by Sarah Noffke
The crowd actually stands, clapping and cheering. President Vider encourages it by striding out from behind the podium and clapping too. I turn to Zack, who is making the motion of clapping, but no sound emanates from his hands. He says something, but I can’t hear him over the deafening applause.
When it quiets down, the auditorium of Reverians dutifully takes their seats.
“Now some Defects may still be worried about the conversion and I understand this. Please know that it doesn’t need to happen until age seventeen, right before the occupational stage starts. And since this permanent conversion is a big change to consider we’ve already had a prominent Reverian family volunteer their Defect.” The President’s piercing gaze zooms until it’s pinned on me. “I’m certain that when the community witnesses this seamless transition then some will elect to do their conversion early. This decision is yours to make, though, since I want you all to feel at ease and happy with this process.”
Again applause. I don’t clap. Neither does Zack or Nona. I don’t chance a single word to them although my head is spinning with strings of worries.
“Like I said at the beginning, we are about to embark on a new age. One I’m excited to share with all of you, as well as newcomers. Our community will grow and those within it will have our support to flourish. If that’s not a reason to celebrate tonight, then I’m not sure what is!” The President waves out to the crowd as they give him a standing ovation. This time it’s short because he strides to the exit almost immediately.
The overhead lights fade on and the auditorium is a shuffling of excited Reverians, all cheerily making their way to the party.
Zack turns to me, his face starched and white, like the shirt under his jacket. “Em, you have to get out of here now. You have to run. You have to hide.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
People scurry to the exit, creating a dense bottleneck. The aisle is already clogged with happy Reverians, chatting about the delicacies sure to be served at the celebration. How brainwashed are these people that they are about to toast to a segment of their race being stripped of their ability, all because we have no gift. Because we’ve been drugged. The President and his conspirators must have figured out that he couldn’t keep up the injections and needed a long-term remedy. Convert us to Middlings. Give us happy pills and the chance at a family. It’s genius actually. He’s fooled an entire population into thinking he’s doing right by his people. I keep scanning the crowd looking for a skeptical face, a disapproving one, but everyone wears a smile. Even the kids I see all the time at the lab are laughing, chatting with their friends about the life they’ll have now.
That kid named Scott, the one who tried to kiss Nona last year, actually waves at her on his way by. “I’m going to get converted early. You should too,” he says to her with a chuckle.
“Oh, gods, I think I’m going to be sick,” Nona says, crouched over slightly, holding her stomach.
I rub her back. “It’s okay, Nona. You don’t have to worry about being converted for a while and I’ll never let them do that to you.”
She scowls at me. “I’m not worried about me. Zack’s right. You have to get—”
“Shhh. And I know. I’m just not sure how yet,” I say, staring at the crowd which seems to grow denser somehow.
“Zack?” I say his name like it’s a full question, with all the concerns I have right now.
He turns to me. Nods. A look of understanding on his face. “I won’t let them do it to you. Don’t worry.” His eyes scan the crowd. I can see his brain working, trying to piece together a solution to this all. I’m not sure if there’s one.
“My stomach really hurts,” Nona groans.
“I know,” I say, rubbing her back again. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Em.” She snaps her head up from its crouched position and winks at me. “My stomach hurts. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Zack and I stand simultaneously, bumping heads as we do. “Sorry,” I say, pulling Nona out to the aisle, cutting off a group as we do.
Behind me I hear Zack. “Coming through, sick kid here. Need to get her to the facilities.”
The crowd parts like they’re water and we’re oil, repelling away from us, afraid Nona might vomit all over their shiny clothes. Behind me I feel Zack’s hand on my back steering me through the crowd. “At the exit break left,” he whispers at my shoulder. “I know a shortcut.”
I nod and pretend to have all my attention centered on the sick Nona in front of me. This kid can act. I’m almost convinced she’s about to be sick by the pale shade of green her face is turning. We round the corner out of the auditorium into a sea of people, all congregating in small groups. Around the area various buffet stations have been set up. Middling waiters hold trays high in the air, moving through the crowd, ready to serve guests stuffed mushrooms and puffed pastries filled with plum jelly.
We dart around groups, Nona still in the lead. The crowd is growing less dense as we make our way to the back side of the Performance Hall. Zack’s smart. He has us taking the exit closest to the trails, so I can get straight into the woods. We weave through a few more groups and a few pillars and come to a shuddering halt. There amongst a crowd of stiff politicians is my father. He looks up at us, no surprise on his face at all. He politely holds up a finger to dismiss himself from the group and takes three long strides in our direction.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” His eyes are only on me.
“Nona,” I say in a rush. “She’s—”
“Trying to get Em to the facilities. She’s about to be sick, Father,” Nona says at my side, grabbing her stomach again. I give her a confused look, but then catch the hidden expression on her face. I know it well. “We’re actually both feeling ill. We need to get to the facilities.”
