Remake

by Ilima Todd

  “But why attack families?” I ask. “They seem like the least likely target. What threat do they hold?”

  “Families have something to fight for, and Freedom is threatened by that.”

  I glance at the vast ocean on the Earth painting. “Do all rebels live on islands?”

  “A lot of them do.” Kai puts his hand on the small of my back and hesitates, as though trying to decide how much to tell me.

  I turn to him, but his hand doesn’t fall. “I would never give you away,” I whisper. “I would never tell them where you are. I’d die first.” And I would, if it meant protecting this family that I have come to love.

  Kai nods toward the mural. “Many rebels live on islands for weather reasons, really. We can’t use electricity if we want to evade Freedom’s Techies. In a temperate climate, it’s easier to not have to worry about heating or cooling. Growing conditions are ideal here, and living near the ocean provides an endless supply of food. And of course the isolation helps.”

  It’s a good thing my tracker doesn’t work outside of Freedom. “Is that why you block the windows at night?” I ask. “To avoid being seen?”

  “Yes. Their Techies can’t find us if we don’t use electricity, but after what I’ve seen on the nearby islands, it’s obvious their soldiers have come close. We can’t take any chances. No visible fires at night. Darkened windows. We even have several lookouts along the mountain ridge; islanders take turns scouting for unfamiliar boats out at sea.”

  It’s a lot of trouble to go through just to maintain their way of life.

  “But there are rebels everywhere,” he says, pointing to Freedom One. “Even in Freedom. They call themselves the Rise, and they are trying to unite all of the rebel camps around the world.”

  Rebels in Freedom? Is it possible?

  “But Freedom could fix Pua,” I say. “They could make her hear again. They could make her perfect.”

  Kai’s hand tightens against my back, and for a moment I think I’ve upset him, but he pulls me closer so our bodies almost touch. My heart begins to race, and my stomach soars. I can’t explain why, but I have this desire to move in closer. To erase the space that remains between us. The feeling is new and confusing.

  “Pua is fine,” he says. His brows narrow, and he looks conflicted. “She’s accepted her condition and has no desire to change it.” Kai moves his hand from my back to my hair, fingering the end of a short strand. “Why would you want to change anything about you?”

  I don’t think he’s talking about Pua anymore. I can barely breathe. Kai’s hand drops to his side, but his eyes look at that same lock of my hair with such concentration, it feels like he’s still touching it. No one’s ever looked at me so intensely before besides Theron. But this is different. So different.

  His attention moves to each stitch along my injured arm, settling on the freckled hand at my side. He reaches forward and grabs my hand. His face is so close I can feel his rushed breathing. This time the space between us hasn’t just shifted, it’s become this erratic yet pliable thing. Like I can shape it into whatever I want. I lean forward slightly. I have the strongest urge to reach up and kiss him.

  “Nine.” Hemi comes running into the room.

  Kai lets go of my hand and steps back so fast I feel like I will fall over from a loss of balance.

  “Is Kai going to paint on you too?” He looks between Kai and me with excitement.

  “I don’t know,” I say. I look at Kai and grin at his flushed face. “Are you going to paint on me too?”

  “Um . . . sure.” Kai exhales and picks up a brush and tray of paint. “Have a seat.”

  I sit on the edge of his bed, and Hemi climbs into my lap. “Are you going to paint a spaceship?” Hemi asks.

  “No spaceship. It’s a surprise.” Kai pulls my arm to him and starts to paint small red dots on my skin. He paints with his left hand, the same one he eats with. I smile at the way his tongue sticks out between his teeth as he concentrates.

  “Are you giving her the measles?”

  “No measles.” Kai winks at Hemi.

  “Good,” I say. “I wouldn’t want to be contagious or anything.”

  Kai coughs and dips his brush into the paint again. He begins to connect the dots he painted on my arm. Soon, simple pictures appear along my skin. For a moment, I think of Theron when he gave me my temporary tattoo. My stomach twists in a not so pleasant way at the reminder.

