by Nic Joseph
Lill’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened. She checked behind her to make sure that Mother Paula was out of earshot. “Look, I know how much you cared about Mother Breanna, but she’s been gone for two years now. You should try to get to know some of the other mothers. I know it’s hard when you build a connection with some of them, but they’re really nice, too. Okay? Some people just move on, Jack. You’ve got to let her go.”
Jack nodded, not because he agreed, but because he wasn’t the type to argue about things when he knew his mind couldn’t be changed. He knew facts, and nothing Lill could say could change them.
Fact one: Mother Breanna wasn’t the first mother to disappear. A few years before she left, another woman had disappeared the night of the ceremony.
Fact two: He knew that Mother Breanna was his real mother.
There was an understanding across the complex that all of the adults were parents to all of the kids. The mothers knew who their children were, of course, but they weren’t allowed to acknowledge it.
“It is our collective responsibility to raise our children in the light,” Frank often said at assemblies and gatherings. “That is what a community does. That is how we survive.”
Jack had been chastised for referring to Mother Breanna as his real mother, but it was the truth; he knew it. She was the only one who made him feel safe.
Once, when he tripped going up the stairs and banged up his knee, he’d cried for a solid hour for her. The other mothers had tried to console him by pulling him against their warm, suffocating bodies and murmuring soft, rehearsed words.
You’ll be okay.
We’re here for you.
“You have to stop, Jack, please,” Mother Breanna had said when they finally let him see her. “Frank is already worried about us coming to the family from the outside.”
“You mean he’s worried about me coming from the outside,” Jack had screamed. “He wanted you, not me.”
“Don’t say that!” his mother had said harshly, looking back over her shoulder. “And keep your voice down.”
Jack felt bad for making her angry. Aggression wasn’t allowed at Frank’s—in fact, acting out could be cause for pretty severe punishment, and the children had been taught to tread lightly. Especially the boys.
“You are more likely to suffer from fits of anger and rage,” said Frank in one of his frequent assemblies with the boys. “You have to fight your nature. You can’t let aggression creep in. You have to work hard to let your strength shine through and to protect the women of our community.”
Jack had dropped his head, and immediately, his mother had softened. “I know it’s hard, but the others are just here to take care of you, to help me. Frank cares about you just as much as everyone else. I couldn’t do it alone, and now we have everything we need, okay?” As she said this, she pulled him close, and he relished in her smell, the familiar feel of her slight frame.
The final fact—the one that kept him going—was that he knew Mother Breanna hadn’t just decided to move on two years ago during the June ceremony.
Because if so, she would have said goodbye.
As Jack stood to leave the library, Lill reached out a hand to stop him. “We’ll get up there when we’re supposed to,” she said just before he left. “If we’re supposed to. I’ve heard that only some of the adults are invited, so we may never know. But it probably has nothing to do with Mother Breanna, so just let it go, okay?”
Jack looked at her hand on his arm and nodded before turning to walk away. He needed her help—without it, there was no way he’d get upstairs.
Good thing he had a backup plan.
• • •
There were eight floors to the building: the basement where the children aged six to seventeen lived; the first floor, which housed the adult quarters and rooms for younger children; the second floor, where there was a large, open cafeteria; the third floor, which was the nursery; the fourth through seventh floors, which contained the library, classrooms, gymnasium, and offices; and, finally, the small auditorium on the top floor.
The gates to the children’s wing and elevators remained unlocked for most of the day, only requiring keys and lock codes between 8:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m.
“We’re not animals, for Christ’s sake,” Jack had overheard Frank saying to one of the new mothers during a tour when she asked him if the gates were locked at all times. “We’re just worried about their safety.”
Jack took the elevator downstairs to the basement, and with his books in his hand, he opened the first rusty gate and headed toward the bedrooms.
He walked down the sand-covered hallway and paused outside Shy Perry’s door, which was partially open. He pushed it farther and stepped inside. Jack watched the boy for a moment without saying anything.
Perry sat at his desk, scribbling on a piece of paper. He was so engrossed in what he was drawing—a platter of fruits—that he didn’t notice when Jack walked up behind him and peered over his shoulder.
“Got a sec?”
Shy Perry dropped his pencil and looked up. “Oh, hi, Jack,” he said, his eyes wide. “I, uh, I didn’t hear you come in. What’s up?”
Jack rested one hip against the desk and quietly told the boy what he wanted to do.
When he was done, Shy Perry looked down at his hands and shrugged. “I mean, I’d help you if I could, but I don’t think there’s much I could do,” he said. “What would you need from me?”
Jack smiled, lowering his voice even further. “Well, that’s the thing. I’d only need you to do one thing,” he said. “All you’d have to do is draw.”
Shy Perry frowned. “Really?” he asked. “Draw? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Perry looked down at the drawing in front of him. As he did, a slow smile began to spread across his face. “Just draw,” he muttered to himself before looking back up at Jack. “I might be able to do that.”