I realize now Nona knows if I’m not the one who’s sick then there will be no reason for me run off to the facilities, which is my only opportunity to escape.
“And Mr. Conerly, are you unwell also?” my father asks.
“No, sir,” he says behind me. “I was only helping them to find their way.”
“Noble of you.” My father turns his eyes on me. “I’m glad I ran into you, Em. Did you get my gift?”
“Yes.” Bile rises in my throat. The image of the broken statue swims into my head.
“I have more where that came from.”
“Oh,” I say, covering my mouth like I might be sick at any second. “Father—”
“You and I have an appointment at the lab. Tonight,” he says, a sinister expression in his clear blue eyes. “I see no reason to put off what is the inevitable for you. And you’ll set such a superb example for other Defects.”
“But the party, Father?” Nona says, tugging on my hand and still clutching her stomach.
“Neither of you look in much condition to attend this party. By the looks of it, you’re about to ruin it, Nona.”
“Father…” I argue, careful to keep the desperation I feel out of my voice.
“Do you really think you’re going to persuade me not to have you converted tonight?” he says, careful to keep his voice low.
I shake my head roughly. “Of course not. It’s just that I really think I’m about to be sick,” I say, taking a page out of Nona’s book, holding my stomach like I’m trying to keep its contents in.
He shakes his head back at me, no remorse on his face. “This is absolutely ridicu—”
“Chief Fuller,” a woman says, striding right into our group. She looks as old as Tutu and is wearing a dress that makes Dee’s look conservative. Her blue hair hangs in ringlets around her over-ripened face. “I was so hoping you’d tell me more about this expansion. I think it sounds good enough to invest my dead husband’s weekend treasury fund into,” she says in a gruff voice.
My father eyes me over the old lady’s shoulder, then directs his attention back on her. “Of course, Mrs. Carrie. I’d love to.” Again he holds up a finger to pause her. Directs
his attention to the person my attention failed to notice in a nearby group. “Dee, dear?” he says and my sister’s red head perks up.
“Yes, Father?” she says, breaking out of her group and scurrying over.
“Do escort your sisters to the facilities and then bring them back to me at once,” he says, threading his arm through Mrs. Carrie’s withered one, draped in loose skin.
“Of course, Father,” Dee says, giving the two of us a menacing stare.
“And if they give you any trouble, be sure to fire them in the right direction,” my father says, striding away with the old lady in tow.
“You heard Father,” Dee says, trying to scoot us with her arm movements.
We break away from Zack and run for the bathrooms like our lives reside somewhere in the toilet bowls. I’ve never faked being sick, but with the prospects of being converted staring me in the face, it’s all feeling less and less like an act as the inevitable draws near.
At the bathroom door, Dee stops. “Do your business,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll be waiting.”
I nod and pull Nona into the first open stall. From the sounds of it no one else is in here. I kneel down low so that I’m looking up at her. “We’ve got to distract her.”
“She’s Dee. She’s as easily distracted as a newborn puppy. Just leave that up to me.”
I nod, glad my partner in crime is Nona. “Okay, well, I’ve got to run after that.”
“I know,” she says, sounding too grown up all of a sudden.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”
“It’s all right.”
“Nona,” I say, gripping her hand, which is almost as big as mine now. “I’m coming back for you. There’s no way in hell they’re doing anything to you or me. You understand?”
She only nods. A look of pure determination in her eyes.
“Okay, are you ready to go out and face the ‘evil one’?” It’s what we used to call Dee, but it made her so mad she started burning all our clothes so we stopped.
“I’m ready.”
We exit the bathroom door and there standing, like a troll guarding a bridge, is Dee. She looks unhappy about her role to say the least. “Come on,” she says, pointing at the spot in front of her. “I want to see you march to Father. Really march, like your existence as a Dream Traveler is staked on it.” She giggles. “Oh, well, I guess that’s a bad example since it’s already gone.”
Nona and I take the position in front of her and start walking, slowly weaving our way through the crowd.
“Oh, I do hope you visit after you’re converted, Em,” Dee says behind us. “Maybe you’ll do a better job with my nails than Rachel.” She gives a high-pitched squeal. “Oh, or maybe you can clean my toilet. I really would love it if you were the one instead of Heather. She’s awful. Never does a good enough job. I’m sure you’ll make a fine Middling.”
I want to run, but I know if I do Dee will set me on fire. I keep marching, giving sideways glances at Nona, waiting for her diversion. Then out of nowhere I hear Dee squeal delightedly.
“Where have you been all night?” Zack says behind me. I wheel around to spot him with an arm wrapped around Dee’s waist, pulling her into him, a hungry look on his face.
“Family duties,” she says, waving at us, not taking her eyes off his penetrating stare. She arches her back, making me think she’s going to fall back in a swoon.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” he says, bringing his chin down low on her neck. “I was hoping we could pick up where we left off at the ball.”
