211

[From  ]

211
Telling Daisy what happened

“You know, Kestrel,” Daisy says as she sits down on the chair in the visiting room, “I was thinking about something.”
I feel really bad about it, but I’m going to explode if I don’t get to say all of this aloud after I worked so hard to get here. “I really want to hear about it,” I say, “but something crazy happened, and I have to tell you about it.”
Daisy smiles. Did I mention that there is a reason why she is my best friend? Best friends listen to each other.
“I saw Barry last night.”
“What?” Daisy looks surprised and suspicious all at the same time. “Barry hasn’t been at EI for, I don’t know, maybe all week. Mrs. Litchen was asking about him in my mathmagics class.”
“I know. Well, I was with him last night.”
Her eyes get really big, and I can see the questions coming.
“Not...you know...anything. Actually, it was weirder than that.” I wave my hand at her. “Not. Just no expectations, okay? Let me start at the beginning.” So I tell her all about, all about Barry, and how I got to the camp. I tell her about Sage, and just everything--except that I’m a little bit vague on how the magic worked to heal him. I’m not sure that I could tell it so that it would make any sense to her; and honestly it would sound kind of weird.
As I tell her, I remember the horror and the panic, but I also remember that feeling of truly being. The space I was in, the moment that I was in may have been really small, but I belonged to it completely. There was nothing missing in that moment, and honestly, if that moment had gone for hours or days--maybe even longer--I would not have noticed, I wouldn’t have been bored or felt tired. Not ever. It was leaving that moment that was the hard part.
“Wow,” says Daisy. “No wonder you wanted to talk about it.”
“So now we know what Barry was up to,” I tell her.
“Partly,” she agrees. “But not completely. What were they doing there? And what really happened? You said that there was an explosion, but why?”
She’s right. I’ve been so busy trying to figure out my reaction that I didn’t think to question any details. It just goes to show how dumb I am. Every time I start thinking about how much smarter I am than Daisy, I get a reminder like this. She gets horrible grades at EI--especially in mathmagics--but that doesn’t mean that she’s not a good thinker. I don’t know why she can’t do it.  When we talk about it, she’s fine, but she can’t pass a written exam to save her life. Her spelling is so bad that you can’t really even figure out what she’s trying to say most of the time, and she only write things down when our teachers absolutely force her to. And when we do mathmagics, her calculations are never right. Never. She can’t even write the problem down correctly. And yet, she can pay attention to details that it doesn’t even occur to me to think about--even though it happened to me. She’s smart; she just flunks every single class. If there were anything I could do to help her pass the Exam, then I would. My one hope is that she is so pretty, she should get solicitations. Any guy in his right mind would want to marry her.
“I don’t know what they were doing,” I admit finally. “I didn’t get the chance to ask.”
“And you woke up at home?”
“Yes.”
“Which means that they must have--”
“Exactly.” I shake my head. “So if they can break into my house that easily, what else can they do?”
She’s about to say something when we hear the front door open and footsteps come in. The firm, exact footsteps of Daisy’s father come down the hall and stop at the doorway. “Daisy,” he says. “What have I told you about visitors on the Holy Day?”
“Yes, Father,” she says. “But Kestrel only just got here. She brought a basket of muffins for her charity visit.”
Even though I’ve heard it before, I’m always impressed with how smoothly Daisy lies. She credited me with the basket of muffins that she had clearly been going to take on her own charity visit. It was lucky that all of the baking mess was completely cleaned up, but then, that’s the sort of person Daisy is. I can bake, but I tend to leave sticky bowls and little spills of sugar and flour all over the kitchen.
“Well, fine,” he huffs, and his graying beard and stout middle join in the huff. When food is involved, Pastor Robins isn’t one to argue. He glances at the clock. Daisy gives a tiny nod. That means that we can get away with five more minutes. Ten at the most. “Give my best to your father,” he says.
“Yes, Sir.” I trying to look innocent. He’s the sort of person who makes you feel guilty whether you did anything or not. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Daisy to live with him.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Daisy after he ambled off. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“That’s nothing,” she says with a grin. “When he caught me out after my curfew, he locked me in my room for two days straight and then every day when I wasn’t at EI for a week. I got so tired of bread and water,” she says, making a face.
“Daisy--”
“Don’t,” she tellsme. “It’s okay. One way or another, I’ll be out of this house very soon. You’re the one we need to worry about. It seems to me that you need to know a little bit more about what Barry is involved in, because then you’ll know how deeply you’re involved too. Is there a chance that they’d still be at the campsite?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I admit, “but it’s possible, and even if they’re gone, they might have left something behind.”
“Anything would help if you could get some more information,” she agrees. “Do you want me to come with you? I can invent an excuse to leave.”

[215]

I hate to ask her, because I know what will happen if she gets caught. She winks at me. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I’ve got a plan. He’ll believe it. Besides, there’s something important that I want to tell you.”

I still feel guilty, but at this point I need all the help I can get, and I’m curious to know what she wants to tell me. “Okay, I say. Let’s go.”

[216]

As much as I want her to come with me, I can’t make her do something that is wrong and that she’ll get in trouble for.

“I really want to hear what you have to say,” I tell her. “But if it can wait at all, then let’s talk about it tomorrow. I think I’ve gotten you into enough tight situations for one day.”