Whispers in Autumn (The Last Year, #1)

by Trisha Leigh

  The Administrator fidgets while the news sinks in, his exact reaction hard to pinpoint. A bit troubled, perhaps confused. He’s not displeased, exactly, just a bit out of sorts. This isn’t an everyday occurrence. Before he can answer, the smaller, private screen on his desk lights up and beeps. His eyes flit to the desktop display. “You may go, children. I will deal with the boy.”

  A disembodied voice squawks from his video screen before we shuffle from the room. It sounds like a woman. The only Others I’ve ever seen in person are Wardens, and they’re all men. I assumed Fire represented the single exception, though now that I think about it I see it’s silly. There must be women.

  “Not to worry, Administrator. Everything is fine. The boy is Broken, and a girl—your Apprentice—is also being taken for refreshing due to the incident reported after their astronomy lesson. Wardens have been dispatched to collect them.”

  I gasp involuntarily, prompting Lucas to grab my hand again and tug me out of the office. Once alone, I yank my hand free and walk ahead of him down the hall, trying to make sense of what we heard. The term refreshing is brand new to me, but they must be talking about Leah. It doesn’t make sense; she was fine when we left the field.

  Unless them taking her has more to do with what happened in astronomy than what transpired outside.

  Lucas jogs to catch up, stopping beside me to stare out the second-story window, which offers an unobstructed view of the exercise field. I hardly notice he’s there, his lies and presence temporarily forgotten.

  Greg is where we left him.

  A large black rider pulls up to the edge of the grass, hovering right above the ground, its spinning disks a blur of movement. It gleams even though the day is overcast. Two Wardens hop out, slam the front doors shut, and lift the rear hatch before going to Greg. They wear their standard tan uniforms, complete with black hats, belts, and boots. Even from here their beauty dazzles and I squint to relieve some of the eyestrain.

  Always men, always handsome, and never with a trace of imperfection. No bent noses or crooked teeth. No wrinkles. Not a freckle. It’s too far to make out whether these Wardens have the star-shaped mark on their necks.

  It’s often crossed my mind, the obvious question that if I’m different—Dissident—does that mean I’m not human? And if I’m not…what am I? I’m nowhere near perfect enough to be Other, but the fact that I feel everything doesn’t make a great case for my humanity either. I glance sideways at Lucas, studying him while he watches the scene below. It doesn’t hurt to look at him but he resembles the Wardens. He is sort of beautiful.

  I turn back to the windows before he catches me staring.

  The Wardens reach Greg’s body and position themselves at his head and feet. Without care or concern they bend down, one twisting his fingers through Greg’s longish brown hair, the second snatching up a foot, and hoist him roughly off the ground. They make their way back to the black rider and pitch Greg’s body inside the rear hatch.

  I wince, feeling the hard bounce in my bones as if they’d tossed me. Lucas reaches for me but I scoot out of range.

  One of the Wardens stationed at our Cell leads Leah outside and ushers her into the rider’s backseat. Within minutes the scene returns to normal as the rider pulls out and disappears down the street. Whether Leah will return from this refreshing, whether she’ll be the same if she does, is a mystery.

  We’ll never see Greg again, though. That much I know.

  CHAPTER 9.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Block.” Lucas isn’t picking up on my hints right now, which is odd because I’m sure they’re saying stop following me.

  “What’d I do?”

  “Nothing. I just need to get to my block. So do you.”

  He stops walking. About time.

  As chemistry looms, my overwrought brain hasn’t come up with any plausible way to avoid him, but I get out of talking by slinking into the room at the last second and keeping my eyes on the Monitor. Questions, none of which have anything to do with chem, prod my mind until my brain feels bruised. My feelings regarding Lucas conflict at every intersection.

  Sometimes, like in the field, Lucas seems a little bit like me. Or, at the very least, close to being a friend. But then there’s the fact that he’s hiding an animal, he doesn’t smile all the time, and the Wardens seem to make him as nervous as they make me. The bottom line is that I learned years ago not to be tricked into getting comfortable, and I’m nowhere near ready to trust him. Now that he lied about overhearing the conversation in the Administrator’s office, I’m farther away than ever.

