Robin Hood, the One Who Looked Good in Green

by Wendy Mass

  To his credit, Uncle Kent doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking around the empty room.

  “They were up against the wall in the main cargo bay,” I add. “I saw them when I was here yesterday, remember?”

  Vinnie shrugs. “We must have gotten ten deliveries and pickups since then. They’re obviously gone.” He shoos us out the door. “I know you all have better places to be. And one of you should probably start looking for a new job!” The door slams behind us.

  “Now what?” I ask. “I haven’t seen any more ships arrive since yesterday. Have either of you?”

  They both shake their heads.

  “He knows something,” my uncle says. “All that poker playing has given me a pretty good knack for knowing when someone is lying.”

  “Why would he lie about boxes?” Will asks.

  Uncle Kent shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. All arrivals and departures are logged into a database, including a record of their cargo. I’ll start there. You two go to school, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I hesitate, sort of feeling like I should be part of this. After all, the packages have more to do with me than anyone else.

  Before I can say anything, Uncle Kent shakes his head. “No. You’re obviously not the foreman’s favorite person.”

  I raise my chin. “Neither are you, remember? You keep making everyone float!”

  “Vinnie and I go way back. I know how to talk to him. Now get to school before you’re late again and then complain about being stuck in waste disposal for a week.”

  Okay, the man has a good point. I’m lucky I’m not down there already. “Good luck,” I tell him. “If you find the boxes, don’t open them until I get there.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Uncle Kent says. I look back to see him square his shoulders and knock on the door.

  Will and I slide into our seats about ten seconds before the afternoon buzzer rings. I’m relieved to see that Robo-teach has laid out two pieces of brown fabric on our desks with small lines marked on them. A new sewing project. Much better than another discussion about DNA and ancient history.

  Those of us old enough to wield a needle without impaling ourselves upon it have been sewing for years. With our limited access to new clothes, everyone needs to learn this skill. Today I’m glad for the mindlessness of the lesson. I can follow the lines with my needle and thread while letting my mind wander to more pressing things. He’s a good man, my uncle. This can’t be easy for him. He’d probably rather believe the foreman, since it would mean he could pretend the boxes never came, and my parents are still alive. But there he went, knocking on that door. I’m lucky to have him. Better than parents who would abandon their kid and then get themselves killed.

  “Ouch!” My squeal comes out sounding a little more like a six-year-old girl’s than I would like. I immediately press my finger to my lips to stop the drip of blood.

  “Do you need to visit the medi-station, Robin?” Robo-teach asks, wheeling over to me.

  I shake my head.

  “Good!” He spins back around. “All right, class, let’s all set our hats aside and get ready for the next activity. You’re going to like this one.”

  Hats? I look down at the fabric in my hand. Brown. Triangular. Soft. Then I glance around the class. Half the kids have already finished theirs and have plopped them on their heads. Pointy in the front, with sides that curve inward. It’s the hat in the photograph!

  Will laughs as he, too, sticks his hat on his head and beams. I just grumble. I don’t think it’s very funny. Everyone else is smiling, though. We never, ever get to wear hats up here. What would be the point? There’s no sun to shield our eyes from.

  “Hats off,” Robo-teach repeats.

  “Aw,” the girls complain, grabbing them off one another’s heads and giggling. I don’t know if girls everywhere giggle a lot, but our girls sure do. Once I heard two of them whispering, and when they saw me, they started giggling even more. Will says they have a crush on me, which is a weird way of saying they like me or think I’m cute or something. I’ve never had “a crush” on anyone so I don’t really know what Will means. Uncle Kent says someday I’ll meet my “person” and then I’ll understand. I’ve seen Will get all gooey-eyed when he talks to Malaya, who is only a month older than him, but I don’t really get it. I finish the last few stitches and tie off the thread.

  “Now,” Robo-teach continues, “I will be pairing you up by age for this next project.” Half the class hoots (including Will, who will get to pair up with Malaya), the other half groans (that’d be me, since it means I get to spend close-up and personal time with Finley).

