Shymers

by Jen Naumann

  Trying to make light of my obvious mistake, I shrug. “I mean, whyshouldn’t the rest of us deserve a chance at a good life? Just because it’s shorter doesn’t make it any less valuable.”

  “You sound like aRebel,” Zeke snaps.

  I press my fingers to my eyelids. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. “Yeah, well, I think if you looked a little more into the history of Society, you would find it was once a much different place. Things don’t have to be like this.”

  “It was a place filled with corrupt, wealthy leaders and poor citizens who took handouts until the country went bankrupt. That plan didn’t fare too well for Society.”

  I sigh. There is no way around this. Zeke is set in his ways, and I’m not going to argue with him anymore. It’s useless. I watch Olive for the rest of the ride. A few times she nudges Bree with her shoulder, and once she shakes her head as she laughs. Her hair brushes over her shoulders, looking like strands of silk. I smile when the trill of her voice floats back toward me.

  When the shuttle jolts to a stop, I pretend to fumble with my tablet just to steal a little extra time. Zeke stands and scowls down at me. “You coming or what?”

  “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute,” I say.

  He shrugs and turns to file out. I’m glad he’s gone before Bree and Olive come down the aisle, talking to each other in hushed voices. Bree’s expression is blank when she spots me. A slow moment later, Olive’s eyes draw up to mine. There is a forced smile on her lips, and once again, I can see the hurt in her eyes. All at once she looks away and races toward the shuttle door with Bree close behind.

  I leap from my seat to follow them, pushing my way through the dozens of other kids who have filled in between us. “Olive!” I didn’t plan to call her name out, but there is a pinching inside my chest that started up when I thought I wouldn’t catch her in time. I stand on the balls of my feet to try and get a glimpse of her blond hair.

  I push my way through just in time to see Bree and Olive hugging again before saying goodbye. I hold my breath and watch, amazed at the ritual that is so foreign to Shymer friends. Olive is so filled with the passion that I could always find in my little sister, and occasionally even in my mother.

  I breathe out the nerves that are filling me and stride over to her. “Can I walk you back?”

  Her head snaps in my direction. At first I fear she’s annoyed by the idea and will say no. Then her face softens, and I realize she is just surprised that I am talking to her again after I ran off earlier. “Sure.”

  We walk together, without conversation. I purposely let the back of my hand brush up against hers. A thrill races through me from just the light touch of her skin against mine.

  After submitting to the eye scans and passing the guards, we enter the alley.

  Olive turns to give me a confounded look. “I don’t understand you.”

  I shrug and look down. I don’t understand myself some days. I want to tell her all the strange feelings I have for her, and how I can’t wait to see her every morning at breakfast. I want to tell her how good it felt to hold her in my arms. Afraid I will actually say one of these things out loud, I hold my lips together.

  “Are we friends?” she asks, her voice a mere whisper.

  My eyes flicker up to meet hers. Their green color is so clear and brilliant that it reminds me of pictures from Grandpa Red’s book when the grass was once a bright green under a less harsh sunlight, and people were actually able to grow crops outdoors.

  I want to tell her no, that I want to be much more than friends. Instead I ask, “Do youwant to be?”

  She chews on her lip. My heart squeezes when I fear she will say that she doesn’t want to be friends, and that she doesn’t ever want to see me again. Her eyes close for an excruciating moment. Is she going to cry?

  When her eyes finally flutter open, her smile is fresh and warm. “I would really like that, Harrison.” If she only knew what her smile did to me.

  “I would too,” I say. I can’t smile in return. If I do, it will be a horribly toothy grin, and she’ll see right through me. She’ll realize just how much I really like her.

  Satisfied with my answer, Olive turns back toward the orphanage and we continue on.

  * * *

  At dinner, Olive tells me about her parents. From the animated way she speaks, it is obvious there was always a lot of love between them. I don’t say much in return. It’s hard for me to hear about her family living freely in the way my mother had always wanted. I’m happy that she has these memories. I still feel a pang of jealousy—until I remember her father is dead, her mother is in suspension and she is forced to live in the same orphanage as I am.

  “What was it really like?” I ask. “You know…living in the Free Lands.”

  When her bright smile crosses her lips, I have to remind myself to breathe again. I look down and see her fingers are callused from the hours she spends scrubbing the girls’ lavatory every day. A shadow grows under her eyes from what I expect to be little rest at night. Yet she still manages to look amazing.

  “It was so lovely in the forest. We could do whatever we wanted. I would spend hours just exploring and fishing down in the creek. Sometimes I would just sit and listen to the bubbling water and the sounds of the animals around me. It was so calm. Peaceful. You would love it.”

  I nod thoughtfully before taking another bite of my meat.

  “Harrison?” she asks gently. I look back up at her, elated by the way my name sounds rolling off her tongue. “I still think you should make your own playlist.”

  My fork drops to my plate and I rub at my temples. This is not something I want to talk about and it’s most definitely not something I want to do. However, I am determined not to lash out at her again. “I already told you, there’s no point in it.”

