by Anna Carey
Page 13
I popped another pea into my mouth and kept it there, waiting for it to soften. I could remember the exact moment I’d decided Arden was so unlike me that we could never be friends. We were running races in the yard. It was our sixth year at School and Pip had gotten her period that morning. She’d been insecure about wearing the pads that Dr. Hertz had given her, but Ruby and I had convinced her to come run, even if she didn’t want to. As she stood near the lake, waiting for her turn, Arden yanked down her shorts.
Before that moment, I had given Arden so many chances. After she fought with Maxine in the bathroom, splitting her lip, I’d sworn it was an accident. I’d defended her to the other girls when she snapped at Teacher Florence, telling her that she wasn’t her mother—that she already had one, alive, outside the walls, and she didn’t need another. I’d even snuck her berries in the solitary room. But what she did to Pip was too much. I bet you’re real proud of yourself, I’d yelled, as Pip took off toward the dormitories, eyes swollen and pink. For one second of your life someone was more pathetic than you. After that I’d made it clear to everyone how little I thought of her, how pitiful she’d always seemed to me. Soon no one spoke to Arden at all, really. Not even to hear stories of her mansion, or the parents who worked in the City.
I swallowed, the tasteless food finally soft enough to go down. “No . . . I wouldn’t say we’re friends. ”
Caleb sat against the back of the pilot’s seat, scratching the back of his head. “So that’s why she swam off, then. She doesn’t give a—”
“No,” I snapped. “Arden only cares about herself. She’s always been that way. ”
Caleb stared at me for a moment, surprised. Then he set the empty cans back into the box. He poked his head out of the shattered window and looked around. “Well, we should stay here for the night. It might rain some more, and the troops won’t be back in the area until it clears anyway. Maybe Arden will turn up tomorrow. ”
“She won’t,” I mumbled under my breath. I could hardly make Arden stay with me before. Now that she knew I had a target on my back, she was probably sprinting through the woods, desperate to put as much space between us as possible.
We pulled the thin silver blankets from the box and eased into opposite corners of the damp cockpit. “It’ll only be a few hours till we set out again,” Caleb added. “Don’t be scared. ”
“I’m not,” I assured him.
The lantern dimmed, then finally went out.
“Good,” he said. But as he fell asleep, I thought again of the City of Sand and the man who waited for me there. The King had always been a comforting presence to us, a symbol of strength and protection. But his portrait at School felt menacing now, with his slack cheeks and the beady eyes that seemed always to follow me. Why had he chosen me, more than thirty years his junior, to breed? Why me, out of all the girls at School? The Teachers had spoken of him being the exception—the only man who could be trusted. It was yet another lie.
I knew the King would keep coming for me. I knew he wouldn’t stop. Not after the stories I’d been told about his unyielding commitment to The New America. Headmistress Burns had clasped her hands over her heart as she spoke of the way he’d saved people from uncertainty after the plague. He said we had no time for debate, that we must move relentlessly forward, without stopping. One chance, Headmistress had repeated, her eyes blurred by patriotic tears. We only have one chance to rebuild.
My clothes were still wet. I rung out the hem of my shirt and my pants, slowly, carefully, letting the water drip to the floor. When I was young Ruby ran after me through the halls once, pretending to be a monster with sharp claws and gnashing teeth. I screamed, ducking around trash bins and slamming through doors trying to escape. I begged her to stop, calling over my shoulder in panic, but she thought it too funny a joke. When she caught me, my chest was heaving. The game was so real. I never forgot the terror of being chased.
I pulled the thin blanket around my neck and closed my eyes, yearning for the comfort of my old bed, for the crisp sheets that were always pulled back, inviting me to sleep. I wished for the familiar smell of a venison dinner or the window seats in the library archives where Pip, Ruby, and I would sit, listening to the banned cassette of Madonna that was hidden behind American Art: A Cultural History. I felt the old battery-powered tape deck in my hand, the foam headphones on my ears as I tried to remember those lyrics, about the man on the island. I was thinking about Pip shimmying this way and that, in a secret dance, when I heard a noise outside.
I pushed farther back into the corner. Caleb was still asleep, his face slack with exhaustion. I heard it again—the cracking of tree branches.
“Caleb?” I whispered.
He didn’t wake up.
I closed my eyes as the noise came closer and covered my face with the blanket, my body stiff with fear. Rustling. The snap of twigs. The unmistakable squish of footsteps in the mud. When I pulled the blanket from my face my breaths stopped. I couldn’t move. A figure was standing outside the copter, only a few feet away, silhouetted by the moon.
They were looking directly at me.
Chapter Ten
THE BLANKET FELL FROM MY FACE. I DIDN’T DARE REACH for it, didn’t dare move, for fear of being seen. On the other side of the cockpit, Caleb turned over, rocking the giant metal shell. The figure took another step forward and rested a hand on the broken doorframe. I winced, already sensing what was coming: the cold gun that would be pulled from his belt, the handcuffs that would pinch my wrists.
“Eve?” a familiar voice finally whispered.
I peered up through the shattered window. Arden’s clothes were soaked and her black hair was slicked to her head. In the pale light I could see her face, strained with worry. “Are you there? Are you okay?”
“Yes, it’s me. ” I moved into the moonlight. “I’m fine. ”
She climbed into the copter, her boots sinking into the leaves. She glanced from me to Caleb’s curled up body, as if a question in her mind had at last been answered. Then she settled down in a seat.
“You came back . . . ” I cranked the plastic lantern, staring at Arden. She was shaking from the cold, dripping as if she’d emerged again from the river. I handed her my blanket.
Arden dug through the box, ripping open a packet of dried food. “Well,” she shrugged, “I do need to eat. ” She nibbled on a dehydrated carrot, already ignoring me.
“Were you”—I leaned in as I spoke—“worried about me?”
Arden stopped eating. She glanced over her shoulder again at Caleb. “No,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t know if you were safe with him. ”
I wanted to tell her that if she was concerned about my safety then technically the answer was yes, she was worried about me, but I restrained myself. As I took in Arden’s drenched clothes, I wondered if I’d misjudged her. If there was more to her than the girl who’d insisted all those years that she’d rather eat alone than spend time with the rest of us.
She threw down the empty silver pouches and let out a quick burp. “I suppose you want your blanket back?” she asked, handing it to me. It stayed there for a moment, a silver curtain between us.
I shook my head. “You keep it. ”