Page 70 of Chaos

I walk with her to the doorway, still churning through everything she said. I didn’t realize how bad things were between Yorke and the army.

But I should have. In retrospect, I’ve seen the looks they send him.

Thornewood used to be a special place, a place with delicious food and celebration, a place full of hope. Now, it’s a place of mistrust and mud on the floors, beet tacos and lies. No wonder the soldiers are unhappy. We’ve given them nothing to love about this place.

“This place sucks,” I mutter, more to myself than Colleen. “Ruby always had a birthday cake or a holiday coming. We need that.”

She lifts her chin. “Then plan one.”

“I will,” I say truculently and then shut the door nearly in her face.

The second I do, Shasta rips off her headphones.“Leadership is very isolating,” she says musingly.

“You were listening?”

“Of course. Those beets were a mistake.” She taps her thumb on her CD player.“We’re really just cavemen in a fancy resort, aren’t we? Cave people with nothing to believe in and nothing to hope for.”

“Sad.” I slouch against the table holding my plants, and ponder the sad state of Thornewood.

Somewhere along the way, I quit thinking anything would get better. I think we all did.

The tiny speaker-sound of a woman’s voice cuts through me.Duck a l’orangeshe pipes from Shasta’s headphones.

When I hear the wordsbrownbutter demi glazeI ask. “What the hell are they talking about?”

“Church brought me cookbook CDs.” She hits the massive stop button on the old Walkman. “It’s making me hungry anyway. Let’s go find dinner.”

“Fine.” I take her arm and tug her along, still mulling over and over it all.

The lobby is packed when we get there, swelling with people, supplies stacked up like it’s a warehouse, mud everywhere. A chicken has gotten inside and no one seems to care. It’s clucking and squawking and flapping from sofa to chair.

I hear the words, “All these problems start withher.”

Somehow I just knowheris me.

Hot rage rushes over me, all thoughts about happiness and hope flying straight out the window.

Why is Mitsy everywhere all the time?

“What—” Shasta asks when I suddenly freeze in place, but she breaks off when I hiss, “Ssssh,” sharply.

That obnoxious voice keeps going, “She’s the reason we gave up all our bullets and that the soldiers had to keep going out.”

Her back is to me, but I know that stupid fluffy hair and the squeaky sound of her voice, and the same purse she had earlier is over her shoulder. “And all Ben did was hurt thatone kid and take her, but if you look at it from his perspective, all of it was in retribution.”

My hands have balled up, my nails biting into my palms. I take a step toward her, skin red hot.

And then I see Tani, the wide-eyed girl-woman I’ve only seen from a distance but haven’t been able to meet yet.

The Ghost of Thornewood.

The sight of her stirs up memories of Ruby leaving out cookies and meals, of flowers being left, of being certain all of last summer that the Ghost of Thornewood was exactly this, a teenage girl.

I was certain she was scared and alone.

She looks it now, wearing a big Thornewood sweatshirt, stretch pants, and a pair of big white sneakers with scrunchy white socks. She’s the kind of young-looking that has me wondering if I ever looked that young. Doe-eyed. Slender. A pointy chin, glossy black hair, and golden tan skin.

And then I remember something else—she moved like a ghost. We were certain she was in the vents, moving around Thornewood in silence, wherever she wanted. She knows this place inside and out.