• • •
Brat and Gumball were next. Jack approached them together, because the twins never did anything alone, and he knew he was going to need Brat’s help to get Gumball on board.
“Let’s. Do. It.” Eleven-year-old Brat had said, closing her eyes and spreading her arms wide as she reclined back in her desk chair. “Yes. Yes. Yes. We are 100 percent in. No doubt about it, green light says go, yes, yes, yes.” She looked over at her sister, who was sitting on her bed, watching them while she chewed on a piece of gum. “Right, Gloria?”
Brat was the only person who called her twin sister by her real name. Even the mothers had gotten used to calling her Gumball. The children weren’t allowed to eat sweets because of their limited access to dental care on the compound, but sugar-free gum was okay. Once, when the mothers had forgotten to pick some up during one of their weekly grocery runs, Gumball had actually chewed the same piece of gum for six days straight.
“It won’t work,” Gumball said, finally pausing between smacks to share her reluctance. Gumball was eight minutes older than Brat and genetically predisposed to be the buzzkill. “It’s practically impossible to get up there.”
“What if I said I figured out a way?” Jack said, looking back and forth between the twins. “A way that I’m sure will work.”
“A way to get us upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“On June 2.”
“Yes.”
“And back down without getting caught.”
“Yes.”
Jack had known that question would come up, and he hadn’t wanted to lie, so he’d taken the time to figure out a way back downstairs. He wouldn’t tell them that he didn’t actually care about that part—he just needed to see what was happening up there.
“Come on, Glo,” Brat said. “Jack is right. They can’t get away with this forever. Don’t you want to know what they’re doing up there? Why they n
ever let us come up on that one day?”
Gumball shrugged. It was amazing how different and similar the two girls could look at the same time. Gumball’s hair was always dirty and matted, her nails clipped short, and her clothing oversize. In contrast, Brat was always neatly dressed, her hair in a long braid. Both girls had the same bright-blue eyes, but the spirits behind them were worlds apart.
“Not really,” Gumball said. “There’s got to be a reason for the rules, and I’m not interested in getting in trouble. Maybe if you told us what the plan is…”
Jack had been waiting—hoping—for that question. He spread both hands out in front of him and shrugged. “I wish I could, but I can only tell people who promise, and I mean really promise, to come on board.”
As he expected, Brat practically tumbled out of her seat. “Oh, come on, Jack,” she said, rushing to his side and almost knocking him over in the process. “You gotta tell us. What’s this plan? How will it work? Have you asked anybody else?”
He pretended to hesitate and looked over at Gumball. “I can’t…” he said.
Brat followed his gaze and glared at her sister. “Gloria!” she said in a high-pitched squeak, fully earning her nickname.
Gumball looked at both of them and chewed faster on her gum. “I don’t know…” she said uncomfortably.
“GlooooRiiiiAaaaa!” Brat was nearly screaming now.
Jack hoped none of the mothers were walking by. But he didn’t want to interfere now that he’d activated full Brat mode; it just might work.
“But what if we get caugh—”
“Gloria!”
“Ugh! All right, fine!” Gumball said, the gum flying out of her mouth and landing somewhere on the bed. She searched around for it, and when she found it, she reached up and stuck it to the underside of the bunk bed, above her head. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another piece.
“Fine,” she repeated as she unwrapped it with shaking fingers. “I’m in. Now, Jack, you better tell us your plan, and quickly, before the poor child explodes.”
• • •
With Shy Perry, Brat, and Gumball all on board, Jack had to go back to Lill. She was the final piece of the puzzle and the toughest sell. But Jack knew he couldn’t do it without her. Brainy, rule-abiding, and well-liked by all of the mothers, Lill was the perfect person to help them avoid suspicion.
Luckily, Jack had one more trick up his sleeve.
And it all depended on Mother Deena.
Jack had been dreaming about getting upstairs for two whole years. But he hadn’t thought it was a real possibility until a few months ago, when he had noticed Mother Deena’s strange behavior in the cafeteria.
Mother Deena was a quiet and reserved woman. She rarely smiled at the children the way the other mothers did, and she didn’t talk to anyone unless she had to. She must’ve been in her early thirties, but she looked much younger.
Jack had noticed that for the past few weeks, after lunch ended and everyone left, Mother Deena had stayed behind. Even when it wasn’t her turn, she volunteered to stay back and clean up the kitchen, sending everyone else away.
Several times, Jack had seen her sobbing, quietly, as she rearranged the chairs at the back of the cafeteria.
He’d trailed behind the other kids, watching her movements, the way she wiped her nose on her sleeve when nobody was looking or rubbed the underside of her growing belly. Jack knew what was going on. He hated to see her upset, but he knew that he could help her—and that she could help them.
On the day that he was to convince Lill to help him, Jack began by asking her to meet him in the back of the cafeteria ten minutes after lunch.
