ADDI THE BADDI
It hadn't occurred to me that I couldn't just follow Tom and Fred out of the tent until Ben grabs my wrist and tugs me back. He looks sorry and I am about to say something amusing but stupid, then it hits me; as soon as we step foot outside this tent, we are strangers.
No, worse than that: we are anti-companions hellbent on tasting the hamartia of the other. We are enemies.
I shut my eyes and think of Tom. I think of the bright blue, almost grey of his irises. Eyes that send chills down my spine when we meet. Eyes that remind me of the sky that is always above me, always watching me, always protecting me. Always weighing down on me, always superior to me, always suffocating me.
On the other side of the fence there is a marsh so dark there is hardly anything to perceive. There might as well be nothing at all. Then, I catch a ray of Tom and the black veil rises. Flowers rise from their slumber, colour returns to the world, life resumes. But it isn't long until he fumbles out of my fingers, and the bulb is switched off.
And so it goes: on, off. On, off. On. Off.
Their footsteps dissipate into the night and I feel my heart falling through my ribcage, crushing my guts. For once, Ben has nothing to contribute to the silence, though I wish he'd say anything at all. One of this dumb jokes, something oddly poetic, a vague truism. But all I hear is blood rushing like a noisy brook under my skin. Right where our skin meets is the source of this stream, not my heart where I had presumed it to be.
I yank back, retreating into my body, retreating to my side of the fence. I disappear.
***
Three days pass in an erratic storm of teen angst and fake personas. Three days and no more words are spoken to Tom. I keep my eyes downcast, in case someone should look over at the wrong time and figure out my ruse.
I'm sitting on the bed again, curled over my creased sheet of paper, the one with the flowchart of our escape plan, but I'm looking on the other side. Names cascade down the page, as many as there are fingers on my left hand. It gives them some sort of physical existence as opposed to the mirages in my mind—they make the resolution imperative. Success is the only option.
Without hesitation, someone enters my tent. It's Courtney. "What are you still doing here, Anderson?" she asks, flashing a toothy grin—I mean, she can afford it, her teeth are the exact image your dentist uses to show why you should floss.
"Stuff," I mumble, folding the paper in my palm.
"Louis's been lookin' for ya," she tells me. "Dinner started five minutes ago."
"I know. I'll be there soon." I meet her gaze and it's questioning, distrusting, cynical, and perhaps, a little pitiful. I think we both know I'm lying, at least about turning up to dinner. But she leaves without any further questions and I count myself lucky to be alone again. I wonder when loneliness became so valuable to me. When did it go from I hate being trapped in this underground prison, release me from the cage of my mind to the longer I spend around people the sicker I feel, when I wake up let me be?
Canvas flaps again and I'm about to rip every strand of hair from my head until I realise it's Ben. Louis. Ben. Ben and his bushy brows, rising as he smiles. "There you are. Y'know, Court's getting suspicious."
My gloom is forgotten. "Court?" I don't think I've ever referred to her, and if I have, it's definitely Revah, not Courtney, and she's always called me Anderson, hardly Sophie.
He pauses mid-step. "I mean, Nurse Revah. We were talking about you for like a second, and then we both left to find you—separately. It's nothing."
I scoff, but even that sounds like I'm overcompensating. So I slide off the bed and stand before him, my shoulders pressed back confidently. "It's something. Don't say it isn't."
For the first time, Ben breaks eye contact first and I know what he's done. Gone and fraternised with the enemy.
"That's besides the point," he tries to distract but I can't stop thinking about it. Romeo and Juliet. Cleopatra and Mark Anthony. American and Canadian. Birds of feather raised to fight each other. The tragedy that is waiting right around the corner, to unfold and derail our lives.
"Seriously, Addi, are you okay?"
I return to his eyes. They're so dark in this dimly lit tent. "Fine."
"Tell me something that's true."
I frown. "Why?"
"I want to know what you look like when you aren't lying."
"I'm not always lying."
"Right, I forgot you were a Ravenclaw," he kids. Then he looks past me, searching for something. "Is it so bad that I'd like to know one real thing about you? I mean, what is your full name?"
"Only if you tell me something true." I stick out my hand.
He clasps onto it. Big, warm hands closing around my frozen fingers. Up, down, and separate.
"My name is Adelaide Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. Your turn."
Ben grins broader, that stupid grin he wore that looked like whatever secret he's keeping is about to tumble out of his mouth in an unwelcome downpour. Suddenly I'm terrified of the truth. Actually, I've always been scared of it, but right now, I really don't want to hear it. It's gonna hurt. Oh man, I'm too scared to feel the burn.
"An announcement was made at dinner that a hundred and three prisoners and fifty-one troops will land at this base in ten days," he says a little monotonously. "It's time, Addi. It's time to go home."
