The Miles Between Read online

  “We got it, Pres.” I am in no mood for one of Aidan’s long lectures. It is enough to know I have another unexpected dissident. Their breakfast manners gave no hint.

  “And since I already have trash duty, I may as well do something that I really deserve it for,” Seth adds.

  “Or it might be more than just trash duty we face. We might all be expelled,” I say.

  They are silent, until finally Seth begins tapping the horn. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “It’s a song. On the road—”

  Aidan groans. I shake my head. Mira smiles and slaps the back of our seat. “I just can’t wait to get on the road again!”

  “It’s just a little field trip,” Seth says.

  “A trip!” Mira chimes in. “We have to give it a name!”

  “So we’re agreed?” Seth asks.

  Being partners in crime, partners in time, partners in a few square feet of space that leaves no room for hiding—it is a risky thing. Far riskier for me than taking a car that isn’t mine. I put my finger to an ember when I was eight, unable to resist the pulsing glow. That’s what this feels like now, like I am inching close to something dangerous. Far more dangerous than simple expulsion, to which I am accustomed.

  They look at me, waiting, and that expectation alone makes my heart squeeze like a fist. If only they knew, there is no chance of this day turning out well. Especially not with me along.

  Their gazes remain steady, as though something I could say would make a difference, and it is then that I notice a tiny lightness growing in the center of my chest that is nearly intoxicating, a lightness I haven’t felt since my last days at Millbury, and before I can allow myself to think it through, I find myself saying, “Agreed.”

  5

  I WAS STILL AT MILLBURY ACADEMY when Mr. Gardian sent the pictures of Hedgebrook. Mr. Gardian is Mother and Father’s secretary and handles the nasty details of their lives. Those nasty details include me.

  When I ripped open the envelope and saw the photo on the cover of the brochure, I sat down and clutched my stomach, my fingers kneading my skin. I stared at the pictures. There were rolling green hills. White split-rail fences. A towering redbrick mansion. Tall white columns and shutters painted black. It was the landscape and architecture of home. At least as I remembered it.

  I remember holding my breath, my fingers flattening against my chest, because the flutter inside frightened me. I finally breathed out when I realized it was only a stirring where deadness had been. I closed the brochure and tucked it away in a drawer beneath my underwear. I didn’t look at it again.

  But when Mr. Gardian called later in the week and asked me what I thought of Hedgebrook, I sighed loudly and told him it would do. And as I replaced the phone receiver, the stirring returned, and I was certain that something had broken loose in my chest.

  6

  MIRA CONSUMES HERSELF with titling our getaway while the rest of us decide on our destination. The nearest town is the small village of Hedgebrook, which lies just a few more miles down the road. Aidan suggests we go see a movie at the small theater there because it will keep us out of sight. Seth vetoes that idea. “This is supposed to be fun,” he says. “All the Nubel has are sticky seats and movies that came out last year.”

  “How about The Great Escape?” Mira suggests.

  “We can’t go to Hedgebrook Township at all,” I say. “Not even through it. Constable Horn is always walking Main Street. He’d see us, and our day would be over before it began.”

  Aidan and Seth weigh this factor. The small township is quite familiar with the Hedgebrook students. There are weekly caravans there on Saturday for movies and shopping, though shopping only consists of Keller’s Drugstore, Bainbridge Antiques, and the Minuteman Market, which added an aisle of trinkets to amuse the weekly flood of students from Hedgebrook. The constable has looked every one of us eye to eye at least once and let us know that the long arm of the law is always on guard. His swagger down Main Street is distinct and often imitated by students, even as the constable watches, because, like most of us, he doesn’t recognize himself.

  “Or MADS Adventure? That’s an acronym from the first letters of our names!” Mira says proudly.

  “Well, the only way past Hedgebrook is through it,” Seth replies.

  I shrug. “So we turn around and go the other direction.”

  “There’s nothing in the other direction for a hundred miles!” Aidan complains.

