SOFI
I didn’t know if Darja had developed some kind of magical ghostly teleportation powers or what, but she had flickered out of existence before I could open my mouth to respond.
“Right,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll just drive over to the koolis. No big deal.” I retrieved my car keys from the top drawer of my bureau before grabbing a cardigan I’d left hanging over the desk chair. I pulled it on over my thin t-shirt.
I’d never been to the koolis. It wasn’t off-limits, exactly. It was just…not a place you wanted to be seen. I didn’t know what Darja’s story was, why she’d been there or for how long, but I’d heard the rumors at school, the whispers that circulated each week when the koolis girls joined our classes for the day. The koolis was where they sent the troublemakers. The girls who didn’t follow the rules. The girls who needed rehabilitation. It was best to steer clear.
But I’m breaking all the rules today, I thought, warily poking my head out of my room and glancing down the hallway. No one was in sight, and I stepped into the hall and pulled the door to my room shut behind me. I crept as silently as I could down the hall toward the kitchen.
I didn’t need to worry, though. The house was empty, the rest of my family having already left to set up the fairgrounds for the festivities that afternoon. Still, I was cautious as I let myself out the kitchen door and made a beeline for the driveway. I felt like a criminal. It wasn’t that I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, but I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone why I wasn’t in bed catching up on the missed sleep from the night before.
My car was a much-dented and heavily-abused Honda Accord with well over two hundred thousand miles. It was more rust than paint at this point, and the check-engine light had been on for as long as I’d had it, but it always started right up and never gave me any trouble. And—most importantly—I’d bought it myself, with my own money, after working two summers doing inventory at Kask Family Market.
My eyes were gritty with lack of sleep as I slid into the worn seat and started the engine. I pulled out onto the road and turned north. I may have never been to the koolis before, but everyone knew where it was.
Physically, I felt exhausted, like my limbs were too heavy and the morning sun was too bright for my tired eyes. Mentally though, I knew there was no chance I’d be able to sleep. My mind was still spinning, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. Compared to Darja, I felt like I had no room to complain, but nevertheless, it was as if I were a stranger in my own body, like everything I’d ever known or believed had been turned upside-down, and I didn’t know how to make things right again.
I didn’t want to be bonded to a dead girl. I didn’t want to be able to see her, or hear her, or know what it was like to be dead. I wanted to go back to when everything was normal, when my biggest worries were if I would be late to school or if my dad would be mad that I forgot to keep the cat out of his office. Barring that, I wanted someone I could talk to about all this. Someone who was alive, and normal, who wouldn’t think I was crazy or lying or seeking attention. Someone who didn’t think that what had happened the night before was somehow okay. Somehow justified.
The roads weren’t busy at this time of morning, and I passed through a green light and turned east, barely paying attention to my surroundings as I drove, my body on autopilot.
I shook my head, my thoughts still cast back to the night before. Why did no one else seem to have a problem with what had happened? They’d murdered a girl, right there in front of half the town, and no one had said a word. No one had seemed even mildly upset. If anything, they treated it as an occasion to celebrate. Was it really just because they believed that Darja had gone willingly, had offered herself as a sacrifice?
I thought of the other three girls around the fire with me. They had seemed to be struggling too, until Eliise had assured them that it was a choice Darja had made. Would I have been so easily convinced if I hadn’t known otherwise? Would I have dismissed Darja just as they had? I wasn’t sure, and that scared me even more.
But I did know otherwise, I reminded myself. Darja had been drugged, and sacrificed unwillingly, and unknowingly, and awake. Surely no one would be okay with that if they knew. Surely.
I drew in a sudden breath as a thought crossed my mind, a thought I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to consider. This may be the first time the binding had worked in centuries, but it was certainly not the first time they had tried. Every single adult woman in Vaikesti had been through her own Spring Day Ceremony. That meant a sacrifice every year. What about those girls? Had they been unwilling? Had they known their fate? My stomach twisted and I felt sick.
And what about the men? I knew the boys of our community had their own coming-of-age ceremony, but it was just as shrouded in secrecy as that of the women. Did their rites involve a sacrifice, too?
My mind racing with the implications of these realizations, I didn’t even register the sound of the siren behind me until the flashing lights strobed through my car, blinding me with their reflection in the rearview mirror.