  As soon as the day is over I grab my things and fly out of the room, down the hall, and through the front doors. I’ve had years of practice disappearing for the hour after Cell, and tagging along with my Cellmates to the pizza parlor is as good a way as any. Lucas, and probably Deshi, will expect me to go to the park alone and I have no desire to see either of them.

  The next forty minutes pass quickly; gossip about whether or not Leah will return, along with the events of astronomy, fill most of the time. No one asks for my version and I don’t offer an opinion. Nobody even mentions Greg falling in exercise. I do hear about a second blond boy, Jack, not returning from his Warden interview. That makes nine kids gone since the Wardens arrived, counting the six they took at the Outing. Ten if I include Leah.

  Eleven if I include Greg.

  Five weeks until my number is called. If only people remembered what happened in the interviews, perhaps I could find a way to prepare. But the more questions I ask, the less likely I’ll continue to blend in with my Cellmates, and I need the anonymity they offer more than ever. I don’t push and no one else seems the slightest bit interested in the Wardens’ purpose here or the fact that they’re focused on our year in particular.

  Lucas is waiting on the Morgans’ street, standing smack in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms folded across his chest. Despite the requisite smile, he doesn’t look pleased at my earlier disappearing act. “What’s going on, Althea?”

  “Nothing. Nothing is going on.”

  An unfamiliar, chafing feeling rattles inside me. It must be anger, but it’s been so long since I’ve experienced the feeling toward a live person it takes me a while to place it. I want to scream, to let it out, but I know that’s not the best idea. The rage pours out toward Lucas even though expressing any emotion other than contentment is not Acceptable.

  In fact, acting unpleasant never happens. Not because people are scared of the Others. Because as far as I know, no one experiences feelings other than pleasure, happiness, and the occasional instance of excitement.

  Except me.

  Looking at Lucas’s face, I reconsider the assumption.

  “Well, something must be going on, because you’re definitely avoiding me.”

  My anger bubbles over. “Maybe because you’re a liar, Lucas! A big…fat…liar.”

  He takes a step toward me. His face turns a splotchy crimson, and in that instant, reason burrows past fury and fear takes a seat. We’re alone on an empty street. He grabbed me before, hard enough to leave a mark.

  He stops his advance a couple of feet away and I relax a smidgen.

  “Really, a liar? What did I lie about exactly?”

  “About overhearing that conversation in the Administrator’s office, that’s what.”

  “What are you talking about?” Despite his belligerent tone, his cheeks pale.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. To get into the office we rang a buzzer, passed inspection by the camera, and went through a second door—a thick, wooden one—to talk to the Administrator. Just how did you manage to hear through all that?”

  “I…well, it’s not what you think!”

  “I don’t know what to think, Lucas. All I know is unless you have secret superhearing or something, there is no way you ‘accidentally overhead’ anything.” The rage bleeds out as fast as it took over, leaving exhaustion in its wake. It tur
ns out fighting takes a lot out of a person.

  We watch each other, breath coming in similar erratic patterns. I refuse to let his gaze wander from mine. I’ve had it with all the double-talk, the running around, and, most of all, the secrets. Hiding secrets of my own is difficult enough; there’s no room for Lucas’s as well.

  “Listen, Althea. I did lie to you, but I didn’t make up what I heard, I swear.”

  His bright, sky-colored eyes beg me to understand but don’t offer me a reason. Past experience insists I can’t give in to the desire to trust him without risking everything, without being carted away Broken myself.

  I shake my head, ponytail swishing back and forth. A shiver works its way across my skin as the cold air brushes my bare neck. I pull my sweater tight around me. He’s waiting, and curfew is bearing down on us. “Then tell me the truth.”

  “Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than someone to trust, but…”

  My breath catches in my throat. “Someone to trust?”

