24

Aura was barely conscious when one of the men kicked open the door to Room 4A. Through foggy eyes, she saw Dream let out a startled cry and Twinge jump a foot into the air.

The two men hurled her into the center of the room.

“What happened?” Twinge cried.

“She had an accident,” Joseph said. They closed the door behind them.

Twinge was the first at her side. “Aura. Honey. What happened to you?”

She tried to roll over. Her bodily control was returning, but she ached all over. The burning sensations in her nether regions stung and her skirt reeked of urine.

Just moving her mouth hurt. “Ran into a door.”

“Don’t chainmail me. What did they do to you? And why? Where have you been all this time?”

For some reason, looking into Twinge’s eyes, seeing someone who actually appeared to care, made her eyes swell. She must look like a real dog biscuit. “I went…snooping.”

“They punished you for snooping? Sweetie, look at yourself.” Twinge held up a hand mirror. Her face was bruised. Her uniform was torn. Her limbs hung at unnatural angles, like an artist’s mannequin in the hands of a maniac. “They must’ve been seriously pissed off. Why?”

She thought for a long hard moment, even though thinking made her head hurt a thousand times worse than it already did. What could she tell them? About the Shines chained up underground? Her mother? Coutant said if she so much as hinted about any of it to any of the other girls, she’d send them downstairs. And then maybe Coutant would go after their mothers.

“I got mouthy. With Coutant,” she replied simply. True as far as it went.

“And she did this? I’d call that a major overreaction.”

Dream made a growling sound. “Now I’m especially glad I rebuffed her advances.”

Twinge’s face contorted. “Coutant came on to you?”

“Don’t be naive. They all do.”

“Right. Aura, sweetie, how do you feel?” Twinge laid a hand gently on her head, running her fingers backward through her blue bangs. “Looks like they really did a number on you.”

Yesterday she was sure all these girls hated her. Now she saw only concern. Which convinced her she must look like a rag doll chewed up by a rabid dog.

“If you don’t stop stroking her hair,” Dream said, “I’m gonna think you care a little too much. Like maybe you should be in LL with Tank and the others.”

She squinted at Twinge. “LL. What—does that mean?”

“Oh, sorry. You didn’t get the codebook, did you? Lesbian Lounge.”

“Tank is—”

Dream waved a hand in the air. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Twinge cut in. “Stop already. She is not.” Pause. “Well, I don’t know. Who knows? We don’t know. That’s just a snotty thing Dream likes to say.”

“Like you haven’t thought it.”

“Okay, so maybe I’ve been a little snotty, too. Maybe we all have been. This is a crappy place and it gets to you.” Twinge gently hoisted her off the floor and moved her to her bed. For a petite supermodel-type, she had some real muscles on her. “Maybe we all need to be a little nicer to each other. Just because this place sucks doesn’t mean we have to.”

Dream laid a finger on her nose. “Rules for life, Twingie. Never explain, never apologize. And especially never apologize for expressing your opinion. Bitch Power, that’s our strongest asset.”

“That isn’t illegal yet.”

To everyone’s surprise, Harriet suddenly spoke. “Shine Bitch Power—that’s the strongest force on earth.”

Dead silence for several seconds…then they all burst out laughing.

She wiped her eyes clear. “Stop. It hurts.”

“What do you know?” Twinge said. “Our resident nerd made us all laugh.”

“I’m not a nerd,” Harriet whispered. “I’m just…quiet.”

“If you were any quieter, you’d be invisible.”

“Sometimes I wish I was.”

That settled things down a bit.

“Come over here, Harriet,” Twinge said.

Harriet took a step out of her chair…and Twinge grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close.

“Ow!”

Twinge squeezed her with maximum strength. “That’s called a hug, Harriet. You’re supposed to say Thank you, not Ow.”

“It kinda hurts.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Who says I want to get used to it?”

“I do. So you can start being one of the gang, instead of an alien observer.”

She managed to prop herself up on one wobbly elbow. “I thought we were all going to start being nicer to each other.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” Twinge knelt by the side of her bed. “You’re not going to tell us what really happened to you, are you?”

She peered deep into those ebony eyes and could see that Twinge was genuinely concerned, genuinely wanted to help. Apparently her heart was big enough to embrace people her brain didn’t like. But she couldn’t tell Twinge anything. She couldn’t be responsible for having anyone else end up below the stables. “I’m sorry. I—can’t.”

“So you’re keeping secrets,” Dream said. “And you think that’s a good technique for making friends?”

“Friends?” She turned away. “You all hate me.”

The three other girls looked at one another. “We do?”

“Well—you act like it.”

More exchanged looks. “We do?”

Twinge jumped in. “Sister, you need to consider the source. We’re all miserable here. We’re all prisoners. You can’t expect us to be perky all the time.”

“Besides,” Dream said, “Judy has an exclusive on perky. By the way, I give great massage. That’s another of my many secret talents. One of the legal ones.” Dream crossed the room to her bed. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

“If I give you that kind of massage, they’re gonna put me in the LL.”

More laughter. She clutched her stomach—and realized a second later that she was able to control her arms again. Shaky. Uncertain. But her body was recovering from the drugs and the cattle prod.

“This is an extremely mean-spirited conversation,” she noted.

“Which of course is why we’re all laughing so hard.”

“You rest,” Twinge said, placing a hand on her cheek. “But once you’ve had a chance to recover…we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About what we’re going to do. We can’t just let these pigs beat up on you and do nothing about it. You’re in 4A, girl. We stick together.”

