Five days after his disappearance she scraped the words and numbers on the trunk of the Prayer Tree.
MATTHEW 10.26
And she vowed that she would never leave this place until he returned.
Chapter 6
The boy in the tree in my dreams comes calling again. His visits are more frequent these days. I ask him why and he tells me its because hes waiting for someone. For the first time ever I feel a chill slice through me. I ask him who it is he is waiting for but he doesnt answer. For some freaky reason, Hannah comes to mind and just when Im about to ask him another question, I sense that there is someone else in the tree with us. Someone at the edge of the branch, like a shadow, but I cant quite see their face. The boy stands up tall on the branch and dives into the water below and I hear a whimper from the shadow at the end of the branch. It frightens me so much that, with shaking legs, I stand as well. Ready to jump. Just about to.
Taylor?
I look at my clock. Six A.M.
Raffaela is standing by my bed. Its Ben. You should see what the Cadets have done to him.
They went for his fingers like they knew how much he needed them. His House leaders would always do that to him, too. Bens a muso. Loves anything that produces a tune, so naturally its always his fingers that get smashed when someone is pissed off with him, and Ben has one of those personalities that invites pissed-offness. Raffaela has his fingers taped and its a while before he looks up at me. I flinch at what I see.
Im presuming the eye will go a purply colour and that it will be difficult for him to eat for a day or two, judging by the amount of blood around his mouth. Raffaela cleans him up with the practicality of someone who has spent a lifetime doing it and I try to keep my mind on the semi-carnage in front of me but I just cant help thinking back to my dream.
So you made the offer, I say.
He nods but even that seems painful.
And they didnt
like it?
He wanted the negotiations to take place between him and the girl. Isnt she in charge over there? Thats what he said. Like I thought he would. Remember that part where I said hell want to speak to you?
And hes a coward who gets his thugs to do the dirty work for him.
Oh no, Ben says, trying to shake his head and pushing Raffaelas hand away. He did all this himself. Youve got to hand it to him. He does his own dirty work.
I can tell Bens angry.
I am allowed to delegate, I say to him, speaking more sharply than I should.
Yeah, I know. But you werent delegating. You were avoiding someone and I got caught in the middle. Look at me. Im five foot four. Im a weakling. My specialty is medieval jousting and violin. Im not built for pain. He, on the other hand, is a ten-feet-fricken-tall unit.
Then we try again and give him want he wants for the time being, Raffaela says.
We have no idea what he wants.
Did this happen on our territory or theirs?
Does it matter? It hurts the same. They have booby traps everywhere. Its like one of those bad Chuck NorrisVietnam War movies from the eighties.
So theyre bored? I ask.
Out of their tiny brains. They just worked out that you cant get mobile coverage out here. So no text-messaging means more terrorising. You cant walk a metre without a trip-wire getting you. You need to call a meeting with Richard and the other leaders. Remind them of exactly where the boundaries are because if one of the younger kids gets caught in the wrong area, therell be casualties and the teachers will start asking questions and the other Houses are going to go apeshit.
Then well go check the boundaries later today.
Im not going!
Yes you are, Ben. Youre my second-in-charge.
Only chosen because you didnt want Richard. Dont think for one moment that I thought you picked me for any other reason. I dont get chosen for things unless theres a motive. You know why Im head of my House? Because Number One Son found Jesus Christ and is now a happy clapper with those Hillsong People in Sydney, and Im about this close to joining him.
Ill get Richard, then. Hell be the best of a bad bunch of backstabbers. Is that okay with you? I snap. I walk out and slam the door, thumping furiously down the stairs.
The teacher who has replaced Hannah is calling the roll in our dining room and everyone acts as if its the most natural thing in the world. Everyone except for me and Jessa McKenzie. She sits at the bottom of the stairs wrapped in her nightgown, with that perfect yearning concern on her face.
Go get some breakfast, I say firmly.
Are you going to Hannahs?
Its none of your business where Im going, I mutter, slamming out the front door.
Hannahs house has begun to lose her scent. These days it smells musty and still. I walk to her room in the attic and lie on her bed. Its been a week since Ive seen her and I know that its time to go and speak to one of the teachers. To ask casually where she is. I bury my face in her pillow. I cant remember one day in the last five years that Hannah hasnt been around and for a moment I want to cry. Im angry that I want to cry because I feel like Ive been manipulated by the soundtrack in my headthe same one that made me cry in some shit sentimental movie with Julia Roberts where the mum is dying of cancer. I get off the bed and walk down to the kitchen. Hannahs manuscript is there on the table, but it seems thinner and the pages are spread out like someones just read them, like someones just been here, which makes me feel uneasy. The pages arent numbered, so I dont know whether I have the beginning or end or whether its in sequence but these days Im not really looking for continuity.