  She leans over the table, her enticing scent filling my lungs. “What if we ran away together?” she whispers. Her eyes glimmer with excitement that brings the annoying flurry to my stomach I constantly get when in her presence.

  Just the idea of running away with her terrifies me. My insides twist with the thought of her being caught by the government. If anything were to happen to her…I don’t know what I would do. At the same time, the thrill I feel with the mere mention of the idea is hard to ignore. I would love more than anything for the chance to be with her like that. Maybe in the Free Lands, we would have a chance to be together the way our parents were, even if it were for just a short time.

  I push myself back from the table. My thoughts have become completely out of control. “We’re not having this conversation. It’s too dangerous.”

  After scooping up my tray, I storm away from her.

  * * *

  At breakfast in the morning, Olive is nowhere to be seen. I scan the dining hall at least a dozen times before throwing my untouched tray of food in the garbage. After jogging down to the shuttle station, I find her sitting alone on a bench. Her shoulders are slumped and the bright smile I dream about doesn’t cross her face when her eyes meet mine.

  “I thought we were friends,” she mutters, looking away.

  “We are. I’m just…I don’t know what other way to be, Olive.”

  “Is that your way of telling me you’re sorry?” Her eyes draw back to mine. Again, she is devastated by something I’ve done. “I know you’re new at thisfriendthing, but friends arekind to each other. They don’t see how many ways they can be hurtful. I’m tired of you running off when you’re mad at me, Harrison. I’m angry, too, but we could actually be there for each other if you would just give us a chance.”

  I chuckle under my breath. Sweet Olive, so determined and brave. She was raised differently than the rest of us in the Free Lands. In Society, Shymers don’t hug. We show very little emotion toward each other. It’s just how things are. Nonetheless, I hate the fact that I hurt her once again when I promised myself I would stop.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt.

  The words sound foreign coming f
rom my lips. But I mean what I say. I am sorry for hurting her and running away. Her smile finally returns and her eyes grow bright, causing the warm feeling deep inside of me to stir.

  From now on, I vow to do everything I can to make her happy.

  * * *

  At lunch I sit close to Olive—so close that our arms constantly touch and bring a warm flush to my skin. I catch Zeke and the guys giving me questioning glances, but I don’t care what they think. My need to be near Olive only continues to grow.

  While eating my sandwich, I listen to Kai and Olive exchange questions, back and forth. I could sit for days on end and listen to any conversation involving Olive’s voice. The range of emotions in her tone is so varied that it’s almost amusing. Her spirit is so contagious that everyone around us ends up smiling and laughing along with her, which is something I thought I would never see with this group. It’s as if we all have a renewed sense of hope when Olive is near.

  “How did your family escape from Society in the first place?” Kai asks.

  “I don’t remember,” Olive answers with a mouth full of bread. “I was young when they did it. My parents said they had Rebel friends that helped. I don’t remember anything about growing up in Society either. I always thought it was kind of strange, because I wasn’tthat young.”

  A spot of butter from her bread roll remains just above the corner of her mouth. Just when I consider reaching out to brush it away, she swipes it with her finger and smiles sheepishly.

  “Do you know what else is out there, beyond the forest?” Kai asks. “You know, without having to travel to another country. Is there anything more to the Free Lands?”

  Olive’s eyes narrow when she thinks. “We never traveled beyond the forest. I once asked my mother and she just gave me this blank look, like the question had never occurred to her before then.”

  “More islands,” I blurt. They both look at me in surprise. “That’s what’s beyond the Free Lands. Other islands.”

  Olive’s eyebrows draw together. “What are you saying? We’re on an island now?”

  I dip my head in confirmation, fighting off the grin that is trying to surface. Geography was just one of the many things we learned from my grandfather’s book.

  “How could that be?” Olive asks. “I mean I know there’s a lot of ocean surrounding the forest and everything, but don’t you think my parents would have known if we were on anisland? Wouldn’t weall know if we were on an island?”

  “Maybe it’s just areally big island,” Bree says. “It’s not like any of us are allowed to leave Society to go exploring. There are borders around all of Society, Olive.”

  The conversation soon shifts away to things Olive had available to her in the Free Lands. During the remainder of our lunch break, I steal glances of her, wondering what our lives would be like if I agreed to run away. Maybe we would find one of those other islands. Maybe life somewhere else would be simple, less complicated.

  Maybe we could be happy.

  When the buzzer announces the end of lunch, Olive bumps my shoulder as we stand up. I turn to see her flush as a smile spreads across her face.

  No matter how much time I spend with her, it will never be enough. I may not have much of a future left, but when I envision the remaining days to come, her face is all I can see.

  * * *

  On the shuttle ride back to the orphanage at the end of the day, I sit beside Zeke. If I keep spending so much time with Olive, everyone is going to think there is something going on between us. I worry what Olive will say if she were to discover my feelings for her. She thinks Shymers’ lives have actual value. Would she think my life is worth investing in? Would she be embarrassed to learn someone with such a short life left to live wants to be with her, or would she want to be with me?

  I take my time leaving the shuttle again, purposely not catching up to Olive until she has said her goodbyes to Bree. This time when we walk back to the orphanage together, her hand brushes against mine more than once. I glance her way from the corner of my eye and find her grinning.