  “We can be in Langdon in two hours. And to be precise, it’s only seventy-six miles away,” I correct him. “Which is an interesting number since—”

  “No, you don’t!” Aidan says. “I’m not going anywhere if I have to listen to your number mumbo jumbo—”

  “What?” Seth interrupts. “I want to hear.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Aidan in victory and turn back to Seth. “Today is the nineteenth, and seventy-six is exactly divisible by nineteen, four times, and oddly enough, there are four of us.”

  Seth settles back in his seat, for the first time giving me his full attention. “How’d you figure that out? So fast?”

  “No figuring. I just pay attention to these things.”

  “She finds coincidence in everything,” Aidan says. “So here’s my ‘co-inky-dink.’ I figure I own nineteen of those miles, so for my nineteen there won’t be any voodoo talk.”

  “That, on the other hand, is highly predictable from you—not a coincidence. But fair enough,” I answer. “We each get our own nineteen miles to rule the—”

  Mira claps her hands. “Road Trip! Simple and to the point, don’t you think?”

  “Fine, Mira,” I say, and then over my shoulder, “And by the way, Aidan, the first nineteen miles are mine.”

  Seth looks at me for a moment, a moment longer than he should, then starts the car. I wonder what message he was trying to send, because there was definitely purpose to his sideways glance. Does he thinks I’m as crazy as Aidan does?

  I don’t obsess about numbers or coincidence. In fact, math is my poorest subject. And I’m not a savant, if that’s what Seth is thinking. It’s just that I have vast opportunity to think of such things, and I do. It sustains me. It has since two boarding schools ago. I arrived at Parton Manor when I was twelve. It was in Georgia and was supposed to have a calming effect on me. I had finally started talking after years of refusing to do so, and the things I had to say weren’t considered proper parlor talk. What did they expect? But I would learn manners at Parton Manor, everyone was assured. And I suppose I did.

  Or maybe that is when I learned that invisibility is a much less tiring way to get through the day. It means not talking too much or, more importantly, too little. Because too little talk frightens people and prompts questions. They’re afraid of what goes on in a silent mind.

  As maybe they should be.

  7

  HEADING NORTH, THE HILLS DIP GENTLY. The lightness in my chest grows, and I imagine that the wind streaming through the car is streaming through me as well, blowing away unthinkable things. The October air is unseasonably warm, no hint of frost, though the birch, sweet gum, and maple have already burst into crimson and gold. The world before us is a postcard, and I imagine the story we are writing on it.

  “A game!”

  I knew the silence wouldn’t last. It is not within Mira’s power.

  “A road trip always has games! What shall we play?”

  No one answers, hoping she will tangle herself in her own thoughts for a while longer. But we’ve all eaten breakfast with Mira enough times to know that silence isn’t her strength. She is the one always patting out all the wrinkles between us.

  “I know,” she says. “An icebreaker!”

  “I know everyone here, Mira,” Aidan says. “I don’t need to break ice.”

  “But this one is about knowing more! We all need to share one thing about ourselves that no one else knows. I’ll go first.”

  Seth glances at me, doubtful. Of the game or me? I t
urn, sitting sideways in my seat, and look at Mira. She is concentrating, gazing into the sky, searching for the perfect nugget to share. I hope she makes it a good one, because it will have to count for mine too. I have no intention of sharing anything.

  “All right,” she says, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever.” Her cheeks tinge pink, and Aidan sits up straighter. He has taken a sudden interest in this game.

  “Promise,” he says, prompting her.

  “Go,” Seth adds, looking in the rearview mirror, his curiosity obviously piqued as well.

  She takes a deep breath. “On my right foot, two of my toes are webbed.”

  “You mean like a duck?” Aidan asks.

  The pink in Mira’s cheeks deepens to scarlet, and I marvel at her need to reveal something so private. Does she think it is like pricking our fingers and rubbing them together so we’ll be forever bonded?

