My Stepbrother Silenced Me for 72 Hours, Then Begged Me to Talk novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Seventy-Two Hours

At a family meeting Reed reads out her four hundred contacts and orders a 72-hour social isolation, Lucy sets a countdown, and at eight the next morning the whole camp blocks her.

Reed dropped a stack of paper on the dining table so hard the salad forks jumped.

"Four hundred and nine contacts," he said. "In one afternoon."

My stepfather had cleared the table of everything except the stack, a water pitcher and five chairs.

My mother sat at one end with her hands folded.

Melody sat next to her, and her eyes were pink already.

"Lucy, does that sound normal to you?" Reed asked.

I picked up the top page.

It had names, phone numbers, and a column that said Source.

Source: radio booth. Source: basketball. Source: cafeteria.

"It's a good list," I said. "You spelled everyone right."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It's a fact. You're missing three, though."

Reed's pen stopped.

"The program director," I said. "The nurse in the health office. And the hot dog cart guy by the front gate."

"You didn't screenshot those?"

"I didn't need to. They told me their numbers while I ordered."

For once Reed had nothing to say.

I took it as a win.

Melody sniffed loudly.

"She knew those were my friends," Melody said. "She knew, and she took them anyway. She's trying to take everything I have."

"I didn't take anybody," I said. "I said hello. They said hello back."

"Emphasis on back," Reed said.

My mother pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Lucy, this need of yours to talk to everyone," my mother said. "It has to be fixed."

"It's not a leak, Mom. It's a personality."

"It's a dependency."

My stepfather looked at Reed, and Reed took one more sheet from his folder and slid it across to me.

It was a printed schedule with a bold line across the top.

72-HOUR SOCIAL ISOLATION.

"Starting at eight tomorrow morning," Reed said, "no camper or staff member may speak to you."

I read the line again.

"Blocked on every account," he went on. "No answered calls, no messages, and no conversation face to face."

"What about the staff?" I asked. "Marlene? The nurse?"

Reed turned the page toward me and tapped the bottom.

The list of names on it was exactly the list in the stack.

Four hundred and nine of them.

"Everyone on this list is covered," he said.

My smile stopped working.

"Not even a word?"

"Not one."

"Who's going to tell me when something's wrong with the schedule?"

"I will," Reed said. "I'm the monitor. I'm the only one who can speak to you, and only to tell you the rules."

"Only the rules," I said.

"Only the rules."

"That's the loneliest job I've ever heard of."

"Nobody paying attention to you for once isn't going to kill you."

He said it with a face.

I turned to my mother and took hold of her sleeve.

She would not look at me.

"Lucy, this is for your own good," my mother said to the tablecloth. "Get through three days and you'll finally learn how to behave around people."

Behave around people.

I had been shipped back by eleven foster families, and all eleven had gone quiet just before they decided.

No answers, no eye contact, and no reason why.

Usually, after the quiet, I packed my bags.

I looked at my phone, and I set a timer to start at eight the next morning.

72:00:00.

It was a very good timer, large and green, with the seconds in a happy font.

"What's that?" Melody asked.

"A countdown," I said. "I like to know when something ends."

Then I stood, pushed in my chair, and went upstairs.

That night I lay on the guest-room bed and watched the clock on my ceiling.

I made a list in my head of every person I could talk to before eight.

I had eleven hours, and I tried to use them all.

I called the department store.

The rep didn't pick up.

I called Marlene, who did.

"Can't talk long," Marlene whispered. "My program is on."

"Split the House?"

"The wife just found out about the boat."

I said, "Ooh, tell me," and she told me, and for twenty minutes the quiet stayed outside the door where I'd put it.

At seven fifty-eight the next morning, I was standing in the middle of the quad with a coffee in each hand.

I had one for me and one for the first person who walked by.

At eight o'clock exactly, every speaker on campus clicked on.

"Attention, campers." It was Reed's voice, even and crisp. "Effective now, no one will speak to Lucy Fenn for seventy-two hours. This is a camp-wide order from the committee."

The same words buzzed in my pocket from the camp group chat.

All around me, the laughter in the quad stopped.

A girl who had shared a pretzel with me in the radio booth looked at me, and then looked away.

My phone buzzed again, and again, and again.

Every camper in the building blocked me on every app they had, right in front of my face.

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