Page 40 of A Mastery of Monsters

Bailey pulls up in her car and grins a little too wide for my taste. “You brought your friend!”

When I finally came out of Sammie’s old house, Virgil was waiting for me. For the second time since I’ve known him, he decided to follow me to the island because we “needed to talk.” Instead, he sat on both the bus and ferry ride playing with his phone, not saying a word.

I sit shotgun while Virgil gets in the back, suddenly with a sunny disposition.

“Thanks for having me,” he says.

Bailey drives toward the exit of the dock. “No problem. Always happy to have more volunteers.” She glances in the rearview. “Do you go to Queen’s too?”

“Yup.”

“Cool! What are you studying?”

I groan and press my head to the window.

Virgil ignores me. “English. Though I haven’t decided on any sort of specialty. I do like some post-modern styles, but I also think contemporary works are exploring a lot of fascinating themes.”

For the rest of the drive, I let Bailey and Virgil talk about books they’ve read recently, and Virgil gives her recommendations for what she should try next.

She’s beaming the whole time. First, I enroll in a prestigious university, and now I keep bringing around the definition of a “respectable boy.” He’s exactly who my past self would have wanted.

Though, I guess minus entering a deadly competition to help him.

When we arrive, Bailey makes a point of giving Virgil a tour of her house. It takes a short amount of time since you can basically see everything right when you walk in.

Virgil gazes at some of the pictures Bailey has hung up on the fridge. He taps on a photo. I know it’s the one of Mom from the position of his hand. I’ve looked often enough to memorize where it’s placed. He frowns.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing… Just, she looks familiar.”

“That’s Annie,” Bailey says. “August’s mom. She did go to Queen’s, though that was probably before you were born.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’m mixing her up with someone.”

I narrow my eyes at Virgil. Who does he know who looks like Mom? It’s not like he’s got an extensive social network. And it’s not him seeing her in me. I’ve been told I’m Dad’s twin since I was a kid. Jules, too.

There’s a knock at the door, and Mia appears. “Ready to help with the shirts?” She pauses when she spots Virgil. “Are you here to help?”

He nods.

“Amazing.” She throws a shit eating grin at me that I ignore.

Bailey leaves to help Izzy and Jacques with something, while Mia leads us to a table they’ve set up closer to the road.

“Here are the different sizes,” Mia says, waving to the boxes.

“Shirts are twenty dollars for adults, ten dollars for kids. The boxes for kids’ sizes are marked too, so make sure you’re getting the right ones.

All proceeds go to the Indian Residential School Survivors Society, if they ask.

If they want to donate more, that’s great.

Oh! And grab shirts for yourselves, too.

Bailey already donated, and it’s enough to cover you all. ”

Me and Virgil outfit ourselves in shirts.

“If anyone has questions about Kanyen’kehá:ka stuff, we printed up some information, and that’s in—” Mia stops at the questioning looks on our faces.

“That’s the word for Mohawk. What we call ourselves.

” She slows down the word so me and Virgil can repeat after her.

“You two may want to practice that.” She laughs. “The printouts are in this box.”

It’s embarrassing that I never even thought about how to say Mohawk in the actual language.

Though I know Wolfe Island is the traditional hunting lands of the Tyendinaga Mohawk, since Bailey told me it’s important to know whose land we’re on.

Jacques’s mom grew up here, and when she decided to downsize and get a condo on the mainland, Jacques and Izzy moved in and started the community.

“Sooooo,” Mia says, sliding over to me. I stiffen, prepared for some awkward question about Virgil. Instead, she says, “Have you given more thought to our deal?”

“I have, actually.” I sigh. “I’ll do it.”

She squeals, and Virgil looks over at us. I wave him away.

I don’t have any choice. Margot is already such a fucking hard-ass. I know if I don’t get the knives sharpened soon, she’s going to freak out. If I have to help plan a party, fine, it can’t be that hard. “But!” I say, raising a finger. “I need them done now.”

Mia scowls.

“I’m good for it!”

Now Virgil is paying attention.

“Mind your business,” I tell him.

He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t know that I want to.”

Mia says, “August is going to help me organize a community dinner. We have to clean the barn and find a way to get some cheap tablecloths and stuff. Cheap but, like, nice, you know? And then decorate and get people signed up for the potluck.”

The more she lists things, the more I’m starting to regret what I’ve signed up for.

“She’s helping voluntarily ?” Virgil asks.

I gesture to the booth. “I’m helping voluntarily right now.”

“We have an arrangement,” Mia says.

Virgil smirks at me, then says to Mia, “I actually know a guy who’s good at thrifting stuff. He works at a secondhand place in the city. I could give you his number?”

“That would be great!”

“You’re passionate about this, eh?”

“Yeah, I think it’ll help everyone come together. Like, take today for example, half the people who live in the tiny house community aren’t even participating.”

I guess I hadn’t realized. I keep forgetting that Bailey is a lot more involved and friendly with the Levesques.

Mia gives me a smug look. “See? This dinner matters. Community is something you make. You don’t just sit back and wait for it to happen.

Maybe some people can, but not everyone.

Sometimes you have to go out and find where you belong.

And if you can’t find it, make it. That’s why my parents started this in the first place.

Not that they seem to remember.” The last bit she mutters under her breath.

