Chapter 2
At six thirty we’re escorted downstairs for dinner, and I get ready to set my plan in motion.
I carry my tray to my usual spot, where I sit alone with Keisha. We eat and keep an eye on the staff, who are gossiping in the corners of the cafeteria. They’re fully occupied. Now we wait for the perfect moment.
Finally, Tracy stands up and saunters toward the kitchen to drop off her tray.
Keisha and I get up and follow closely behind her, talking just above a stage whisper.
Tracy slows her pace and turns her head just slightly.
She’s listening. This is my favorite part.
It’s showtime. “So, then Ms. Michelle told Mr. Josh that Ginger’s mom called, and you’re not going to believe what he said,” I say to Keisha.
“What did he say?” Keisha asks, with just enough surprise and shock. She’s putting her best acting skills to work.
“He said Ginger would have to wait until her phone day to call her mom back.” I shake my head as I drop my tray onto the pile. Tracy has paused next to us and picks at her nails, desperate to hear what comes next.
“But her phone day is three days from now! What if it was an emergency?” Keisha says.
“All I know is, if I were Ginger, I’d want to know. But it’s none of my business.” I shrug.
Back in our seats, I can see Tracy’s little wheels turning.
She gets that twinkle in her eye when she thinks she knows something special.
I watch as she scans the room for someone to tell.
To Tracy, information is a prize and a status symbol.
She won’t tell Ginger first. No, she’ll tell her little girl squad, trying to impress them with her gossip.
She finds Diamond across the cafeteria and skitters over to start spilling. It’s exactly what I was counting on.
* * *
We sit in the dayroom, watching reruns of I Love Lucy, but I’m watching the clock, waiting for it to happen. Just before eight, it does.
Ginger marches out of the dayroom and into the hall. It starts with a soft, obnoxious whine. “She needs to talk to me! She has news! She’s probably coming to get me! Please! I need the phone.”
“Ginger, I don’t have any record of a call from your mother today, yesterday, or any time this week.
Tonight’s not your night to make calls. You can call her on Thursday,” Ms. Jackie says calmly.
We gather in the doorway of the dayroom to watch the fireworks, and then we slowly spill out into the hallway.
“You’re lying! This is a crime!” Ginger screams. God, it’s like knives on a chalkboard. But it’s working. Impatiently, Ms. Jackie orders us to go to our rooms, but we drag our feet to try to catch as much of the drama as possible.
“Ginger, let’s remember your coping skills. Take a deep breath with me, and then let’s count to ten,” Ms. Jackie says.
“You’re violating my civil rights, and you’re going to have to kill me if you think I’m going to sit here and take it!” Ginger bellows, red-faced. “I know all my rights!”
Jesus, the dramatics. We filter into our rooms, but we all lean out of our doorways to watch. Every eye is on Ginger. Nurse Patrick starts rummaging through the locked cabinets for the diazepam, right on cue.
Just then, the elevator dings and the night shift starts clocking in.
The chaos of it all is a thing of beauty.
The lobby is buzzing, and Ginger is screaming, and all the girls are getting a free show.
It’s a little early, but it’ll do. I lock eyes with Keisha from my doorway and lift my chin toward the south door.
I leave behind a girl-shaped mass of carefully arranged clothes and pillows in my bed.
With all the chaos, they won’t check beds for another two hours at least. We have time.
I follow a few steps behind Keisha until we get to the south doors.
She peers behind us, and I catch the smallest twitch of her mouth.
She’s nervous, and she’s not hiding it very well.
She punches in the stolen code slowly. My heart hitches in my chest as we stare at the little red light in the corner of the keypad for what seems like an eternity.
Finally, it chirps. Turns green. Keisha doesn’t hesitate.
She grabs the handle, turns it quietly, and pushes it forward.
We move into the dim stairwell as the door clicks behind us. Keisha’s chest deflates as she pushes out a breath she must have been holding the entire time.
“No going back now,” she says evenly.
I swallow louder than I mean to and start up the stairs.
Two flights feel like forever when you’re trying to move silently.
When we get to the top, I can just make out the writing on a red door.
ROOF ACCESS. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY I can barely find Keisha’s eyes in the dark.
For a moment, I worry about the door having an alarm.
I’m pretty sure some of the staff come up here to smoke on their breaks.
Now I’m definitely sure. The smell of stale cigarette smoke hangs in the air.
If they come up here, then there shouldn’t be an alarm on the door, but it’s a risky bet.
I hold my breath again and push the bar in the center of the door.
Only the sound of summer crickets greets us.
I step out onto the roof and breathe in the hot, soggy air.
Keisha flies past me, jogs to the edge of the roof, and looks down.
She leans over. She lifts her arms. I almost call out to her to stop, but before I can say a word, she spins around, arms wide, with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen spread across her face.
“We made it, Quinn!”
“We made it.”
“Look at the stars!” Keisha beams, throwing her arms above her head.
“They’re really bright,” I say lamely.
