“Like Dad does?”
“Yeah.”
“Um, why?” His bed was already made, Gabi noticed, and his clothes for the day were hung over the back of his desk chair.
“What do you mean, ‘why’? That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. It’s in the doctrine. Dad doesn’t enforce it with you because you haven’t been consecrated yet, and you need your rest, but he’s been trying to get me into it for years.”
Gabi knew she should give Mathew some privacy so he could get dressed, but this was all too bizarre to let drop.
“But why now?”
Mathew avoided her gaze. “It’s just, like, if you want something to be there for you when you need it, you have to strengthen it. Like a muscle.”
“A muscle?”
“I’m talking about faith, Gab. When bad stuff happens, like with Mom or Gram, it’s too hard if you’re just trying to reason it out or make sense of it with logic. That’s why we have the doctrine. It’s why we pray and give message and translation. God is trying to help us, but He can’t if our faith isn’t strong.”
“Oh. Okay,” Gabi said uneasily. Mathew had always been passionate about his calling, but his ability as a Translator was one of the many natural gifts he didn’t have to work too hard at, like his athleticism or getting good grades in school. He’d never taken it so seriously before, though.
“You should be doing it too,” Mathew continued, laying his school uniform across his bed with care. “Everyone continues on, but where we continue on to is up to us, like the doctrine says. God calls us to his side, but he can’t act for us. We have to choose to live according to the Will. Don’t you want to see Mom and Gram again someday? It’s serious, Gab. I’m praying for you too.”
“For me? Why?”
“Because of your illness. And because you haven’t gotten your calling yet. It’s the calling that brings you closer to God.” Was he preaching? To her?
“Okay, well, thanks, I guess,” Gabi said, backing out of the room and closing the door. If there could be a new Gabi, forged by the loss of Gram and everything else, it made sense that there could be a new Mathew. Only Gabi missed the old Mathew. He was the one she needed to talk to.
On Sunday there’d been no opportunity to speak to him about what she’d seen at the Care Center. She was kept for observation Saturday night, and because of the discharge paperwork and an interview with Officer Katz about what she’d been doing on the ninth floor, Gabi didn’t get home until Sunday night. Her father had to carry her from the car to the house, and though Mathew sat by her bed staring at her as if she might vanish, she’d been unable to stay awake long enough to talk to him. Would he even believe her now? Would anyone believe she had witnessed such evil acts taking place in the heart of the temple complex?
The suspicion that her father knew about the horrors on D Wing swept over Gabi again, but just because her father had clearance to enter D Wing didn’t mean he had exercised that privilege. Yet he had seemed unduly anxious when he questioned her about her presence on the ninth floor. No. Her father was not a monster, not like those cold-blooded doctors, Yancy and Gearhart. Gabi could hear Sam arranging bowls and spoons on the kitchen counter. He would be devastated to know what was going on behind the locked doors of D Wing, and he was the one she had to tell, not Mathew. Such a massive wrong could only be made right by someone with her father’s clout—someone whose word would never be questioned. If only there was some way to know beforehand whether he could be trusted. Gram had some serious doubts, which was not something Gabi could easily dismiss. She needed to find out the truth, and soon. Who knew how many people would suffer the same fate as Marcus and Nicolas until she could find someone to trust?
EVEN AFTER Gram’s death and Gabi’s stint at the Care Center over the weekend, there was no getting out of Training Period. Every student at the high school was expected to show up, though not everyone at Alder High would be given a chance to be a Witness. That was a matter for the councilmembers and entrance examiners to decide, but the recruiters sometimes looked in on high school Training Periods to make their lists for who would be invited to take the exam. For those unsuited to the rigors of Witnessing, the benefits of exercise and discipline were their own reward, or so Trainer Helmsgerth liked to say when she wasn’t quoting doctrine or blasting praise music to motivate them during calisthenics. Gabi considered skipping, but if she got suspended, she would lose access to the school library. The only other library in Alder, located at the temple complex, was for consecrated fellows only.
