VIOLET, TY, THE twins and I walked down the street, carrying bags that were stuffed with a lot more than swimsuits and towels. Saffron was still wearing her goggles, and Violet had her phone in her hand, trying to find an unsecured Wi-Fi network to connect with.
“I hate this stupid phone plan,” she said.
“At least you have a phone,” Ty said. “Mine totally died yesterday.”
“So charge it at the bus station,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, dude, it’s dead dead. It was, like, fully charged and then it just went black. It won’t even turn on.”
Violet was still waving her phone around in search of stray Wi-Fi signals. “I mean, sure, unlimited texting is great, but no data? Who has no data?”
“Starbucks,” Ty said.
“Huh?”
“No, I mean they have Wi-Fi.” He pointed down the street. “I bet you can connect to their Wi-Fi.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Trying to find the schedule.” She looked at me. Bus, she mouthed silently.
“Shouldn’t we have done that first?”
She shrugged. “So if the bus isn’t here for a couple of hours, we’ll go swimming first.” She stopped walking. “Got it.”
“Come on,” Saffron said, stamping a foot. Her goggles were so tight that her eyes were squished half closed.
When we got to the Starbucks we slowed down, hanging close to the doors. “Try now,” Ty said. “I bet you can connect.”
Violet tapped furiously at her phone, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she stared at the screen.
“Why are we stopping?” Saffron demanded. Beside her, Whisper slipped her Croc off her foot and shook a pebble out.
“Got it!” Violet announced.
Saffron squinted at her. “Got what?”
“Crap,” Violet said.
Saffron giggled and nudged Whisper. “Violet said a swear!”
“Crap isn’t a real swear,” Violet said. “It’s like saying poo.”
Saffron laughed out loud. “Poo! You said poo!”
Whisper smiled, her cheeks dimpling.
Violet handed me the phone, and I looked down at the screen. It showed the bus schedule for Chilliwack to Nelson. The first thing that caught my eye was the price. “That’s like…” I added up the numbers quickly. “Four hundred dollars. More. For all of us.”
“For what?” Saffron asked. “For swimming?”
“The time,” Violet said, pointing.
I followed her finger. “Oh. Only one bus a day?”
“In the morning,” she said glumly.
“Might as well go swimming now,” Ty said.
Saffron stared at us through the thick plastic of her goggles. “What are you talking about?”
“The note,” I said to Violet. “In the mailbox. We can’t let anyone find it.”
She made a face. “Right.”
“What are we standing here for?” Saffron said. “I want to go swimming!”
Whisper’s lower lip jutted out, and the skin under her eyes was flushed blotchy pink, like she was about to cry.
“Yeah, we’re going swimming,” Ty said. “’Course we are.” He and Violet exchanged looks.
“Wolf…how about we take the girls swimming and you go back and get the note?” Violet said. “Tell Mom you got a stomach ache or something.”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to enjoy myself at the pool if I was worrying about Mom finding that note. I didn’t know exactly what Violet had written, but I knew Mom and Curtis would freak out big-time if they read it. “Okay,” I said. I pulled the twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Have fun.”
“Aren’t you coming?” Saffron asked.
I shook my head. “Nah. My tummy’s not feeling good.” I really did have a stomach ache—I didn’t even have to lie. “Here, Violet, take my bag. Saffy’s swimsuit’s in it. I’ll see you guys later.”
I sprinted back to the house, slowing down when I was half a block away in case Mom was looking. I didn’t see her though. The front door of the house was open, so Anna must be home. Maybe Mom and Curtis were in the house with her…
I stuck my head inside. “Mom?” I called out.
Anna appeared in the hallway. “Wolf. She’s not here.”
“Oh.” I took a step back.
She held up a hand. “You’d better come in. We need to talk.”
“What…” I started to ask. Then I saw what she was holding. Violet’s note. “Oh.”
Anna gestured toward the living room, and I followed, heat flaring in my cheeks and ears. “Don’t tell Mom,” I said. “Please?” I held out my hand, and she gave me the note. I looked down at it, scanning the words scrawled in Violet’s messy blend of cursive and printing: Jade and Curtis—We’ve all gone away for a bit because this trip stinks. Don’t worry, we’re fine —Vi
I looked up at Anna, trying frantically to think of some kind of lie that would keep me out of trouble.
“Where are the others?” she asked.
“Swimming.”
She looked at me skeptically. “Really?”