  Waiting for his response nearly kills me. It’s the same thing I’ve searched for since I learned to read that stupid note. Something that’s never truly been mine, not even during those three years at the Hammonds’. If only I could get a read on him, find a reason to follow my instinctive pull toward him, maybe I could let my guard down.

  His face closes up, leaving me on the wrong side of a slammed door. “I can’t tell you.”

  The words crush me. He might as well be standing on top of my chest instead of talking to me from several feet away. Lucas’s eyes convey fear bordering on desperation so intense I look away. They mirror the feelings fighting for my attention.

  “Why? Why not?”

  “I just…I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Lucas heads next door, leaving me alone on the street. I may as well be the only person on Earth. It takes a full five minutes to convince myself he’s not coming back.

  After the brief respite granted by Lucas’s presence, the solitude is unbearable. It’s made everything worse instead of better. We’ve spent just a few moments together, but after having him talk to me at Cell, wait for me after, tease me about my name, returning to the silence is torture.

  Miserable to the point of physically shaking, refusing to listen to the voice of reason assuring me that not trusting Lucas is the right thing, I hide along the side of the Morgans’ house. No one is around to see, and it feels surprisingly good to give in to the water for a moment. It winds down my cheeks and drips off my chin. A drop lands on my hand and I lick it off.

  Curfew lurks minutes away, so I gather myself and walk around front, part of me hoping Lucas will be loitering outside. The street looms empty in the twilight, turning that hope to ash.

  A figure waits on the Morgans’ steps, short legs stretched out in front of him. The sight of Deshi clenches my stomach as nerves buzz in my ears. There’s nowhere to go, but the desire to run tempts me anyhow.

  He stands as I approach. “Hey, Thea.”

  I don’t bother correcting him. “Hi.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I tilt my head, asking a silent why as one horrible possibility after another rushes through my mind.

  “I know it’s almost curfew, so I’ll get right to the point. Will you go to the Autumn Mixer with me?”

  Deshi smiles a little bit shyly, making me feel almost guilty for avoiding him when he seems to need a friend as badly as I do. But as much as I’d like to get out of the date with Lucas, going with Deshi would be worse. Just standing here talking to him sends my heart into a race with my lungs. And not in a good way.

  “I, um. Well, Lucas already asked me.”

  Deshi steps down from the porch and walks toward me, stopping only inches away. He stares at me, through me, before offering a rueful grin. He reaches up to brush my hair back behind my shoulder, making my skin crawl. I resist the urge to retreat, smiling with what I hope is apology and not repugnance.

  “The rumors are true, then,” he murmurs. “How interesting. Well, see you tomorrow.”

  He leaves me to suck in the chilly air and try to compose myself. Something isn’t right about Deshi. He smiles all the time. He acts normal, except for the occasional off-kilter musing. The way he watches, though. The way he makes me feel cold. An indefinable and alien quality runs underneath his normal exterior.

  I haven’t forgotten his arrival in Danbury coincided with the Wardens’.

  Whether it means he’s working for them, or if he simply recognizes a difference in me akin to his own, one thing feels true—he’s dangerous.

  CHAPTER 10.

  I wish for the millionth time there was a way to ditch the mixer tonight.

  Since we’re rarely allowed out after five p.m.—a rule that goes for adults as well as children—the Mixers an exception and therefore exciting for everyone involved. Even though we fought, Lucas’s company is welcome after existing in almost complete silence these past days.

  We don’t have to be friends. I haven’t forgotten the lie or his refusal to come clean about it. But maybe spending the evening together will give me a chance to learn whether he’s like me or just simply crazy.

  It takes longer than normal for me to get ready; I’m finishing up just as a knock comes at the door. My hair cascades down my back instead of hanging in its typical ponytail. Mrs. Morgan even curled it again. Checking the mirror one last time, I feel good about my light blue dress, white cardigan, and canvas tennis shoes. I descend the stairs hauling my anxiety along as an unwelcome burden.

