Regenerate

by Emily Goldthwaite

  “Wow, it’s in pretty good shape for being over seventy-five years old,” says Raxtin.

  Let’s hope my grandma is in at least as good of mental shape, especially since she’s a hermit in her late eighties.

  As we near the house, a vaguely familiar, warbled voice calls out to us. “Hi there! Be down in a minute.”

  “Be down?” asks Zeph.

  I look around and spot a ladder propped against the side of the house. Then the wood of the house creaks and groans above our heads with the sound of approaching footsteps.

  A slightly stooped, elderly woman wearing an old-fashioned carpenter’s belt and carrying a small stack of bricks under one arm appears at the edge of the roof nearest the ladder. She turns and proceeds to climb onto it.

  Lander and Raxtin simultaneously jump towards the ladder, their arms outstretched.

  Raxtin clears his throat. “Um, do you need help, ma’am?” he says, reaching up towards her.

  She glances down at him but continues descending the rungs. “Son, you weren’t here when I got myself up there; why on earth would I need your help getting down?”

  Lander smirks and takes a step away from the ladder, still close enough to jump in, but far enough that he doesn’t appear to be hovering.

  Raxtin keeps one hand on the ladder. His cheeks blow out as he sort of chokes on his next words. “Cause . . . you’re uh, well, old.”

  “Old!” creaks Josephine. She chuckles reproachfully. “My boy, you’re only as old as you believe.” She lets out a big, satisfied breath of air as she lights on the ground. “There we are. Where do you suppose I’d be if I couldn’t mend my own chimney?” She tosses a hand towards her roof. “Screwed! That’s where.”

  I try to stop my sudden burst of laughter, but it escapes as a snort.

  Zeph and Donna’s eyes widen in shock and Raxtin blushes.

  Lander comes up behind her, a big smile on his face. Without a word, he takes the stack of bricks out from under her arm and places them in a larger pile nearby.

  Josephine turns towards him and brushes a hand across her curly salt-and-pepper hair. “Well, you’re a tall drink of water,” she says to Lander.

  He tugs at his collar as his ears turn a shade of red. Ha! Nice it’s not me embarrassed for a change.

  Josephine surveys our small group, her deep-brown eyes settling on me. Her face instantly softens and her shoulders relax. She presses her aged palm to her chest, and the other hand wraps around her middle. Her wrinkled brow pulls together, forming a row of vertical lines in her worn, leathery skin.

  The way she looks at me makes something inside my chest stir. I feel calm and warm, despite the autumn breeze.

  Donna clears her throat. “Mrs. Caster, this is—”

  “Psh,” Josephine silences her, swatting the air with her hand. Her eyes never leave me. “I don’t need any introduction.” She nods to herself and paces towards me. “I’d know this little darlin’s face anywhere. Averielle.” She pauses and rubs a hand over her mouth, then again presses it to her chest. “My lands, child, you look just like your father.”

  Chapter Ten

  I have never heard that comparison before. I don’t even think I’ve seen an image of him to make the comparison myself. Her words bring a smile to my lips. I like hearing that I look like Dad.

  The inside of the house doesn’t seem nearly as dark and dingy as the outside did. Or maybe it’s something else that makes it feel inviting. It smells amazing in here. I’m not sure what it is that I’m smelling, but it makes my stomach gurgle. The sitting room looks right into the kitchen, and at least a dozen cupboards line the walls. What on earth could be in all of those? We only have three in our quarters, and that’s more than most households.

  We GAPs are seated on a large plush couch. Judging by the mismatched fabric, it has been reupholstered several times.

  Donna sits in a straight, stiff-looking chair next to us. She and the chair seem to go together.

  “It’s a shame you can’t stay longer,” says Josephine from the kitchen, though her tone doesn’t actually sound regretful.