“Shit,” I exclaimed, my hands clenching on the steering wheel as my gaze dropped to the speedometer. I’d been going well over the speed limit.
I quickly braked and pulled over to the side of the road, cursing my luck. I’d only been about a mile from the turnoff to the koolis. I was sure that between my lack of sleep and the stress of the past hours I probably looked like hell, but still I tried to smooth my expression into an innocent smile as I rolled down my window.
I’m just a normal teenager on her way to do normal teenager things.
But when the officer reached my window and leaned down, surprise wiped any other expression from my face.
“Jared?” My voice came out in a squeak.
The familiar face peering in at me was young and handsome, only a few years older than me. He had thick dark hair that he’d always worn long and unruly, with a lock in the front that tended to fall in his eyes. Sometime since I’d last seen him he’d had it cut short and styled away from his face. If you’d asked me last year, I would have said that the thought of Jared Braden cutting his hair would be a travesty, but in fact, the cut looked great on him. It made him seem older, more put together. And the uniform didn’t hurt either. My face flamed red.
His handsome features were arranged in a quizzical smile.
“I remember you,” he said, putting his hands on the door frame and leaning in to peer at me. “Sofia…something. Right?”
I felt my cheeks heat further, torn between whether to be pleased that he remembered me or embarrassed by the whole situation.
“Sofi,” I confirmed with a nod. “Sofi Ilves.”
“That’s right. You were a couple of years behind me. What are you now, a junior?”
“Senior. Well, I mean, I just graduated.”
“Oh, congratulations.” His smile was warm and seemed genuine, and I was suddenly reminded of why I used to be so smitten with him.
Jared Braden had been three years ahead of me in school, the same age as my brother Henri. Old enough that we hadn’t moved in the same circles, but our school was small enough that I’d known of him. But then, everyone had known of Jared. He was the golden student. He was smart and popular; the teachers loved him because he always had the answers and aced the tests—he made them look good. The girls loved him because he was handsome and popular and athletic. And the guys loved him because his dad was the sheriff and he had ways of making small infractions disappear.
But me…I’d always liked him because, despite it all, he’d always seemed genuinely nice. Also, he was a townie, not a Vaikesti kid. And while dating outside of the community wasn’t exactly forbidden, it was certainly frowned upon, and while I’d never been much of a rule-breaker, it still served to give him an extra level of allure.
“Thanks,” I said, then nodded to his uniform. “Congratulations to you, too. I’d wondered what happened to you after high school. I haven’t seen you around.”
He glanced down at his dark blue uniform and shrugged self-consciously. “Yeah, I took some college classes then went to the Academy in Springfield. You can’t join the force here until you’re twenty-one.”
“Oh, did you just graduate then?”
He nodded. “Last month.” He gave a short laugh. “You’re actually one of the first people I’ve pulled over for speeding.”
Suddenly I remembered what I’d been doing, where I was going, and the levity of running into an old crush evaporated like it’d never existed.
Jared must have misinterpreted the shift in my demeanor, because he hurried to reassure me. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a ticket. Just let me check your license and registration and I’ll let you get going. You guys have a festival today, right? I’ve seen a ton of cars heading to the fairgrounds all morning.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that wasn’t where I was going, just dug my license out of my wallet and retrieved my registration from the glove box. I handed them over. He flashed me a smile that on any other day would have made me swoon, and headed back to his car. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as I waited what seemed like forever before he reappeared at my window and handed the papers back to me.
“Just watch your speed,” he said with a grin that made him look younger, exactly as I’d remembered him, in spite of the more mature haircut.
“I will,” I promised with a weak smile.
“It was good to see you, Sofi.”
And then he was gone. I waved with a shaky hand as the cruiser drove by, then took a deep breath, collecting myself before pulling back out onto the road.
All thoughts of Jared had fled my mind by the time I pulled up to the main building of the koolis and parked in the small lot in the front. There was no sign of Darja, and I had no idea what to do if she didn’t turn up, and fast.
I sat in my car, feeling conspicuous while I waited. There wasn’t anyone around for the time being, but there were plenty of other cars parked in the lot. I hunkered down in my seat and cast my curious gaze over the buildings of the koolis.
