The Story Sisters (12 page)

T
HEY WENT ON A
S
UNDAY
. I
T WAS THE HEIGHT OF THE FALL
foliage season, and they were driving to New Hampshire. Everything was red and yellow. The whole world was shimmering. The other girls were brought along so that nothing would seem amiss. Family time. Nothing more. An adventure into the countryside. It was rare for Alan to spend even an hour with his ex and the girls, let alone an entire day. It was a stab at a new, more civilized approach to the divorce, that’s what Elv was told. In truth, Annie had to force Alan’s involvement—she’d fought and begged until at last he’d given in. Still, they must have been convincing, because there Elv was, in the backseat, sleeping. Every once in a while Annie could hear Claire and Meg whisper to each other in Arnish. They were worried, two anxious doves. Se sure gave ne?
How much longer till we get there?
Sela se befora.
What if we’re wrong?
Quell me mora.
Don’t ask questions
.

Annie was quick when it came to languages. She’d learned French by eavesdropping on her parents, and now, because of the bits Claire had taught during her recovery, she understood a little Arnish. Recently she had gone to see a therapist, who had in formed her that she should have never allowed a separate reality to be constructed, especially one that excluded parents. The Story sisters had isolated themselves from the rest of the world, as
though they were mere travelers in the here and now, meant for some other time and place. Such activities caused nonattachment, delusions, disloyalty. The world they lived in should have been enough.

Elv was stretched out, wearing the clothes in which she’d slept. They’d woken her early. She had grumbled and complained, but when she saw that her father was visiting, she’d pulled on her boots, grabbed a sweatshirt, and thrown herself into the car, where she quickly fell back asleep. She was dreaming while Meg looked out the window and Claire bit her nails and her father navigated and her mother sat in the front seat wearing sunglasses even though there was no sun that day. Annie had brought along a cooler of drinks and sandwiches, not that anyone was interested in eating. The trees were so red by the time they reached New Hampshire that the leaves looked like flames. Elv yawned and sprawled across Claire’s legs.

“Halav semma burra.” She was half in a dream.
This is so uncomfortable
.

Elv still wore the robin’s bones. They were turning yellow, black lines striating the marrow, but she didn’t mind their decay. Every girl needed protection against evil.

Elv was heavy, but Claire didn’t complain. She ran her fingers through her sister’s knotted hair. Elv didn’t brush it or take care of it and it was still beautiful. For an instant Claire thought she should wake her. If they escaped, they could live in the woods. They could eat wild berries, commune with bears, never be found.

“Let her sleep,” Meg whispered.

Ever since Meg’s hair had been cut, it had turned coarse. It wasn’t straight anymore and on humid days it grew curly. She had turned sixteen and for a little while was the same age as Elv. In fact, she felt like the older sister, the one who had to get up and do all the chores, weed the garden, complete the schoolwork,
keep quiet when she wanted to scream. Earlier that morning, as they went out to the driveway, Meg had leaned in close to whisper to Claire.
Do what I tell you when we get to New Hampshire
.

Their mother had confided in Meg. She’d told her the intervention was for Elv’s own good. They wanted to save her. When Meg had revealed some of this to Claire, Claire couldn’t help but wonder if Elv wanted to be saved.

As they drove on, Meg remembered reading somewhere that tigers could smell fear. The best thing to do if one ever attacked you was to think of chocolate or cinnamon, scents that would mask your terror. She forced herself to think of chocolate sauce and hot apple pie and the marshmallow s’mores they used to make on the grill in the summertime. She thought so hard she could taste the chocolate, but it had a harsh flavor and she wished she could reach the cooler her mother had brought along, in which there were bottles of spring water.

When Elv woke, she lay there prone, tired, and out of sorts. She could see fleeting images out the window: red leaves, the black bark of the trees, the shadows of other cars. She knew they’d been driving a long time. “Harra leviv jolee,” she murmured.
Our parents are crazy
. “Je below New Hampshire.”
I hate New Hampshire
.

