Katy was immediately transferred to solitary. Elv, on the other hand, was released from latrine duty. She wanted to jump up and cheer. Instead she said “Thank you” in a solemn, soft voice. “I’m grateful for your trust and support.” She had the language of self-help down pat. In group therapy, she told sorrowful stories that shocked everyone. It felt as if she was lying even if it was the truth, how she’d been fed bread and water, how he’d tied her down. When she cried, her tears were made of glass. They broke in half when they fell to the floor. No one noticed; they thought they were real. As if she would ever cry over what had happened.
The staff began to like her, she could tell. They pitied her. They thought she’d been treated unfairly at home, that she’d came from a dysfunctional family of divorce and shared secrets and was trying to reclaim her life. She was a model student and had soon won over her teachers. She attended all of her classes, even though they were a waste of time. All you had to do was show up and you’d pass. Westfield wanted to boast that 100 percent of enrolled students earned a high school diploma, even if no one learned anything. It was all a big show for the parents.
Soon Elv was granted permission to walk around the grounds. She searched for the robin’s bones, those glinting opalescent shards, but too many leaves had fallen. She couldn’t find a single one. She lay down in the leaves and listened to her name being called by those below. She hated herself for crying, even if they had been false tears. Right here, right now, she intended to give up all of her human traits. They had gotten her nothing. They’d gotten her here. In Arnelle, she was the one who freed demons from the nets that trapped them. She was known as their savior. In their world, she mattered. In their world, she was a queen.
ELV’S MOTHER SENT a present at Thanksgiving—a black cashmere sweater. Now that the weather is getting cold, Annie had written. Was she kidding? She never wanted to know the truth about anything. She wanted to believe everything was just fine—no skin and bones, no goblins, no rules. Students weren’t allowed to wear their own clothes at Westfield. Elv gave the sweater to Julie Hagen, the counselor in charge of job assignments. Elv couldn’t have anything but the ugly jeans and green T-shirt everyone was forced to wear. What did it matter? She might have been trapped in Westfield, but she was hiding out in Arnelle. She picked up the fragrance of hypnotic black roses as she walked down the corridor to the cafeteria. She could feel her wings emerging through her skin, feather by feather, bone by bone. She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
IN DEEP WINTER, when the snow was three feet high and the white birch trees faded into the landscape, Elv earned the right to take care of the horses. She’d worked hard to get the job that would give her the most freedom. She swore that sugar made her hyper and brought her desserts to Julie Hagen, the counselor she’d presented with the black cashmere sweater. Miss Hagen was a soft touch, so Elv hung around her office on the pretext of being lonely. She began running errands and quickly became Miss Hagen’s pet and her success story. In the end, it paid off. When the snow covered everything and the days ended in darkness at four, Elv got the plum job that she coveted.
Some of the other students might have been afraid of horses. They might have refused to shovel manure or resisted getting up so early, forced to tumble into the snowy field hours before breakfast. Elv was thrilled with her new position. She relished the time alone. She went to the stables early and stayed there most of the day, except for the few hours she had to spend in class. The glinting first light of morning was the perfect time to glimpse owls settling in the tall trees after a night of flight. Once there was a fox in the snow. Elv had stood there, quiet, breathing in the cold air, watching the scarlet color of the fox’s coat. She felt bewitched and lucky. She could have been anywhere, a heath, a moor, a garden.
Annie phoned every week, but Elv never took her calls. When she had the flu, it was Miss Hagen who brought tea and a cold washcloth for her forehead. When the holidays came, the only one who sent a card was Claire. Elv sat on her bed to read it. It was in the shape of a bassett hound, resembling Pretzel, who’d lived down the street. The card read Doggone, I miss you.
Come back, Claire had written. Nom brava gig.
Claire wrote weekly letters, and although she read them hungrily, Elv didn’t answer them. If Elv had been the one in the car, she would have never sat there, paralyzed with fear, while they’d carried her sister into the school. She would have done anything to stop them. But Claire didn’t know what Elv knew, and Elv was grateful for that. She didn’t know how to be vicious, how to bite back, how to fight for your life.
Elv didn’t write to her, but she slipped the card under her pillow. It was the only thing she kept from home.
WHEN ANNIE CAME to visit, it was unannounced and un expected. It was also unwanted. She thought it might be the only way she could get through to Elv. That if they sat down and talked they could work out what had gone wrong. All that week she had been dreaming of her daughter. Lately, she’d been afraid to fall asleep. Their lives had gone on as though everything was normal, or so it might appear. Annie and the girls had breakfast together, then Meg and Claire went off to school. Annie had stopped working. She had decided to focus on her family. She had savings and they would make do. She yearned to devote herself to something, even if that something was being a chauffeur. She cooked intricate dinners, learned how to make sushi, began to knit. She helped the girls to paint their bedroom a fresh eggy yellow in the hopes of brightening the third floor.