Within These Walls

Chapter 6

I raise my eyebrows at Willow. "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 put 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 could Marcus hope to gain from having me in his group? I'd think he's following the old keep-your-enemies-close adage, but he doesn't strike me as the type to play 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's planning 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."

Willow frowns. "Should we just ignore him?"

"No. He might take it out on you if we do. I don't want to be responsible for getting you hurt." I fumble for a better excuse. "How about we split up? I'll look around while you guys talk to people."

"Okay." Willow drags out the word. "Carson, let's report to the sheriff 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 people, but I've never done well with others. Sam saw to that.

The last time I tried to get close to someone was in fifth grade when a girl my age moved to my neighborhood. We bonded over music and the extensive collection of clothes and shoes in her closet. We hung out at her house for two days before rumors about my stepfather got to her family. She stopped talking to me after that.

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

The game room is about a quarter of the size of the cafeteria and is sectioned into two areas. In one, a flat-screen monitor is mounted above a metal bench, wired to a gaming console. A few sofas like the ones in our lounge room are positioned in front of it. Behind the sofas are a pool table and a foosball table, and there's a brand-new jukebox in the corner.

The two commons rooms at the opposite end of the hallway are identical. They're filled with oversized armchairs, beanbags, and low-backed couches arranged in small clusters. There are round tables off to one side and a few stools pulled up to a bar-height counter near water dispensers.

So far, nothing out of the usual, all things considered. No ambiguous signs or hidden messages that would explain why we're here.

I start walking toward the shower room and spin around when I spot Marcus inside it. With nothing left to do, I claim a table in the cafeteria and watch the other teens wander around the facility. Even though their fear has died down, most faces are still somber. Wary. This isn't fun at camp. This is something unknown and possibly dangerous, and everyone is too tense to let their guards down.

Except Marcus's group. They're loud and obnoxious, almost as if 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.