Dream stared at her. “We do?”

“What we need,” Harriet said, in a voice so soft she wondered if hidden mikes could pick it up, “is to get out of here. Would you be up for that, Aura?”

“I can’t do anything. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“What, like when you were being tortured?” Dream said. “I’m pretty sure that’s a nonbinding agreement.”

“Still. It could be dangerous for everyone.”

Twinge crossed her arms over her chest. “I for one am not content to see my roomie get run through the ringer and then go on like nothing happened. You hear what I’m saying, girl? I hate this place. Don’t you?”

“I despise everything about it,” she answered. “Well.” She glanced out the corner of her eye. Could she afford to be that honest? “Maybe not my one-on-one sessions with Mark.”

“He is kinda dreamy, isn’t he?” Twinge agreed.

“Mark? Mark Maddox?” Dream said. “The who-traumatized-you-during-your-childhood guy? Eeew.”

“He’s hunky.”

“He’s like not even cute enough for me to talk back to.”

“That’s not what you said before,” Harriet whispered.

Dream appeared outraged. “What are you hallucinating about? I’ve never even mentioned the man.”

“After your first session. You said you’d do him till candy fell out.”

“I did not.”

“You said it on the phone to your friend Valerie at home.”

“You eavesdropped on my conversation?”

Harriet shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“Your memory is playing tricks on you.”

“No.” Harriet held up a spiral binder. “I put it down in my journal.”

“You keep a journal?”

“Of course she does,” Twinge said. “All morbidly despondent girls keep journals. Right?”

Harriet’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I told you before. I’m just quiet.”

“Well, that’s better than being Little Miss Clinical Depression.”

Aura sat up. “Wait a minute. I thought I was Little Miss Clinical Depression.”

Harriet nodded. “We can share the sash, Aura.”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Dream said. “You were spying on me.”

“I am not a spy.”

“Give me that.” Dream snatched the journal away. Harriet did not resist.

“Where did you write—” Dream stopped short. “What is this gibberish? Some kind of code?”

“A different language.”

“I’ve seen a lot of languages, girl, and I don’t recognize this one. What language is it?”

“One I invented.”

“You invented a language?”

Harriet shrugged. “I have a lot of spare time here. In my head, I mean.”

“Then we need to channel your mental energy in a different direction. Does everything here bore you?”

“I like hypnotherapy,” Harriet replied.

“Really?” Dream said. “You prefer Dr. Hope of the mammoth mammaries to stubble and dreamy-eyed Mark?” She drew back. “This must be like women’s prison. Everyone goes gay for the stay.”

Another pause. Then more giggling.

“This is getting stupid,” Twinge said, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Aura. We should be ministering to your wounds or something.”

“This is,” she replied, “exactly what I needed.” She said it before she even realized she had thought it.

“For whatever it’s worth,” Dream said, “I like hypnotherapy, too. Very relaxing. I fell asleep during my first session.”

“Get out of here.” Twinge slapped her forehead. “So did I!”

“And me,” Harriet added quietly.

“I think we all did.” She remembered that first session much too well. And what she learned when she explored Dr. Hope’s office. “Afterward, did any of you notice an abrasion around your temples?”

“Mine ached a little,” Twinge said. “Like I’d been stung by a bee. But it didn’t last long. And it only happened the first time I was in there.”

“Nothing happens to this bod of mine without me noticing,” Dream added. “Definite redness at the temples. Thought I was getting zits.”

“That’s creepy,” Twinge said. “Do you think Hope was…doing something to us?”

“I know Hope was doing something to us,” she replied. “I checked out that big padded chair and found some kind of electronic helmet that comes down. And a syringe. I don’t know what was in it. Or what Hope was trying to get.”

“Eeew,” Dream said. “I knew there was something wrong with that woman and those oh-so-nineties scoop-neck blouses. Of course she couldn’t resist the chance to get her hand under my skirt.”

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

Twinge leaned forward. “Aura, do you know what’s going on here?”

“No.” She lowered her voice. How much could she say? They deserved to know as much as she did, little though that was. But she didn’t want to put them in danger. “I think something strange is going on. I think they have a secret agenda—something more than just imprisoning or rehabilitating Shines.”

“You know what?” Dream said. “I think we all need to talk to one another more.”

“What we need,” Twinge said, “is to get the hell out of here. You have any problem with that, Aura?”

She held a finger to her lips.

Dream wrinkled her face, puzzled.

Twinge touched a finger to her nose.

“Are we playing charades?”

Twinge pointed to her eyes, then her ears, then swirled it around in a circle thrust toward the ceiling.

They are watching us. And listening to us. At all times.

Twinge held up a single finger. Okay, charades then. One word.

She exaggerated sneaking toward the door in overblown giant steps.

Escape.

A wave of nausea rushed over her. She had promised not to snoop, not to cause any more trouble. If they got caught trying to escape, her mother would suffer. Everyone would suffer.

But Beverly suffered already. And it would never end if they didn’t do something to stop it. And she never specifically promised not to try to escape. That wasn’t snooping. Exactly…

She’d be damned—literally—if she’d let them keep her mother locked in that cell with those hideous—bugs, or whatever they were, crawling all over and inside her.

But how could they plan anything when they were trapped here? How could they escape when they weren’t even free to communicate?

Unless…

She leaned back and rested her head against the pillow. “You know, I’ve always been fascinated by languages.”

Dream blinked. “You have?”

“Harriet—do you think you could teach us your language?” She gave the girl a direct look. “Quietly?”