Pack Giroux (North Five University #3)
Chapter One
In the past couple months, I've learned new things that I love about myself. Like the fact that I'm really good at volleyball. And that I'm pretty great at pretending...that I'm happy...that our lifestyle doesn't disgust me...that I'm not planning on leaving the second I get a chance.
I've also come to discover and love that when I make a decision, I don't back down from it.
That's how I find myself sneaking out of my pack house window at two o'clock in the morning. Four years of playing volleyball at the school on our compound landed me a scholarship at North Five University. With the help of my coach, of course. A small fact that had to be kept as much of a secret as the rest of it. If anyone ever found out that she helped me, she'd be in as much trouble as I am for leaving.
"Here's your bus ticket and some cash I had saved up," she whispers to me as I make it to the fence, handing me a thick envelope. "I'm sorry I can't drive you, but the bus station is only two miles outside of the compound. Remember where?"
I nod with tears in my eyes. "Thank you for helping me."
She swallows hard and with tears in her eyes replies, "You're welcome. I'm just sorry I can't go with you or be of more help."
"I'm sorry you can't go, too" I tell her, tearing up myself. "I'll return the favor if you ever want to leave."
Pulling me into a tight hug, she gets choked up on her words and can’t seem to utter another. Even as she backs away and ushers me over the fence.
The trek through the woods is dark. Even following the trail that's been marked and worn down from use. Leaves crunch under my feet as I kick myself into a light jog. More than anything, I want to run as hard and as fast as I can, but I've got miles to go. I know from practice that I've got to pace myself. My bag can't weigh more than twenty pounds, but with every step it seems to get heavier and heavier, until it feels like I'm carrying two-hundred.
It's quiet in the woods. Early fallen leaves crunch under my feet. Wind blows through the ones still in the trees, making the boughs creak in the otherwise silence. Controlling my breathing like I've learned to do during practice and workouts, I'm able to pick up my pace a bit.
Before I know it, I hit the edge of the woods and run through a small ditch and up onto the road. I stop long enough to look both ways to make sure I'm not being hunted yet. Turning toward town, I take off again. Being out in the open like this is making my stomach churn. I would slip back into the woods, but it'll take twice as long. Hopefully, I'll be able to see headlights coming and will be able to hide before they see me, if it comes to that.
When the lights of the bus station finally come into view, I could cry in relief. I can't yet, though. I'm not in the clear. I slow to a brisk walk, wiping the sweat off my face so that I don't appear suspicious.
Slipping onto the bus isn’t hard in the middle of the night. The only drawback is that there aren’t enough riders to hide. If anyone ever comes asking, it wouldn’t be hard to remember a young girl like myself getting on alone at this hour. Especially, a red-haired nerdy girl who can barely pass for eighteen even though I’m about to be a year older than that. These thoughts race through my mind, making me pull the hat of my hoodie over my head to hide as much as possible.
The driver steps off the bus and offers to take my single bag but I hug it to my chest, holding out my ticket for him to take instead. Looking bored and unbothered, he takes it from me and marches back up the steps. I have a feeling it’s intentional that he didn’t usher me forward to go first. Almost like he’s used to picking up strays and runaways and is giving me the chance to change my mind. If he only knew the truth of what I'm running from, he would probably offer to send me further. Or, he might take me back. If there's one thing I've had to learn the hard way, it's that adults can't be trusted. None of them. I'd even been worried that this whole situation with Coach was a setup and that I'd be caught and punished. The only thing worse than having to go back and endure our lifestyle, would be the punishment. It gets doled out in the early biblical sense.
I don't waste any time hanging around outside the bus, following the driver up almost immediately. Not wanting to be obvious, I claim a seat midway instead of the back. It's another ten or fifteen anxious minutes before the driver finally shuts the doors and pulls away from the depot. I have to wipe another round of sweat off my forehead, rubbing my hands down my face as I do. Tears burn down the back of my eyes, but I don't let them spill over. It's bad enough that I look like the runaway that I am. The last thing I need is some concerned citizen trying to help. I'm only one of several riders tonight, but it's still not worth the risk.
We're heading down the road in the direction of the compound. The only giveaway that it's even out there is a small dirt road that looks like it leads directly into the woods. Only once we pass it am I able to sink down into my seat and relax. I'm not in the clear and may never completely be, but I'm safe for now at least.
