9

Clay’s taillights faded, and Violet lowered her forehead to her knees. Janelle, at least, was guaranteed re-education. Violet hadn’t totally failed, not quite. But her primary responsibility was to Clay, not a bunch of Christian strangers. One blessing shone out from her disaster of a mission: Khloe wouldn’t get shoved into re-education if her dad wasn’t caught. But in light of everything else, that relief seemed shallow.

Oak bark prodded her back, but Violet didn’t move from her knees-to-chest position at the base of the tree. She inhaled the dampening air and looked up into the foliage that rustled its disappointment. Even Phil and Felice might have escaped. Or maybe not. Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out. Natalia. Where are you?

Temporary retreat had been smart of Clay. He wasn’t abandoning them. He’d come back when it was safe. In fact, if she asked him to, he’d come back now. Miles away, thunder rumbled. He wouldn’t leave her in the rain, would he? She hit Reply. She could say she was hurt. She could say …

Her thumb hovered over the phone. She’d done the right thing so far. She had to keep doing it.

Even if it cost her her best friend.

“Violet.”

She jumped, scraping her back against the tree. Oh, no. Khloe. Crouched and picking her way forward, her yellow shirt a spotlight against the trees. Khloe half straightened and brushed her wind-whipped ponytail away from her face.

None of this was happening like it was supposed to.

Across the field, through a filter of ferns, sound and light drifted. Green lights rotating. Authoritative shouts. And once, a woman’s husky-voiced shout in response. Janelle.

What made a person stay behind and let her friends go free? That had to be true brainwashing.

“Hiding out in the woods? Seriously?” Khloe whispered.

“What’re you doing out here?”

“Finding you, stupidhead.”

Dumb loyalty. Violet shoved the phone back into her pocket. No luring Clay back. No “come get me” text to the con-cops. Not yet, anyway, unless she wanted Khloe to know everything.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Violet.”

“What?”

Khloe swayed forward. Violet slid toward her through the ferns. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Our purses. We left them.”

Khloe’s purse. On the shelf. Shoved behind a box, but they’d find it. Even if Clay escaped, Khloe couldn’t.

“It’s over. My life. All over.”

Violet snared her hand. “We’ll turn ourselves in right now. We’ll explain to them that you had no choice, your dad made you—”

“I’m not going to re-ed, Violet. I’m not. Ever.”

A chill washed over Violet, as if the rain had begun to fall. “They have your … our IDs.”

“And they’ll search our houses first. We can’t go back there. We’ll have to go … somewhere … until all this blows over.”

Khloe folded forward, gripped her knees, and cried. Violet wrapped her in a hug and rocked her.

“Shh, okay, it’ll be okay.” Violet rubbed her back. She had to go find a con-cop and identify herself as their spy. But she couldn’t walk away while Khloe clutched her shoulders.

“Dad and Mom, they’ll look less suspicious too, if I disappear for a couple days. Then they can say they didn’t know about me.”

“And what’ll we do, sleep in a tree and survive on fern leaves?”

Khloe shuddered against her.

“There’s nowhere to go, Khloe.”

Khloe pulled back. “This is going to sound crazy, but like a month ago, Daddy told me that if something ever happened … I think he meant something like this.”

What in the world was she talking about?

“There’s a house at the end of our block, with a big deck added on. He said somebody would come for me.”

“Somebody.” Good grief. Khloe wasn’t talking about some random person’s porch. She was talking about one of their porches. A resistance haven.

“They don’t have to know I’m not a Christian.”

No, they didn’t.

“But if you want to turn yourself in, you can, Vi. They might go easier on you if you do, who knows how it works. I just can’t start my senior year in re-ed. I can’t do it. By August, September, this will all be over. Things will be normal. We’ll laugh about it.”

In the distance, but not far enough, voices shouted to each other. Khloe hugged herself, and Violet glimpsed the two of them at ten years old, when Natalia was about to discover that they’d used her credit card to buy forbidden concert tickets online. Violet still couldn’t say how they’d expected to get there, but their logic said that Khloe’s mom couldn’t deny them transportation once the tickets were purchased. Now, despite her speech seconds before, Khloe gave Violet that same stare, the one that said, How do I survive this? The one that said, Please don’t desert me now.

The voices felt closer. Violet dragged Khloe several feet deeper into the trees, until Khloe started to run alongside her. Their fingers wove into a sweaty link.

Khloe was soon panting. “Can’t we … stop? Climb a tree—or something?”

“No.” Violet tugged her onward.

“Why not?”

“They could bring dogs in.” A tree would be nothing but a trap.

They had to run as far as they could, as fast as they could. Violet’s T-shirt stuck to her back. Feathery ferns and rough weeds tried to trip her. In the dark, she miscalculated distances, and her elbow left skin on a tree trunk.

Eventually, lights filtered through the trees before them. The voices had faded and then disappeared. Violet slowed, stopped. Khloe still clung to her hand, pressed the other to her side.

“Ow,” she whispered.

The lights ahead blinked. No, moved. White lights, red lights, and that whooshing sound. Traffic. Probably a main road, judging from the speed of the passing cars.

“Violet?”

“Let’s hope there’s a street sign. We have to figure out where we are.”

She set out toward the road. Rustling grass behind her assured that Khloe was following. She emerged into a gust of wind that dried the sweat on her back and raised goose bumps on her arms. The scent of rain filled the air around her. Perfect, if a dog tried to trail them later. Come on, sky. Rain already.

She jogged a hundred yards or so to the closest road sign, where a residential street butted up against the forest and intersected with this road.

“I know where we are,” Khloe said behind her.

“Me, too.” Mostly.

“I can find my street from here. And that porch.”

Yes. This was it. God had sent Khloe back here to continue Violet’s mission.

But Khloe would find out.

No, she won’t. Violet linked her fingers through her friend’s. Their charm bracelets clinked against each other.

“You’re coming?” Khloe’s whisper lilted with hope.

“Where else would I go?”

“Home, stupidhead.”

Violet squeezed her hand. “Overrated.”