In spite of their nerves, Meg and Claire both laughed. They hated New Hampshire too. The day was already too long. Their legs were falling asleep under their sister’s weight. Elv had little red marks all over the backs of her hands where she’d burned herself when she was bored. The burns had scabbed up and it looked as though she was recovering from the chicken pox. She had fifteen black stars on her body, most in places her mother couldn’t see, homemade tattoos she’d made by plunging an inky needle into her skin. There were dozens of broken-down Bic pens on the floor of their closet. Since their mother didn’t see anything,
Elv had gotten away with it. She had perfected household deception. A secret, after all, was only a secret if no one heard it.

Annie switched on the radio to a song about falling in love. She looked straight ahead at the road. Being in the car with Alan was even more uncomfortable than she had imagined. But he was the girls’ father, despite the fact that he’d moved in with his girlfriend, that nice woman who’d been there for Elv’s birthday cake. Well, what difference did it make who he was with? If Annie had ever loved him, she didn’t now. As they drove along, she wondered if she would ever feel anything again. Maybe she was heartless. What sort of person tricked her own daughter? She had become the witch in the woods, just as Elv’s diary had predicted, leading the way with a trail of sandwiches and good cheer. She was the old woman who stole children and coaxed them into the forest. Where they were going, no one escaped. That’s what the brochure had said. Not a single student had ever successfully run away.

The rain had begun, and there was the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers. The windows were foggy and streaked. Red leaves fell in clouds. They drove through a little town where everything but the gas station seemed to have closed for the day or gone out of business. Annie had done nothing but research for the past few weeks. She had hired a consultant and seen a therapist. She had been on the Internet and talked with other distraught parents halfway across the country. The consensus was always the same. The Westfield School was the best. It was ridiculously expensive, but was said to have the most success with kids like Elv. Annie had borrowed the money from her parents. Her father had written out the check without even asking what it was for. He was ailing, struck with congestive heart failure, and she hated to ask him for anything. But he’d been in Paris with the girls in the spring. He’d seen what was happening to Elv. When they’d gone back to
Paris after spending the summer in New York, that man she’d gotten herself involved with was still skulking around. Once they had returned home from the opera to find him weeping beneath the chestnut tree. Martin had had to chase him off with a broom.

After the Storys had driven through the sleepy little town, they turned onto an old logging road that snaked through the mountains. Along the roadside were stone walls marking the boundaries of abandoned apple orchards. The fields were still dotted with twisted black trees. The school was located on a run-down estate. A fence rimmed the property. It was hidden in the pines, but when you looked carefully you could see it, a crisscross of barbed wire. Claire spied it right away; it made her think of a sharp spiderweb. She imagined thousands of spiders, and her skin crawled. She was having a panic attack. She didn’t understand why it hurt every time she took a breath. They drove through an automatic gate that clicked closed behind them. It was still raining, a cold rain for October. They had to navigate through pools of mud. No wonder they all hated New Hampshire.

Elv had been very stoned the night before. She was hung-over, exhausted, more compliant than usual, quite surprised by the notion that their father, usually so disinterested, would be with them. She had no idea that the counselors were ready for her, two large men who didn’t look the way Annie had assumed school counselors would look. They seemed like prizefighters or bouncers in a nightclub. They wore black rain jackets and work boots. They were standing in the rain, waiting. If Annie could have felt anything, she might have been flooded with second thoughts. She might have made Alan turn the car around. But she was paralyzed. They all were. Meg and Claire gazed out the window. The place looked like a prison. The car stopped, and Alan opened the door and got out. Annie turned to her younger daughters. Meg
thought she could smell her mother’s fear. No one had told her to think of chocolate.

“Stay in the car,” she told them.

When Annie got out, she was immediately drenched. The rain was coming down so hard it was deafening. While Alan went to talk to the counselors, Annie opened the back door and leaned in.

“Elv.” She sounded like a betrayer, even to herself. “Get up.”

Elv yawned and stretched. Rain was splattering on her legs.

“Al je meara,” Elv said.
Leave me alone
.