  “That’s amazing,” Seth says. His voice is enthusiastic, with no hint of revulsion, and I wonder if he is briefly stepping into Mira’s role to smooth out her embarrassment.

  “Can we see?” Aidan asks.

  Mira gingerly shrugs and pulls off her right shoe and sock. She raises her foot to the back of our seat and spreads her toes. A small flap of milky skin connects her small toe with the next.

  Aidan’s eyes widen and he seems genuinely impressed. “Excellent swimmer, I bet.” His voice is not mocking, but reassuring. Mira smiles and replaces her sock and shoe.

  “My secret isn’t that amazing,” Aidan offers. “But nobody knows it—except for my parents.”

  I notice Seth ease on the gas; the car coasts, and we all wait for Aidan to continue.

  “Well?”

  “I flunked kindergarten.”

  Silence reigns until finally, in unison, Seth and Mira both snort with laughter.

  “Impossible,” Mira says. This secret does border on impossible, knowing King Geek Aidan and his pride in excelling.

  “How can anyone flunk kindergarten?” Seth asks. “What? Did you refuse nap time?”

  “Or cookies and milk?” Mira adds, giggling.

  It is Aidan’s turn to squirm, and his ears redden. However brief, it is annoying to watch him flounder like a fish, so I jump in and immediately wonder, even as I speak, if I have been spending too much time with Mira. “I suppose you weren’t understood and spent a lot of time in detention.”

  Aidan’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised at my insight. An ounce of observation goes a long way. He leans forward and grabs the back of our seat. “Yes! Except they called it Time Out. I spent most of kindergarten in the corner staring at a growth chart.”

  Mira’s smile disappears and her chin juts out. “That is so unfair!”

  “Completely!” Aidan yells. “I was just precocious. Curious. I mean, they give you those small blunt scissors so you can learn to use them, right? Buttons can be sewn back on. And finger painting! Why don’t they just give you a brush if they only want it lathered on paper?”

  Seth hoots. “A kindergarten rebel! Look what lurks beneath the geekage.”

  “Who would have guessed?” I say.

  Mira pats Aidan’s shoulder. “Were you horribly scarred, having to repeat?”

  Aidan’s brows knit together and he nods. “It was rough. I had to switch schools. The kindergarten teacher wouldn’t have me again.”

  Mira sighs dutifully and pauses for a respectful amount of time. “I bet she regrets that decision every day. Just look at you now.”

  “Yes, just look,” I add.

  Before Aidan can respond to my brief editorial, Mira claps her hands, ending Aidan’s turn at confession. “Your turn! Des or Seth. Go!” Mira plops back in her seat, waiting.

  A thunderous roar and flash splits the sky over our heads. Seth slams on the brakes, and we all turn in the direction it headed. A distant boom rumbles across the air.

  “What was that?”

  “An airplane?”

  “No! It moved too fast.”

  “A secret weapon?”

  “Right in the direction of Hedgebrook.”

  “Lightning?”

  “Not a cloud in the sky.”

  A convenient distraction, I decide. Whatever the disturbance may have been, I am grateful for it. Mira bubbles with the possibilities, and Aidan shares his seemingly unlimited knowledge of storm anomalies and positive giants, the grandest of lightning strikes that can fly for miles through a cloudless sky. Seth presses the gas pedal once again, and we resume our road trip, our one-day fist in the air to all that is unjust.

  Their voices meld into a cloudy rumble of their own, and I ponder Mira’s and Aidan’s secrets and imagine the injustice that threads through other lives, injustice that has no face because it is hidden away in a dark, shameful place, hidden for years in hopes of making it untrue. Can anything be hidden that long? But then as Aidan drones on and on, showing off his keen scholarship, I imagine a tired teacher rubbing her temples and pointing to a tiny chair in a corner, hoping for the barest relief, justice and injustice flipping like a pancake.

  “What do you think?” Seth asks.

  “About?”

  “The flash in the sky. The noise. The drive. Me. You pick.”

  I glance over my shoulder. Aidan and Mira are fully engaged in ball lightning and sonic booms.