Rather than risk being cut off from books, Gabi endured Helmsgerth’s snide comments as she flopped and flailed on the exercise mats, shuffled the gym floor far behind her sprinting classmates, and got chosen last for every team. Trainer Helmsgerth didn’t even look at her anymore, just yelled her name whenever the urge to pass out forced Gabi to lean against a wall or collapse on the floor. Helmsgerth had eyes in the back of her head.
Gabi had already consumed her entire water ration for the day in an attempt to flush the insidious drug from her bloodstream, so before the first whistle of Training Period blew, she had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Not only did the new medicine make her sluggish and restrict her breathing, but her ability to pick up cues from her environment suffered as well. Sensing the emotional states of others was the only real defense she had, but the extrastrong medicine muffled her sensitivity. Not having to manage the input was less overwhelming, but she felt like she was walking around blindfolded, waiting for the first blow to fall.
The big blue tablets rattled in the plastic bottle tucked into her backpack. Her father had insisted on watching her pack the medicine after she’d successfully mimed taking her morning dose at breakfast. Despite the pill’s coating, it left a bitter imprint under her tongue where she’d hidden it. By the time she was able to get to the bathroom to spit it out, the underside of her tongue was on fire.
The locker room was another obstacle course for Gabi when the girls were all getting dressed for training or filing into the showers to clean up afterward. Gabi’s female bullies were less physical in their assaults than Bradley and his gang, though they did enjoy bumping her hard and pretending they hadn’t seen her. During Training Period, though, the locker room was a peaceful place, cool and quiet in contrast to the boggy stench of the Training Room. When she reentered the gym, all the students had been paired up. All but one. Bradley Fiske stood grinning at her from across the scuffed floor. This couldn’t be right. Bradley always partnered with Noel or Geoff.
“Lowell, you’re with Fiske,” Helmsgerth bellowed from under the basketball hoop. “We’re doing holds and takedowns like we watched in the training video last Friday. Pick a mat, you two.” Everyone was staring at Gabi. Maybe she could just fade back into the locker room? Bradley was going to kill her for sure. “Now!” Helmsgerth boomed, and Gabi moved to join Bradley on the mat he’d chosen. It was in the corner farthest from Helmsgerth, partially concealed by the goal nets they used for indoor soccer. She felt like a trapped fly about to meet a hungry spider.
“Come on, reject,” Bradley sneered. “We don’t have all day.” His face was burgundy from exertion, and sweat made the sparse hairs he cultivated on his chin glisten. As dulled as Gabi’s senses were, his scent still made her gag. He grabbed her arm as soon as she stepped onto the mat and yanked her over his foot to send her sprawling. “Oh, man, this is going to be fun,” he crowed, dragging her back to her feet with a sharp tug at the collar of her uniform. “I mean, it won’t really help me improve, but I’m already Witness material, so let’s have some fun, shall we?” His hand darted out, grabbed the front of her uniform and wrenched her toward him. Just as she was about to collide into his chest, he sidestepped and held his arm out straight so it caught the front of her neck and knocked her onto her back. The air whooshed out of Gabi’s lungs, and she floated up toward the high ceiling for a few heavenly seconds.
“Nicely done, Fiske,” she heard Helmsgerth bark, �
�but you need to work on your defense. Witnesses never strike first. We’re trying to save these people and return them to the flock, not cripple them so we have to be their nursemaids for the rest of their lives.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley grumbled, grabbing Gabi’s wrist and jerking upward so that she swayed on her feet. Her vision cleared just in time to see Helmsgerth disappear around one of the goal posts. Gabi opened her mouth to call for help, but the pitiful squeak that emerged never reached Helmsgerth’s ears.
“C’mon, reject, give it your best shot,” Bradley taunted, holding his fists in front of his face and dancing from foot to foot.
“Are… are we supposed to be fighting?” Gabi stuttered, muddled from the body slams. For some reason she was talking to Bradley Fiske as though he were a rational person. “I thought we were just doing takedowns and holds?”
He thrust his open palms at Gabi’s chest, sending her onto her back again.
“They’re called takedowns, aren’t they?” Bradley sneered. The textured nylon of the mat abraded Gabi’s elbows, back, and tailbone as she tried to break her fall, then roughed across her again as Bradley hauled her back to her feet. “Okay, now you,” he said, stepping toward her and spreading his arms wide in mock surrender. “Take me down, reject.”
