Free Black River Falls by Jeff Hirsch Page A

that shard of glass, marking out the borders of my world and hers with its tip.
    â€œI brought you a tent,” I said. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep the rain off.”
    The girl didn’t say anything, so I backed away and started assembling it nearby. She didn’t take her eyes off me the entire time. When I had it set up, I pulled the other things I’d brought her out of a backpack, holding up each one before putting it inside the tent.
    â€œFlashlight. Dry sweatshirt and socks. One can of tuna and some crackers. Bottle of water.” I pointed back the way I’d come. “My camp is just a couple minutes down that path. If you need anything else—”
    â€œI won’t.”
    There was nothing left to say, but I couldn’t seem to leave. My eyes went to the knife in her hand. The rain splashed against it, sluicing down its sides and dripping off its row of teeth. I wanted it back, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe I wanted her to feel the way I did when I held it, like I was anchored in place. Or maybe I just didn’t want her to see how much I needed it.
    â€œTry to get some sleep,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll figure out where you belong.”
    There was a rumble of thunder. I turned to go. Her voice cut through the rain behind me.
    â€œWhat if I don’t belong anywhere?”
    I stopped. Turned back. The silver key around her neck glinted in the flashlight’s beam.
    â€œEverybody belongs somewhere.”



9
    T HE NEXT MORNING , Greer and I found the boy and the girl cowering inside a shelter they’d constructed out of brush and a moldy tarp. They were all jutting bones and pale skin, livid with mosquito bites. The boy warned us away with a rusty butter knife, but after an hour or two of Greer’s patient convincing the kid dropped it and they came with us.
    When we got to the camp, they were both clearly overwhelmed, the boy most of all. He stood there rigid, his eyes wide. The girl went into big-sister mode. She grabbed his hand and drew him a little bit behind her, shielding his body with hers.
    It was hard to blame him for being freaked out. The camp was in its usual state of semi-chaos. The kids were tearing from one end of the place to the other, cleaning cabins and hanging laundry on lines strung between the boys’ cabin and the dining hall. Makela was running the show, like she always did. She stood on a chair at the center of camp, clipboard in hand, barking out instructions. Jenna and Crystal, her loyal minions and enforcers, flanked her.
    Greer came up beside me. “Is it possible that Makela was the dictator of a small country in her past life?”
    â€œWhat are they up to? It’s not like them to clean without being asked.”
    â€œThey are a constant source of mystery,” Greer said. “Yo! Astrid!”
    Greer whistled, and Astrid, Carrie, and Tomiko headed toward us. Dreamy girls with grubby hands and matted hair, they were the polar opposites of Makela and her friends.
    Greer squatted down and drew the Joseph’s Point kids close, one hand on each of their knobby shoulders. “My friends are going to find you some new clothes and something to eat. Okay?”
    The boy looked at the girl, unsure until she nodded.
    â€œNow, I’m going to warn you,” Greer added with great seriousness. “These three girls are very,
very
weird. They might try to talk to you about your auras or make you fingerpaint your feelings.”
    â€œGreer,”
Carrie complained, clearly loving that he was talking about her, even if it was to make fun.
    Astrid lifted the hem of her long, flowery skirt and dropped to her knees in front of the two children. Her white-blond hair practically glowed under a pink handkerchief.
    â€œI bet you two are hungry, right? Well, my friend Tomiko here just happens to be the best baker in the whole entire universe. Want her to make you something?”
    The boy