Within These Walls

Chapter 6

I give Willow a blank stare. "He wants me to do what?"

"Join up with him and his friends," she says. "Follow whatever he says and help him maintain law and order, as he puts it."

"What is he, the new sheriff in town?" Carson says. "Next thing you know, he'll be putting up wanted posters and rounding up outlaws."

"You want to try doing something about it?" Willow teases.

"Nah. Think I'll stick to shooting off my mouth when he's not around."

What does Marcus hope to gain from having me in his group? I would think he's following the old keep-your-enemies-close adage, but he doesn't strike me as the type to play at politics. Marcus is more likely to handle conflict with his fists.

The only other reason he'd want me on his team is because he plans something for me. Payback for standing up to him.

Avoid, my protective instinct shouts at me. Avoid Marcus and his newfound buddies and all complications that could come out of associating with them. Pretend they don't exist. Just like I've pretended all my other problems don't exist.

"What are you going to do?" Carson asks me.

"Nothing. I'm going to wait until Marcus forgets about me."

Willow frowns. "Should we hold off on gathering intel?"

"No. You go ahead. I think it will be better if I keep my head down." I shrug and fumble for a better reason. "He might take it out on you guys if I get involved. I don't want to be responsible for you getting hurt."

"Okay." Willow drags out the word. "Carson, let's report to Captain Sherriff and run our ideas by him. We'll talk to you later, April?"

I watch them zigzag across the cafeteria, my jaw tight. It's just as well. Willow and Carson seem like good kids, but I've never done well with people. Sam saw to that. The last time I tried to get close to someone was in fifth grade when a girl my age moved in to my neighborhood. We bonded over boy bands and the extensive collection of clothes and shoes in her closet. We hung out at her house for two days before rumors about my scary stepfather got to her family. She stopped answering the door after that.

More than six years later, Julie is one of the popular girls at school, and I'm the freak who almost killed herself in junior year.

I find a table far away from Marcus and spend the next few hours observing everything. The kids wander around the facility. Even though the initial fear has died down, most of their faces are still somber. Wary. This isn't fun at camp. This is something unknown and possibly dangerous, and everyone is too busy trying to make sense of it to let their guards down.

Except Marcus's group. They're loud and obnoxious, roughhousing and laughing like they know something we don't. I guess everyone else finds that intimidating because they skirt around them like they're afraid they'll step on sacred ground and spontaneously combust.

Willow and Carson make their rounds for a couple of hours until an unexpected smell distracts me. Food. There has been movement in the kitchen's direction, but a lot of it involved Marcus charging up and down the hallways. I didn't think it was wise to check it out.

Now he's back at his table, so I give in to my curiosity and head for the kitchen. I don't get far. The serving table has been moved into the hallway, blocking the path to the kitchen. A big kid stands behind it, bulky arms crossed and bushy eyebrows gathered over his eyes.

"Turn around. You're not allowed back here."

"Did Marcus put you up to this?" I ask. There's a flurry of activity behind him. Something is sizzling on the stove. My mouth waters at the smell of frying food.