IRIS
It’s about two weeks after the police visited the cabin when Sol gives me my next trial.
I’m helping Lily wash clothes in the bathtub after dinner.
We divided up our last couple cans of tomato soup tonight.
Sol and Violet haven’t had any luck hunting since the incident at Mr. Brophy’s store, and the hunger in the cabin has reached a fever pitch.
We’re all feeling weak, fatigued, and irritable.
But Lily is doing her best to keep morale up while we wait for the tides to turn.
“Careful,” she says, catching me by the arm when I almost slip and fall into the tub full of water while I attempt to drop in an armful of clothing. The lack of food and sleep is taking a toll on my coordination.
I drop the armful of shirts and tattered jeans into the tub before rubbing my eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, hon,” she says, rubbing a reassuring circle on my back. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, because I know I’m feeling no worse than anyone else.
We sit on the edge of the bathtub, reaching down to swirl the clothes in the water to make sure they are thoroughly soaked before we pour in the soap.
“You know, I haven’t told you yet, but I like your hair short like this,” she says. “I miss braiding it, but I think it looks real good on you.”
Reflexively, I reach up and touch the soft fuzz of my hair, which has grown about half an inch since being shaved. “Oh, thanks.” I lower my hand and reach for the laundry detergent. “It’s … different. I’m still not used to it.”
“It took me by surprise when you did it,” she says. “But I really think it suits you. Your hair was pretty, but you’ve got a real cute face. You can pull it off.”
“Thanks, Lily. I appreciate that.”
Though if I’m honest, even her compliments make me feel a little guilty. Like I shouldn’t be allowed to appreciate them when the point was separating myself from my physical form. Still, it’s sweet that she’s trying to reassure me.
“I bet your head gets cold, though.”
I laugh and pour some of the soap into the tub. “Yeah. But more so the tops of my ears? I guess my hair always covered them, so I never noticed it before, but they get that biting kind of cold.”
“I’ve noticed Violet’s been snagging the beanie lately when she goes hunting, but I think you need it more than she does. Let me know next time you go out, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t take it.” She looks over at me and flicks some soapy water in my direction. “Can’t have those ears falling off.”
I give her a gentle smack on the arm and grin. “So I’m still pretty without hair but not without ears?”
“You said it, not me.”
We both devolve into full belly laughs. Probably more amused than the joke actually warrants. But the exhaustion and hunger have us both feeling a little delirious.
“Having fun in here?”
We both turn to see Sol standing in the bathroom doorway.
His blond hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and his white-and-gray flannel shirt has a few buttons undone.
He looks relaxed. Calm and comfortable after a long day of hunting.
Somehow unaffected by the hunger plaguing the rest of us.
I have a half-formed thought that perhaps he is too enlightened, too wise and evolved for something as mundane as hunger to drag him down.
Lily’s eyes light up when she sees Sol. All the warmth she radiates is suddenly directed toward him. “Just doing the laundry,” she says, reaching into the soapy water and swirling the clothes around a few times. “You need me for something?”
“No, no.” Sol shakes his head, returning her smile. “I’m just coming to steal Iris for a moment. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. I’ll get one of the other girls in here to help.”
“Thanks,” Sol says. He puts an arm around my shoulders when I stand and approach the door, guiding me toward his room.
The casual gesture of affection floods me with a sense of relief.
He isn’t upset with me. He’s been friendly for the last two weeks, but I’ve felt the tension since the police visit.
He hasn’t changed his mind about me yet.
He isn’t kicking me out.
Once we arrive in his room, he closes the door behind us and gestures for me to take a seat in the usual chair. He sits down across from me on his bed. He smiles, and I smile back, grateful for his light.
“How are you tonight, Iris?”
“I’m okay,” I say.
“Hungry, I’d imagine.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. “Um, yeah. But I know you and Violet are doing your best. And I’m grateful for that. I’m sure it’ll get better soon.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me,” he says. But his friendly smile slips as he becomes more serious, and I feel my shoulders tense in anticipation. “I know this isn’t the time for your usual Growth Session. But I suspect you can guess why you’re here.”
“Probably for my second trial?”
“Smart girl.” He leans forward, hands resting on his knees. “You did very well with the first task. And I’m proud of you for that, Iris. I’m sure it was emotional for you, and I’m sure it’s been an adjustment, but you’ve handled it with such grace and maturity.”
“Thank you,” I say, and even despite my nerves, I feel the warmth of pride swelling in my chest at the praise.
It doesn’t last.
“However, your mistake a couple weeks ago really put your sisters in danger,” Sol continues. “I trusted you, and you drew the police to our door. I hope I don’t have to tell you what would happen if the authorities found out about you underage girls being here.”
I look down at my hands in my lap as the warmth of pride fades and is replaced by the bitter cold of guilt. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are,” he says. “But what happened has made me question exactly how much I can trust you. So I started thinking about how I could apply that to your second trial. To give you a chance to redeem yourself—in my eyes, in your sisters’, but also in yours, because I’m sure the guilt must be weighing on you. ”
I nod.
“Iris.” I look up from my hands to meet his gaze. He’s watching me, blue eyes locking on mine as he says, “You’re an important part of this family. You made a mistake and let me down, but I know that you’d do anything to keep us safe. Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Because your second trial is for exactly that. Your first task was to learn to separate yourself from your physical body, to let go of shallow things like vanity. But this task is different. This time, I’ve decided the thing I need to see from you is loyalty.”
“Okay,” I say. My hands are clammy as they grip my knees. “So what do I have to do?”
“You’ll find out tonight.” He stands up and walks toward the door, signaling that our conversation is nearly over. “Come downstairs around one in the morning, after everyone is asleep. Be dressed and ready to go out for a while.”