“Oh my god, Quinn. Why did you even bother breaking out if you don’t care about what’s outside?” Keisha twirls as she emphasizes the last word. God, I’ve never seen her like this. She’s actually joyful.
“I just wanted the quiet,” I say, listening to the crickets. I’m lying, though. I just wanted to see if I could get away with it. Plus hanging out with Keisha alone is a nice bonus.
“This is how it’s supposed to be,” Keisha says, touching my shoulder tentatively. Her touch sends a ripple of energy through me.
She’s right. This is how it’s supposed to be.
The stars, the crickets, the calm. It’s something we don’t get to experience very often.
The cold floors, the sterile air, the constant supervision—I had almost forgotten how stifling it is until now.
In this moment, I decide this feeling is worth the risk of getting caught.
We’ve pulled a lot of tricks over the last year, but this is by far the biggest risk we’ve taken.
My heart slows as I wonder when we can do this again.
How often could we get away with escaping out here, just the two of us?
How many ways could I find to manipulate the other girls and the staff to distract them?
Then I start to think of other possibilities.
I look over the edge of the building and imagine what it would be like to go for a walk out on these streets.
I breathe in the humid summer air and the smell of fresh-cut grass and picture myself walking in a straight line for miles.
I almost do it. I almost step onto the fire escape and take my chances.
But the rust covering its bars changes my mind. That thing looks like a deathtrap.
Behind me, Keisha has lain down on the roof.
She pats the spot next to her, so I lie down too.
Even a foot apart, I swear I can feel the heat of her, burning the bare skin of my arm.
We stay like that, staring up at the sky, just breathing in the summer air.
Soon, my eyes grow heavy, and I can feel myself drifting off to sleep.
The sound of plate glass shattering makes me jump.
My head whips toward the noise, but I can’t pinpoint exactly where the sound came from.
“What was that?” Keisha whispers, wide-eyed, scrambling up on her elbows.
We don’t waste time wondering. We run to the edge of the roof, duck low, and peer over just as a man pushes through the hole in the window leading into the Pegasus Center’s lobby.
“What was that?” Keisha repeats, more urgently.
“Somebody broke into the center.”
“No shit, Quinn. It’s probably one of those terrorists from the news,” Keisha says, panicking.
“What does a terrorist want with a residential treatment center, Keisha? There’s nothing here,” I say, trying to convince us both.
Breathless, we watch the empty hole in the lobby, but nothing happens. It’s oddly quiet now. I look around expecting the cops to fly around the corner any second, but instead we just stand there in silence. Then I notice the coffee shop across the street.
The glass from the storefront window has shattered onto the sidewalk, glinting under the streetlight and… Is that… Is that blood?
“Keisha, look.”
She startles out of a thousand-mile stare.
“I think there’s blood in the glass down there at the coffee shop,” I say, pointing. “I think whoever just broke into the Pegasus Center was there first.”
“This is crazy, Quinn. We need to go back inside before the cops come.”
A scream rises to the roof from below. It’s coming from the front lobby. My spine tingles, and I feel a jolt of energy.
“Keisha, I think that was Ms. J. She always cleans the lobby before she leaves for the night.”
We hear a muffled cough, then silence.
“Oh god, what do you think happened to her?” Keisha says, panic rising in her voice.
“Stabbed maybe?” I wonder aloud.
“Stabbed? We have to go back inside. Now. The cops will be here any second. Nobody can know we were here for this,” Keisha says, speaking faster.
I sigh. I know she’s right, but everything in me wants to climb down the rusty fire escape and see what really happened. Safety be damned. But as much as I want to see what happened, I know our time is up.
“You’re right. Let’s go,” I say, resolved.
I turn back to the red door, but Keisha is shaking and wide-eyed. She looks terrified.
“Get your shit together! When we walk back through that door, you need to forget this ever happened. I’m not losing my privileges because you can’t keep a straight face,” I say, trying to shake some sense into her.
It seems to work. It only takes seconds for her to slip into a well-practiced mask.
Her eyes clear, and the wrinkle in her forehead smooths out.
“I’m fine. Let’s just go,” she says.
We move quietly down the two flights of stairs back to our locked unit. Keisha punches in the code, and the red light flips to green. She pulls the door open and listens.
The floor has quieted down. I can hear the night shift chatting at the staff’s workstation on the opposite end of the hall.
The girls are in their rooms, listening to quiet music, reading, or snoring softly.
It’s like nothing ever happened just six floors down.
When the coast is clear, I slip off my shoes and run as quickly and silently as I can into my dark room.
When I’m safely inside, I peer out of my door into Keisha’s room. She’s looking back at me. I give her a meaningful look and a sharp gesture that says, once again, “Keep your shit together,” and move back into the darkness.
I undress, climb into bed, and stare up at the ceiling.
The blood in my veins is on fire. I can’t stand not knowing exactly what happened in the lobby.
I want to see it. I play back the scream, the muffled cough.
Who did that? Will they get away with it?
I decide to do everything I can to find out more tomorrow. I close my eyes and wait for morning.