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  Bane’s hand is all bloody from when he smashed the window, and Maisie says “Gross,” when she sees it, but Bane just shrugs and then he licks up the blood. I say, “Gross,” and then Maisie asks, “Why do you always have to copy me, Azalea?”

  Maisie ends up making both mac n’ cheese and pizza because the mac n’ cheese wasn’t enough to fill us. Bane says that Maisie should apologize to me because I was right about needing both pizza and mac n’ cheese, and because she punched me, but Maisie doesn’t say anything besides calling down from the loft, “I’m sleeping here, don’t come up!”

  Bane grins and says, “I wouldn’t sleep up there if I were you!” and Maisie asks, “Why?” and Bane says, “Just don’t look in the pillow case.” It is quiet for a second and then Maisie runs down the stairs, squealing and whining. She goes over to the sink and says, “I hate you Bane,” and when she’s done washing up, she smacks his arm.

  In about two seconds, Bane has Maisie on the floor and he’s sitting on her, pressing her cheek into the tile. Then he takes his knife out, and holds it above Maisie’s neck. For just one second, I think that Bane might actually stab Maisie. But then Maisie starts crying, and Bane says, “Say you’re sorry for hitting me! Say you’re sorry!” But by that point, Maisie is crying so hard she can’t say anything.

  “Bane!” I yell, “Put the knife down! Get off her. She can’t breathe!” Maisie is turning red and she’s got snot dripping down her face and then she goes quiet and I get real scared. “Bane!” I yell and when I push him off of her, Maisie doesn’t do anything except for lie there, her face in the carpet.

  Bane belts his knife. He glares at me. Then he asks Maisie, “Are you alive, or what?”

  Maisie won’t even look at him. She says, “I wish you were dead,” and Bane says, “Come on, don’t say that. Take that back,” but Maisie says she won’t. Bane says, “Take it back, take it back,” but Maisie keeps on saying she won’t until Bane says, “I’ll let you be in charge if you take it back.” So Maisie stops crying some. She says she takes it back. She takes a deep breath then says that Bane and I are bad kids and we need to go to bed now, but first we need to brush our teeth.

  I don’t want to go to bed or brush my teeth, but say I will because for a second there I really thought Maisie was going to die.

  Maisie says Bane is sleeping upstairs and she’s sleeping in the little room off the kitchen and I’m sleeping on the couch, and Bane and I say ok because we’re tired of fighting. Bane goes upstairs and starts snoring right away and I lie down on the couch and Maisie asks, “Want to hear a story?” The thing about Maisie is that even though she’s a real pain, nobody tells better stories than she does. She’s got a real talent. I told her that one time, and she said thanks Azalea. It was a really nice moment.

  Maisie tells me a story about a little girl who’s got all of these very tiny people living in her house with her. “How tiny?” I ask. And she says, “Tiny enough to live in a model boat.” I ask her what kind of model boat, and she says, “A wooden model boat!” And when I say all model boats are wooden, she asks, “Do you want to hear the story, or not?”

  I nod and Maisie keeps telling me about these tiny people and how they are very happy for a long time, but then the owner of the model boat store– (I say, “I didn’t know they were in a model boat store!” Then Maisie says, “Well of course they are.” Maisie asks if she can go on with her story and I nod again.) “Anyway,” Maisie says, “All of these tiny people are happy for a long time until a monster starts living in the store with them.” I ask her what kind of monster, and she explains that the monster is actually just a cat, but the little people don’t know that. She says they call the cat “The Maud,” and one of the little people even gets eaten by him.

  I fall asleep before Maisie finishes her story, but in the morning I remember all about the little people and the model boat store and I remember Maisie tucked the blankets tight around me just like at home and then she told me, “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

  I wake to something burning and find Maisie at the stove humming and saying, “I’m making coffee, I’m making beans.” Maisie says that the coffee is for her and the beans are for Bane and me and we don’t argue because coffee is disgusting. Then the three of us sit at a little card table and Maisie says we should say a prayer before we eat our beans, but this is too much for me and Bane so we refuse. After the beans, Maisie tells Bane to shower and change into new clothes. Bane takes such a long time in the shower that Maisie has to knock at the door to make sure he hasn’t drowned. After Bane gets out of the shower, he throws his dirty clothes at me, even his boxers that are so dirty, they’ve become stiff.