  “Since everyone was so interested in the DNA process yesterday, we’re going to dive in a little deeper. I’ve downloaded my processing program onto the mobile viewscreens. You will each take turns collecting a hair sample from your partner, give it to me to upload, and then return to your seats to watch the results.”

  Everyone hurries to switch seats to be closest to their partner, but I drag my feet. I’m not in any hurry to see that guy’s face again. And what if the experiment pulls up something about my parents? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t handle that.

  “Ouch!” I squeal for the second time in ten minutes. “Seriously, Finley? That hurt!” I furiously rub the spot on my head where he just yanked out more than one piece of my hair. In response, he calmly pulls out one single strand of his own hair and says, “Saved you the trouble.” Then he delivers them both to Robo-teach.

  Grumbling, I plop down in front of our viewscreen to wait. Across the room, little Lissy shouts, “I’m related to a queen! I knew it!”

  By the time Finley returns, his data is starting to fill the screen. “I already know my family tree dating back three hundred years,” he brags, leaning back in his chair.

  This doesn’t surprise me. The commander prides himself on being the latest in a line of leaders (commanders, captains, chiefs, kings, presidents, you name it) going back fifteen generations or something. He and Finley’s mother are the first people to pop up on the screen, then lots of other faces, places, and documents. Finley’s barely paying attention until …

  He and I both lean forward.

  It looks like …

  He suddenly lunges forward and flips the viewscreen over. His face has gone very red. I don’t blame him. I’d be pretty embarrassed to find out my great-great-great-grandfather was a thief with a million-dollar bounty on his head.

  Actually, I probably wouldn’t care. But Finley obviously does.

  “Please,” he gasps, stabbing at the screen with his fingers until it goes dark. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  I consider this for a minute. Having something to hold over Finley could be useful. But he looks so distressed that I just shrug and say, “Sure, whatever.”

  “Thank you,” he says, his cheeks still flaming. “I owe you one.”

  Robo-teach wheels up to our table. “Find anything interesting, boys?”

  Finley opens his mouth, then quickly shakes his head. “Nope,” I say, “just Finley’s family history of do-gooders.”

  Robo-teach nods. “I’m sure you’ll be as good a commander as your father one day.”

  Finley gives a quick nod and stares at his hands.

  “What about you, Robin?” Robo-teach asks. “Have you been able to shed any light on your mysterious look-alike?”

  “Haven’t checked yet.” I turn the screen toward me and flick it back on. I can’t help noticing that next to Finley’s first name is his last name, Harlon. But mine only says Robin. Why have I never thought about that before?

  I take a deep breath and press on my name. I expect the photograph to come right up again, but it doesn’t. Only four words appear on the screen:

  NO MATCHES ON FILE.

  I try again. Same message comes up.

  “How is that possible?” I ask Robo-teach. He shakes his head and starts scanning his own data from yesterday with the fe
ather, but instead of pulling up the photograph, the same error message flashes across his screen.

  “I’m sorry, Robin,” he says, in as sorry a tone as a robot can muster. “All traces of your family history appear to have been wiped.”

  With my teacher’s warning ringing in my ears, I stumble my way out of the classroom. That couch cushion would have fallen right off my head as I hurry through the halls, half bent over, trying to make myself disappear. I can’t go into space! That’s absurd! No one knows how long it goes on, maybe forever! Sarena calls after me, but I keep moving until she gives up.

  I burst into our apartment calling my mother’s name. No one answers, not Grandmother or even the staff. My parents must have given them the day off while they deal with the office break-in. I pull up the picture of my mother’s face on my tablet. Her “do not call” button is lit up. I call anyway. A few seconds later, her face appears on the screen, covered in a clay mask with holes for her eyes, nose, and mouth. I’ve interrupted her weekly facial. I can live with that.

  Before she can say anything, I jump in. “Mother! There’s been a mistake. You have to fix it. I was chosen to go to Earth Beta!”