The main building before me was a low one-story structure of brick and glass, well-kept but still slightly rundown somehow. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but it had a kind of lonely, neglected feel, even though the pathways were well swept and the landscaping carefully maintained. After a moment of consideration, I realized what it was that seemed off to me. For a place that served as both school and residence for sometimes up to dozens of girls, there was nothing personal about the place. No decorations in the windows, no colorful signs or announcements like the ones that had been plastered all over my own school. Nothing that gave any sense of personality or vitality. It was a perfectly fine building, but it certainly wasn’t a home.
I was just contemplating what it must be like to live in such a place, let alone grow up there, when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and shifted to see Darja skulking in the shadows near the front entryway. I blew out a relieved breath as I climbed out of my car. Even though I hadn’t made a sound, her head still swiveled toward me as if the bond between us were a physical thing that alerted her to my presence. Hell, maybe it was.
She was still standing in the shadows by the door as I approached, as though she still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that no one could see her and she didn’t need to hide. I smiled and opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything her gaze drifted over my shoulder and the expression on her face changed to one of horror. A car door slammed behind me and I froze. Darja stepped further into the shadows.
“Excuse me, can I help—?”
I turned toward the voice behind me and came face to face with one of the tajas I’d seen last night. Immediately my mind flashed back and I could see the woman moving slowly through the crowd, staggering slightly under the weight of Darja’s motionless body. My stomach lurched.
The taja clearly recognized me as well. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before the woman cleared her throat.
“Sofia, right? Are you…can I help you?”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t dare look to Darja for help. I could sense her behind me, still as a statue.
“I…um…”
“You’re here about Darja, aren’t you?”
My eyes went wide, but she continued on.
“Sometimes it can be hard to come to terms with…everything that happens during a Spring Day Ceremony,” she started gently, and just for a second something in her eyes made me wonder if maybe I wasn’t the only one having trouble accepting what I’d seen. “Sometimes it can help to learn more about the girl who was Chosen for your Ceremony. Is that it?”
I looked into the taja’s sympathetic face and saw a pleading expression under the surface, and I felt even more sure in my conviction that I wasn’t the only one struggling. This woman clearly had known Darja well. I found myself nodding.
“I’m Ms. Kross.” The woman held out her hand. Darja had stepped out from the shadows behind me and come around to the side, where she was glaring daggers at me.
“Sofi,” I responded faintly, shaking the woman’s outstretched hand, even though she clearly knew who I was.
“We need to go,” Darja hissed. It took everything I had not to look her way.
Ms. Kross released my hand, but made no move to leave. “Would you like to see her room?” she asked in a gentle voice.
I could feel the blood drain from my face even as Darja’s expression twisted in dismay. No, there was nothing I wanted less than to see Darja’s room.
I didn’t know what to do. What excuse could I make? I’d only just arrived, and Darja hadn’t bothered to tell me what we were here for anyway.
“Okay…” I answered in a weak voice, and it came out more like a question than a statement.
“No!” Darja actually reached out to grab my sleeve, but her hand passed through in an ineffectual brush of icy cold. Without batting an eye, the taja turned and headed toward the front door. There was nothing I could do but follow helplessly behind.
The experience was just as awful as I thought it would be. The dormitories were attached to the main building by way of a short covered walkway in the back, and as we navigated the long corridors of the main building Ms. Kross kept up a low stream of one-sided conversation, pointing out the library, the cafeteria, the classrooms, all while peppering her tour with information and anecdotes about Darja. Darja, for her part, trudged silently by my side, a look of pure torture contorting her features.
I didn’t want to listen. It felt like a betrayal, an invasion, but there was nothing I could do. I kept my eyes on the ground, not making eye contact as I learned that Darja had been raised at the koolis since birth, unwittingly born into the scandal of a pregnant teenage mother and an unidentified father. Her mother had, like her daughter, been chosen as ohverdus and sacrificed in a bonding ceremony at age eighteen—a fact that Darja’s sharp indrawn breath implied she hadn’t previously known. My heart ached.
I learned that Darja was smart, and had liked to bake, and had a soft heart hidden under a sharp tongue.
By the time we reached Darja’s room at the dormitory, I felt as if a thousand pound weight was crushing down on me. It was mortifying to be there, listening to Ms. Kross strip away Darja’s layers even as the girl trudged by my side, her transparent arms wrapped tightly around her middle, her face an unreadable mask.
Her room was even worse. It was practically barren, devoid of color and personality just like the rest of the building. And she had lived here since she was a child. The forlorn papers tacked to the walls and the worn quilt on the bed hardly accounted for a lifetime of memories.