She giggles, backs away from him, but only slightly. Her eyes flick to us with a scowl before eagerly returning to his. “I’ll be back in just a few,” Dee says, running her black-painted fingernail down his jacket and then bites down on her red bottom lip. “I’m obligated to escort my dear sisters back to our father.”
“I do understand that,” Zack says, grabbing the hand she has on him and pulling her back in close. “It’s just that I can’t stay long. I have early meetings tomorrow.”
Dee doesn’t take her eyes off Zack. “Nona,” she says in a commanding voice. “Take Em to Father now. Don’t dawdle or otherwise I’ll burn everything you own.”
Nona stands at attention and nods. “Yes,” she says and grabs my hand, pulling me forward through the crowd.
I have only a second to turn back and watch Dee wrap her arms around Zack’s neck and pull him down for an unexpected kiss, one he flinches against. I owe him big for making that awful sacrifice to protect me.
Nona yanks me forward, but then backtracks through the crowd until we’re at a side door. “Okay,” she says almost out of breath. “Get out of here.”
“Nona, I meant what I said, I’ll—”
“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.”
“But Father, he’ll be looking for me,” I say.
“That’s why I’m going to go distract him.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m going to go barf on his shoes.”
I smile at her, my heart overflowing with love. “You’d do that for me?”
“That and more, now get out of here.”
I push open the door and give her one last look. “I love you more than anything Nona.”
“I know,” she says and I swear I spy the smallest of tears in the bravest of eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The summer night air greets me like a warm blanket after the frigid air conditioning in the performance hall. I tear off my heels at the door and throw them into the ground cover surrounding the courtyard. They instantly sink below the dense ivy. Sucking in a rugged breath, I take a final look over my shoulder and then set off in a jog. I want to move faster, need to, but my tight pencil skirt prevents it. Maybe my mother knew I was going to try and run away tonight and that’s why she put me in something that constricts my legs from moving properly.
Since I’m not sure how long Nona’s diversion will buy me I have to do the one thing they’ll never expect. I forgo the paths that snake in and out of the gardens and various courtyards. The ones that meander through the park. Instead, I climb up the hill in front of me that divides the buildings of Central Boulevard from the park and then the surrounding hiking trails. The hill I’m trespassing raises up at a forty-five-degree angle and is dense at the bottom with the ivy ground cover. It’s actually easier to cross this section. Once I arrive to the forested part, it’s much harder to find something to grab onto. I’m climbing, digging my nails into the dirt and pulling, pushing, doing whatever it takes to secure every hold. Several times I miss and slide back down a few inches. My calves burn from the intensity of the climb and my shirt is already covered in dirt, but somehow I manage to get up the hill.
The good news is that I’m off the main path and also have a good view of it from up here, so I won’t get lost. The bad news is that I’ll have to hike through uncleared territory the whole way. The hiking trail would have given me three miles of easy path. Then regardless I’d have to detour and fight the overgrowth to get to Rogue’s camp. Now I’ll have almost the full four miles of untamed forest to wrestle with. Barefoot. I nod at the woods. “Bring it on,” I say, as I dart forward, knowing the forest can’t do worse to me than my father. Than my own people.
***
I’m bleeding and winded by the time I make it to his camp. I’ve moved so fast at times that I felt my heart was going to beat out of my chest. And my neck is sore from constantly whipping my head over my shoulder to see if I’m being followed. Every noise made me pause and then charge ahead faster. As soon as I saw a small jagged rock, about a half a mile into the run, I grabbed it and cut a hole into my tight pencil skirt and ripped the fabric, freeing my legs. When I set off again I was able to really run, sprint, tear through the brush, letting it scratch and poke and stab me. And I didn’t stop once because my only advantage is that I have a head start.
Will my father have people look for me in the forest? My
father is all logic. I believe he would think that a person dressed in formal attire would never venture into the woods. They’d stay on the roads, scamper through the alleyways, and maybe find a Middling to hide them. Once they had real shoes they’d run north, where the closest border is and the terrain is easiest to pass. They’d escape Austin Valley the logical way. There’s no way someone in their right mind would run straight into the woods unprepared, climb up the tallest hills in the Valley. I hope that’s how my father thinks.
I’m not as quiet as Nona. She probably could have snuck up on Rogue without him noticing. When I arrive he’s pulling back the flap to the tent, holding a dim lantern in his hand. I stop for the first time in four miles and my legs instantly turn to jelly. Sweat trickles down my back. The light burns my eyes which have adjusted to the darkened forest. Still it allows me to see his face, which first takes on a look of disbelief, followed by absolute concern. His eyes dart to my skirt ripped up to mid-thigh, then to my dirt-stained silk blouse, ripped in multiple places, and finally to my face, which is scratched and hot from the long trek.
“Em?” Rogue says, taking hurried steps to me. “Are you all right?”
I nod. It’s so good to see him. Instantly makes me lighten. I sway as I try to will my bleeding feet forward. “Is there room enough in that tent for two people?” I say, and the smile I give makes the scratches on my face sting.