Gabi bristled with the desire to do just that. It had never occurred to her to be angry at Bradley and his gang. It was just nature. The strong culling the weak. But Gabi had learned that she wasn’t weak, or maybe that she wasn’t only weak. However hobbled she felt as she fought to clear the medicine from her system, she had a stubborn strength inside her that couldn’t be touched by anyone, not even Bradley Fiske.
Despite all his bluster, Gabi knew that Bradley’s brawn only went as deep as his overdeveloped muscles. He’s afraid all the time, Gabi reminded herself as he taunted her with air jabs and little slaps at her face. The stink that hung around him wasn’t just unwashed hair and dirty socks. It was fear. If he had been the one to witness all that she had on D Wing, he would have curled up like a leaf in a flame and burned to a trembling pile of ash.
When Bradley moved to sting her with another slap, Gabi deflected his hand. It was an awkward gesture, halting and poorly aimed so that his wristbone bruised hers painfully, but his slap didn’t land. Bradley was looking at Gabi as though she’d sprouted a tail. “What the—” he snarled. Gabi’s elation was short-lived as Bradley, too enraged to finish his own sentence, bent over and rammed his shoulder into her middle so that both of them landed in a tangled heap on the mat. In a quick series of maneuvers, he pinned Gabi facedown and yanked her arms behind her back. His foul breath steamed in her ear as the weight of his body squeezed the air out of her. Gabi reared her head up with as much force as she could manage and felt the crunch of Bradley’s nose against the back of her skull.
“I’m bleeding!” Bradley yelped, and Gabi could smell the tang of his blood, feel it dribbling onto the back of her neck where her skin was exposed by her messy ponytail. He winched her arms tighter and pressed his mouth close to her ear. “You will pay for that, reject,” he spat. “I am going to make you pay, do you hear me?” He flipped her over with a deft motion, pinned her torso, and jammed his nose up against hers. He was so close that all she could see was the bloodshot rage in one unblinking eye. The blood from his nostrils spattered dangerously close to her mouth. It reminded her of Marcus.
“You are nothing,” Bradley taunted. “Nobody cares about you. Nobody wants you, not even your own mother. She threw you out like trash, and that’s all you’ll ever be. Go back where you came from, reject.” Where she came from? What was he talking about? Gabi came from here. Here was all she’d ever known. And why was Bradley Fiske talking about her mother? Was that the worst insult he could harvest from his feeble brain?
A whistle blast screeched above them, and as Bradley pulled his head back a couple of inches, Gabi saw Helmsgerth’s enormous sneakers planted beside their heads.
“All right, lovebirds, break it up.” Revulsion bucked in Gabi’s gut. As if there was anything amorous between her and the dumb beast on top of her. Bradley scrambled to his feet and brushed himself down as though to ward off a contagious disease. Sitting up, Gabi used her sleeve to wipe off the back of her neck and the smears of blood on her lower face. It was hard to imagine that she would ever feel clean again after being so close to Bradley, but suffering the gauntlet of the locker room would be worth it to try.
“Whose blood is that?” Helmsgerth growled, gripping Bradley by the jaw and examining his face through slitted eyes. Bradley was mute, but the answer was obvious from the beet-like swelling of his nose and blood gushing over his lips.
I gave Bradley Fiske a bloody nose. The realization made Gabi want to laugh and spin and also hide in a secret cave deep in the bowels of the earth forever, since her days would surely be numbered now. Bradley was dumb and cowardly, but he was also completely single-minded, and he never forgot a slight. So be it, Gabi concluded. If bashing Bradley’s face in was her last act on earth, she’d take it. It felt too good to regret.
“Well, it looks like you need to work on your defense, Fiske,” Helmsgerth chuckled, casting an appraising glance at Gabi. “Never underestimate your opponent.”
“I… I didn’t… she… it was—” Bradley spluttered, bloody saliva landing in pink apostrophes on Helmsgerth’s uniform.