  “What did you paint?” Hemi asks.

  Kai points to a figure at my shoulder. “This is Matariki, and here is the Southern Cross. They are constellations in the night sky.”

  “Why did you paint stars?” I ask, my eyes narrowing at the pictures on my arm. I don’t have a good feeling about this.

  Kai blushes. “The freckles on your skin. They just . . . they remind me of the stars. It’s silly, I know. But I like to think of them as stars in the night sky, hundreds of them.”

  I push Hemi off me and leave the room. I head straight for the bathroom and turn on the sink. Scrubbing at my arm, I’m grateful when the paint comes off easily, not like the temporary tattoo. I grasp the sides of the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror, forcing myself to stop shaking. I will not let him replace Theron. Not with his touches or painting or calling my spots the stars. Not with his telling me I don’t have to change. That I’m perfect the way I am. He is not Theron and never will be.

  I leave the bathroom and head straight for my room. Kai watches me from his doorway with a hurt look on his face. But I don’t care. I close my door and flop onto my bed, bringing my knees to my chest and holding tight, trying to convince myself between desperate breaths that I don’t care.

  I. Don’t. Care.

  The next day, I begin to bleed in my underwear. My stomach hurts, I have a headache, and my lower back is on fire. I tell Miri, and she makes me a special tea.

  “It’s your period,” she says. “And it’s a good thing. It means you can have babies now.”

  My chest feels like it’s expanding and constricting at the same time. “I thought I couldn’t have babies, since I’m from Freedom.” I didn’t know carrying babies was a part of being female until I came here, and thinking I might have that potential now feels surreal. Like it’s the final step in my transformation of becoming not male.

  Miri flashes a conspiring grin at me. “Coming from Freedom doesn’t mean you can’t get pregnant, not if you haven’t been Remade yet.”

  I don’t think I want to get pregnant, especially if it means going through what Miriama had to. I won’t volunteer for that kind of pain. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll be gone on the next steamship. Back to Freedom. Back to being Remade. And it will be a moot point.

  “Nine.” Miri rests her hand on my shoulder. “I know things haven’t been easy for you here, but I think you’ve handled it remarkably well. I’m proud of you.”

  “Really?” I feel like I’ve been more a burden than anything, so the thought that someone is pleased with me is surprising.

  “Yes, really.” She smiles. “You need to give yourself credit. You’ve had to adjust to a new place, new people, new way of life . . . even a new body. And losing everything you’ve ever known and people you’ve loved on top of that—it’s nothing short of a miracle you decide to wake up each day, ready to take on what’s thrown at you next. I am very proud of you.”

  I feel like a weight I’d been carrying has shifted, and though it’s still there, I’m not the only one having to hold it up anymore.

  “If you have questions about anything,” she continues, “you can always come to me, okay? I can’t promise I’ll always have the answer, but I promise to help you the best I can.”

  “Thank you,” I say. Because I don’t doubt for a minute she’ll help me when I need it—like today and the tea in my hand. It feels good to trust someone so completely again.

  * * *

  Miri tells Kai I don’t have to work with him for the rest of the week. It’s mostly so I c
an adjust to this period thing, but I can tell Kai is hurt. I remind myself I don’t care. Serves him right for all the times he complained about having to babysit me—the child. He should be grateful.

  By the next week though, surprisingly, I’m itching to get in the water. I want to see how I fare in the ocean after my intense swim training at the falls.

  On the tenth day since Ara left on his hunting trip, I dress for the beach and fall into step behind Kai without a word. I enter the water as soon as we reach the first net and help him pull it in with ease. I am so excited, I want to thank him again for teaching me to swim, but he hasn’t glanced my way once all morning, and I’m not sure how to break the uncomfortable silence that has grown between us.

  When we return home for lunch, Hemi runs into the house. “School is cancelled the rest of the day,” he says, excited. “A steamship has come to Castle Beach.”