“Go where?”
“You’ll see,” he says before pulling open the door. I stand up and allow him to usher me out. But before I can cross the threshold, he adds, “Don’t let us down again.”
“Iris? Where are you going?”
Moonlight streams through the attic window and falls across Rose’s face as she blinks sleepily up at me from her little twin mattress.
It’s one in the morning, and none of us have been in bed very long at all.
Poppy and Zinnia fell asleep instantly, their light snoring the telltale sign that they are no longer conscious, and I thought Rose had dozed off, too.
But now she is watching me as I pull on my jeans again and quietly hunt for a pair of socks.
“Nowhere,” I say.
“Anyone ever told you you’re a bad liar?”
“Yes. More than once.” I sigh as I find socks and sit down on my mattress to put them on. My voice remains low when I answer. “I can’t tell you.”
“That’s ominous.”
“It’s the rules,” I explain. “And … honestly, I don’t actually know where I’m going, so … I’m sorry.”
She wrinkles her nose. “You don’t have to apologize, but that doesn’t make it sound any less ominous.” She yawns and rolls over, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she murmurs, “Stupid rules. Have fun, I guess.”
I watch her for a moment, listening as her breathing slows.
I wish I could tell her about the trials.
Tell her why I really cut my hair. Tell her that I don’t know what Sol has planned for me next, but I’m scared I’ll let him down again.
I wish I could tell her how terrified I am that I’ll fail and have to leave this place, this family. Leave her.
But I can’t.
So instead I just finish dressing and slip out of the attic and down the stairs. Sol is waiting for me by the front door, dressed in all black. He doesn’t say anything at first, just nods to me before opening the door and gesturing for me to step outside.
We climb into the Chevy, and I wrap myself in the ratty green blanket as Sol turns the key in the ignition and begins to drive down the winding dirt paths between the mountains.
“So where are we going?” I finally ask once the cabin has faded from the rearview mirror.
“Into town.” His tone is unreadable. Not jovial, the way it often is, but not grim, either. It’s something muted, something gray and in between. It sets me on edge, and I don’t ask any more questions.
Sol parks the truck on a street I’m unfamiliar with. He shuts off the engine and turns around to reach into the back seat, where he has stashed several reusable shopping bags. He hands a few of them to me and opens the driver’s-side door. “Let’s go,” he says.
I follow him a couple of blocks before realizing that we’re heading toward Mr. Brophy’s grocery. We keep our eyes peeled for anyone who might see us, but in a town like this, it is unlikely we’d see anyone on the road past midnight.
“Here,” Sol says, leaning down and picking up a loose brick next to the old hardware store. He offers it to me.
I take it in my free hand but ask, “What is this for?”
“To break the window,” Sol answers, continuing to walk a few paces ahead of me. “I’m pretty certain the old man hasn’t invested in any kind of security system.”
“Oh.”
My stomach twists. I’ve stolen things, but I’ve never broken into a building before.
A few moments later, we are standing in front of Mr. Brophy’s store. The street is mostly dark, aside from a couple of streetlamps, and there is no sign of movement anywhere to be seen. Sol stops and gestures for me to go ahead of him, toward the building.
“Fill those bags with food,” he says. “Then pass them out to me, and I’ll hand you the other bags.”
So this is my trial, then. To repeat the task I failed but on a bigger scale. I guess it makes sense. I let Sol down before, so now I have to prove to him that I can handle this. That I can provide for everyone if the need arises.
I’m nervous, jittery, and feeling a little sick. But Sol believes I can do this. He wouldn’t give me a task I couldn’t accomplish. And we do desperately need food.
I take a deep breath. “Okay.”
I hold the brick in my hand, feel its weight, the rough texture beneath my fingers.
Three, two, one …
I throw the brick as hard as I can through one of the smaller windows.
The crash of the breaking glass is deafening in the silence of the sleepy street.
Sol and I both freeze, still as stone, listening.
But aside from the distant sound of a barking dog, which fades shortly, there are still no signs of life.
I move up to the window. The pieces of shattered glass glitter on the floor inside, catching and refracting fragments of the light from the streetlamp. Behind me, Sol waits, still and silent as the night around us.
Carefully, I climb through the hole in the window, trying to avoid the jagged edges. The crunch beneath my feet as they land on the other side feels just as loud as the brick going through the glass moments ago. And each step somehow seems louder than the last.
So I move quickly, weaving my way through the aisles, throwing boxes and packets and cans into the bags.
My heart is racing as I listen for the sirens I expect to start blaring down Maple Street at any moment.
I tell myself that Sol will get me out before that happens.
He won’t let them take me. And when this is done, we’ll be able to fill our bellies again.
That thought pushes me through. I return to the window with full bags and take two more from Sol so I can do it all over again.
Once all the bags have been filled, I climb back through the window, and we quietly make our way back to the truck.
I’m much calmer now. Relieved and maybe even a little proud of myself.
I’ve done it. My second trial is complete, and I’ve done something that will help our family.
We won’t be hungry, and I won’t have to go anywhere.
We load the bags into the back seat of the truck, and I start to walk around to the passenger’s side, but Sol stops me.
“Wait. You’re not done.”
I watch, confused, as he reaches into the truck bed and pulls out a gasoline canister. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“That wasn’t your trial,” he explains before handing me the gas can. Then he pulls a matchbook from his pocket and passes that to me, too. “This is.”
I frown down at what he’s just handed me and then look back up at him. I’m so baffled that I almost laugh. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
Sol points in the direction we’ve just come from, back toward the grocery store. “Burn it.”