“These are hard times, Mom,” Matt said. “The important thing is not to quit.”
“I’m not quitting,” she said. “Just despairing.” But she laughed, and Jon knew things were all right again.
“The moon crash anniversary is a week from Monday,” Miranda said. “I guess I should look at it as a day off, but I dread it.”
“Sunday night will be worse,” Mom said. “Matt, will you be on the road?”
Matt shook his head. “I’ll get home Saturday afternoon. I won’t be going out again until Tuesday.”
“Mom, do you remember that first anniversary?” Miranda asked. “When you and Syl and I had that crazy ceremony?”
“What are you talking about?” Jon asked.
Mom and Miranda had just finished telling the story of their ceremonial sacrifice to the moon goddess Diana when Alex came in. He hugged Miranda and Jon and shook Matt’s hand.
“You look tired,” Matt said to him.
Alex shrugged. “I am,” he said. He sat next to Miranda and squeezed her hand. “But it’s worth it.”
“I’ve been waiting until you got home before I mentioned something,” Matt said. “It involves you and Miranda. Mom, too.”
“What is it?” Mom asked. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” Matt said with a grin. “It’s something good. Or at least something to consider.”
“I’m listening,” Alex said.
“You know how much I travel,” Matt said. “Mostly from enclave to enclave, but I spend the nights in lots of different places. Keep this confidential, but there’s a group of people who’ve set up their own community. Not an enclave, no government involvement, but not… well, not a place like White Birch either.”
“Not a grubtown,” Alex said.
“I hate that word,” Mom said.
“Laura, that’s what this is,” Alex said. “You’d rather I called it a slavetown?”
“The point is, this new place won’t be any of those things,” Matt said. “Remember communes? Kibbutzes? That’s what they’re planning. They’re starting small, but they figure to expand. Syl and I are talking about joining, but we’re not ready to make a commitment yet.”
“What will they do for food?” Jon asked.
“Grow their own,” Matt said. “They’ve put together the money for two greenhouses, and they’ll build from there. It’s going to be rough, a lot rougher than White Birch, to start out with. But they won’t be dependent on the whim of some enclave. They’ll be independent.”
“Where do we fit in?” Alex asked.
“I told them my brother-in-law is a mechanic,” Matt said. “That you’d passed the mechanic’s test, but you’re not connected enough to get the promotion. A place like that is going to need mechanics. They love the fact that Miranda’s pregnant. Actually, they’re so pleased with the thought of you two, they are willing to take Mom, also.”
“That’s very gracious of them,” Mom said.
“We know you’re essential,” Matt said. “But you don’t bring a lot of skills to a community like they’re planning. Alex does.”
“What about me?” Jon asked.
“I didn’t ask,” Matt said. “You’re fine in Sexton.”
“What do you think, Alex?” Miranda asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Carlos and I have been saving money for our own truck,” he said to Matt. “In another year, eighteen months, we should be able to buy one. We figure that’s the only way, to go independent.”
“But you’d stay in White Birch,” Matt said.
“There are some pretty nice sections in White Birch,” Alex replied. “And there’s no law against fixing our home, buying more food if we can afford it.” He grinned. “Living the middle-class life.”
“We can’t go anywhere until the baby is born,” Miranda said. “But if we did decide to move, Mom, you’d have to come with us. I’d worry about you if you were here alone.”
“Yes,” Alex said. “If we go, you come with us, Laura.”
“I’ll come, too,” Jon said.
“No, you won’t,” Mom said. “Whatever happens, you’re staying in Sexton.”
“Why?” Jon said.
Mom stared at him. “Look at your sister, Jon, and your brother and Alex,” she said. “Matt’s a courier and Miranda works in the greenhouses and Alex is a bus driver. You call them grubs. Well, you’re not going to be a grub. You’ll graduate high school and college. That’s the whole point of your living in Sexton, so you can get an education, make something of yourself.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Jon asked.
“I don’t care,” Mom said. “In case you haven’t noticed, none of us are doing what we want. We’re doing what we have to, and we expect the same from you.”
“Matt?” Jon said, but Matt just shook his head.
“Listen, Jon,” Alex said. “You have a chance Miranda and I will never have. But it’s not just us. It’s Bri’s chance and Julie’s. You’re the survivor, Jon, and survivors have responsibilities. If you walk away from your chance, you make all that loss, all that sacrifice, meaningless.”
“All right,” Jon said. “But don’t go without telling me. Let me know where I can find you.”
“Of course we will,” Miranda said. Then she laughed. “The baby’s kicking. Here, Jon. Feel.” She put his hand on her belly, and he felt the movement that promised life.
“Soccer player,” Jon said. “Takes after me.”
For a moment they laughed, and for that moment they were a family again.
Chapter 3
Tuesday, May 12
“He’s looking at her again,” Zachary said as they sat in the cafeteria.
Ryan snapped his fingers in Jon’s face. “Earth to Evans,” he said. “Come in Evans.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Luke asked.
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “But my father says it sometimes.”