I still don’t get Mia’s obsession with this. I was always just fine with my family, and I don’t even have that anymore. I spot Bailey with Izzy and Jacques, welcoming some people and pointing them over to where our booth is. Okay, I almost don’t have family.

“You’re right,” Virgil says to Mia. “You have to actively participate if you want to see change.”

“Yes!” She looks over at me. “He gets it.”

“Good for him,” I say.

People trickle in, and we get busy giving out shirts and accepting donations. More people than I expected show up and soon enough, we’re surrounded by a sea of orange.

Izzy stands at the front of the group when it’s time for the walk, poised with a megaphone.

She clears her throat and consults a folded piece of paper, speaking in Mohawk.

Or the Kanyen’kehá:ka language, I know now.

The further she goes along, the less she needs to check the paper, and is soon talking without even looking at it.

Mia whispers to us that this is a shorter version of the Thanksgiving address that they learned—meant to express gratitude for all of Creation and help bring our minds together.

From what I know, neither she nor Izzy grew up speaking their native language, but they’ve been taking classes for the past couple of years.

Izzy switches to English and says, “Thank you to everyone for coming out. Today we honor survivors. We honor the children who never returned home, their families, their communities, and their stories. We remember that every child matters, and when this day is over, we keep remembering and working toward reconciliation. Nyawenhkó:wa.”

We clap, and the walk begins. The Levesques and Bailey go ahead, while me and Virgil agree to stay behind in case there are any stragglers who show up wanting shirts or to donate.

“We never participate in things like this,” Virgil says, his voice so low that I almost miss it.

“Who’s we?”

“The society… We’re meant to set ourselves apart. All students should be equal. Participating in anything that specifies one people isn’t allowed. You can do it in private but never publicly.”

This is what Riley was talking about before. “But Corey’s family teaches taekwondo, and that’s fine. Doesn’t that highlight that they’re Korean?”

“It’s a gray area since everyone can participate. It’s not about her family being Korean. And I guess it doesn’t remind people that we aren’t actually living in equality in the outside world.”

“You’re just pretending that things like residential schools don’t exist?”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “No, we’re aware of the world. And we could donate, even, but public displays are frowned upon.”

“That’s kind of fucked up.”

“The society is a closed system. Our students don’t participate in discrimination.

If you acknowledge too much of the outside world or get too involved in it, you move further away from the society’s teachings.

That’s why people come to us. To be loved and accepted as they are.

It’s always been that way, since Dr. Weiss founded the society. ”

“Then why are some of you being treated like volatile scum?”

“Because we’ve moved too far from his model. That’s what Adam and Henry want to change. The Learners’ Society is beautiful when it works the way it’s supposed to work.”

I don’t know if anything shutting you off from other people and demanding that you stay in a closed system can be that great.

It’s one thing if it’s your choice and another if doing that is the only way you get access to it.

Especially when you teach people to be terrified of an apocalypse that only you can protect them from.

“Anyway, that’s not what I came to talk to you about,” Virgil says. “I still think it was a bad idea for you to join up with a QBSS member—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“ But she had a good point about the fact that not everything in the society goes the way it’s supposed to go.

Exactly the way we were just talking about.

I texted Henry about the Wilds. I dunno, I guess I thought he’d confirm what I knew from reading the society texts.

He told me the truth. The Wilds were used for some…

unsavory things. Though Riley wasn’t exactly right.

That happened before the agreement. It was part of the reason they rebelled.

What Garrett signed with Cyrus actually stopped it. ”

“The assassinations?”

“Yes. I’m not surprised that Garrett is concerned about how things will go with new leadership and therefore wants more protections.

I mean, they’re owed that. Which is to say, I can admit when I’m wrong.

And I get that it’s not totally fair to you to do nothing to help with your brother until you win.

Obviously, I care that he’s okay. But I don’t know that you think it’s that obvious. ”

I scuff at the grass with the toe of my shoe. “He’s not your brother.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t care about a human being. Or you.”

“You barely know me.”

“Are you serious right now?”

I shrug.

“I may not have known you for long, but I realize that your brother is important to you—that with your mom already gone, your brother being missing is even harder on you. I get what it’s like to lose family.

I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. And I’d like to think that you, at least a little bit, don’t want to see me in a prison cell. ”

I drop my chin to my chest so I don’t have to keep looking him in the eye.

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Let me rephrase this so there’s no confusion.

I don’t think we’ll have access to anything helpful until you have a title, but if I can, of course I’m going to help find your brother.

And even if I disagree, if you want to recruit someone like Riley to help, fine.

But please be discreet. And you can ask me stuff too.

If I can do something, I will. And if I can’t, it’s not because I don’t want to, it’s just because I can’t. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

“And in exchange, can you try to think a little more about how what you do might affect me?”

“Okay,” I say again, because it’s the least I can do for this boy who’s promised to help me find Jules. Promised to help me do the one thing that will guarantee that I don’t help him in return.

Virgil opens his arms wide. “Now bring it in!”

I balk. “Excuse me?”

“Hug it out!”

“No!”

He sighs and raises a hand instead. “Handshake?”

I roll my eyes but reach out and shake his hand. Ignoring the insignificant and addled part of me that considered the hug.

Virgil grins, but I can’t manage to return it.

He’s helping me, and in exchange, I’m planning to betray him.