I stay awake for hours watching out the window as we pass trees and open fields in the rural areas before coming into a few towns. We make several stops, picking up a couple people and letting one off. I keep a close eye on everyone, especially outside the stations. No one looks suspicious or wandering around with my photo in their hand asking anyone questions.
I'm still awake as night turns to day, and I get to enjoy my first sunrise of freedom where I'm not required to be at worship. The thought sends a spike of fear through my chest. They'll realize now, if they haven't already, that I'm gone. I wonder how long it'll take them to learn that I'm not even on the compound property any longer. In my almost nineteen years, I've never heard of anyone running away. Then again, we have been told that someone died for no reason and that someone got lost in the woods to never come home. It makes me slightly curious if it was all lies. The rest of it sure was.
It takes three whole days to get from the compound to the city that I'm being dropped off in. Three days of riding on different buses. Three days of using terminal restrooms. Three days of no showers. Three days of eating vending machine snack food when I get hungry. As inconvenient and uncomfortable as it is, I wish it took longer. Across the ocean wouldn't be far enough away from them.
It's the afternoon when my bus reaches its final stop in the middle of a big city. I step out into the bright sunlight and have to get my bearings for a moment. The noise and hustle and bustle of so many people is so unlike anything I've ever heard. It's overwhelming. Controlling my breathing like I do when I'm running, I put one step in front of the other and figure out my next move.
Planning this out had taken a really long time. I'd made sure to get off here in a big city hours away from my real destination, just in case anyone goes back to try to find me through my bus travels. So, my next difficulty will be finding a taxi willing to drive hours away. Coach had said there would be taxis here that sit and wait on people that need them, and she was right.
Of course, the first two I ask laugh outright in my face. The one who finally agrees, says it's going to cost me. Something I readily agree to. We drive a few hours to another city before I pay him and repeat the process. Once I finally make it to the small town that houses my new college, I'm exhausted and ready for food, sleep, and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.
The last taxi drops me right in the middle of town among cute, little stores and within walking distance of the campus. I'd done the virtual tour as many times as I dared without getting caught, so I know exactly where I'm going. The residence hall is one of the very first buildings and looms in front of me. I wish that I could've gotten a shower before being presented to anyone, but I can't get that without being able to get into my building.
Pulling my hair down, I run my fingers through it and do my best to make it as flat as possible before putting it back up on top of my head. I one finger push my glasses up the bridge of my nose before walking inside. With a building this size, I'd thought it might take forever to find the right place, but it's easily mapped out with arrows pointing in every direction.
It only takes a few minutes before I'm standing in front of a giant built-in desk and ringing the little, silver bell.
A middle-aged woman with a sweet face comes around the corner at the sound. "Well, hello there, dear. How may I help you?"
"I need to pick up my housing information and keys," I tell her. "Marnie Ellis."
She strolls over to the little cubby holes in the wall and runs a finger in the air across them until she finally goes, "Ah hah." Pulling a stack out of one of the larger spots, she walks back and hands it across the desk to me. "All of your residency information is right here, including your key to get into your room. You also had some mail that has already been delivered. If we don't have you registered as being on campus yet, we always hold it for you here. Do you have any questions for me or need directions to your dorm?"
I shake my head. "I know where to go. Thank you."
Giving me another sweet smile, she says, "Of course, dear. If you have any questions at all, don't be afraid to reach out. Go back down the hall to student services so that you can get your student ID. That way you'll be able to catch dinner tonight at the dining hall."
I return her smile at the thought of having a hot meal. "Thank you."
She gives me a quick dip of her chin, and I turn to go back the way I came. The decision wars within me for a second. If I go get my ID right now, they're going to take my picture with me looking like a hot mess. However, if I wait and don't make it back before they close, I could miss being able to eat on campus tonight. I've got money, but I don't want to waste it on food when I can get that for free.
My stomach rumbles, making the decision for me. Ten minutes and a not awful but not good picture of me later, I'm walking back out into the sunshine. With all of my newly acquired items tucked underneath my arm, I make my way across campus to where I know the dorms are for the girls. From my understanding during the virtual tours, all of the sports teams have their own floor of the dorms. Volleyball has the entire third floor to ourselves for the team. In the normal rooms, two people share a space with separate sides of matching furniture and have to use the communal bathroom, living room, and kitchen area of the floor. On ours, we are matched four to a room, each room having its own shower and small kitchenette. Communal living isn't anything new to me, but I've known the people that I lived with all of my life. This whole thing is a new experience to say the least.