  Donna sips the tea my grandma gave her and pulls a tight face. “Yes. I must be returning to my administrative business. It is unfortunately too confidential to work on in public.” She sets the cup on the small table beside her and checks her Pocket Palm. “Averielle, you and your friends may stay if you like, but you must be back in the city by five p.m. sharp. That’s in two hours. Don’t forget to account for travel time.” She pauses and eyes us all with an uncomfortable silence. “Remember, this is not a protected area. If you are not back on time, we will immediately send a retrieval team to find and collect you, even if you call in. We can’t take any chances. I’d hate to see your caretakers embarrassed by a headline broadcasting their offspring’s tardiness.”

  My Mom’s already written me off for dead, or on my way to it. What’s adding social embarrassment to the list of how I’ve ruined her life?

  “We’ll be back in time,” says Raxtin, shooting a look at me.

  Oops, was I supposed to verbally respond to her? I turn and see Donna’s dissatisfied stare aimed at me. I shrug and nod. “What he said. We’ll be back.”

  Josephine opens the front door and gestures for Donna to go through it. “I’ll walk them to my property line and make sure nothing gets them. Pleasure to see you again.”

  You know, I’m liking my grandma more and more.

  “I thought she’d never leave!” Grandma bursts out moments after Donna leaves. She turns to us with a cordial, wrinkly smile. “Come on over to the kitchen, you kids. Y’all look half starved.”

  The guys are up the moment the words leave her mouth, but Zeph and I shoot each other uncertain looks.

  “Come on, you two,” she says. “You gals look the most malnourished of all.”

  I nod at Zeph then smile at my grandma. “Sounds good. Thanks, Grandma Josephine.”

  She pulls a face. “Oh please, call me Jo.”

  We sit around a real wood table and stare at each other with wide eyes while Grandma Jo busily moves about her kitchen. I’ve never seen anything like her kitchen. She has multiple knives, big, shiny antique metal pots, a full-sized sink, an oven and everything. I’ve seen pictures of old kitchens equipped like this, but never in person.

  “So, what location do we send our order to?” asks Zeph, typing on her Pocket Palm.

  Jo lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh, there’s none of that stuff here. Here we all eat the same thing as everyone else. None of that processed, nutrient-hollow, warmed-to-order garbage you’re used to.”

  She carries over a large tray with thick slices of bread—or at least I think that’s what it is—and a jar of red jam with a knife in it. She sets it on the table, leaves, then comes back with the yellowest butter I’ve ever seen.

  “All right, help yourselves,” she says and passes us each a small plate.

  “Help ourselves? What do you mean?” Raxtin asks.

  Jo drops into her chair like a gust of wind knocked her over and slaps a hand to her aged cheek. “Don’t tell me you’ve never buttered your own bread before.”

  We all look at one another and shake our heads.

  Jo makes a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue and reaches for the butter dish and the knife. “What’ve they done to y’all? All right, I’ll show you how.”

  The bread was unlike anything I’ve ever had. It was heavy and flavorful, but most of us could only eat a few pieces. I think we all feel sick to our stomachs, almost like eating too much cake, but without the sugary part.

  “Hold on,” says Jo. “I’ve got something for that.” She moves to a cupboard and opens it, revealing shelves of dark glass bottles and jars. The shelves pull all the way out of the cupboard and she rummages through them until she selects one of the small, amber-colored bottles and brings it over to the table.

  “What are all those?” I ask.

  “When you don’t live in the villages, you have to make your own m
edicine, out of plants. Much more effective medicine too, I say. That there’s my medicine cabinet.” She points back towards the shelves of bottles.

  My eyes light up along with Zeph and Raxtin’s. “No way,” says Raxtin. “Averi’s favorite thing is plants.”

  Jo turns to me with an approving look in her eyes and a small nod. “So it is, huh? Well, I’ll be darned.”

  I feel light and warm inside and there’s an excited hope in my chest. “Do you think you could teach me?”

  She gives me a wink. “Of course.” Then hands me the bottle labeled Western Mugwart. “Mugwart is a digestive aid and also takes away nausea. I’m betting your bodies aren’t used to such rich foods. A few drops of that should help.”

  I open it up and prepare to drip some in my mouth with the dropper.

  Her gentle leathery hand touches my arm and I pause. “I should probably warn you, they don’t taste like the medicine you’re used to.”

  I nod and her hand lifts, leaving a spot of warmth. I raise the dropper above my open lips and drip it in.