  The Morgans and Lucas stand in the foyer looking uncomfortable; my stomach flip-flops at the sight of them. They’re all shifting feet, smiling at one another in silence as they shake hands. The scent of the au gratin potatoes we had for dinner hangs in the air. The foyer light makes Lucas appear to be under a spotlight, the subject of an interrogation, and the image might amuse me if we weren’t so close to being subjected to that very thing.

  Mr. Morgan catches sight of me, his eyes lighting up. “Thea, you look beautiful! Have a good time. I’ll expect you home no later than nine.”

  He kisses my cheek and shuffles back into the living room to watch tonight’s inane, Other-produced movie. Mrs. Morgan gives me a tight hug, then pecks my date on the cheek before joining her Partner, leaving Lucas and me alone.

  Lucas raises his eyebrows. “How come he can call you Thea?” He waves a hand and shakes his head before I can answer. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You do look pretty, you know.”

  I scrunch up my nose as if the compliment disgusts me, even though it definitely does not. “You don’t have to say that. They can’t hear you.”

  “I mean it.” Lucas grabs my hand and pulls me out the door.

  He doesn’t drop it as we walk into town, not even when two Wardens pass us on their patrol. I think about pulling away, but people do think we’re courting. I want to bring up the argument we had the other day, but the simple phrase I’m still angry with you for lying sticks in my throat. No one gets angry. People don’t fight. Even though I shouted at him and he knows I was mad, there’s a good chance he’s forgotten or explained it away. That’s how people deal with me when I act wrong. They simply look past it.

  Except Lucas has never once looked through me, around me, like everyone else. Deep down I know he hasn’t forgotten our argument. Whether Lucas is a Dissident, too, or simply a strange, lonely, Broken human boy, he’s as different as I am.

  He still holds on tight to my hand as we enter the bowling alley ten minutes later. It’s hard to tell if his hand is even cold anymore—mine may have warmed it up. I guess he’s taking this whole act pretty seriously. After all, he only asked me here because people think we’re courting, not because we are.

  Our Cellmates buzz about, a few pausing to point and whisper as we enter. Discomfort wraps around me and I concentrate on not sweating. Lucas squeezes my hand as though he can feel it.

  He shrugs at my questioning glance. “You get warmer
when you’re nervous. Don’t pay attention to them. They’re excited for us.”

  It’s true, I decide as my eyes slide over their faces. Their expressions reveal good-natured envy, and longing, but also giant smiles. Even Brittany, here alone after Greg Broke, grins from ear to ear. After a few moments they stop looking.

  No one bowls yet; most just mill around, unsure what to do. Five Wardens are scattered evenly around the room so they won’t miss a thing. Lucas tugs me right over to the middle lane, settles me on the cushioned bench, and walks away to get us shoes. The building is older than any of the town’s houses or the Cell, and it smells like sweat and feet, among other things. The sound of our voices, hard-soled shoes clicking on the wood floor, and the thunks of heavy balls hitting the trays echo off the concrete walls as our Cellmates settle in for the evening activity.

  Lucas returns with two pairs of shoes and two balls, which he dumps on the motorized belt next to our lane. “The pink one is yours.”

  “How come I get the pink one? Just because I’m a girl?”

  “You want the blue one?” His cheeks color and I almost feel badly for teasing him.

  He really is handsome. Lucas’s chest spreads into sturdy shoulders, arms that I suspect would make me feel protected from the whole rest of the world. He’s taller than me, maybe by as much as four or five inches, and those blond curls give him a playful, open appearance that begs to be trusted.

  “I’m joking, Lucas. It’s fine. I like pink.” I catch his eye and smile.

  His face breaks into a heart-stopping smile and I forget to wonder anything. “You got me. Know how to play?”

  “I haven’t for years. None of my parents like it very much.”

  “None of your parents?”

  Man. The slip happened without me realizing it. He makes me too comfortable, and this mistake drags up that horrendous memory of the Monitor in Portland, the one I turned quivery after I talked about the Others while cleaning her room after Cell.