  “A steamship?” I ask, unbelieving. I hurry into Miri’s room. “A steamship has come, Miri. Can I go? I don’t want to miss it.” Castle Beach is only five miles away. We could be there in twenty minutes by bicycle.

  “Calm down,” she says. “The ship will be here for a few days. There’s no rush.”

  My face falls. Freedom feels so close, and I want to be there this instant. “Please?”

  Miri sighs. “Fine. Kai, you take her. The rest of us will gather trading supplies to take to the ship tomorrow.”

  Kai has to take me. I wait for his complaint, but it doesn’t come. I turn to see him across the kitchen, watching me. He turns away, not upset like I expected. Instead he wears more of the hurt look I’ve seen lately. I grumble against the feeling deep in my chest. The one that tells me to quit pretending that I don’t care about what Kai thinks or feels. That I don’t care about him.

  I sit on the handlebars as he pedals us to Castle Beach. The wind feels good on my face and through my short hair. My hands are inches from his on the handle grips, and I want so badly to touch his skin.

  There’s a crowd down by the beach. It’s the first time I’ve seen so many islanders in one place. They are dressed similar to us: casual swimwear, loose dresses, thin shirts, clothing that has been altered or patched to fit. But the variety in their skin and hair is hard to believe. I’ve never seen skin so many shades of brown, from the darkest chocolate to the barely there tinge of cream. Combined with an endless assortment of hair colors and textures, it’s overwhelmingly beautiful. But it’s not like the diversity in Freedom. It’s more natural, almost. Genuine.

  I was a little worried about what others would think of me: the spotted girl from Freedom with blazing hair. Fingering my locks, I realize no one has even looked my way. Emboldened in my present company, I lift my chin and wander through the crowd to find the steamship. It’s pulled up to a dock jutting out to sea. Men and women unload boxes of supplies. I step closer to get a better look.

  Boxes labeled MEDICINE and TOOLS receive a lot of attention. But my eyes immediately find one labeled CHOCOLATE. I haven’t had chocolate for weeks, and I decide to ask Miri what we can trade for it.

  I look around for someone in charge, but everyone unloading looks like they could live on the island. I turn to Kai, and by the roll of his eyes, he knows I need help.

  Kai walks down the dock and onto the ship. I climb aboard with him. It’s smaller than I imagined, with wheels and turbines crowding the deck. Every other inch of space is filled with metal boxes and containers holding items for trading. The crew must eat and sleep below, though they have to be crowded down there, considering the cramped conditions. A large pile of black stones is stacked near the edge of the boat where it must be fed to fuel the fire that burns on that end. I don’t know what the black stuff is, though.

  At that far end, Kai speaks to a woman with black skin and hair almost completely sheared off. What’s left is shorter than mine and matted against her head.

  “Are you captain of the ship?” Kai asks.

  “Yes.”

  Kai holds his hand out and motions for me to continue talking to the woman.

  I stumble forward. “Um . . . I’d like to gain passage on the ship.”

  “Where you headin’?” Her accent makes the end of each phrase fall.

  “Freedom.”

  Her eyes widen, and she looks me up and down. “There’s a lot of Freedoms, sweetie.”

  “Freedom One,” I say. I turn around, but Kai is gone.

  “Why would you ever want to go there, girl?”

  I don’t want to tell her it’s my home. No reason to bring suspicion on myself. “I just have some business there,” I say.

  She looks me up and down again and glances behind me—probably to find the boy that brought me to her. After a heavy exhale, she says, “I’m heading the opposite way. To the other islands in the Pacific and on to South America.”

  All her words mean nothing to me. Nothing except opposite way. Those are the only words that matter, I think.

  She must see the despair on my face because she adds, “Be back this way in four months. I could probably swing it then.”

  Four months? It’s a lifetime. I nod at the woman and walk slowly off the boat. I pass Kai on the dock. He grabs my arm and makes me pause.

