Chapter 4
It turned out that despite living on campus all these years, I had a horrible sense of direction. I had no idea where to start in finding the caves. We had never gone far into the trees, even when we hid there to cut class. The Montana woods around us were sprawling–miles and miles in all directions. The clearest path was out the gates and onto the main road, but I knew that my chances of being spotted were much higher there.
Cutting a sharp right, I changed my mind. The guardian offices were in a squat, industrial-looking annex of the administrative building. Listening closely, I timed my entrance the best I could and sprinted down the hallway and back staircase. I had gone with Rose once to run an errand for Ms. Hathaway–I scratched my wrist to make the thought stop. No more thoughts.
The guardians had an alphabetical filing system, which made "M" the perfect place to start. The trainee running maps weren't the most detailed, but they would do. While I certainly had no idea how long a kilometer was, I knew that whatever the distance was I would have to do it. I rolled the map up and pushed it up my coat sleeve, hiding the evidence from view.
The "Maps" tab was all too close to "Medical Records" and I found myself powerless to resist running my hand along the worn tabs until I found "Hathaway, Rosemarie." Her best attempt at a professional face greeted me as I opened the red file. Novices weren't allowed to smile for their yearly pictures and instead were given a black jacket to wear and told to "look professional." Rose and I hadn't been allowed to wait in the same line for pictures and she had spent her time making ridiculous faces at the other novices when the photographer wasn't looking. This year, the seventh in a row, she had managed to single-handedly ruin her "professional" novice class picture. Headmistress Kirova gave us a yearly lecture on professionalism that Rose could mimic almost word-for-word. I took the picture out, flicking the paperclip to the floor.
Her list of injuries in the file was extensive, yet unsurprising. I touched each entry, thinking about the ones I had healed, like her ankle and her face after Ms. Hathaway had hit her in practice. The car accident was listed too, though I shied away from looking at the pictures. I didn't need a reminder.
At the end of the medical record was a new entry, one that made me drop the folder. "Deceased." Deceased. Dead. Gone. Buried. It didn't matter how anyone wanted to put it. She was gone. I turned and fled, gasping for fresh air.
Unfortunately, I hadn't been as careful on the way up and ran directly into the hard torso of Guardian Petrov.
"Miss Dragomir?" She peered down at me, making me feel three feet tall. Rose had once described her as "leathery," and while that was rude, she wasn't incorrect.
"I'm sorry," I gasped. "I didn't mean to run into you."
"Miss Dragomir, what are you doing down here? This is not a place for students–"
"I know," I interrupted mid-lecture. "I just…" Frantically wracking my brain for a good lie, I decided to tell at least part of the truth. With shaking fingers I showed her the picture I had unclipped from her file. "I missed her. I know there's pictures of her down here. I wanted to have them."
Alberta's face softened, suspicion melting away. "Guardian Hathaway took some, I think. You may want to ask her." She put her hand on my shoulder and I struggled to meet her tender gaze. "I think she'd like to see some of your pictures, too. Nobody knew Rose like you did."
Nobody knew Rose like I did. The words felt like a bullet passing through my chest. My eyes welled up, and Guardian Petrov looked away so I could have some privacy.
"I miss her too." The admittance was so quiet I barely heard it over my sobs, but it was there. I had forgotten how many people besides me loved Rose. How many people would have to keep going without her. For a moment I was envious. If I loved her less, perhaps I could be one of those people that would continue going on. One of those people that only thought about her on her birthday, or only remembered a time or two that she made them laugh.
I was not one of those people. I had shattered, broken into so many pieces that I would never be whole again. There was nothing left. Not with half my soul already in the ground.
"Guardian Petrov?" She met my gaze again, steely guardian resolve back up.
"Yes, Miss Dragomir?"
"Could you…" I swallowed hard and started again. "Could you tell Ms. Hathaway that I'm sorry?"
"I doubt she thinks you have anything to be sorry for. If you want to tell her yourself, I think she's in Rose's room. Guardian Belikov should still be with her."
I nodded, turning to leave.
"Miss Dragomir?" I stopped, turning around to meet her gaze one last time.
"Please be careful," she said. For an odd moment, I felt like she could read my mind.
"I will," I lied, then fled.