Annie reached in and shook her by the shoulder. “We’re here.”

No destination had been mentioned before. It was a ride in the country. Just an autumn picnic. The chance to spend some time with their dad. She’d agreed to go. She’d let down her guard. Suddenly there was a
here
. Elv didn’t like the sound of that. She rose from the backseat and looked out, eyeing her father and the two men talking to him. The building behind them seemed like a prison to her, too. She didn’t need to see any more. She could tell it was a trap. She pushed past her mother. Annie was no match for her; she toppled backward as Elv leaped out of the car.

Elv wasn’t as stupid as they thought. She didn’t give a damn about the mud all around, splashing up as she ran. Her hair was like a waterfall as she raced through the rain. She focused on the woods in front of her. The red leaves, the black bark. She thought she was far out in front, flying, but then she heard their heavy breathing. They sounded like horses, close behind her. They took her down so hard three of her ribs were fractured. She could hear the bones crack. The breath was knocked out of her in a searing flash. In the mud, she tried to wrestle out of their hold. The robin’s-bones necklace fell to pieces. It shone like opals as it scattered. She reached for the broken pieces but they slipped out of her grasp. The ground was cold and slimy. The mud could choke
you if you were screaming and struggling and they had you facedown on the ground. They were hurting her, but she didn’t stop trying to get away. She had practiced escaping from ropes so no one could ever do this to her again. She had cut herself to strengthen herself and inure herself to pain. She wished she could find the door that led to the otherworld, but she was too far away. She felt herself being overtaken, so she bit the hand of the man who’d grabbed hold of her. He shook her and spat out some curses, then held on more tightly. Elv saw stars, but she didn’t care. She’d drawn blood. She would never again let herself be tied in knots, shackled in iron handcuffs, gagged.

The director’s assistant had come to usher Alan and Annie inside, holding a black umbrella above their heads. There were some things no parents should see. After a quick half-hour orientation, they would be asked to leave. No phone calls or visits were allowed during the first three months, no packages from home. Students needed to be out of their element, away from the triggers that had driven them to drugs and out-of-control behavior. Annie was shivering. Alan was drenched. Pools collected on the tile floor under their feet. The school smelled like Lysol and that morning’s breakfast, bacon and overdone toast. They sat at a conference table and signed the papers registering their daughter while the counselors dragged Elv to the door of the residence hall. It was a concrete building, painted pale green. Claire and Meg watched through the car window. Claire’s throat was closing up.

“Nom gig!” Elv screamed. “Reuna malin.”
Rescue me
.

One of the big men picked her up; he had his hands all over her. He touched her in places he shouldn’t have just because he could. He hoisted her off the ground as though she were nothing more than a sack of skin and bones.

Claire and Meg couldn’t move.

“Come and help me!” Elv screamed to them.

One of the men opened the door into the dormitory. The other one had Elv. Claire lowered the window to see more clearly. They were hurting her. The rain came inside. It was cold.

“Don’t listen,” Meg told Claire. She closed the window. They couldn’t take back what they’d done. The rain was coming down harder all the time. There were so many leaves on the windshield the girls couldn’t see through the glass anymore. They crouched on the floor of the car, arms around each other. Claire was thinking of the blackflies circling on the corner with the stop sign and of the sinking feeling she’d had and how paralyzed she’d been on the bad day.

Meg couldn’t get the image of tigers out of her mind. It was said they never forgot an act of cruelty or an act of kindness. They were known for being vengeful; they returned to villages where traps had been set and wiped out everyone in their path. They dreamed of skin and bones. Everything they ate tasted like revenge.

“They’re not going to hurt her.” Meg crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping that what she vowed wouldn’t be held against her if it turned out to be wrong. “And when she comes home, she’ll be the way she used to be.”

Claire didn’t say anything, but she knew it wasn’t true. She wished she could go out and gather up the robin’s bones. She wished she could make this day disappear. The spell had been said aloud and she hadn’t responded.

She kept listening to the rain. She understood what was happening. The world they’d known was slipping away from them.