  Maisie says, “I thought we would take a morning walk,” and I say ok because before we got dropped off at camp, Mom said there were deer around here and I really want to see a deer. Bane says ok because he wants to climb a tree and Maisie says ok as long as the tree isn’t too high.

  Maisie says it’s cold outside so we put on our jackets and our boots and Bane suggests we take some food, for a snack or a picnic lunch. Maisie says that’s a great idea and Bane puts an arm around Maisie and I put an arm around Bane, but then Maisie says we can’t all put our arms around each other or we’ll never make it out the door!

  It’s really pretty outside, and some of the trees are so tall that I can’t even see their tops.

  We’re just jumping off the porch when Maisie yells, “Wait!” and then she runs back into the cabin. She comes back thirty seconds later carrying neon zip ties. “To mark our path,” she says. The thing about Maisie is when she isn’t being too controlling or bossy, she can be pretty clever. Maisie hands me the zip ties and she tells me that it can be my job to fasten them around branches or tree trunks or whatever they’ll fit around. We start walking and Maisie takes the lead while Bane takes the rear. I’m in the middle.

  We find a stream and follow the current at the water’s edge. Bane pulls out his knife and makes jabbing motions in the air. He says, “In case something sneaks up behind us, I’ll protect you.” Maisie tells us not to stray from “the path” in case there is poison oak, and Bane says, “Look for a good tree for me to climb.” I say I want to climb a tree too, and Bane says, “I thought you were afraid of heights,” and I tell him I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of ladders. After that, nobody talks, and for a couple minutes all you can hear is our marching feet thumping and acorns that sound like rain when they hit the ground. Maisie says, “I don’t think we should go any further, we don’t want to get lost,” and I point out that we are already lost, and Bane says, “Don’t worry, we’ll follow the zip ties.” The thing about the zip ties is that I never even took them out of my pocket. I don’t say this out loud. I don’t want to get in trouble.

  This whole time we’ve been walking, Bane has been collecting sticks. When Maisie stops to tie her shoes, Bane and I run ahead. “Fence me, Azalea!” Bane demands, picking out the two longest sticks from his collection. When we’ve taken our places, I say, “Ready? Go!” Then Bane sort of runs at me, but I smack his stick out of the way and stab him right in the chest.

  “What the hell?” Bane yells. “That hurt!” “Sorry,” I say, “I was only defending myself!”

  I thank Bane for the practice, and he grumbles, “No problem.”

  We find a tree a little bit downstream that looks good for climbing. Maisie says, “Look for dead branches,” so I go around smacking branches until Maisie gives me a thumbs up. Last year, Melanie Cho told me that a tree’s roots mirror the shape and pattern of its branches. When I told Mom what Melanie said about tree roots, she said that wasn’t true. As I pull myself up onto one of the lower branches, I tell Maisie and Bane about the roots mirroring the branches even though it is a lie. Because it’s such a beautiful idea, I think that maybe it counts as a white lie.

  White lies are ok to tell every once in a while. Especially if that white lie serves the purpose of creating beauty. Especially if that white
lie is concerning the shape of a tree.

  Bane asks, “Aren’t you going any higher?” And I tell him that I’m just getting comfortable, but the truth is I can’t reach any of the other branches and I think I might be stuck.

  Maisie says, “Don’t peer pressure her.”

  Bane says, “I’m not peer pressuring!” Then he says, “Don’t be a baby, Azalea.”

  My arms get real stiff and shaky. I say, “I want to get down. I’m going to get down.” Then Bane says, “Jump!”

  And Maisie says, “Don’t jump! Find a foothold and lower yourself down!”

  I reach my foot down the trunk, looking for some sort of crevice. I’ve begun to cry. I don’t know why I’m crying, but the tears are making it even harder to get down. Instead of lowering myself, or finding a foothold, I end up sliding down the trunk, and leaving behind half of my thigh skin.

  Maisie says, “Gross!” and Bane says, “Sick!” and Maisie says that I need to apply Neosporin immediately. Then Maisie pulls me up and says, “Bane, let Azalea lean on you.”

