions. Terminals left Haven Hospital & Halls because they needed help from the outside to make them better—relieve them of the addictions they somehow got here. When they returned, those Terminals looked so spent, so worn out, I couldn’t even begin to wonder what it was that had been done to them.
“Okay,” I said.
In class, it felt like someone had hit me in the back of the head with a tree trunk. I went through the motions almost unable to see, my head hurt so.
Ms. Iverson quieted us clapping—just as she does every day—and the sound was like someone banging on a pot lid inside my skull. I felt the vibrations in my cheeks.
“Are you okay, Shiloh?” she asked. She had opened a book, waiting for the rest of us to follow her. Daniel sort of looked over at me. Abigail didn’t even make a sound. “Are you ill?”
“Oh, I’m fine, Ms. Iverson,” I said. A lie popped into my head. “I stayed up too late reading for class.” I held the book Lord of the Flies aloft. “I know I shouldn’t have, but now I’m tired.”
I blinked. I had never, never lied before because I had to. My nerves jangled.
“No more late nights, Shiloh,” Ms. Iverson said. “They’re not good for you.” She sat on her desk. “Still, I’m glad you like this bit of nonfiction. We can learn a lot about sacrifice and good-doing from the death of Piggy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In his seat in front of me, Gideon shifted. He seemed to have not heard a thing I said. Could anyone hear the banging in my head? How had this happened to the three of them and I not noticed?
* * *
“Listen,” Abigail said at lunch. My face felt fat with the pain. Swollen. “You keep right on pretending you are who you were . Watch what everyone else does and you do it. A few more days and we’re out of here.”
Abigail stood beside me, encouraging me to put more and more and more food on the plate.
“Keep going,” Abigail said. “You have to keep up with your previous intake of nutrition. The staff notices these kinds of things. It’s their job.” She nodded at me. “And anyway, the more in your system, the faster the Tonic clears out.”
I picked up my fork, seeing it tremble in my hand. It took a great effort to eat. My plate was full. Piled high. How did I consume so much before?
And then those side doors opened.
Even with my headache, I jerked my head up. The movement caused pain to shoot down my shoulders and into my palms. I dropped the fork and it spun a couple of times before it fell to the floor. When I leaned over, my skull threatened to explode off the top of my body.
Those doors. So tall. So slow. It was a torture to watch. There was that bit of a squeak, and the whole room went quiet.
I couldn’t move. No one moved.
Not any of us.
We waited.
Count! the voice in my head said. Protect yourself. Protect Abigail. And Gideon. And Daniel and the rest of the Terminals. Count!
Ms. Iverson didn’t look up from her plate. Mr. MacGee settled his napkin in his lap.
“Hello, Terminals,” Dr. King said. His voice boomed in my ears, turned my brain to jelly. A boiling emotion came up inside me, one that had never before filled me about Dr. King.
He was the reason we were all here. He was responsible. I had to look away or I might scream.
He waved, stepping through the sun that fell to the floor in a golden puddle. The sun seemed a lie, too.
Principal Harrison took huge steps, following behind Dr. King, like he needed to catch up. He fingered his ponytail. To the stage they went. Up the stairs
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