  “That’s quite a span of subjects,” I say. “From the lofty to”—I narrow my eyes, taking in his full length—“the mundane.”

  “I’ll make it easy for you. Me and the drive. Why’d you come and get me to drive your new car when you make a point of not noticing me the rest of the time?”

  “Oh, she notices you!” Mira drops her conversation with Aidan and zooms in on ours. “On the first day—”

  “Shut up, Mira!” I say, a bit too loudly. I roll my eyes, knowing my exuberant command makes me look like I care. I rarely make such mistakes. This is not my element.

  “You noticed me?”

  “Barely.” I look straight ahead, hoping my bored expression will end the questions, but I can see out of the corner of my eye strange gyrations, and I finally turn to look.

  Seth flexes his arm and poses, though his biceps do not show through his long-sleeved starched Hedgebrook-issue shirt. He grins. “What did you notice?”

  “Your hair needed combing.” I keep my voice flat like a dated documentary.

  “She called it scruffy.”

  “Oh. Scruffy,” he repeats. I think I hear disappointment in his voice, and I wonder if it is because he wanted me to notice him in a more meaningful way or he just wanted anything significant about him to stand out. His flexed right arm drops and his hand returns to its place on the steering wheel.

  Even with the wind rushing over our heads, the car is intolerably silent.

  “You know how to drive,” I say. “That’s why I came and got you. And you deserved justice and so did I. I flipped a pancake, and for a while we were both on the same side.”

  He nods and I look away, trying to concentrate on a landscape that is a blurred pastel like a Monet painting.

  “I noticed you too.”

  I squint my eyes, trying to make the greens and grays and yellows racing past us sharpen into something recognizable.

  “And not your scruffy hair,” he adds.

  Just when I was starting to feel comfortable with the lightness in my chest, it changes. It grows warm and heavy. Where is Mira now, when I need someone to smooth out the wrinkles? She is infuriatingly silent. I immediately scratch her from my list of potential friends, if I ever were to have one.

  I fix my gaze straight ahead and try to dream myself to a world of right answers and feelings, and I wonder about the crumpled calendar page in the bottom of my trash can and if, for today, I could be someone else.

  8

  “THERE! WHAT’S THAT?”

  We lean forward and squint.

  “It’s just a lodging sign.”

  “And food!”

  “Where there’s lodging, th
ere has to be gas. Turn!”

  “It’s just a one-lane road,” Seth complains. “There won’t be gas.”

  “Turn!” we all yell in unison. Brakes squeal as Seth follows orders. The car fishtails, and the back tires hit the dirt shoulder, sending gravel and dust flying into the air, but Seth manages to get all four tires back into the lane.

  For all his admiring of the gauges, he hadn’t paid attention to the low tank of gas until finally Aidan tapped his shoulder and pointed out that we were nearly running on fumes. I think of careless Mr. Nestor and am not surprised that he is true to form with his fuel tank as well.

  The narrow lane is exceptionally hilly. Up and down, up and down, and Seth must slow almost to a crawl in order to avoid bottoming out the long car. He shakes his head. “Gas on this road?”

  “What choice do we have?” I say. “Unless you want to push us all the way to Langdon.”

  “Why didn’t you fill up before you planned this little adventure?” he asks.

  I resent his accusatory tone. “I didn’t plan it. It was spontaneous. The moment just arose.” So quickly too. I am just now taking in how each step seemed to spawn the next.

  “It was amazing how we all came together, wasn’t it? Perfect timing!” Mira says cheerfully.

  “A coincidence, maybe?” I say.

  Aidan groans.

  “My nineteen,” I remind him. “Any of you ever had Mr. Nestor?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Nestor. The calculus teacher.”

  “At Hedgebrook? No. Crawford teaches calc,” Aidan says.

  “He’s a visiting teacher. I met him in the garden this morning, and he asked me what I wanted, so I—”

  “Why would he ask something strange like that?”