  Bane says, “You two go back. I’m not going back.” And Maisie says, “Yes you are. We all are.”

  And I say, “Please Bane!”

  We are almost back when Maisie notices there aren’t zip ties on any of the branches. She asks, “Where are they?” Blood is dripping down my thigh, and I’m struggling to sort of squat- shuffle and Maisie is asking about the goddamn zip ties. I’m about to explain how I forgot about them, how they are still in my pocket, when Bane says, “Maisie, I’m getting real fucking tired of you.”

  In the bathroom, Maisie makes me take my shorts off. She tries to make me take my underwear off too, but I refuse. Bane is hovering outside of the door because Maisie told him he wasn’t allowed inside. I’m glad she told him that. Maisie says we need to get the water hot and then dab at my legs with a towel. I say, “Ok!” Then Maisie picks up a towel, but she throws it back down again.

  “Gross,” she says, “it’s all stiff.”

  On the other side of the door, Bane says, “Oh yeah, don’t touch that.” Maisie rolls her eyes. “One second!” Bane calls, and we hear him stomp down the hall and then stomp back. He says, “Open the door a crack,” so we do, and Bane gives us a clean towel.

  Maisie lets the water get real hot, so hot that the mirror above the sink gets all foggy. “It needs to be hot enough to sterilize your cuts,” she says. Then she holds the towel to the insides of my legs and it hurts so much that I scream. Maisie says, “It’s ok, it’s ok,” and Bane asks, “What the fuck is happening in there?” And I’m screaming, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  At lunch, we sit in the breakfast nook and Maisie makes us grilled cheese. The bread is pretty hard, but if you pay attention to the melty cheese, it isn’t so bad. Maisie even asks to borrow Bane’s knife so that she can cut my sandwich in half, diagonally, the way I like it. Bane says, “But you’ll get it all cheesy,” and Maisie says, “I’ll wash it,” so Bane says, “Ok,” and hands his knife over. Because of my legs, I have to stand while I eat. I can’t even sleep like I usually do, curled in a ball. After lunch, Bane says he is going out again, but Maisie says, “No, we stay together.”

  Bane rolls his eyes. He asks, “Fine, but can we please do something fun?” I ask, “Like what?”

  And Bane says, “Like a game!” “What game?” asks Maisie.

  “I don’t know. Make one up,” says Bane. “Aren’t you supposed to be the clever one?”

  Maisie says, “Let me think,” so Bane and I get real quiet for a couple of minutes. I’m laying on the kitchen floor, trying not to think about how if I could sit, I’d probably be about ten times more comfortable.

  Bane says, “I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” but we know not to expect him back for a long, long time.

  Eventually, Maisie asks, “Want to play I-spy?” “No,” I say, “I’m not a baby.”

  “You don’t have to be a baby to play I-spy,” says Maisie, but she says it in such a condescending way, I know what she is really saying is that I am a baby, so I should enjoy. I’m about to tell Maisie off when we hear somebody crashing around outside. “I thought Bane was upstairs,” says Maisie. I shrug. The crashing gets louder. Maisie grabs Bane’s knife, then she turns off the lights.

  “Do you think it is an anim–” I begin to ask, but Maisie holds a finger to her lips, then slides the same finger across her neck, indicating: be quiet, indicating: I’ll kill you.

  With the knife in her hand, Maisie army-crawls to the living room window and pushes herself up just high enough that she can see outside. She lets out a quiet, “Oh.”

  “What is it?” I whisper. Maisie turns around, eyes wide, she crawls back towards me and stands. She mouths, “There. Is. A. Man. Outside.”

  I mouth, “Bane?”

  “No,” she mouths, “a different man.” Then she whispers, “Bane isn’t a man, he’s a boy.”

  I shush Maisie and she hits me across the face hard, SMACK. The sound echoes. I’m shocked. I raise my hand towards my face. “What the–” I begin, not caring about the man, not caring about anything. SMACK. Maisie’s hand comes again, harder this time, or maybe the sting from the first smack has compounded with the pain of the second. I sink to the ground and cry. Bane comes downstairs.