Once I make it to my building, I read the instructions on the keypad before opening the letter-sized clasp envelope and peeking inside to grab the navy-blue keycard hanging from a plum-colored spiral bracelet. There's a silver wolverine on the side that makes me smile a little. Pressing it against the keypad like the instructions say to do, I wait until it beeps and flashes green before reaching for the door to pull it open.
A blast of air hits me as soon as I walk inside, making me shiver as it cools the sweat beaded on my skin. I take a deep breath of the cool, office-building-smelling air, feeling calmer than I have in three days. Finding my way over to the elevator, I reach out to press the button, but stop myself. Training and practice begins next week. There's no harm in conditioning now, even if it is by taking three flights of stairs instead of using the elevator.
I'm slightly regretting my decision by the time I make it up to my floor, only because exhaustion from not having slept or eaten well for days is finally catching up to me. I walk the last flight, dragging by the time I make it to my door. Fishing back through the envelope, I find a lonely key that I use to unlock the door and swing it open. Before stepping foot inside, I immediately hook the key onto my bracelet so that I don't lose it.
When I do make it inside, I'm surprised to find that the virtual tour did the room no justice. It's a lot bigger than I thought it'd be. There are two open doors on each side of the room. As soon as I walk in, to the right there is our small kitchen with its fridge, microwave and half stove. A bar divides it from the living room with four stools pushed underneath. The living room isn't huge, but it's big enough for a long sofa and two chairs with a coffee table between them and the wall. A cubed bookshelf sits underneath a good-sized TV on the wall.
From the empty rooms, I think it's safe to say that I'm the first one to get here. Were we here at the same time, I'd be considerate and let them all have their choice of the rooms first. Since I'm the first, I take my pick, the one closest to the door in the front corner.
All of the furniture appears to be the same in all the rooms. A bare, twin-sized bed. A single nightstand. And a work desk with a chair. As I walk in, I notice a half-sized sliding door that opens into a small, empty closet and another regular-sized door that leads into a tiny bathroom. It's only got room for a stand-up shower, toilet, and small sink, and it leads into one of the other bedrooms, but I'm not complaining. I only have to share a bathroom with one other person instead of three.
Setting my bag down on my naked mattress, I'm reminded that I need to go shopping at some point today. I lay the mail and packet from registration down beside it. Sifting through the mail, I pick it up piece by piece to inspect it. The first envelope is my class schedule with all of the books that I'll need. I'm sure the info is all available online, but we'd specifically requested paper copies of everything since my access to the internet was limited at the compound. The second envelope is my social security card. The third is smaller and has a yellowish-tinted paper inside which has my name and birth place on it. My birth certificate. One small proof that I was born at a real hospital back before my mother and her pack switched religions and joined the cult. They don't call themselves that, but it's the only way I'll ever see them after learning that such things existed. The last thing I open is from my new bank. I gently pull the shiny silver card off the glue sticking to the paper. According to my financial aid advisor, who worked through my coach, I accepted all of the grants and loans they offered me this semester. They'd both said that I needed to accept every dime of financial aid at least this first semester since I'm literally starting from scratch with everything. Seeing it all laying out on the mattress, I can't begin to imagine how much time and work went into getting all of this taken care of for me. All while avoiding getting caught. I could live a thousand lives and not be grateful enough.
A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I swipe it away quickly. I'm not going to squander her gift by feeling sorry for us. Leaving the mail where it lays, I dig through my bag until I come across the only article of clothing I packed. My white dress. I threw it in last minute as a backup just in case. I had to borrow, or steal depending on how you look at it, the clothes that I'm wearing. The only clothing I owned at the compound was dresses. We aren't allowed to wear anything else. All of them are a drab, grey color. We own a single white one, and it's strictly for church and special occasions.
Pulling it out, I consider myself lucky for following my instincts. It's about to come in handy. Reaching back into the bag, I take out the bottle of hand soap that I bought yesterday at the convenience store the bus stopped at. The bathroom didn't have any, and I couldn't stand the thought of not cleaning my hands. Especially since I already felt so grimy and dirty from not having a shower.
Taking them both into the bathroom, I drape the dress over the towel rack and set the soap in the shower before stripping down. As much as I really don't want to put the dirty clothes back on, I'd rather wear them than the dress, so I fold them neatly and set them on the sink. I save my bra and panties to be washed. I'm definitely not putting either of those on again until they're clean. I start the water in the shower and wait until it's warm to step in. The feel of it washing away all of the dirt and grime from, not just the past few days, but my entire life almost brings me to tears again. Popping the lid on the hand soap, I dump a ton in my hand and lather it into my long hair. It definitely doesn't smell as good as the goat milk shampoo on the compound, but it's going to do in a pinch. I'm just going to throw it back up in a bun when I get out anyway until I can get some actual shampoo.
