the waist and wrapped her hair turban-style. “You’ll see.” Her voice was
muffled against her chest, but I thought I detected a grin.
Without
another word I plodded to the cramped bathroom where rust-colored water stains lined
the sink. When I turned the tap in the shower, the water came out little more than
a tepid trickle. A garden hose would have been more efficient.
“You
have got to be kidding,” I muttered.
Bracing
myself against the cold, I stepped in. The tiled floor was like a block of ice
under my bare feet, and I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, convulsing with
shivers. But then I remembered what Shyla had said about working magic. What
did she mean?
I put
my hand against the shower nozzle as my teeth chattered. Goosebumps rippled
across my skin as rivulets of cold water dripped down my raised arm and off my
elbow. I closed my eyes and tried to infuse every warm thought I could muster
into my fingertips, which only succeeded in creating a lot of steam. I jumped
back, afraid of burning myself.
Closing
my eyes again, I reached toward the metal nozzle but didn’t touch it. I pictured
an ocean swell of deep-sea green, and immediately the water came rushing out in
full force. It hit me square in the face, clogging my nose and stinging my eyes.
I sputtered and quickly gave up, deciding I could go a day without a proper
shower. I’d have to practice water tricks later.
“Did
you get it to work?” Shyla said.
I
glared in her direction, still freezing. “Ha! I’m pretty sure Charley arranged
for us to stay here based on the crappy bathroom facilities alone.”
Shyla
laughed. “I was never very good at manipulating water. It’s a hard element to
control. Fire was definitely my thing.”
“I remember,”
I said dryly. “It seems to be my thing, too.”
Our voices
finally roused Adrian, who grunted a few times before slowly pulling himself to
the edge of his cot and stretching his arms above his head.
“The
shower sucks,” Shyla announced.
Adrian
blinked. “Oh.” Then he fell against the cot and, within seconds, was snoring
again.
When
Imogene finally called us for breakfast, Adrian, Shyla, and I took our food and
mugs of coffee outside. We were looking forward to eating down by the lake
before the rain started in. But the gravelly rumble of a car made us pause. When
it stopped, Jasmine emerged from the back seat and stared at us as Charley and
Caleb got out.
“Don’t
go running off,” Charley called to us as we continued on our way with Caleb now
in tow. No one invited Jasmine.
“Did
you hear me?” Charley called. “I’ll need help setting up for the meeting.”
Only with
a tremendous amount of effort did I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. More
than anything I wanted to tell Charley that I wasn’t going to help at all, that
it was her stupid meeting, anyway, and she could do everything by herself.
But
then I remembered that dumb proverb about keeping your enemies close, which
sounded like a good idea in any case. So I mustered the sweetest smile I could
and turned to Charley. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
Charley
stood in the middle of Council Hall directing us how and where to set up the
metal folding chairs. We filled three-quarters of the room, arranging the
chairs in ten uniform rows.
According
to Imogene, only the eldest female member of each family was required to attend
the monthly meetings. I sincerely hoped some of the chairs would remain empty
and that the whole tribe—men, women, and children alike—wouldn’t show up just
to stare at us newcomers.
Or
rather, at me.
“Sarah,
you will sit here.” Charley propelled me to a chair at the front of the room
and then pushed on my shoulders, forcing me to sit.
Soon
enough, people began trickling in, shaking the now-falling rain from their
clothes and umbrellas. A peal of thunder crashed overhead and a baby cried. I
rubbed my hands against my jeans, but it didn’t make my palms any less sweaty.
I