Wonder Valley by Ivy Pochoda

Author:Ivy Pochoda
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

15

BRITT, TWENTYNINE PALMS, 2006

Prepare like it’s competition. Stay inside yourself. Nothing in. Nothing out. Know that they are jealous. Let that make you stronger. Tougher. Know that they are here to kill you. They want to take you down. Repeat: nothing in, nothing out. You are not there.

They gathered at the fire pit. It must have been ninety with the sun gone, but Gideon kicked up a minor inferno with a couple of bunches of dried sage that sent heavy, sweet smoke into the air. Anushna passed around a mason jar of something earthy and fermented. She rubbed Britt’s shoulder. “We come from a place of love,” she said. “Always.”

Britt wasn’t so sure. She’d seen the way the interns eviscerated one another during the sharing sessions, insulting and demeaning in the service of so-called truth—shaming one another to save their souls. And she’d joined them, feeling the visceral thrill of unbridled vitriol. And it sure didn’t come from a place of love.

“No one does it right the first time,” Cassidy said. She wound a piece of Britt’s hair around her finger and kissed her forehead, then took a seat on the bench closest to the tall stump which was Patrick’s place.

Another intern hung a beaded necklace over Britt’s head to allow truth and honesty to flow.

After a few sessions, Britt had detected a sort of electricity in the air as they waited around the fire pit for the session to start. At first she’d thought this was in anticipation of Patrick’s arrival, excitement for the moment he turned his focus over to the interns. But soon she realized that this jittery current passing through the group was simply eagerness to let loose on one another.

They watched her, their stoned eyes mining hers for any sign of weakness, any hint that she wasn’t up to the task of being insulted for an hour. She steadied her game face—drew her focus back to something only she could see. Like it was all happening to someone else or not even happening at all.

Britt knew Patrick was coming by the way the interns shifted in their seats, put down their guitars, stopped petting and grooming one another. They extinguished their joints and tossed them in the fire.

Patrick stood at the edge of the circle behind Britt. She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d come into her room the previous night. She hadn’t felt him leave her bed. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Your turn.”

How bad could it be? A brutal training session might last an hour. A disastrous match in front of coaches and parents and teammates could go on even longer. How many times had Britt failed, her hands and mind and legs letting her down as the score slipped away and time ticked slowly forward? Out here by the fire, with a dozen people who didn’t really matter, all she had to do was endure.

Patrick’s hand lingered. Britt felt his fingertips against her collarbone, pressing, probing like he was playing chords on a guitar, transmitting something she didn’t understand.

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