by Sarah Dalton
We went back to the preparations. Daniel arranged his stools around some smaller children’s tables. I watched him work with a smile, the way he sanded a few rough edges and took out a tape measure to make sure everything was perfect. He’d turned chunks of wood into something beautiful in just two weeks. I continued to watch him, lost in my thoughts until Ali returned from his trailer with a large box.
“Glassware,” he explained. “These tin cups are unsightly.”
I laughed. “What do you care about decor?”
“Let’s just say I appreciate the finer things in life. Why do ye think I spend ma time out with the Scavengers, eh? I can tell ye now it in’t fer Stevie’s singin’.”
I laughed. We pulled the glasses out of the box, there was a variety of tumblers and wine glasses with long stems. “What brought you here, Ali?”
He placed a glass on the table next to a plate, positioning it carefully with his fingers, turning the base so that the sunlight caught and reflected the glass. “Ach, it’s a long story.”
Hiro was sat in the grass playing with blocks. Dad was helping to plate fresh sandwiches. Mike had gone to find Kitty. Daniel was arranging his handiwork. Sebastian and Ginge were giggling and flapping tarpaulin at each other.
I shrugged. “I’ve got time.” We moved along in a system. I held the box while Ali arranged the glasses. Every so often we shuffled up the long line of tables.
“Well, the short answer is ma parents were killed by GEMs and Mary found me living on the streets in one of her Scavenger trips,” he said with a sigh. “The long story is where I tell ye about how we were a happy little family until they started targeting us.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, taken aback by Ali’s bluntness. “Why would anyone do that to you and your parents?”
“I grew up in Area 3 – close te London. I can’t remember its real name now, although ma parents did tell me. It was when England split an’ the non-clone families were either forced te adopt a GEM or move outta London te get shoved into a district. Our family were too poor te adopt a bairn, so we were left te rot in the ghettos of Area 3, along with the other Blems.” He let out a sigh, settling into his story whilst never stopping from his task with the wine glasses.
“The rich residents hated the changes an’ hated us. They adopted GEM kids. Some moved te London but by then London was overrun. Many got turned away. Even rich GEM families had te stay in Area 3, looking at us across the road in our slums. They hated it. They blamed us fer everything; businesses closing, schools and shops being boarded up from lack of people. It was the Area the Enforcers forgot. We had no Commander and no one te tell us what to do.
“Then one year there was a flood and many of the rich GEM families lost a lot of money and property. With a twist of fate the damage te the ghettos turned out to be insignificant compared te the GEM district. That’s the price ye pay fer wanting ye riverside views, if ye ask me.” He paused to position a wine glass and I had to hold my breath to stop myself hurrying along his story.
“Man, they were pissed off. Teenage GEMs started hangin’ around in gangs, threatening Blem kiddies on their walk te school. I was five years old and I still remember the sting of the stones as they hit ma skin.” Ali pulled up his sleeve to reveal a small, half-moon mark on his forearm. “That’s from a sharp one.” He yanked his sleeve down. “Things were worse after the floods. The GEMS were poor, their houses ruined. They were just like us, and they hated it. My family had made a little money selling South Asian food an’ managed to buy a small shop.” He reached into the box with a smile. “The three of us would work all night on the sauces and ma pa tried to make it into a game, racing each other te chop onions. Sometimes we sang old Pakistani songs. I cannae remember them now.” The smile faded. “I think it was because we were happy that they targeted us. One morning we found our shop trashed, money stolen, food smeared along the way, racist graffiti. We weren’t just Blemished we were Pakis,” he spat the word and I found myself flinching at the old-fashioned racial slur. I knew that before the Cloning humans found other ways to hate each other. I just didn’t realise it still existed.
Ali continued. “Ma pa was a proud man, and there was only so much he could take.” He laughed without humour. “The stupid old fool confronted them. He walked right up te the gang and threatened them. I was watching from the window of our house. They just laughed in his face.” He paused and fingered the stem of the long glass between his fingers. “Instead of walking away ma pa threw a punch. He was so stupid.
“They turned on him and then Ma went running out to stop him. They threw stones. I don’t think they meant te kill her but… I watched from the window as she went down. They beat ma father te death and it took just one stone te the temple te kill Ma… Ammi.”
Ali stopped talking and the silence filled the small space between us. Finally, I said, “I’m so sorry.” It was so lame but the only thing I could say.
“Why?” he said. “It’s not yer fault.” He laughed that bitter laugh again, and I looked down at the box of glasses in my hands. “I’m sorry, Mina. It’s just a hard memory te go over.”
“I’m sorry for bringing it all back.”
He placed the glass down on the table and with a smile stroked the bright red silk fabric we had laid out as a table cloth. “Sometimes it’s nice te remember, even if it hurts.”
18
It was lunch time and the preparations were finished. Barrels of beer were rolled in, along with a spicy fruit punch laced with alcohol and a non-alcoholic version for the children. Bottles of red wine appeared along the tables and everyone rushed to help themselves, slopping sizeable chunks of meat pies into their bowls. I caught Ali watching the people with narrowed eyes, shaking his head just a fraction every time some gravy splattered onto his fabric. He was so generous to lend something so treasured to this event. I hoped that it meant he was dedicated to its message. That he really believed we could fit in here.
The weather stayed warm and dry, but the air was thick and hung like a curtain. It was the kind of air that made you feel like you were going to have a nosebleed. I was too hot to eat. Crammed in between Daniel and Kitty I fanned myself with a napkin and blew at my hair which kept sticking to my forehead. My dad, sat opposite with Hiro, tutted at me. Hiro sat with his hands over his ears and his face pained.
“Dad, Hiro shouldn’t be here. There are too many people,” I said.
“Just ten minutes and then I’ll take him back to the barn. He has to learn to control his power.”
“It’s cruel,” I snapped. “Do you want me to take him? I’ll stay with him.”
“No,” Daniel interrupted. He had been quite protective since the bunting incident, and while I was partly grateful, it was also getting on my nerves. “You should stay here to enjoy yourself. After all the hard work you put in. You know, climbing the trees.” He widened his eyes at me in an effort to remind me I’d been attacked. How could I forget?
Dad sighed. “You’re right Daniel, and as soon as Hiro has eaten a little we’ll leave. Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I get some food? That pork does smell delicious.”
Before I could protest he was hauling his awkward shape over the back of the hay bale and joining the queue for the pork sandwiches from the make-shift hog roast. As I watched him leave something caught my eye. There hadn’t been enough seating and tables for all the Compound members and many were sitting on extra bales of hay, or sprawled out on blankets on the grass. In between these people, standing upright and whispering to each other was a group of women all wearing colourful headscarves. Right in the centre someone was glaring at me with a level of hatred, I didn’t think possible for a person. It made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The hottest day of the year and I felt a chill, all because of that person. All because that person was Angela.
“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked, coming up for air from her meat pie. She had an uncanny way of sensing when I was upset, a lot like Mike.
�
�Angela is over there,” I said.
“Who is she with?” Daniel asked.
“Two of those women were there when she threatened me that time,” I said. “I don’t know about the others but I guess they must be farmers.”
“They all have their hands in their pockets,” Kitty observed. “I don’t like this. I wish Mike was here to sense what they’re feeling.”
“I don’t think we need him, it’s written all over their faces,” I said. “They hate us. They hate being here.”
“But do you think they’re planning something?” Kitty licked her lips, trying to taste something. “It’s no good. I taste people, not their plans. And there are too many people here.”
I looked at Hiro. He had his hands over his ears and was rocking back and forth, attracting the attention of the Compounders around us. At the hog roast queue Dad was just being served his pork, at least he would be back soon. Sebastian and Ginge were on their way to join the queue.
“No!” Hiro shouted. “No… !”
“What is it, Hiro?” I leaned across the table to grab his hand, but he curled up into a small ball.
Then everything happened so fast it was a blur. Angela and her friends removed their hands from their pockets and threw something at Sebastian, it looked like stones. Sebastian took cover but then lost his temper and flew at the women, knocking some of them down. My dad dropped his pork sandwich and grabbed hold of Sebastian, pulling him away from Angela and the girls before Sebastian pushed him away, grabbed a bottle of wine from the table and disappeared away from the fete. Everyone else, Ginge included, watched him storm off, with their mouths gaping. For a moment Angela looked unsure of herself, as though she realised just what she’d done. There was a flicker of guilt, something more like herself. But then one of the scarf women clapped her on the shoulder, and that expression disappeared into self-satisfaction. I turned my head in disgust.
“I should go after him,” I said, standing to leave.
“No.” Daniel placed a hand on my arm. It was gentle but firm. “It’s not safe for you. I really don’t want you to.”
“But I can take Hiro.”
“I’ll do that,” Dad appeared at the opposite side of the table. He seemed troubled. “Come on, Hiro. Let me take you away.” Dad coaxed the little boy out of the foetal position and pulled him into his arms. I hated myself for it, but I felt a pang of jealousy.
Slowly and surely the Compounders turned their attention away from us and back to their food, but the whispering never really stopped. Mary and Ali both came to our little section of the table to check, pretending to make polite conversation. I couldn’t stomach it. Daniel put some pie on my plate and pointed at it with raised eyebrows. I forced in a few mouthfuls but my stomach churned.
“Here, have some punch.” Kitty poured me a large glass and winked.
I leaned across to her. “Isn’t that the alcoholic one?”
She put her finger to her lips. “We’d may as well have some fun. Your dad isn’t here to yell at us. Besides, we’ve already had the big showdown. It can’t get any worse.”
She was right. I shrugged and sipped on the punch. At first I tasted nothing except oranges and cranberry but then something kicked in and I nearly choked. It was bitter and reminded me of the fumes from Elena’s nail polish back in Area 14. I swallowed it down and then a not unpleasant heat spread to my fingers and stomach.
“Nice, huh?” Kitty took another glug.
“What are you two doing?” Daniel glared at us.
“Just having some fun Danny-boy.” Kitty reached across me and ruffled his hair. For some reason it seemed really funny, so I did it too.
“Oh great, you two are going to get really drunk really fast.” He sighed.
I stroked his face and shushed him. “Have some, it’s nice.”
He frowned at the reddy-brown liquid in my glass. “I watched my mum get drunk on this stuff every night.”
“You’re not your mum,” I said.
“You’re right.” He poured a drink and sipped it. “I’m not my mum. Just because she was an alky doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself.”
“What’s an alky?” Kitty asked.
“An alcoholic,” Daniel said.
“Oh!” Her face brightened. “I get it now. That’s funny.”
“You find that funny?” I said with a laugh. “Wow, you really are easily entertained.” I gulped down some more punch feeling much better and hungry again. “I want gooseberry pie.”
“Then I shall get you gooseberry pie, madam,” Kitty said with a fluttery hand gesture like a salute. She leaned over an old man to reach for the pie who cowered away from her as though she might kill him. “Chill out, wrinkles. I’m just getting pie for my girl over here.”
The man leaned away from her, his expression one of pure horror. Suddenly, Daniel started to laugh.
“People are so ignorant,” he said between giggles.
“Why is that funny?” I asked.
He stopped laughing and helped himself to more punch. Somehow he’d finished his first glass already. “I don’t know. It just is.”
“You either have to laugh or cry about it,” Kitty said, slopping gooseberry pie into my bowl. “I always choose to laugh.” She plucked a jug of cream out of a young woman’s hands and tipped it over my pie. “What are you staring at?” she said to the woman.
I stifled a laugh at the woman’s facial expression. She was a plump red head with pimples on her chin.
“That’s enough, Kitty!” I pushed her hand away and the cream spilled onto the table cloth. “Oh no! Ali’s fabric.” I grabbed a napkin to mop up the liquid. It was going to leave a stain, there was no way of redeeming myself.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be the only ones to spill something today,” Kitty said. She drank more punch and then burped. That was when I had a proper look around. Everyone had helped themselves to free wine, beer or punch, and there were a lot of red-faced and tipsy people.
I shoved more pie into my mouth before washing it down with a second mug of punch. I grinned, thoroughly enjoying myself and the warm glow from the alcohol. It was then, after that moment of pure enjoyment, when everything started to go wrong.
19
It was dark, and the breeze had turned cool. A beautiful voice drifted in and out of my mind. I had to squint to see that it was Ginge singing high and clear in a language I didn’t recognise, while a man strummed along with a guitar. Campfire flames licked at them. Black smoke rose into the dark.
Daniel traced the length of my thigh with his finger and set me on fire with his touch. I was glowing with light, or at least it seemed that way, casting the rest of the world into shadow. The air thickened with the heat from the fire and around us people danced, their bodies entwined. Daniel pulled me up from the grass and into his arms. He swayed me to the music with his hands on my hips, moving slowly to the sad, mournful song which Ginge sang with her head low and her hair fallen over her face. I didn’t understand the words but they were surely about heart-break. Nothing else could sound so sad. I pressed my head into Daniel’s neck and he sang along to the song in my ear, humming the sounds, copying the tune with a voice that surprised me with its tenderness. Every little worry and fear drifted away on the breeze or was sucked into the fire, never to raise its ugly head again, just so long as Daniel never stopped singing or dancing with me. I squeezed my eyes shut willing for time to freeze and the world to stop turning.
There was a smattering of applause from the spectators when Ginge finished her song. I jumped, pulled back to reality and reminded that there were more people to exist than me and Daniel. I looked around but everything seemed hazy. When did my vision turn into this blurry mess? I saw Kitty skipping around the fire, tossing her hair, dancing to silence. Ali had slumped on a hay bale with a bottle of something in his hand and glazed eyes staring into the night. Mary, Sergeant Kinsella and the rest of the Scavengers were playing cards on the trestle tables, which were now almost cleared
of food. Dr Woods, Arthur Pittmore and General Lloyd were all walking in the direction of my father’s trailer. I wondered if he had invited them all for a drink or if the doctor had taken it upon himself to invite them himself. It could be a good chance for Hiro to find out more from them. I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about such things, I had Daniel, a glow from the punch, his hands on my hips. It was a time to enjoy myself. But then I saw something that stopped my heart beating for just a second. It was Angela staring at me through the flames, staring at us both. Her eyes brimmed with tears. I turned and reached out to her, but then her expression changed to something hard. She turned away and Cam joined her, leaving me to hope that his influence was a positive one.
“What is it?” Daniel asked. The light from the fire lit up his face, turning him into gold. His sea-blue eyes were soft.
“Angela, she looked upset,” I said.
“She’s made her choice,” he said in a low, sombre voice.
“For now, Daniel,” I said. “She might change her mind again. I don’t think we can abandon her. Not yet.”
The music started again and Daniel grinned at me. This time there was a beat and when Ginge’s voice began it was up-tempo and staccato in a punchy rhythm. Daniel let go of my hips and grabbed my wrist to spin me around. A giggle escaped my lips as the world span in a blur of faces and fire. I’d never felt so feminine before. He caught me at my waist, just before I was in danger of spinning out of control, and then lowered me backwards like I’d seen GEM dancers do in competitions on the screens back in Area 14. He lowered me so far I thought I was going to hit the ground, and then he kissed me on the lips.
Before I knew it I was pulled up and spun around again and again until I felt dizzy and sick. But it didn’t stop there. It turned out that the song had a communal dance where the women were passed from partner to partner in a dizzying amount of skipped circles before joining hands with their original partner, leaning back and spinning around as fast. After a full day of drinking and eating the people of the Compound were less worried about touching someone with special powers and grabbed me in the crook of my arm before aiming me towards the next partner. Then Daniel, smiling so wide that I thought his face might crack, grabbed both my hands, leaned against my weight and then spun us so fast that I squealed before breaking into a hysterical fit of laughter and then turning a bit green. Daniel didn’t notice, gripping my hands tight and spinning until he was red and flushed in the face. I tried to pull my hand away, now really afraid of being sick, but he was having far too much fun and spun me harder.