Where You End by Abbott Kahler

Author:Abbott Kahler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

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Jude began to hunt, scissors at the ready. A chameleon napping on a rock didn’t even stir when she hacked off its leathery tongue. She wondered if she knew the kid behind the mask and then reminded herself it didn’t matter; her viciousness made her a savior. Having killed once, she felt the desire stirring again, a savage instinct awaiting her attention and care. In a strange patch of the Island, where the temperature seemed to rise by thirty degrees, she disposed of another chameleon and stole its bug-shaped candy. Near a small stream she pulled the mask from a parrot and trimmed its crest. She yanked a monkey that was not Kat from a tree and hacked off the tip of its tail. She collected a bouquet of rabbit ears. Hours passed. Her stomach growled. She ate the rest of her banana and nuts and the chameleon’s candy. She was so thirsty, she collected her own spit in her palm and drank it. With her scissors, she sliced a hole in her costume so she could piss without having to remove it. The sun changed its own costume of bold yellow for a misty mauve cape. She felt her brain somehow mimicking the sun, descending inside her skull, dimming its lights.

“Kat!” she screamed through her mask. “Violet! Kat!”

She had to keep going. She had to kill-save until the sky was fully black.

Her body temperature dropped but her skin remained sweaty, making her shiver. The path brought her to another rabbit and a scorpion that was not Violet. She preyed upon them all with a dark, secret glee she didn’t know she possessed, a glee that both frightened and excited her, a glee even Kat should never know.

“Kat!” she called again. “Violet!”

“Jude,” came a soft voice.

Jude spun. She didn’t know that voice and didn’t trust it. Or perhaps she did know it, once, before coming to the Island, but being on the Island changed the way her ears processed sound—or maybe the Island itself changed the voice? There was no way to tell what had changed or stayed the same, or what had changed by staying the same. With her scissors she slashed at the voice’s lingering echo.

“Jude,” the voice said again. “If I come out, will you put the scissors down? It’s me, Violet.” The scorpion shimmied out, removed its mask, and executed a slow turn. “See?” Violet said. “Let’s not kill-save each other. Actually let’s not talk about The Plan at all. Deal?”

Jude dropped the scissors and ran to her. She took Violet’s pinchers in her own hands and gave them a soft shake.

“Deal,” she said.

They walked, side by side, through brush and weeds, and spoke about other things: Verona and Jackie and fathers who were long gone; how to make Bloody Mary appear in the mirror; whether or not Meathead was cute (Jude did not confess that she much preferred Gloria); favorite books and song lyrics and poems; what it will be like when they

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