Free Life on the Level by Zoraida Cordova Page B

haven’t seen anyone sneaking out of the building since that first time. Maybe it was a one-time orgy thing. Who knows what people do out here in the middle of nowhere?
    I lie to myself in thinking that I’m not out of bed hoping I’ll bump into Hutch again. I tell myself I just like being awake in the middle of the night. I’ve even gotten used to the taxidermy on the walls, although in the middle of the night it feels like the dead animal heads are watching me. I head down to the kitchen. I wear socks to keep my feet from making any sounds. When I get closer to the cafeteria, I hear a crunching noise. I take another step to the kitchen doors.
    Then there’s a shadow walking towards me. I duck behind the garbage can, and try as best as I can to be quiet. My heart thunders in my ears. Taylor comes strolling out of the kitchen with a black bag thrown over his shoulder.
    Then Maddie stumbles out after him and loud-whispers, “Wait up!”
    She has another black bag over her shoulder. They run into the back of the house.
    Now, I can do one of two things: I can go back to my room and try to get sleep, or I can follow them. If they didn’t have garbage bags flung over their shoulders I’d think they were just sneaking off to bone.
    Before I can talk myself out of it, but after giving them a good enough head start, I follow Maddie and Taylor out the door.
    Stepping into the cold night is almost enough to make me turn around. But the more steps I take through the grassy path, the more I commit. I get a terrible feeling in the pit of my gut. Even with what I’ve seen in my most terrible moments at backroom poker nights, I’m still not ready for what I might see.
    What is in those bags? Are they stealing our entire supply of chocolate and Doritos? How bad could it possibly be in Montana ?
    Have I really spent my whole life thinking that people from the city are worse than people from the middle of nowhere?
    Dear River, make better choices.
    At least I’ll get to tell Sky that my time here had a little bit of an adventure. Making my way up a hill in the dark to see what the sketchy ranch hand is up to, I realize that if this were a scary movie, as the non-virginal blonde, I’d die. I’d die so dead. And it might not even be the murderer that would kill me. I hear things—animals? I hope they’re animals—making noises nearby. I mean, University of Montana’s mascot isn’t the grizzly bear because there’s only one of them in the area. Did Helen even tell me how many bears were nearby?
    I stop moving as I crest a small hill. From up here I can see the dilapidated barn, and a sense of relief washes over me. It’s lit from the inside. If I wait for the wind to blow the right way, I think I can hear music. Suddenly, I know exactly what I’m going to find.
    Then I hear voices coming from behind me. I recognize Vilma’s bossy tone and Fran’s panicked whispers. I throw myself onto the ground. I haven’t done this much hiding since I lived with my mother. I forgot what hiding was like until now. I lie perfectly still, hoping the dark and the wild grass will shield me. Luckily, the women seem to be just as preoccupied with the lions and tigers and bears that prowl this countryside as I was. Fran squeals and complains about the dark, and Vilma shushes her, reassuring Fran that they’re going to be fine.
    I have to say, I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited to this party. But as the new girl, I guess I haven’t been trusted with whatever illegal activities are going on here.
    Turn back, the little Sky voice tells me. You won’t find anything good there. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, and I mean that in both the literal and metaphorical sense of things.
    All I know is that information is a powerful thing. My daddy knew that. Hell, even Hutch told me that. When the coast is clear, I keep walking toward the barn. I wonder if this can count as my daily hiking activity. (I know, I know—it can’t.) I