“Yes!” I dropped my gaze, looking down at the blue carpet, and swallowed hard. “We were going to take the bus,” I said. My voice sounded funny. “To Nelson. But it doesn’t go until the morning.”
Anna nodded but didn’t say anything. I kept staring at the carpet, which had flecks of gray and white in it. The unanswered question hung in the air: Were we still planning to go? If she asked, I’d have to tell her—and if I told her, she’d feel like she had to tell our parents. Don’t ask, I thought. Please don’t ask.
But when she finally spoke, her question was a different one. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you want to run away?”
There were so many reasons. Hating the costume, dreading the shows, the thought of all of us crammed into the van day after day. But I could put up with all of that if I had to. “Because of Whisper,” I said. “She’s stopped talking.”
Anna nodded. “Ah.” She gestured for me to take a seat on the couch, and she sat on a chair opposite me. “And your mother. Is she worried?”
“She’s worried about the future, you know?” I looked at her, trying to see if she understood. “About the bees dying and everything. And it’s like…it’s like, compared to that, nothing else really matters.”
“What do you think?” Anna asked. She was leaning toward me, her elbows on her knees.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess she’s right, sort of. She says we need to be warriors.” I swallowed painfully. “But I don’t think I can.”
“And Whisper? Do you think she can?”
“I don’t think she should have to,” I said.
Anna nodded. “Children should not have to be warriors.”
She bent her head and said nothing for a long minute. I stared at the parting of her hair—the white line of scalp that showed between the gray roots. “Are you going to tell my mom?” I asked at last.
She lifted her head to look at me and sat up very straight. “Let me tell you a story. I want to tell you how we came here.”
“Here?”
“To Canada,” she said. “My daughter was six years old. Just a little older than your sisters. And in my country—Croatia was called Yugoslavia then—there was a terrible war. Dubrovnik, where we lived, was the most beautiful city. Very old, very beautiful.” She looked at me. “But then it was attacked by the army—”
“What army? Your own army? I mean, your country’s army? Why would they attack their own city?”
Anna nodded. “It’s complicated. But yes, the country, it was at war. The Croatians declared independence and the army—the Serbians—they attacked the city. My husband was killed.”
“Oh…that’s awful. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes. It was awful,” she said. “After he was killed, I wanted to leave, but my daughter and I were trapped in the city. The army cut off electricity; they cut off water. The city—it is very old, surrounded by thick stone walls, and we were trapped inside. Under siege. Not much to eat, shots and explosions at any time, buildings on fire. My husband was gone. I thought we would die.” Anna crossed her arms. “For forty-four days, we were trapped like rats in the darkness. It seemed like the world was ending.”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t imagine it.
“But my daughter was only six. And I had to find a way to keep her safe.”
Under siege sounded medieval, I thought. Like something from a long time ago, with knights and castles and trebuchets. “What year was this?” I asked. “How did you get out?”
“It was 1991,” she said. “We escaped on a boat. Two thousand of us, mostly women and children. So crowded—six children in each narrow bunk—and the seas were rough. Everyone was sick. But we were free. And then, eventually, my daughter and I learned that we could come to Canada.”
“That must have been so scary,” I said. It made my worries seem pretty pathetic, and I figured Anna was going to say something about how I should realize how lucky I was.
“It was,” she said. “But last year, my daughter and my grandson and I went back to Dubrovnik. For a holiday. It is a tourist destination now. Cruise ships go there. It has been rebuilt—all the damage, all the missiles and rockets—you would never know.” She looked at me. “We sat in the square and ate gelato, and I showed my daughter the building where she was born. The world didn’t end after all, you see?”
I nodded. “You think my mom’s wrong? Is that what you’re telling me? That the world won’t end?”
“Well, a civil war isn’t the same as dying bees.” She shrugged. “And no one can know the future. But many times people have thought the world was coming to an end. And it has not. So I am an optimist. I think things get better, not worse.” She leaned close and patted my knee. “And I understand why your mother wants a better future for her children. That is why she is doing this. Trying to make the world better for you.”
“I know that. But…”
Anna nodded. “Yes. But she doesn’t see what you see. So you have your own battle to fight. You have to protect your little sister.”
“That’s right.” I looked at her, surprised. Was she actually agreeing with me?
“Perhaps there is more than one kind of warrior,” Anna said. She stood up, brushed her hands against her skirt and smiled. “Now, shall I get you some cookies?”