  Calmly, she says, “Yes, I know. I think it will be good for you. You’ve been slacking lately on your studies.”

  “Not true,” I argue, heat rising to my cheeks. “My grades are fine.”

  “I don’t mean in school,” she says, the clay cracking around her lips as she talks. “I mean in all the other ways a young lady in your position should act. Ivy will return shortly to help you pack, and she will accompany you on the journey. You’re representing our family now, so I expect you to be on your best behavior while you’re gone.”

  This is crazy! “When am I ever not on my best behavior?”

  She closes her eyes as someone out of frame drapes a wet washcloth across her face. “Right now,” she replies calmly.

  AHHHHH! I shut off the screen, stomp around a bit, then sink into the couch. Fine. If they want me to go so badly, I’ll go. I stomp to my room, aware that stomping in high heels looks ridiculous. I kick them into my closet and take a good look around my room. I’ve never lived anywhere other than here. I’ve never even slept in any bed other than this one. Except for a cradle, of course, and that hardly counts.

  Ivy runs in with two suitcases, one big and one small. She leaves the small one by the door and plops the big one on my bed. “We are going to have the best time!” she exclaims.

  It takes me a few seconds to remember that my mother said Ivy would be coming with me. Well, it’s a relief at least to know that someone will be looking out for me.

  A bunch of instructions have arrived on both my holo-screen and tablet. It includes a strict packing list and information on liftoff. It really is tomorrow. I sit down on the bed and let Ivy fill my suitcase while rattling off all the exciting things we’ll get to do and see on our trip.

  “Where is your digi-pen?” she asks, looking around the desk for it. “That’s number four on the list.”

  “I … um … lost it?”

  “I will request a new one immediately.” She types a few commands into her wrist device. One of the things I like about Ivy is how she never judges.

  “I hear the boys are really cute on Earth Beta!” she says, neatly packing the high-heeled shoes I only recently kicked off. I lift them right back out. We play this game for a few more minutes before I just lie down and let her finish.

  I must have fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes again, Ivy is gone and Grandmother is standing in my door frame. I spring up and run into her arms like I’m a child again. She holds me for a few minutes, making little murmuring sounds, which is the closest she can come to speech. Right now I’m not sure it’s enough.

  When I finally let go, she opens the top of my suitcase and looks around my room, puzzled. Then she points to the top of my head. It only takes a few seconds before I realize she’s asking about the crown that she gave me yesterday. I shake my head. “I can’t bring that. It’s much too valuable and special. I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

  But she keeps nodding and pointing, so I pull it out of the drawer to show her I’m keeping it safe there. She takes it from me and rests it on top of a dress that Ivy has folded with impossible neatness.

  “Truly, Grandmother, I don’t think I should bring it. What if someone on the other planet steals it? I’d feel awful.”

  She just zips up the suitcase as if I’m not even talking. Guess I’m bringing it.

  The next day is one of those sunny days where your mood is so dark that the sun is an affront. It’s poking fun at you by shining and making things glow like nothing bad could ever happen when you know it can.

  Father’s hovercar takes us to the launchpads where my three classmates are already gathered, along with their families. I’m the only one with her maid. The airship parked on the closest launchpad is so enormously huge that I literally cannot see the top of it. The Royal Horizon must be taller than any building in The City. I’ve seen a lot of ships before, but not one like this. I wonder if Prince John owns it, because of the name. Not that I’ve ever heard of him leaving the planet. The thought of it being able to lift off the ground boggles the mind.

  The two men who will be our instructors for the three-month-long trip come over to introduce themselves. One glance tells me they are grandfather and grandson. White-haired Mr. Pratchett Senior is older than Grandmother, and Mr. Pratchett Junior (“call me PJ”) is about ten years older than me, with a whistle on a chain around his neck. They make an odd pair. They go over the briefing that I already read last night, so I tune out.