I let it sit while I lather my body with my hand, reminding myself that I'll need some washcloths for bathing for next time, too. Rinsing all the soap off my body and out of my hair, I enjoy the warm water for another minute or two before turning it off. We'd only been able to take a two-minute shower at the compound. If we'd taken longer than that and gotten caught, we were punished. One of the other girls my age, Lily, had thought it was worth it and taken as long as she wanted. That wasn't her only infraction, either. She did a lot of things against the rules. Her punishments upped in severity each time until we no longer saw her. I'm not sure where she went, but it's been months since I saw her last.
When I step out, I use the white dress as a towel to dry my body and my hair off as much as possible. I finger comb my hair as best I can before pulling it back up in a bun on top of my head. I then pull the borrowed pants and shirt on, hating the way they make me feel dirty again. Hanging the dress up to dry on the towel rack, I go back into my room and slip my shoes on.
I debate for a few minutes on whether I should take my bag or not. I don't want to leave it here just in case someone comes in and decides to rummage through it. At the compound, there was no such thing as privacy. I brought next to nothing with me, so I slip all of my mail and registry information into my bag with the one notebook already in there. My one secret at the compound that no one ever knew about. The only thing I keep out, other than my room key, is the silver card and the paper it came attached to. It says that there's a number I have to call to activate it to have access to the money on it.
Clenching it in my hand, I leave the rooms, locking the main door behind me. I take the stairs back down to the bottom floor where I saw a person sitting behind a window.
They're still sitting there watching their phone when I tap lightly on the window. The girl with bright-purple hair lifts her gaze to me and smiles as she slides the window open. "Hi there, can I help you?"
"I was wondering if I could use your phone," I tell her.
She looks down at the phone in her hand before realization dawns on her face and she giggles softly. Setting out the bigger phone from the desk on the little counter on my side of the window, she says, "Sure, go ahead. You can even make a long distance call if you need to."
"Thank you," I say. Picking up the handle and waiting on a dial tone, I type in the numbers on the paper and then go through a series of prompts asking for all sorts of information. When it asks for the last four of my social security number, I panic for a moment before I remember I have that information now. Whipping my bag around, I'm in the process of taking it out when the machine on the other end of the line asks if I need more time, so I press the number that says I do. Once I've got it, I memorize the last four without taking it completely out of my bag and enter it. The lady's voice on the other end says thank you and tells me my balance on my card. I almost drop the phone and my bag when she tells me that there's over five thousand dollars. I've never even had one dollar, let alone five thousand.
I'm still semi speechless when I set the phone back down and look back to the girl trying her best not to watch me. "Thanks again."
"Sure thing," she replies with another smile, taking the phone back to her side. "I'm April by the way, one of the resident assistants for this dorm. I'm here typically on the weekends and during breaks, because I'm the only one who doesn't go home. So, if you ever need anything just stop by and ask, okay?"
I nod with a quick smile.
"Do you want my number?" she asks. "That way you can text or call if you need anything and I'm not here."
I don't want her to think I'm weird, but I also don't want her to think I'm rude. So, I decide to be honest, "I don't have a phone."
"Oh," she says in surprise. "I thought maybe yours had just died or something. That's cool, though. We get that here a lot, though. Either too cool to have one or the parentals were too strict to allow it. If you get one, don't be afraid to stop by and get my number. I've been here for three years now, so I know a lot of the ins and outs."
Her personality is as bright as her hair, and I like it. She's been more open with me in one conversation than anyone on the compound my entire life.
“That’d be great,” I reply honestly. “I’m Marnie.”
“Well, that’s a badass name,” she says with another bright smile. “Hit me up anytime, Marnie.”
“Thanks again,” I tell her before walking off.
I’ve been more nervous about being here than anything. Not just worry about being found, but about the people here. We’ve always been warned that people outside of our community were savages who were adulterers, murderers, rapists, and all around horrible. So far, I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s gone out of their way to be any of those things.
Stepping out into the daylight, I take in the warmth of the sun on my face and the sound of the town around the campus, in full swing even though the university isn’t yet. All of it, the feel of freedom.