I hovered in the doorway, shifting my weight from foot to foot as Ms. Kross smoothed the corner of Darja’s quilt in a way that seemed like an invasion of the girl’s personal space, and turned to me.
“Does that help at all? Do you have any questions?”
I shook my head, desperately trying to think of a way to excuse myself and run away as fast as my legs could carry me, when a loud chime sounded the hour through the hallway and Ms. Kross looked up sharply.
“Is it that late already? I’m so sorry, Sofi, but I have to get to class. Do you remember the way out?”
I nearly sagged in relief. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
She gave me a smile. “Come find me any time you have questions or need to talk.”
I plastered what I hoped was a convincing smile on my face and mumbled something banal as the taja stepped past me and disappeared down the corridor.
I stood there for a long moment before turning to the girl by my side. “Darja, I—”
“Don’t.” Her voice was a vicious rasp as she rounded on me. I hastily backed up a step.
She glared at me. “If I sense even a drop of pity from you, I’ll…I’ll haunt you.” She spun on her heel and started stomping up the hallway. “Come on,” she shouted over her shoulder when I didn’t immediately follow. “We might be too late as it is.”
Too late for what, I didn’t find out until we had left the dormitory and snuck around the side of the main building toward the back door to the cafeteria. Darja proceeded to pretend the entire fiasco of the past half hour hadn’t happened at all—something I was only too eager to go along with—and filled me in on her theory of the egg lady and the koolis’s resident stray cat.
What began as skepticism on my part began to morph into cautious excitement as she described the cat’s reaction to the old crazy woman, and when she explained that the egg lady generally stopped by around this time of morning a couple of days a week, I finally understood why she had dragged me all this way.
“She takes eggs around to some of the local markets too, and this is usually her last stop on her way home,” Darja explained, her voice low even though no one could hear her. “She must have, like, a million chickens.”
I pressed myself flat against the brick exterior of the cafeteria wall, under an overhang that cast a deep shadow against the sunlit wall, even though Darja assured me that everyone would be in class at this time of morning.
“Won’t there be people in the kitchen though, getting ready for lunch?” I hissed at her.
“Not today,” she reminded me with a sidelong glance and a raised eyebrow. “Even the koolis kids get to go to the Spring Day festival. Classes will end early and they’ll all leave before lunch. There’s probably only a couple of tajas in there right now.”
Honestly, I had forgotten all about the festival this afternoon. I shuddered at the reminder, knowing I would have to be there. As one of the Ceremony participants, it would be expected for me to be part of the festivities, honored as a new adult member of the community. I felt sick at the thought, and pushed it from my mind.
“How do you even know she’s coming today?” I kept my voice low, trying to stay flat against the wall. I had no idea what I would say if we were caught again.
“I don’t,” Darja admitted. “But she usually comes on Fridays, and it’s better than sitting around in your room wondering what to do. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”
I didn’t, which she knew, so I didn’t respond.
Time seemed to slow and stretch as we stood, me shifting from foot to foot as my legs grew sore and restless, Darja motionless as a statue. Finally, I gave up and slid down the wall to sit in the grass, grimacing in relief as the pressure eased off my aching feet. I was about to suggest that we come back another day when I heard a sound from the path that led around the side of the building toward the parking lot. My heart leaping, I scrambled to my feet, afraid it would be another taja coming around to the back door.
But Darja had positioned herself to keep watch down the path, and she waved me back as the footsteps grew closer. When the figure rounded the corner and drew into view, I saw the stooped form of an elderly woman, easily in her late sixties or early seventies. Her clothing was decidedly strange, multicolored layers of skirts and scarves, mismatched and well-worn, topped with a heavy velvet coat that seemed too warm for the bright spring morning. Her white hair was surprisingly thick and long, and she wore it tied back in a braid. In her weathered hand she carried a large basket, piled high with eggs ranging in color from white to brown to the palest blue.
The lady stopped when she saw me standing by the door, and I looked hopefully to Darja, unsure of what I should say. But Darja’s face had gone quite still, her eyes huge with shock, and when I turned back to the egg lady she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her gaze was fixed to the side, her head cocked as if to listen, and then as I watched, all the blood drained from her face and the basket of eggs slipped from her arm, crashing to the sidewalk and painting the concrete in a mess of broken yolks and shattered shells.