“That’s enough, Fiske. Go get yourself cleaned up, and I mean use soap this time. I need to call the bio-waste crew in to take care of this. Bag up your uniform and give it to me after you’ve changed. You too, Lowell. They could probably use another coating of antibacterial lacquer anyway.” Bradley cast a longing look toward Gabi, anxious to spill some of her blood before Training Period was over, but Helmsgerth clamped a hand around the back of his neck and shoved him toward the locker rooms. Gabi clambered to her feet, waiting a few minutes to put a healthy distance between her and Bradley. Noel stood by the Training Room exit. He spoke to Bradley as his friend approached, palms up in a gesture of supplication, but Bradley just shouldered roughly past and disappeared through the door.
CLOSING PRAYERS passed in a blur before Gabi could cobble together a strategy for evading what was sure to be the worst attack ever. As she stepped out into the high school courtyard, the wind stung her skin, which was pink and raw from scrubbing herself under scorching-hot water. She had gotten a ration demerit for using so much water in an attempt to rid herself of Bradley’s stench and had to spend an extra hour after closing prayer to tidy up the school temple to work it off. Not that she minded. With Bradley thirsty for her blood, the school temple was the safest place to be.
It was Monday, so Mathew was at his special tutorial, an intensive offered to fellows interested in attracting the attention of Witness team recruiters. He would come home limp from exhaustion but excited for his first expedition to the Tribes. Sam had insisted Mathew skip the Witness exams for an extra two years to focus on translation studies, which he had done, grudgingly. Now, he would finally be testing for the expeditions scheduled to leave as soon as the weather shifted. There was no point in predicting when that would be. One day winter would stop, and the scorching would begin. If Mathew provided Gabi with little protection now, any hope of being sheltered under his brotherly wing would vanish completely when he left for the coast. Might as well get used to it, Gabi resolved as she began the long walk home.
Every shadow cast by the falling sun became a reason to change course, cut behind a house, or double back to avoid likely ambush spots. The wind was biting, and her detours made the walk even longer, but so far there’d been no sign of Fiske. Gabi figured that losing a finger or two to frostbite was nothing compared to being found dead in a snowdrift, but her gallows humor evaporated the moment she saw Noel Sutton leaning against the street sign for Cambium Terrace.
It was too late to run. He had seen her and could easily catch her in a few strides if she tried to flee. Noel was one of the fastest boys in school. An orange-and-br
own stocking cap was pulled over his eyebrows, his hair stiff with ice where it poked out from underneath. Like most of the boys at Alder High, Noel liked to pretend he was impervious to the weather and woefully underdressed. His bare hands were shoved into a flannel jacket, and he stamped feet clad only in worn loafers. Gabi, on the other hand, wore seven layers on top and four on bottom, not including her heavy socks and insulated boots. The padding softened the blows of her tormentors and gave her a little added heft so the arctic blasts didn’t spirit her away like a tumbleweed. Quick movement under the shroud of so many clothes was not an option, but escape had always been impossible for her anyway.
Gabi and Noel were in a standoff. She was unwilling to approach—why hasten the pain?—and he, well, what was he doing just staring at her like that? Where were Bradley and Geoff? After a few frozen minutes, Noel approached. Gabi braced herself for the first strike, for the feel of Noel’s hand over her nose and mouth as the world faded around her, but there was no menace in his eyes as he came to a halt a few feet away. The mental torture as she waited for Noel to make his first move was almost worse than Bradley’s brutal assaults.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Noel said, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Gabi said nothing. Noel had been in the business of hurting her since he stopped passing her knock-knock jokes in the third grade. “I mean it,” Noel said, taking another step toward her. Gabi’s flinch brought him up short.
“Why are you here, then?” Her voice was thin, but maybe if she could keep him talking, someone would pass by and scare him off.
“I wanted to tell you something. I don’t suppose we could go inside? It’s freezing out here.” So that was the game. It made sense that Bradley would want to raise the stakes after the outcome of their tussle in the Training Room. Were they planning to trash her house? No, her father was one of the most influential men in Unitas, and the temple owned everything within those four walls. Destruction of Unitas property wasn’t as bad as stealing or hoarding, but it was bad. Noel cupped his hands over his mouth and breathed into them. His eyes were watering, the fluid freezing on his chapped cheeks. She was cold too. Despite her insulation, she couldn’t feel her feet anymore, and the temperature was plummeting by the minute.
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