  PJ must say something funny because the group laughs, including my parents. Both of their moods have improved drastically since yesterday. Neither has mentioned my father’s office again. Maybe they’re just happy not to have anyone to take care of for a few months. That thought darkens my mood even further.

  “We’re going to say goodbye now,” Father says as the group disbands. He puts his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re not going to wait till the ship takes off?” I ask, incredulous.

  He shakes his head. “It’s better this way. I have to get back to work, and your mother has a —” I lift my brows, waiting for him to say she has something important, too, like getting her nails trimmed. He sighs. “Well, she has a thing. I’m sure it’s vital to all of society.”

  I almost crack a smile at that. I’ve missed joking around with him. It feels like a distant memory. He gives me a hug, which feels both reassuring and awkward. He’s both familiar and a stranger to me. Mother’s hug is a little shorter. “You’ll be back before you know it,” she says.

  My chest feels like a hovercar is sitting on it as I watch them go back to the parking lot. Ivy has stood silently beside me the whole time. For once she is quiet, and for once I wish she wouldn’t be. Anything to keep my mind from whirling.

  PJ blows his whistle, and it’s time to go. It’s a good thing Ivy is carrying both our suitcases, because my hands are shaking too much to hold them. The only thing giving me any comfort at all right now is the small scrap of paper in my left boot. Knowing that I have something that has survived for hundreds of years gives me hope somehow.

  We file up the plank and into the cavernous opening of the ship. All of our jaws drop at the same time. I don’t know what I expected to find, but the ship looks exactly like the interior of the buildings in the city: shining and clean, and laid out exactly the same as the main lobbies. Where’s the creativity? Will there be an exact duplicate of our apartment, too?

  While Mr. Pratchett Senior goes to tell the captain we’re ready for takeoff (ugh), PJ points in two different directions, showing us where the boys’ room will be, and where Sarena, Ivy, and myself will be staying. He then tells us to step aside, that the door will now be closing.

  We turn to watch as the door slides down from the top, soundlessly and with great finality as the outside world begins to shrink from our view. I
t’s such a large opening that it takes longer than one might think. I catch another movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s Ivy! She’s heading purposefully toward the door!

  I rush after her. “Ivy! What are you doing?”

  “I’m not going on the trip,” she says, patting my arm gently. “You don’t need me here.”

  “I do!” I insist. “Please.”

  She shakes her head and pulls away from my grip. “Don’t forget to brush your hair once in a while.” She ducks out, right before the door clangs to the floor. It’s pretty dramatic, really. I stand there, dumbfounded. Her parting words to me are about my hair? I sigh. I guess that’s not surprising.

  “So your robot maid left, eh?” Gareth says.

  I turn to glare at him, but his kind expression tells me he isn’t trying to be mean.

  I nod.

  “C’mon,” he says. “I’ll help you take your bags up to your room.”

  “I only have one,” I tell him, pointing at the large suitcase. But then I notice the smaller version sitting beside it. I glance back at the huge door, but I know it’s not going back up again. Ivy’s gone. I sigh. Guess I have two. I hope there’s nothing she needs in there.

  I don’t get more than four feet toward the elevator before a jolt runs up through the ground and sets my bones vibrating. “What was that?” Sarena asks in a trembling voice.

  Asher grins. “Look!” He points to the wall — or at what used to be a solid wall. It’s now completely transparent, as is the floor. My hands go numb as I spot The City below us, a perfect grid of gleaming, white towers surrounded by black, scorched earth in all directions. And then a second later it disappears, swallowed up by the glare of the sun, which we are moving toward — and now past — at an alarming rate.

  My brain (and maybe my mouth, I’m not sure) screams SHOULDN’T WE BE STRAPPED IN? But the four of us are glued to the wall, pressing our hands and faces up against it as we approach a dark darker than any on Earth. A second later, we all draw in our breath and hold it. Outside the wall lies a view I will never, ever forget as long as I live. It’s a sight that chases out all the fears and worries and all rational thought.