  My mouth feels like it’s on fire, and my taste buds are being attacked. “Ahhhh! Water!” I sputter and leap for the nearest cup, gulping down all of the liquid inside. The burning settles, but the flavor lingers like a poltergeist. I shiver as I twist the lid back on. “That’s horrible!”

  Everyone laughs.

  “Here, let me try.” Lander holds his hand out to me across the table, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  As if he could handle it any better. “Go for it,” I say.

  I slap the bottle into his palm and his fingers curl up, brushing against mine. I startle and pull away, but not before catching that his gaze remains fixed on me a beat too long.

  Next to me, Raxtin clears his throat and shifts around in his seat.

  The moment breaks.

  All eyes now turn to Lander.

  His reaction is not quite as pronounced as mine, but he does scrunch up his face and reach for a drink especially quick. It’s a little consolation at least.

  “My turn,” Rax announces before Lander has even swallowed.

  I sigh and rest my chin on my fist, watching. Boys. Why do they turn everything into a competition?

  Lander slides the vial to Raxtin, who snatches it up and fills the dropper. His gaze darts my direction for a moment, then he takes a deep breath and drips it all in at once.

  “Ghah!” He coughs and his face turns red. With watery eyes he slugs down a full cup of water and then fills it with more. “I think I swallowed it up into my nose.” He snorts, then sniffs, trying to clear it.

  Zeph and I giggle.

  “Always painful when that happens,” says Jo. “Don’t worry, the burn will clear up within the hour.”

  Rax’s shoulders fall forward but he doesn’t say any more. I get the feeling he’s restraining himself.

  Lander exhales loudly and stretches his arms out to either side of himself before easing further back in his chair. He catches me staring and wriggles his brow at me.

  I bite my lip then roll my eyes a different direction.

  Once we all settle down, Jo surveys our small group. “I think I can place who most of your parents and Grands are. You, Raxtin, for example, have got to be Carter and Raegan’s grandson.”

  Raxtin’s eyes are wide as he nods. “Yeah. That’s true. How’d you know that?”

  “Oh, I grew up with most of you kids’ Grands. Before the Migration, that is.” Her voice softens a note, then she abruptly turns to Zephani. “You’re Zoe and Brandon’s grandchild. Brandon and I used to hang out together in high school. He was a charmer.” She touches a few fingers to the nape of her neck, as if remembering something.

  We all chuckle.

  Jo turns to Lander next, and the remnant of his smile falls flat. “I’m a new transfer. You wouldn’t know my Grands or folks.”

  She scrutinizes him carefully with a fist to her lips. Lander shifts a little under her gaze. What is he so uncomfortable about?

  “A transfer, huh? What did you say your name was again?” asks Jo

  Lander clears his throat. “Lander.”

  She drops her fist and squints at him. “Your full name.”

  “Lander Finch,” he says, his whole body straight and rigid.

  “Lander Lazarus Finch,” I correct. What’s wrong with him? He told me his full name right off the bat.

  His mouth twitches down at the corner for just a second, and his eyes regard me with an emotion I can’t read.

  Raxtin is frowning at me too, probably because I know Lander’s full name. Geez, it’s not like it’s a secret, you guys.

  Jo’s chin lifts and her fingers drum on the table. “Lazarus, is it?”

  Lander clears his throat yet again and adjusts his collar. I’ve never seen him this jittery. “Yes. I’m named after my grandpa.” There is an odd pause, and he looks at Jo so pointedly his eyebrow reminds me of an arced knife blade. “Did you know him?”

  Jo’s eyes are shrewd despite her years. “I don’t think so, but it does sound mighty familiar. I’ll have to consult my almanac and see.”

  What on earth is an almanac?

  Lander swallows hard and looks down at his empty plate, spinning it idly around. “You’ll have to let me know if you find anything.”

  Jo watches him and nods. “I certainly will.”

  It’s amazing what you learn about yourself from others when they think you’re asleep.