“What?” Jon said. “What about your father?”
“What about you?” Ryan said. “Why do you keep staring at Goldman that way? She isn’t even pretty.”
“You could have any girl you want,” Luke said.
“No, I can’t,” Jon said.
“Okay, some of the girls won’t go out with you,” Luke admitted. “Their parents won’t let them. But most of the girls would, if you asked them. Instead, you keep staring at her.”
Jon tried not to look at Sarah, who sat silent and alone, while the other students were laughing and talking. “You’d think she’d have friends by now,” he said.
“No one likes her because of what she did to my grandfather,” Zachary declared.
“She didn’t do anything to your grandfather,” Jon said.
“She’s living in his house,” Zachary said angrily. “She’s worse than a slip.”
“Look, Evans, if you feel sorry for her, be her friend,” Tyler said. “Go sit with her. Just don’t expect to sit with us again.”
“Her or us,” Zachary said. “Get that, slip?”
“I get it,” Jon said, and stayed where he was.
Thursday, May 14
“What’s going to happen Sunday?” Sarah asked Jon as they began their walk to the bus stop.
“I have a soccer match,” Jon said. “In Longley. It’s about an hour, hour and a half from here.”
“I mean Sunday night,” she said.
“Some of our neighbors are having a party,” Jon said. “Carrie and Val will be in White Birch, so Lisa’s taking Gabe to the party with her.”
“You can’t stay with him?” Sarah asked.
“I’m going to White Birch after the match,” Jon replied. “Luke says it’s like Mardi Gras. The one chance a year we have to blow off steam. What about you? Will you be closing the clinic early?”
“Daddy wanted to keep it open all night,” Sarah said. “In case anyone gets hurt from all that steam you’ll be blowing off. But the town board sa
id no, it might give the grubs bad ideas. They’re making Daddy stay at the clinic anyway, in case some clavers get hurt.”
“You’re not going to be there, are you?” Jon asked. “It can get pretty crazy that night.”
“I’ll be home,” Sarah said. “Daddy won’t let me anywhere near White Birch on Sunday. Jon, you’re not going to do anything too crazy, are you?”
Jon shook his head. “Just have some fun,” he said. “Then church and fasting on Monday.”
“I hate anniversary day,” Sarah said. “I hate it so much.”
“It’s just one day,” Jon said. “Then it’s back to normal.”
“There’s no normal anymore,” Sarah replied. “Normal got lost four years ago. It’s never coming back.”
“I know,” Jon said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah cried. “I know how lucky we are. How lucky I am. I just wish I could be luckier. Is that wrong of me, Jon? To wish I could be luckier?”
Jon checked to see no one was around. Then he embraced her. “It’s not wrong,” he murmured. “It’s just not going to happen, that’s all.”
Saturday, May 16
“Matt gave me five quarters before he left,” Mom said. “He picks up whatever change he finds on the road when he’s biking. It’s amazing there are any coins left, but he says if you look hard enough, you can still find some. Five quarters. We’ll be able to talk for fifteen minutes.”
“Isn’t there a line?” Jon asked. “Usually someone’s shouting at you to get off the phone.”
“I’m using one in a bad neighborhood,” Mom replied. “People are too scared to use it.”
“Is that safe?” Jon asked.
“I’m fine,” Mom said. “The neighborhood isn’t really that bad. Just a lot of drunks who’ll be spending their quarters on potka, not pay phones. So tell me, Jon, how did your week go?”
“It was okay,” Jon said. “Mom, I don’t like the idea of your being in a bad neighborhood. Why don’t we just say hello, and you can call me next week, at your regular phone booth.”
“There isn’t any place in White Birch that’s really safe,” Mom said. “Remember, back home, how I’d make sure the doors were locked all the time? I can’t even do that here. None of the doors have locks.”
“I know, Mom,” Jon said. All the locks were removed when laborers had been moved into White Birch. That way, the people who used to live in White Birch couldn’t use their homes as barricades. Once the grubs were resettled, no one saw much point in giving them locks and keys. Grubs didn’t have anything worth stealing.
“I hope Alex and Miranda leave,” Mom said. “I’d rather never see my grandchild than have her grow up in a place like this.”
“White Birch is a lot better than most of the grubtowns I’ve seen,” Jon said. “There are schools and the clinic. Police, too, for protection.”
“Police,” Mom said. “I lost another of my boys to the mines this week. He was arrested for public intoxication. Thrown into jail and carted off to the mines. Half the men in this town are publicly intoxicated, but the police only take the young ones, the ones who’ll last a little longer in the mines.”
“We all need the mines,” Jon said. “You use coal to heat your apartment, Mom. Where do you think it comes from? The coal fairy?”
“I don’t know you anymore,” Mom said. “I don’t.”
“You know me, Mom,” Jon muttered.
“I never see you,” she said. “I see Matt more often than I see you. You’re a bus ride away, Jon. But you never visit.”
“I play soccer most Sundays,” Jon said.
“Then quit the team,” Mom said. “Get a different afterschool. Something where you’ll do some good.”