  A question is on his face. He’s trying so hard to look uninterested. Uncaring. Yet I know he wants to know what the woman told me. I look at him long and discerning. Does he want me to go? Does he want me to stay? A week ago I would have said go . . . definitely go. But now I’m not so sure. I guess it doesn’t matter though. I’m staying whether he wants me to or not.

  Kai keeps his hand on my arm and waits for me to say something. Well, I’m not going to, so I wait for him to speak. But he doesn’t.

  After a minute, he narrows his eyes at me and drops his hand. He’s so stubborn he can’t even bring himself to say one word. I storm away, and though I know he watches my retreat, he doesn’t follow.

  I go to the bicycle and sit on it. I wait. Looking up, I see Kai slowly walking my way. What is the look on his face? Relief? Amusement? The corners of his mouth twitch as though he might actually smile. Surely he’s realized now that I’m not going anywhere real soon. Is he laughing at me about it? I don’t need this right now.

  I put my feet to the bike pedals and take off without him. It wobbles at first, but I’m in control soon enough, thanks to weeks of practicing on the island. Once I’m down the road away from the beach, I turn back and see Kai watching me leave with a frown. And I don’t care.

  I continue to pedal the five miles to the house, but I don’t want to face anyone yet. They might be frustrated to learn they have to keep me for another four months, and I’m not ready for any more disappointment today. Besides, I have a long time to see them still, apparently.

  Passing the road to the waterfall, I am farther away from home than I’ve ever been, but I keep going through a maze of streets that must have once been populated greatly, considering the number of houses. They are all empty now, though. I pass a series of low, run-down buildings and turn right. The road here is overgrown with weeds, and I jump off the bike to walk it for a while.

  I veer toward a large building, toss the bike to the ground, and walk in through a still-functioning metal and glass door. It would be dark inside if it weren’t for the giant hole in the ceiling letting in afternoon light. Warped wooden alleys run in one direction across the building, with low rails along the side of each strip. A painted sign across one wall reads BOWLING, whatever that means.

  I walk down one of the wooden planks to where a low hangover covers the end of it. I crawl inside, so I can still see the light, but it’s secluded enough that I feel protected. Protected from the world, from Kai, from the time I will need to wait until I go to Freedom. To be Remade. To the rest of my life.

  Everything I’ve known from my life in Freedom feels like a dream. Not because I’m a far distance away, or because so much time has passed since I left, but because everything I’ve learned as a Batcher seems to go against the
way these people live on the island. What if I forget how to live in Freedom? What if I lose sight of what I really want to be—what I’ve already chosen to be? Sometimes I worry I’ve already started to forget.

  I watch the afternoon sun cast a shadow on the wooden planks, shifting across the floor as the time goes by. Maybe I can wait in here until the steamship returns.

  It’s dark out too soon, and I can barely see anything from the light of the moon. I find my way to the entrance, and as soon as I open the door, Kai is there, about to walk in.

  “Geez, Nine,” he says, doubling over with an exhale. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I don’t answer but just stare at him.

  His eyebrows narrow at me. “We’ve been looking for you for hours.”

  I assume we means his family, though he’s alone. “Why?”

  “For some unknown reason my family seems to care about you. Do you not understand that?” His family cares about me. Does that include him too?

  “But . . .”

  “We thought you were lost—when you didn’t go straight home. My mom chewed me out a good one for losing you.” He rubs his forehead like he’s tired after a long day.

  I’m not lost, but I feel bad that I didn’t think about Miri or how worried the family might be about me. I’ve never been accountable to anyone before. “How did you know I was here?” I ask softly.

  Kai huffs in frustration. “I saw the bike.” He turns away and walks toward the bicycle. “You are such a child.”

  I close the door to the building and lean against it. “Quit saying that.” I grit my teeth. “I am not a child.” I fold my arms and stomp my foot, just like a child would do.

  He doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge I had spoken, but mumbles something under his breath.

  “Stop ignoring me!”

  Kai turns abruptly and reaches me in three long strides. “Ignore you? How can I ignore you? You’re everywhere—my house, my work. You’re there when I wake and there before I fall asleep.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration.