“I’ll let Tasco know I’m leaving.”
A few minutes later we were walking away from Tasco’s house.
“Let me carry your backpack,” Billy offered.
I handed it over. “Gladly.”
He grinned. “You aren’t wimping out on me, are you?”
I laughed. “No, but that thing’s heavy.”
Forty-five minutes later we reached my house and Billy walked me to my porch, then set my backpack on the ground. “See? That walk warmed you up, right?”
“Yes. Thanks for walking me home.” I smirked. “But now you have to go all the way back to Tasco’s.”
“I know, but I don’t mind.” He smiled. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yes you will.”
He gazed at me a moment, then he leaned in for a kiss. When our lips touched, my arms went around his neck and I held him close.
“I’m so glad you went through that tunnel,” I said after he released me.
He smiled. “So am I.” After a pause, he said, “I guess I’ll get going.”
“Okay.” I watched as he walked down the sidewalk and out to the street. He turned and waved, then started jogging away.
I carried my backpack into the house and found Amy bent over a large poster board on the dining room table, markers in hand. Seeing her brought back all kinds of memories from my trip to the other world. Memories of her being put into Camp Willowmoss in my stead, of her being bullied by the other kids and by Hansen, and then of her coming to my defense when my true identity had been revealed. She’d been fiercely loyal to me and I’d come to appreciate her in a way I never thought I would.
“What are you working on?” I asked as I walked to her side.
“Oh, hi, Morgan.” She looked up at me with a smile. “They’re having a contest at my junior high school. They’re giving away a brand-new iPad and I want to win it.”
“That would be cool.” I set my backpack on a chair. “What do you have to do? Maybe I can help you.”
Her face lit up. “Really? That would be great.” She glanced at the poster board where she’d drawn a picture of two people and nothing else, then looked at me. “It’s all about being healthy. We’re supposed to come up with a slogan to remind us to take care of our bodies and then draw a poster to go with it, but I’m kind of stuck on what to do.”
A chill ran through me, and without thinking, I muttered, “A healthy me is a healthy world.”
“That’s a good one, Morgan,” Amy exclaimed. “I’m going to use it.”
My gaze shot to her face.
Her forehead creased with worry. “Is it okay if I use it?”
“Who came up with this contest?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“I don’t know. We had an assembly and some lady came and talked to us about it.”
“What did she say? Was she from the government?”
“What’s wrong?” Amy obviously noticed that my reaction was way out of proportion.
How could I explain my concern? I couldn’t. This was completely out of my control and there was nothing I could do about it. Forcing a reassuring smile on my face, I looked at her. “Never mind. Of course you can use that slogan.” What difference did it make? It’s not like using it would lead to Federally Assisted Thinning centers in my world. Would it?
“Cool.” Amy bent over the poster board, then looked at me again. “Now I just need to draw something to go with it.” She smiled. “Do you have any ideas?”
I visualized the cheerful poster on the wall on the second floor of Camp Willowmoss—the floor where I waited several times to talk to my caseworker. The poster showed an image of the globe with children circling it and holding hands. In the center was the slogan A healthy me is a healthy world. “No,” I said. “I don’t have any ideas.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for the slogan idea though.” Her forehead creased. “How did you come up with it so fast?” Then she laughed. “Maybe you should do advertising like Dad does. You’re good at it.”
Tamping down the disturbing memories of my time at Camp Willowmoss, I smiled. “Yeah, maybe.” I put one arm around Amy’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’d better go check in with Mom.”
“Okay.”
I could hear Mom upstairs talking to my brothers, and as I climbed the stairs I thought about the contest Amy was doing. Who was behind it? Was it just for a “healthy week” or something? Or was there more to it? I wanted to talk to Billy and get his take on it, but that would require calling Tasco’s house. The thought of speaking to Tasco sent shudders through me. I would have to wait until I saw Billy at school.
The next day at school I watched for Billy to arrive, and when he did I tried to forget that Tasco was the one driving the car that dropped him off. The moment Billy closed the car door, I hurried over to him.
“Hey, Morgan,” he said.
“Amy’s school is doing this contest about being healthy and taking care of our bodies. She said some woman came to talk to them about it at an assembly.”
He backed up a step, like I was attacking him. “What are you talking about?”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then started again, this time speaking more slowly. “After you dropped me off yesterday I found Amy working on a poster for this contest at her school. She said they had an assembly about being healthy or something, and now they’re having a contest for the best slogan and poster.”
“Huh.” He paused as he thought it over. “What did they say in the assembly?”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t know.” Then I grimaced. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re getting upset for nothing. I mean, don’t you ever have assemblies about being healthy?”
“Uh . . .” I thought about the assemblies I’d attended—drug awareness, pep rallies, awards ceremonies, but nothing tied to health. “Not really, no.”
“Oh. Well then I guess you need to get more information from Amy.”
The bell rang. “Yeah, okay.” We walked toward the building, then separated to go to our classes.
Billy’s calm reassurance that I was overreacting helped to settle my nerves. I’ll just get more information from Amy.
Chapter 11
Morgan
During first period announcements the office said we were on an assembly schedule that day, which meant our classes were shorter than normal. After our last class we’d meet in the auditorium as a school.
I immediately knew this assembly would be just like the one Amy went to. In a way I was glad because that meant I’d get to hear for myself if I was being overly dramatic or if this was something I needed to be concerned about. As a bonus, Billy would be able to sit with me since our last class was together.
As the day progressed I tried to push aside my anxiety, and instead focused on my classes. At the end of health class Billy and I shuffled to the auditorium with the rest of the school. Our class was one of the last to arrive so Billy and I sat towards the back.
The soft roar of several hundred students filled the large space, but I was quiet, hopeful that this was nothing to get worked up about. A few minutes later our principal, Mr. Cunningham, welcomed us.
“Today we have a guest speaker,” he said. “I expect all of you to listen quietly during her presentation, and to be on your best behavior.” He went on to list the speaker’s credentials, then said, “Please welcome Mrs. Bennett.”
The students applauded politely, and a woman walked onto the stage. Something about her looked familiar, though from the back of the auditorium it was hard to see her clearly. In an attempt to bring her into focus, I squinted, then my eyes widened in recognition.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “My name is Holly Bennett and I’m here on behalf of the Healthy Lifestyles Organization, or HLO. We’re a government sponsored group that promotes healthy lifestyles.”
The blood drained from my face, and without thinking I reached up and touched the place on my nec
k where the torture device had been removed.
“Are you okay, Morgan?” Billy asked.
I dropped my hands to my lap and turned to him with what I’m sure was a look of dread “It’s her,” I whispered urgently.
“Who?”
“Holly. The woman who tortured me.”
His gaze went to the stage and the woman who was speaking into a microphone as she paced back and forth, then he looked at me. “It’s hard to see her from here. Are you sure?”
I closed my eyes and listened to her voice, then looked at Billy. “I’m positive.”
“Weird,” he said as he looked at Holly. He slid his hand into mine, then he leaned towards me. “Remember, it’s not really her. Okay?”
I nodded, although in my mind it was exactly her. I tried to focus on what she was saying, but found it hard to concentrate as memories of the torture I’d experienced mere days before rattled through my head.
She was talking about the organization she represented and how their goal was to help us to be healthy and happy.
“There are a few things I think you’ll be interested in,” she said. “First, how would you like to win an iPad?”
The students cheered and clapped.
“Great,” Holly said. “To enter to win you need to submit a slogan for being healthy, along with a poster that you create. The winner will win the iPad.”
I looked at Billy and frowned. This was exactly the contest Amy had talked about.
“This contest is for local entrants only, and the winner of this contest will then be entered into a state-wide contest, then the winner of that will be in a national contest.”
The low murmur of voices filled the auditorium as the students discussed this information.
“I know it’s very exciting,” Holly said. “But I have more information to share with you.”
When everyone settled down, she went on.
“I know all of you care about your bodies and about being as fit and healthy as you can be. To assist you in making healthy choices, the US Department of Agriculture has instituted new regulations regarding junk food.” She smiled brightly, like she was about to share wonderful news. “Starting at the beginning of the next school year you will have many more healthy choices for snacks. This is because the less healthy snacks in the vending machines and in your lunches will be replaced by these healthier foods.”
A few students called out, “What do you mean?”
Holly didn’t seem bothered by the questions and went smoothly on. “The USDA has decided that rather than offering snacks filled with sugar, fat, and sodium, schools will only offer healthier foods. That way you won’t accidentally choose food that is bad for you.”
While the audience booed and called out their displeasure, a feeling of coldness flowed over me, and I tightened my grip on Billy’s hand.
“This is just wrong,” a boy sitting near me shouted.
Mr. Cunningham got up and took the mic from Holly. “Quiet down now,” he said. “Quiet down.” After a moment the auditorium calmed down, then the principal handed the mic back to Holly.
“I understand that some of you aren’t happy about these changes, but this is what your leaders have decided is best for you. In the end, you’ll appreciate improving your eating habits.” She lifted an iPad from a nearby table. “Remember, you can win this iPad if your slogan is selected. You have until the end of this week to submit your slogan. You’ll take a picture of your poster and upload it to the site.” She told us the name of the website where we could submit our entries, then asked if there were any questions.
Everyone was quiet, but as I considered the implications of these new regulations, these new rules, icy fear seeped into my bones. Didn’t everyone realize where this could lead? Did they care?
My heart pounded as thoughts raced through my head, and after a minute I jumped to my feet and raised my hand.
“Yes?” Holly pointed to me. “What is your name?”
With her—and the entire school’s—attention focused on me, I found that my mouth had gone dry. I swallowed a couple of times, then called out. “Morgan. My name’s Morgan.”
“What is your question, Morgan?”
I glanced at Billy, then in a loud, clear voice I asked, “What gives the government the right to decide what we should or shouldn’t eat? We should be able to decide for ourselves.”
The room erupted in cheers, and a smile formed on my mouth as my confidence grew.
The principal stood, and the crowd quieted down.
“That’s a good question, Morgan,” Holly said.
I didn’t like how she addressed me by name. It reminded me too much of the interaction I’d had with the other-world version of her days before. The version who acted like she didn’t want to torture me, but had never hesitated to press the button to activate the torture device.
“Sometimes we think we know what’s best,” she continued, “but in all reality we may not have all the facts. The fact is, when people eat too much sugar or fat they develop health problems. The fact is, when people don’t take care of themselves they not only cut the length of their life span, but they also cost the rest of society more in health costs. Those are facts, Morgan.”
My heart pounded as I prepared to rebut her argument. After all I’d experienced in a world where the government thought it knew best, I couldn’t just sit by and not speak my mind. I had to make people aware of the potential consequences. “Despite those facts,” I stated in the same loud and clear voice, “there is another fact that we can’t forget. That is the fact that the Declaration of Independence guarantees us the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I don’t understand how the government can step in and tell us what to eat, just like that.”
I took a deep breath, then said, “What’s next? The government telling us exactly how much we can weigh? And if we weigh too much, then what? Where does it end?” I wasn’t interested in arguing with Holly, I just wanted to make people think, so I sat back down.
The room erupted in more cheers, and people patted my back and said, “Go, Morgan.”
I smiled, proud I’d spoken up. From where I sat I couldn’t clearly make out Holly’s expression, but her body language seemed to suggest that my outburst was not appreciated.
Mr. Cunningham stood and took the mic from her. “I’m afraid we’re out of time.” He turned to Holly. “Thank you, Mrs. Bennett, for coming to talk to us today.” Then he turned to us. “You are dismissed.”
“Nice going,” Billy said as we gathered our backpacks and stood.
I looked at his face and could see that he meant it. “I just couldn’t sit there and not say anything.”
“Well, you certainly seemed to get someone’s attention.”
I met his gaze and saw that he was looking just past my shoulder. I turned to see the principal walking down the aisle towards us, his gaze glued to me.
Worried I was in trouble, I said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Billy took my hand and forced his way through the crowd, and a few minutes later we were out of the building.
When I felt a tug on my arm, my heart pounded as I was sure it was Mr. Cunningham.
“Morgan,” a voice said.
I turned to see Rochelle. “Hi.” I was still on a bit of a high from the adrenaline rush I’d gotten by speaking up in front of everyone—and especially to Holly—and I couldn’t hold back a smile.
“No junk food?” she said, then laughed. “That’s not really going to happen, is it?”
I glanced at Billy and he shrugged, giving me a look that said, This is your world, not mine.
“It kind of sounds like it is,” I said.
“Even after what you said?” she asked.
“I doubt the government’s going to change its mind because some teenager objected.”
“That really sucks,” she said.
“I know.”
“Morgan,” a male voice called out.
My gaze wen
t to the man who’d said it and I saw the principal walking towards me. I’d never spoken to him before, so I wondered how he knew my name, then realized I’d announced it to everyone. “Crap,” I said under my breath.
Billy’s hand tightened on mine. “Are you in trouble?” he asked. “Is it against the rules to speak up like that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
Mr. Cunningham was only a few feet away and closing in fast.
“I’ll stay with you,” Billy murmured next to me.
“I’d like to speak with you,” Mr. Cunningham said as he looked directly at me. “In my office.”
“I have to catch the bus,” I heard myself say, surprised that I was defying his authority. But he was much less scary than the adults I’d had to deal with in the F.A.T. centers.
“Now, Morgan,” he said, then he turned and walked away.
I looked at Billy. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
He smiled his cool and confident smile. “What do you mean? I’m going with you.”
Relief poured over me. “Really?”
Laughing, he said, “Of course.”
“Call me later,” Rochelle said.
I nodded, then with Billy’s hand in mine, I walked toward the office.
Chapter 12
Morgan
When we arrived, Mr. Cunningham’s office door was open and he was sitting behind his desk. He looked up as we approached.
“Just Morgan,” he said.
“I’m staying with her,” Billy said.
He shook his head. “No.”
I didn’t want Billy to get in trouble too, so I gave him a smile that I hoped looked reassuring. “It’s okay.”
He stared at me a moment, then said, “All right. I’ll wait in front of the school.”
Knowing that he would be there for me—just as he’d always said he would—helped calm my jitters. “Okay.”
After (Parallel Series, Book 4) Page 5