  Once we’re past the guards and deep into the mouth of the alley, she leans in close. “How did you know there were other islands?”

  I gaze back to make sure the soldiers are well out of hearing range. “My grandparents left my family a book of information on the old world. It’s filled with stuff like hand-drawn maps.”

  She gasps, her green eyes growing wide. “Wouldn’t something like that be illegal? Do you still have it?”

  “I keep it safe,” I say.

  “What else does it say about the islands?”

  “That they’re even better than the Free Lands. Some people were able to get away before Society took over, and they started a new colony. They have their own guards who will kill any members of Society who trespass on their lands.”

  She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. “Wellthat sounds inviting.”

  I shake my head. “I meant government officials and soldiers. They won’t hurt anyone who can prove they’re refugees of Society.”

  Her eyes light up. “Like us.” I dip my head, holding back a grin. “Can you show me the book?”

  Her excitement, as usual, draws me in. Glancing back to the soldiers, I lick my lips nervously. The book is safely hidden behind the boilers in the orphanage, and I almost never bring it out. The knowledge inside that book is enough to get me suspended and they would probably do the same to Olive for even having knowledge of such a thing. She could be put into so much danger if we were to get caught.

  “Someday,” I promise.

  * * *

  Olive won’t stay quiet about my grandfather’s book. She asks about it every single time we’re alone. After a few days, I give in and tell her to meet me at the stairwell leading to the basement at midnight. “Youhave to be careful,” I warn. “If they catch you—“

  “I can handle myself,” she says with a grin.

  My insides clench with the possibility that she’s wrong.

  The clock ticks by at an unusually slow rate until midnight finally rolls around. After two years of living in this horrible building, I know every creak in the floor and expertly move through the winding hallway toward the basement access. Cringing, I think of Olive maneuvering through here by herself. Telling her to meet me and sending her out alone was a terrible idea.

  Midnight comes and goes without any sign of her. I anxiously pace the floors, wondering where she could be. Just when I have resolved to return to the girls’ sleeping room chambers to search for her, I hear a creak in the floor behind me. Suddenly, Olive collides into me, giggling. While I can’t see her face in the dark, I imagine her freckles dancing against her cheeks as they always do.

  “Sorry!” she whispers into the dark. I squint until I can see her clearly. Her frame is even more delicate-looking in her sleeping clothes, and her silky blond hair hangs loose around her face. I wonder if an angel from the heavens would look as stunning as she does.

  “Shhh, you have to be quiet,” I say, fighting the urge to laugh along. Without giving it much thought, I reach for her hand in the darkness. It slips easily into mine and a warm spark spreads all the way through me. I’m suddenly grateful for the darkness that hides my overly wide smile.

  I lead her through the maintenance door and down the long stairway. Enough light shines on the steps that we climb down safely until reaching the floor of the boiler room. Her hand twitches at one point, squeezing mine in the process. I almost stop short, wondering if she did it on purpose. We weave our way through the massive, loud machines all the way to the back corner.

  “Hold on,” I say, breaking contact to reach down to where I know the book rests safely wrapped inside a towel. When I bring it out, my hands are covered in cobwebs. I didn’t realize just how long it has been since I last looked at it.

  After my father’s death it became too difficult to look through the book on my own. Too many memories of the time we spent together return along with it. Before now, I had
only leafed through it a few times in this basement. I lead Olive over to where there is a brighter light. Her eyes grow wide when I place the heavy book in her hands.

  “This is amazing!” she whispers. She opens the leather cover and flips through the thick pages. I watch her delicate fingers gently brush over the smooth paper. Her gaze takes in every piece of information with delight.

  In this moment I know without a doubt that she is the most attractive person I have ever laid eyes on. Even in the times when she is upset with me, it is hard to look past her exquisiteness. I have to fight every cell in my body not to reach out to touch her freckle-covered face or her plump lips.

  After a while, she pauses on one of the pages to study it closely, her face scrunched. “Your grandfather talks about the Rebel leader as if he knew him well.”

  I nod. “They were close friends. Before the DOD system became mandatory, my grandparents spent a lot of time with Derald and his wife. No one will ever come straight out and say that Derald was murdered, but my grandfather was convinced the government did it to stop the Rebel movement.”

  The color drains from Olive’s face when she lifts her head. “My parents told me the Rebel leader died, but they never said anything about him beingmurdered. How awful.”

  I nod in agreement. Her eyes sweep back down to the book, the spark of excitement gone. The level of compassion she is capable of amazes me—even if for total strangers. She’s right, she doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a Shymer, even though she is one. Her heart is too big to be treated so cruelly. No one deserves to be treated the way we are, even though most Shymers don’t know any better.

  “We can’t stay down here long,” I tell her after more time has passed. “The guardians do security checks during the night. The next one is in an hour.”

  The disappointment that fills her cannot be ignored. Her bottom lip pushes out even farther than usual, and her mouth turns down. “It will take longer than that to look through this whole book. Can’t we just hide out down here?”