When I leave Mr. Martin’s office, Carolyn’s not there anymore.
But Deb is waiting for me. “Come with me,” she says, and I follow her into another room, one I’ve never seen before. It’s a small bedroom, with a single bed and modest furnishings. There is a Bible on the desk and a photograph of Deb and a dark-skinned man with a mustache and his pants pulled up way too high. This must be her room for when she’s not on dorm duty.
“What are we doing in here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t I be packing or something?”
“You won’t be allowed back into the dorm until the other campers are safely down at the field cabins.”
Safely. Of course. They don’t want to risk me and Carolyn infecting the other girls with our sickness.
And then, way too late, it dawns on me that it’s not just the other campers they’re keeping us from—they’re keeping us apart from each other too. This tiny room is a cell, and Deb, standing there in front of the door with her arms crossed, is the prison guard. A bud of panic sprouts in my stomach. “Where’s Carolyn?” I say cautiously.
“With Kaylee.”
“Can I see her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” she retorts.
I stare into Deb’s flat eyes and sink down into the desk chair, suddenly sick to my stomach.
They’re keeping us separated. I’m not going to get a chance to say good-bye.
Oh my God—I don’t even have her contact information. All I really know is her first name and that she’s from Connecticut. That’s pretty much the same amount of information she has about me. How are we ever going to find each other again?
Think fast, Lexi.
“Is that your brother?” I say, pointing to the picture. Maybe if I can somehow get Deb to open up, she’ll help me.
“That’s my husband,” she replies flatly. “Now be quiet.”
“You must miss him,” I say. “Do you get to talk to him much while you’re here?”
She shoots me a look that says, I told you to be quiet. That’s the only answer I get. Her face closes off even more, like she’s a robot powering down.
I sigh and lay my head down on the desk like I used to do in study hall. Or I guess I still do that in study hall. It seems like years since I was in school, but I’ll be back there in a matter of weeks.
Senior year. Back to my boy-crazy friends and Zoë acting like I don’t exist and senior pranks and homecoming and planning for college. But even with all the tedium, it won’t be the same as it was. Because I’m different. I’m not going to hide anymore.
I just really need Carolyn to help me through it.
Why the hell didn’t we exchange our contact info?
***
About an hour later, Arthur knocks on the door. “Lexi can pack her things now,” he says.
I follow Deb up the stairs and to the girls’ dorm, where Carolyn’s bags are already packed and waiting on her neatly made bed. She’s not there though.
It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. Even if I have to call every single sixteen-year-old Carolyn in the entire state of Connecticut, I’ll find her.
I get to work neatly folding my clothes and wedging them all in my suitcase. Deb insists I take all the makeup and beauty products I’ve accumulated over the course of the summer, so they go in next, followed by my shoes. The suitcase is heavy and full, near bursting at the zippers, but it feels empty. Because it’s missing something.
“Hey, Deb?” I say.
She comes over to my area. “Yes?”
I say a quick, silent prayer. I need this to work. “Daniel has my book. Would you be able to get it back from him for me?”
She purses her lips, considering. I don’t know if she knows about the map or Carolyn’s and my notes to each other inside or not, and she doesn’t let on now.
I look at her, pleading. “Please? It’s really important.”
Finally, she nods. “I’ll be right back. Do not leave this room.”
I nod. Where would I go anyway? Wherever Carolyn is, she’s being guarded.
After Deb leaves, I rummage through Carolyn’s stuff, looking for anything that might help me find her. There are clothes, a half-completed sweater still attached to her knitting needles, running shoes, her purple rhinestone headband, but nothing helpful.
I hurry back to my bed, tear a blank page from my journal, and write—as neatly as I can—my address, email address, and cell phone number.
Then I add: I’m not sorry we got caught. I’m going to tell my mom everything. I love you.
I fold the paper into a neat square and slide it into the side pocket of Carolyn’s duffle bag.
Satisfied, I go back to my own area and settle in to wait.
Fifteen minutes go by then thirty. Deb’s taking a lot longer than she should. Was she lying? Maybe she had no intention of getting my book back for me after all. Or maybe Mr. Martin or Brianna confiscated it as, I don’t know, evidence or something.
I’m beginning to give up all hope of ever seeing the book again when Deb comes back in. She hands the tattered paperback over to me. “This took forever to find,” she says, annoyed. “Daniel didn’t have it.”
“He didn’t?”
“No, Matthew had it with him in the infirmary.”
He did? That’s weird. Daniel had it in the woods with him only a couple of hours ago. How would Matthew have gotten ahold of it? And why?
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry about that. Thanks for getting it back.”
Deb nods and settles into her chair to resume the Great Watch. My mom’s due to arrive in about three hours.
I’m itching to open Gatsby, but I force myself to wait a suitable amount of time so Deb doesn’t get suspicious. It seems she didn’t open the book on her way back to the dorm—she doesn’t know all the secrets it contains. After about twenty minutes or so, I casually open the book as if I’m planning on reading for a while. But I discreetly flip through the pages, searching for a hint as to why Matthew would have had the book.
And there it is, on page 169, in the chapter-ending blank space just after Gatsby is shot.
Hey, Lex—
Matthew has scrawled.
Daniel told me what happened. For what it’s worth, he feels really bad about ratting you guys out. And even though he used the map to find you, he never let the book out of his hands. So no one else has seen what’s in it. Maybe that’s a sign that he’s on his way to changing his mind about all this crap. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Anyway, I guess I’m not gonna get a chance to say good-bye, so I just wanted to tell you what a great friend you’ve been to me this summer and that you better keep in touch or else!
I’m so happy for you and Carolyn—you guys are perfect together. When you get married, I want to be your maid of honor.
Talk to you soon, Lexi. Love ya! And remember, don’t let the man get you down.
Xoxoxoxo Matthew
matthew.hilson8@mail.com
I smile, tuck the book safely away in my suitcase, and curl up on the bed, taking in the pink dorm room for the last time.
***
I’m jolted awake by Mr. Martin’s voice. “Lexi.”
I rub my eyes and sit up. “Yes?”
“Your mother is downstairs.” He spins on his heels and walks away.
This is it.
Time to face my mom.