Scout's Honor: Chapters 20–28

Mom and Tía Lo said that the influx of campers must have pulled the Carnivore through. There were rumors about people coming out here in the middle of the night to party.

Flashlight filled my eyes, Faithlynn blinding me for sport as she pretended to laud me for making the scoreboard on the Headquarters app.

That stunt had earned me the only charm I’d gotten without the circle’s help. And Faithlynn’s unending disdain because she hadn’t been able to replicate it.

Faith welcomed the momentum, letting the Scranch pull her halfway to its mouth before she barrel-rolled over the leg and thrust her axes into the grub’s haunch.

“Because everything I have done this summer is so that I can finally just Forget...all of this!” I sob, tears spilling down my cheeks in hot rivulets.

“Right,” I say as Avi and Tía Lo wield their forks and knives in the same mincing manner, like they’re playing tiny violins rather than cutting meat.

“It’s a steel test,” Avi corrects with a haughty toss of her hair.

“Headquarters has some videos everyone is supposed to watch to prep for the steel test,” I say, doing my best to sound cavalier.

Across the table, Dad makes eye contact with me and grimaces almost imperceptibly.

Resigned to this new meddling, I make myself hold my chin up and smile at Mom and Tía Lo.

When she snuffs the
flame of a taper candle in my hand, even
Sasha joins the riotous applause.

“That’s how they make the teas, you know,” Gabby tells me, pointing at the base of the Root, where the legs have wispy hairs coming out the bottom. “They regrow the Roots, then shave them down like truffles.”

Nothing I’ve done in the last three years is worse than inspiring Molly to get herself killed, then having a full-fledged nervous breakdown and dissolving all my friendships.

In order to complete her training,
 every fledgling scout must display her ability
 to think, fight, and comport herself as a 
Ladybird under every extreme circumstance.

Paz was furious when I told her that I didn’t have a clipboard to carry around the grading rubric papers with me, but I’m pretty sure I can remember to look out for the automatic fails: screaming, crying, and allowing anyone to be fed upon without acting.

Kelsey slurps her braces twice in nervous succession.

Kelsey’s tawny hair is flat-ironed sleekly over one of her eyes.

I did what I was asked to do: I tutored new recruits, and I handed them off to a more seasoned circle.

I toss it into my jewelry box, along with all of the earrings with lost mates and monogrammed necklaces that have never been my style.

Right now we’re calling them Cannibal class because they’re the product of Carnivores eating other Carnivores. They used to be super rare, too rare to study. Because Carnivores are attracted to apex emotional flare-ups, and how often would two different seismic shifts happen so close together? That would be like having more than one national tragedy happen in a week. An earthquake at the same time as a wildfire.

“The sisterhood?” he repeats, cutting his eyes at me. “Is it a cult? Did you induct my sister into a cult?”

Next to the metal Goldfields marquee, Chancho has a bulging backpack slung over one shoulder.

Out of its open beak is the high-pitched shriek of a young girl, echoing forever, too cacophonous to be real.

Feinting to the right, I charge toward the grub squirming beneath the tarp.

“If that thing can talk, it has advanced sentience,” Kyle says in the following silence.

“I know you’re only a junior still, but God, you can’t be that naive! We can’t move this thing back and forth forever just because you put enough of your feelings in it to teach it to sing! There are no bonus points for that!”

My diaphragm seizes as I struggle to sit up, unable to breathe.

Through the thicket, I can see Paul stabbing wildly, attempting to free Kyle, but his single knitting needle can only banish an inch at a time and he’s huffing so much dust, he’s likely to start drowning in Blight himself.

Four claws explode through the top of its head, obliterated in an instant by Chancho, who is so proud of himself, he accidentally conjures a Nock Jaw.

Underneath a bramble of Dreary Blight, all I can see of Kyle is his unconscious face.

His body shudders, head lolling to one side as he lets out a deep, wet cough.

Dreary Blight spores pour from his lips and sink into the ground as he hacks and heaves the sadness out of his lungs.

I’m not equipped to dole out punishment for harboring a dangerous monster and juicing it for points.

The blaze of her headlamp blinds me, but the single LED bulb is wan compared with the memory of the Cannibal’s hydrogen-fire eyes.

The candy-corn striation is Dreary Blight red and Tizzy Louse orange and Frightworm white.

Tía Lo takes a break from worrying over Avi and berating Chancho.

So I’m shocked when Faithlynn starts to laugh.
“Oh please,” she says derisively, her upturned nostrils flaring wide.

Much to my chagrin, I can sort of see her point. Faithlynn is exactly what a legacy scout is supposed to be: completely devoted no matter the cost.

She saunters forward, swinging her halberd at her side.

It’s more crowded under the pergola than it used to be. I had to borrow a new tea set from Tía Lo to accommodate everyone.