  Lights from the city flip by the window and are barely more than passing shadows through my shut eyelids. My head leans against the poly-plex, rather than leaning on Lander’s shoulder, which is on the other side of me. When Rax and Zeph cozied up to each other on the other bench, that’s when I decided to “fall asleep.”

  “I think today went pretty well, don’t you, Rax?” Zephani says.

  “Mmm,” says Rax groggily. I can imagine he has that half-lidded look.

  Zeph shifts in her seat. “How about you, Lander? Do you think Averi and Jo hit it off?”

  Lander’s breathing stirs, not like he was sleeping, but like he was disrupted mid-thought. “Hard to say without a baseline. Averi reacted better to Jo than she did to me when we first met. Although that was very different from this. Jo and Averi seem to have a lot of compatible qualities.”

  Zeph does her soft, doe-like chuckle. I remember when she used to do that around Rax all the time before they hooked up. “Sorry she gave you a hard time at first. She didn’t used to be like that at all.”

  Lander draws a long breath and I can feel him sink deeper into our seat. “I’ve heard people in the group say that a lot. How was she different?”

  “It’s hard to explain, really. She used to be way more . . . friendly. She’d smile and say hi and stuff. She and I used to talk all the time. We were close friends back in the day. At least now she comes around us all again. But she’s kind of like a dark cloud when she does.”

  Raxtin’s voice picks up across from me. “Just because she’s sleeping doesn’t mean it’s ok to talk about her like that.”

  Wow, he’s angry.

  “I’m just filling him in,” Zeph says.

  He’s not actually yelling, but Raxtin’s voice does sound like a warning growl. “Yeah, well, I think you’ve filled him in enough. I’m sure Lander can pick up on the rest himself.”

  “I’m sure I can,” agrees Lander easily. “But it still helps to understand why her supposed ‘close friends’ don’t accept her.”

  Did he really just say that? What does he mean they don’t accept me? They don’t?

  Zephani gasps, but Raxtin remains oddly silent. I wonder what his face looks like right now? I don’t dare try to peek.

  “I’m just saying people change,” says Lander. “Get used to it.”

  “Oh, sure,” says Rax, his tone accusatory. So much for him being groggy. “That’s easy to say when you don’t stand to lose anything if she doesn’t come back to normal.”

  “What do you
mean by that?” Zeph says. Her voice pitches at the end, the way it always does when she’s ticked.

  Yeah, what does he mean by that?

  Lander clears his throat, and even with my eyes closed I can picture the smug set of his lips and face.

  Raxtin’s tone softens as he clearly backs down. “Nothing. Just that it’s hard for all of us to see her so miserable and unhappy. Since Lander is new, he really couldn’t care either way.”

  Zeph hums like she doesn’t quite believe his cover, but lets the topic drop.

  The three of them go quiet.

  Without their voices to distract me, my attention shifts to the occasional jostle of the tram and the passing lights.

  If my friends don’t actually accept me, are they still my friends?

  Chapter Eleven

  Walking to school today has been a refreshing switch up, but as I see Kachina surveying me from up ahead, I have a feeling that’s about to change.

  “Averielle,” she says, “have you picked out your dress for the birthday party this weekend?”

  Ahead of her, Rax’s posture stiffens. It’s not like anyone expected him to take me anymore. Not over his girlfriend. So why is he so uptight? Besides, as far as I know, he’s still planning on giving my birthday speech, so it’s fine.

  I clear my throat and look down at my beat-up orange-and-pink slip-ons. “Not really. I don’t care all that much, honestly.”

  “Don’t care!” Kachina bursts. “It’s our birthday party! Well, okay, ours and several others’, technically. You’ve always gone all out. Remember the year we decided to pick the most gaudy, poufy dresses we could find?

  “Oh yeah.” I can’t help but crack a smile. “Weren’t they copper colored?”

  “Yours was. Mine was gold,” she says.

  Jett stretches his arms above his head then lays one arm around Kachina’s shoulders. “I remember that dress. Boy, do I remember it. You looked freakin’ hot!”

  An image of her in a form-fitted gown with a gossamer tulip skirt flashes in my mind. “That’s right, and yours was so stiff you had to be helped to sit down and stand up.” We both laugh.