Variant

The creaking got louder and louder, and each slow swing seemed to strain the strength of the wood. It was too late to give up. I was already in the tree, already trying to jump the wall. If I went back down, I’d get detention, whatever that was. I had to keep going.

As I swung toward the wall I searched for something to break my fall, but the other side of the wall looked like this side-fifteen feet of bare dirt and rocks.

I had to jump. The Society was already below me. I’d already broken the rule.

When the pine swung close to the wall my fingers gripped the branch tighter, as if my own body were unconsciously refusing to take such a suicidal leap.

And I suddenly realized there was something in the forest on the other side. Smoke.

The tree swung back, and I put my weight into it.

It couldn’t be fog over there. It was too dry and too windy. But the dark haze hung over the forest, low in the trees. I couldn’t see where it was coming from.

An air horn blared beneath me. They were calling for help.

The tree swung toward the wall, and then back away. I braced myself for the jump. Next time.

I could feel the momentum shift under my feet as the tree reached its farthest point, slowed, and began swaying back again. My gaze was glued on the dirt below, the far side of the

wall. It looked rocky and hard. I’d have to land just right. Can’t lock my knees. Roll with the impact. I might just SNAP!

I heard a sharp pop like the sound of a gunshot. The branch below me had broken. I was falling.

I desperately snatched at limbs and branches, but it was too late. I tumbled down through the boughs of the pine, bouncing off branch after branch until I collapsed painfully to the earth. I landed on my knees then fell forward onto my face.

I panted for breath, pain shooting in my legs as I tried to lift myself up.

A foot hit my back, slamming me back down.

“Trying to cross the wall is a detention-worthy offense,” a male voice said. I tried to roll over, but he kept his foot in place. I didn’t have the energy or breath to fight back.

“Get his hands,” a voice ordered-a girl-and I felt someone grab at my wrists. I shook them loose, and then pain burst through my side. A kick to the ribs.

I rolled onto my left. There were three of them, all in their gym clothes. Two boys and a girl. I didn’t know the boys, but the girl was Laura, my so-called teacher.

“Hello, Benson,” she said, seeing the recognition in my eyes. She held a black stick-maybe it was metal-about two feet long. “No one is allowed to cross the wall. You were told this during new-student orientation.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I hurt all over, and it felt like I was breathing through heavy cloth-I couldn’t get enough air.

“Now please give your hands to Dylan so that he can bind them,” Laura said sternly, as though she were reciting directly from the rulebook. “You will be taken to the school for detention.”

Dylan tried to take my hands, but I fought him and after a moment he backed up. I saw him draw something from his belt, but he was obscuring it in his hand. Pepper spray?

“Resisting security,” Laura continued, her face red and wild, “is also punishable.”

“What is wrong with you people?” I said, fighting for air to speak.

“We follow the rules, Benson,” Laura said.

“Don’t you want to get out of here?” I gasped. “We-us four-could knock down a tree and be gone.”

“That is not true,” she said. “Now, Dylan.”

Dylan took another step forward, and this time the other boy stepped around behind me. Dylan raised the canister in his hand.

Another voice rang out. “Stop.”

Dylan’s head shot up.

“He was trying to escape,” Laura declared indignantly.

I rolled over again, rocks cutting into my sides. Five others were standing in the woods. Curtis, Mason, Jane, Lily, and Carrie.

“He wasn’t trying to escape,” Curtis said. “He was going for a jog to try to keep warm.” His dirty face was red and tired, and he was panting heavily.

Dylan let out a loud mocking snort, and Laura spoke. “He tried to jump from this tree. He was trying to get over this wall.”

Curtis motioned for Mason, who hurried over to me and helped me up. Dylan and the other Society boy seemed unsure of what to do. They wanted to fight-I was sure of that-but they were outnumbered.

“Benson was jogging,” Curtis repeated.

“He was going to meet me out here,” Jane said. “We’d arranged it. He was in the tree watching for me.”

I put my arm around Mason’s shoulder and hobbled slowly back to where the V’s stood.

“The fact is,” Curtis said, “that’s what we’re going to say when we appeal his detention. And you know the rulebook, Laura-what’s the punishment for making a false accusation for detention?”

“He was trying to escape,” Laura said. Her voice was shrill and furious. “Everyone here knows that.”

Curtis walked toward Laura and lowered his voice, so quiet I could barely hear him. “And everyone here also knows what detention means. Do you really want that?”