She glances at me. The cherry red ember glows in the night. The smoke wreaths her, curling. She’s pretty, big eyes, full lips, a nice smile when she shows it. Right now, she looks ten years older.
“Everything I said is true. They chased me, caught me, and tossed me in one of their rooms. I didn’t mention that room was in the back of the house and it smelled like moldy dog shit. They gave me a bucket to piss in and the TV was mounted in the corner and bolted to the wall. It was like a fucking torture cell, like they’ve been using it to kidnap people for years. There was a drain in the floor, Kaye.” She shudders and takes another drag. “It was rusty and stained red. I’m not sure if it was from blood or they made it look that way to freak me out.”
I try to match up what she’s saying now with the way she’s been acting since she got back. “Does Emilio know?”
“Not yet. He suspects. But I don’t want him to know the details.”
“Why not?”
She stares at me with real fear in her eyes. Lesley, strong and bold and wild, looks terrified.
“He’ll start a war I’m not sure we can win. You don’t really understand Emilio yet. He’s intense and he’ll do absolutely anything to protect his people and punish his enemies. If we go down that route, I’m worried we’ll never be the same. Cask seems like a bunch of idiots on the outside, but they’re not. Malcolm’s smarter than he acts. They’re crueler than I ever guessed.”
“The bruise?”
“It’s really from falling.” She winches as she raises up her shirt. I gasp at the marks forming on her ribs. “These are from when they held me down while some red-haired asshole kicked me in the chest until I puked.”
“Oh my god, Lesley.”
“Don’t tell Emilio. Please, I’m begging you. Malcolm stopped them when he came down and realized what was happening and I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but it’s like if I don’t say something to someone then I’m going to explode.”
“They tortured you.”
She shakes her head, finishes the cigarette, flicks the butt away, and lights another. “It wasn’t torture. They didn’t have an end goal in mind. It was just… a game. A sick game. Malcolm stopped it like it was never meant to happen.”
“They weren’t trying to get information from you?”
“Kaye, I think Malcolm knows everything he needs to know already. I think someone’s been passing them information. How else did he know I’d be on the boat this morning? I was careful. There’s no way I should’ve gotten caught.” She leans forward, hunching over herself, cradling the cigarette between her fingers like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Emilio needs to know. If there’s a traitor—”
“Don’t,” she says sharply. “Please, I’m trusting you. Don’t tell him. Everything feels like it’s on the edge of spiraling out of control and I don’t want to be the one to tip us into chaos.”
I chew my lip, torn between wanting to be honest with Emilio, wanting to help Calico, and needing to be loyal to my only real friend here. But finally, I nod and rub her back in slow circles. “I promise. This can stay between us, but I don’t like it. I want to tell Emilio, but I won’t.”
“Thank you.” She relaxes slightly. “Malcolm really did make me fish and chips. And it was really good. Except I think it was test, like he beats me first then gives me a little pity after and it’s supposed to break me. And Kaye, it almost worked.”
“You don’t have to blame yourself. Anyone would’ve broken in your situation.”
She nods, eyes hollow. “I don’t know why they released me. I was down there in the basement, staring at a glitchyNinja Turtlesshow on VHS when Malcolm came down and said it was time for me to leave. He walked me up, took me outside, and handed me off to Emilio. That’s it, nothing else. There was no discussion, no negotiation, nothing, except Malcolm made one weird comment. ‘He won’t cover for you forever.’ That’s what Malcolm said as he gave me over to Emilio, and I think Emilio knew what it meant.”
I close my eyes, trying to process. After a second, I open them again and watch the smoke drift from her cigarette. “He went to visit someone in the admin housing. I don’t know who. He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Which house was it?”
“The very last one in the row closest to the ocean.”
“Deck in the back?”
I nod, narrowing my eyes. “You know who it is.”
“Dean Wotherspoon.” She gives a sharp laugh. “Fucking hell. What’s Emilio wrapped up in? I shouldn’t be surprised but every time I think I understand the games he’s playing, I find out there’s an entirely new depth.” She stands and stubs out her cigarette. “I’m heading inside. Coming?”
“Yeah, just a second.”
She squeezes my shoulder and slips in through the back door.
Dean Wotherspoon. I think back to my meeting with him in the forest when he was out for a hike. He seemed friendly enough, but I don’t know anything about him, aside from the fact that he’s probably a powerful force at this school. Did Emilio say something to him to make him help Lesley? Why aren’t the Cask boys in trouble if a member of the administration is involved?