“I’m not quitting the soccer team,” Jon said. “It’s the only thing I have.”
“You have family,” Mom said. “You have a roof over your head and food to eat and a school where you can get a real education. You have a future. My students don’t have any of that. They get just enough food to keep them alive, just enough education so they can be trained for their jobs. It’s an outrage. And you say the only thing you have is soccer. I don’t know you anymore, Jon. I don’t know who you’ve become, what the enclave has made you. Matt, Miranda, they haven’t lost who they were. If anything, this whole experience has made them better, stronger.”
Jon listened as Mom took a deep breath.
“I know I spoiled you,” Mom said finally. “You were the baby in the family. And back, back when things got bad, well, I put all my hopes on you. Matt and Miranda let me, but I shouldn’t have done it. It gave you a sense of entitlement, and living the way you do has only exacerbated that. So a lot of it is my fault. Not all of it, though. You’re old enough, Jon, to see the world as it really is, not the way you want it to be.”
There was nothing Jon could say. It was her choice. She had her world, Matt, Miranda, Alex. She had her students. She no longer had him.
“I’m getting off now,” she said, understanding his silence. “I have better use for these quarters.”
Sunday, May 17
“Look at ’im,” Tyler said in drunken indignation.
Jon looked at the old man sprawled unconscious on the pavement.
“He’s drunk,” Luke said.
“A bum,” Ryan said.
“All grubs are bums,” Zachary said. “Don’t deserve to live.” He took a slug from his bottle of potka, then passed it around for the other boys to drink.
Jon couldn’t remember ever being this drunk before. It was part of the fun of the night, that and grubber girls and breaking windows and getting in fights. It seemed like every man from Sexton was there, but the grubs were enjoying themselves, too. There was potka and girls enough for all of them.
Zachary pulled out his knife. “Whaya think?” he asked.
“I think it’s a knife,” Luke said. “Whaya think it is?” He laughed at his own joke, and the guys joined in, except for Zachary.
“You know wha I mean,” Zachary said. “Let’s cut him up.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Teach ’im a lesson. Teach all the damn grubs a lesson.”
“Good idea,” Tyler said. “Gimme the potka.”
The bottle was passed around again. How many had they gone through? Three, Jon thought. Not that it mattered. There was plenty of potka left. That trip to York had been good for something.
“Cut ’im up,” Zachary said. “Let ’im bleed. Let all the grubs bleed for what they did to my granddad.”
“Wait,” Tyler said. “Gotta better idea.” He searched through his pockets and pulled out a small box of matches.
“Where’d ya get that?” Ryan asked.
“Stole it,” Tyler said.
There’d been small fires burning all around White Birch. They must have been started by matches, Jon thought. Now they could start their own fire.
“Burn ’im,” Tyler said.
“I wanna cut him,” Zachary said.
“Cut ’im first,” Tyler declared. “Then burn ’im.”
Ryan laughed.
“Not a joke!” Tyler said. “Cut ’im. Burn ’im. Grubber bum don’t deserve to live.”
Jon wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t think cutting the bum and setting him on fire was a good idea. “Guys,” he said.
“Wassa matter?” Ryan asked. “That your daddy, Evans?”
“Least I know who my daddy is,” Jon said, relieved when the other guys laughed.
Luke took another drink from the bottle. “So what if we kill him?” he said. “No one’ll know. He’s a bum. Let’s do something people will see. Not just burning a drunk.”
“Do what?” Tyler asked. “Better be good.”
Luke looked around. “Up the block,” he said. “The high school. Let’s trash it.”
“Trash and burn,” Zachary said. “Set it on fire.”
Ryan nodded. “That’ll make a difference. They’ll notice that.”
The boys turned to Tyler. “Better
than knocking off some bum,” he said. “People’ll talk about it. Let’s go.”
Jon followed the others up the street. As they passed the bum, Zachary gave him a kick. The bum slept through it.
“He wouldn’t’ve felt a thing,” Luke said. “Waste of matches.”
Jon had never been to the high school. Mom taught there, but she had never bothered to show it to him. Talked about her students, though. Cared more about them than she did about her own son. Cried when they went to the mines.
“Damn school should burn,” he muttered.
Tyler slapped him on his back. “Burn the damn school down!” he shouted.
When they got to the building, they found its windows had already been shattered. “Someone got here before us,” Zachary complained. “Let’s go back to the bum.”
“Sure, they trashed it,” Jon said. “But we’re the ones who’re gonna burn it down.”
Tyler leaned over one of the broken windows. “Someone brush the damn glass off,” he said.
“Job for a slip,” Zachary said.
Jon took his jacket off and used it to brush the slivers of glass away. Tyler hoisted himself through the window and the others followed.
“Big mess,” Ryan said.
He was right. Desks and chairs had been overturned, books ripped to shreds. The room stank of piss and puke. Might as well burn it, Jon thought. Too much of a shithole even for grubs.
“Got an idea,” Zachary said. “Gimme the potka.”
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