  “Maisie,” he says. Maisie unsheathes his knife and before Bane knows what is going on, she’s got the knife pressed against his neck. From the ground, I can see that Maisie’s arm is shaking. Bane’s shaking too. A bead of blood gathers around the tip of the knife. Bane says, “Maisie,” again, and I say it too, but I’m not sure that she can even hear us. I don’t know if I am more afraid of the man outside or of Maisie.

  “Are you going to kill me with my own knife?” asks Bane. “You going to slit my throat? Murder me?” At the word murder, Maisie seems to remember that Bane is her brother and we are all just kids and maybe even that a couple of hours ago she loved us.

  Maisie lowers the knife. “I think he is gone,” she says. She thuds upstairs, but comes back before Bane and I can do anything but look at each other. When she’s back, she says, “Your neck is bleeding.” Bane doesn’t say anything to Maisie, but he looks at me, raising his eyebrow. “I think we should take a nap,” says Maisie. “We’re all tired, stressed out. If we take a nap, we’ll be in better moods, clear-headed.”

  “Ok,” says Bane.

  “Ok,” I say, because what else is there to say after you watch your sister almost cut the throat of your brother.

  “I’m going to nap upstairs, you two can nap down here,” says Maisie. “Don’t leave the house.”

  “Can I have my knife back?” asks Bane.

  Maisie shakes her head. She says, “I think I better keep it so that I can protect you two.”

  Maisie’s been upstairs for a couple of minutes and everything’s been quiet. “We need a plan,” Bane whispers.

  I whisper back, “I’m not staying here another night. I’d rather starve in the woods. I’d rather be eaten by a bear.” Then I say, “I can’t believe she held a knife to your throat.”

  “I want to go home,” Bane says. “We need to get to a phone, call Mom and Dad.” “Ok,” I say. “How do we do that?”

  “We go out to the road,” Bane says. “Stop the first car we see, and ask to borrow their phone.”

  “Ok,” I say.

  “We should wait until Maisie is asleep, we’ll sneak out.” “This is crazy,” I say.

  “Maisie is crazy,” Bane says.

  Maisie makes more mac n’ cheese for dinner and everyone is peaceful. Maisie even finds some cookies that aren’t too stale for us to eat for dessert. After the cookies, Bane says, “Thanks Maisie,” and I say, “Thanks Maisie,” and Maisie says, “I just want you two to know that I love you both very much.”

  Neither Bane or I know what to say to this, so we don’t say anything at all. We just keep sitting there, smiling at each other, smiling at Maisie unt
il she asks, “Well, what do you guys want to do now? We can do anything you want.”

  “I’m pretty tired,” says Bane. “I’m tired too,” I say.

  “Oh,” says Maisie. “I guess it’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah,” says Bane. “Yeah,” I say.

  Then Maisie turns to me. She looks so sad; I almost feel bad for her. “You can sleep in my room if you want,” she says.

  “That’s ok,” I say.

  “Do you want me to tell you another story before we go to bed?” asks Maisie. “That’s ok,” I say.

  “All right, well, goodnight,” says Maisie, and she goes upstairs and Bane lays down on the couch and I lie on the ground right beneath him.

  I look up at Bane and he looks down at me. “Wait,” he mouths. So we wait, one hour, two hours. We wait until Maisie’s snoring gets real loud and steady. We wait so long I am afraid we will both fall asleep and wake up in this same hell tomorrow morning.

  In the dark, Bane and I dress quickly, quietly. We each put on about five layers. Bane opens one of the kitchen drawers and hands me a small flashlight. I don’t know how he knew it was there, except maybe when you need something as bad as we do, things just work out. We pack some of the beans and the mac n’ cheese in our bags, just in case. Then Bane says, “My knife!” and he tiptoes upstairs. He is so quiet, that I don’t even think he is breathing.

  A couple of minutes later, Bane comes back with his knife. “Got it,” he whispers, securing it onto his belt, “Almost ready?” We don’t have much of a plan, except for getting the hell out of here. Bane reckons that if we can find the highway, we can hitchhike home. The whole time I am gathering supplies I am thinking to myself, don’t sneeze, don’t cough. I’ve never been so afraid in my whole life.