“I can’t,” Lill said. “I have to go to the library to study before my afternoon classes.”
“Please,” Jack said. “If you do, I’ll stop asking you about the whole June 2 thing.”
Lill considered it, packing up her lunch tray. “All right, I’ll come by, but just for a moment.”
Jack nodded and put his own tray away, moving slowly as he always did so that the room would empty out. He stood by the garbage can, slowly drinking the rest of his milk. He watched as all of the mothers and the other kids headed toward the door. As he threw his carton away, he turned and walked toward the back of the cafeteria.
“Jack?” one of the mothers called out. “Where are you going?”
“My stomach hurts,” he said. “I’m just going to ask Mother Deena for some crackers.”
The woman frowned, but she nodded. “Hurry up, please,” she said before walking out the door.
Jack walked quickly to the kitchen near the back of the room. As he stepped around the corner, he saw Mother Deena leaning over the sink and washing a plate. She was scrubbing it hard, her entire body bent over the sink, and it seemed that it would break in her hands if she washed any harder. After a few moments, she pushed the plate down in the sink and leaned forward, up to her arms in soapy water. She hung her head, and then her entire body shook, and a sob escaped her, quietly at first, then more loudly.
Jack swallowed. This was going to be harder than he thought.
“Mother Deena?”
She gasped and straightened up, turning her head to him. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face covered in tears.
“Jack,” she said, sniffling, her arms still in the water. She pulled them out and reached up toward her face, stopping when she realized that they were soaking wet. She paused midair, her hands dripping water onto the floor as tears clung to her chin. “Why aren’t you going to class?”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” Jack said.
Mother Deena cleared her throat, her arms still out in front of her. “Did you go to the nurse?”
“Uh, no. I thought maybe I could just get some crackers.”
Mother Deena watched him for a moment, and she looked both embarrassed and tired. Finally, she walked over to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wiping her hands quickly. She used the towel to wipe her face and then turned back to Jack.
“You should have gone to the nurse,” she said, walking over to one of the cabinets. “But okay, let me get you some crackers.”
“Thank you,” Jack said. He took a step closer. He didn’t realize how nervous he would be. “Hey, are you okay?”
Deena turned back to face him, her hand still on the cabinet door. “Yes,” she said. “Of course. I’m just not feeling so well today myself.”
Jack felt bad for pushing her. But he needed her help. There was no other way.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because you were really crying a lot.”
Mother Deena’s puffy eyes widened. She cleared her throat and dropped her hand to her belly. “I’m just tired, Jack, okay?” she said. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Let me get your crackers so that you can get to class.”
“You’re not just tired. You’ve been crying almost every day for the past couple of months. I’ve seen you. In the cafeteria, in the hallway. You thought nobody noticed, but I saw you. Almost every day. Something’s wrong, and I can help you.”
She looked shocked…and then mad.
“You’re making things up, Jack,” she said, her voice angry. “And I don’t appreciate that. Thank you for being concerned, but you should not be talking like this.”
Jack wasn’t ready to back down yet. He knew he should—the only reason he hadn’t gotten in trouble yet was because it was so out of character for him.
He had to keep going. He knew he was right. And he knew this would work.
It had to.
“I can help you,” he said again.
“What are you talking about?” Mother Deena asked quietly, looking over his shoulder and back into the cafeteria. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“I know why you’re crying,” Jack said. “You’re crying because of Lill.”
“What?” she asked sharply.
“And the baby in your stomach.”
“What?”
“You’re crying because you’re worried about them, both of them, and—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mother Deena said, but she’d blanched and reached one hand out to steady herself on the counter. “I’m a mother to every child here, you included—”
“No, your real daughter,” Jack said. “Everybody knows it. We just can’t talk about it. But I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”
She stared at him for a few moments. “So what?” she finally said. “It doesn’t matter. I love you all just the same.”
“But you’re unhappy. I’ve seen you crying. All the time.”
Deena looked down at the ground, and her eyes filled with tears again. “I’m sorry you had to see it,” she said. “I’ve been trying so hard. Really, I have. It’s just so hard.”
“What is?”
But she wasn’t really listening. She stared past Jack. “I just hope he’s healthy,” she whispered. “If God takes my baby, I understand, but I’m just so scared.”
Jack had overheard one of the mothers saying that Deena wasn’t sleeping at night, that they could hear her crying through the walls. He knew this was his only chance.
“Lill wants to help you,” he said.
Deena’s eyes darted back down to him. “She what?”
“She noticed that every time she sings, you light up. That you seem happier. She wants to help you, to sing for you at night when you’re feeling sad. It could help you sleep. It could help you, but…”
“But what?” Deena asked, and Jack knew she was interested.
“But of course, if you come down to the wing at night, everyone will see you, and they’ll feel like you’re giving her special treatment because she’s your daughter.”
“You’re all my—” she started robotically, but she saw Jack’s face and stopped. “She’s right, you know. I can’t come down there. I just can’t.”