The Blemished (Blemished Series)

by Dalton, Sarah

  I glanced across at the fresh soil waiting for bedding plants. “Billie,” I said. “I have an idea.”

  I took her hand. I grabbed a few packets of Daffodil bulbs and pulled her over to the flower bed in the corner.

  “We’re going to plant flowers for Emily,” I said. I turned to the rest of the group. “All of us. We’re going to plant these Daffodils and watch them grow and flourish and all the time think of her. Okay?”

  Billie squeezed my hand and nodded. The class gathered around us and together we turned the soil, pressed in the bulbs and watered the ground. I imagined the pretty yellow trumpets that would flower in their place and smiled.

  21

  The following weeks came and went with Mrs Murgatroyd’s warning never far from my mind. I no longer went to Angela’s after school. I no longer found myself at the field. I kept my headscarf firmly wrapped around my hair, covering my modesty. I worked hard to stay out of trouble. I worked hard to stay safe; to keep my dad safe.

  We worked on my gift and I learned how to aim. I lifted heavy objects. Once I even lifted my dad a few feet from the ground which terrified him and set me off in a fit of giggles. One day, Dad received a parcel of our old things from the house in Area 10. With a smile he told me to open it.

  “Our books!” I gasped. I removed a paperback and ran my fingers over the spine. “I thought we would never get them back. Shall I put them in the basement?”

  “Yes, but be careful in front of the screen,” he said in his Professor voice.

  I nodded. The Blemished were not permitted to read any texts other than those approved by the school board. My dad did not agree with the Ministry and he decided to improvise with my education. He had managed to keep many of the books he used as a Professor, books about the history of our Country before the GEM project, about the history of the world. He even had fiction books and books of poetry about love and sex and everything we were not supposed to know about. I handled them with care, as though they would break from my touch.

  As I was moving the books there was a knock at the door. I panicked. “Shall I hide them?” We still had the half empty box on the kitchen table.

  Dad pulled the cardboard flaps, blocking the bounty from immediate view. “Let me see who it is first.” He opened the door a crack and then pulled it wide. “Daniel! What a lovely surprise, come in!”

  I bristled. I had been avoiding Daniel since my “chat” with Mrs Murgatroyd. There was no point in us being friends any more – not with her watching me. I couldn’t afford to be seen with him.

  He stepped nervously into the kitchen, wearing simple black trousers and top. My eyes were attracted to the Symbol of the Blemished, white and stark against his clothes. It just reminded me of the threat. It reminded me of who I am – of my place in society. I dropped my eyes.

  “Hi, Daniel,” I said quietly.

  “Hello, Mina.” He finally looked at me, his eyes searching my face. His hair poked out at all angles. He had lost weight and looked tired.

  “What can we do you for?” Dad said breezily. My dad was rarely still and he began shifting more books out of the box.

  “Are they…” Daniel mumbled.

  “What? Books? Yes,” said my dad with a small laugh. “Have you never seen a book before?”

  Daniel’s face fell and he looked down at his shoes. My dad picked up on his embarrassment and floundered, opening and closing his mouth as though trying to think of something apologetic to say. He’d completely forgotten that Blemished boys don’t go to school.

  “Actually, Professor,” Daniel said in his usual quiet and measured way whilst at the same time tapping the table-top nervously, “that’s kind of the reason why I came. You see, you know that only Blemished girls go to school, and you know they learn their letters and… well it’s kind of a coincidence, but I came here to see if you would help me learn.”

  Dad placed the books down on the table and adjusted his glasses. “Of course, Daniel. I would be honoured. I would love to teach you how to read.”

  My heart soared and fell in equal measure. Whilst I hadn’t wanted to admit it, I’d missed Daniel. But I was afraid. There was something about him which attracted danger, the Slums, the Resistance, trouble from my teacher. I was afraid for my dad and the threat of the Operation but most of all I was afraid that I was drawn to that world too.

  *

  From that moment my plan to stay away from boys failed. Whenever Daniel had a break from the carpenters he was at our house, in our basement, being taught to read and write by Dad. Of course my dad was in his element with a willing and hard-working, earnest student like Daniel. He loved a project and there was no more rewarding project.

  I trained in the corner of the basement by rearranging the books with my mind. On the other side of the room Daniel traced the lines of letters with Dad and stumbled over his words. Every now and then he would look up at me self-consciously and red-faced.

  Sometimes, as we worked, I thought about that night in the Slums. I thought about it because I hated being in the same room with my dad when I knew that Daniel and I shared a secret. I hated that knowledge. I hated that we shared something together that my dad could never know.

  It pulled us closer, somehow, like there was a piece of string attaching us together. Every day that string tightened, as though we were being reeled towards each other, both caught by hooks on opposite ends of the line. The more I tried not to think about that night, the more I saw Daniel, a broken bottle in his hand, or imagined us pressed against the cold bricks, hearts racing. The more I tried not to think about Daniel and his visions and the intricate drawings in his notebook the more I wanted to be around him. I remembered his fingers in mine as I comforted him about his mum. The vulnerability of him as he slept after his vision.

  I hated him being there as a reminder of all the things we shared. I especially hated the way I would look up and find him watching me curiously, almost tenderly.

  And then Angela started to show up after school – wanting to read. I was glad for her presence but Daniel seemed annoyed. The two of them bickered like a real brother and sister, which I couldn’t help but be amused by. It was a welcome distraction from my thoughts.

  “Is your mum okay with you being here?” I said one day.

  Angela looked up from her book, Great Expectations, which she was a few chapters in and apparently very much enjoying although I caught her frowning over many of the words. But, being Angela, she was too proud to ask my dad for the meanings. “She’s fine.”

  “Okay,” I replied with a smile and went back to my training. I had just about learned to alphabetise the bookcase by removing the books one by one and rearranging them.

  Angela sighed. “She’s not fine. Yesterday, she thought she was still a child and I was her sister.”

  I stopped what I was doing and turned to my friend. “Angela, I’m sorry, but should you be here when she’s like that?”

  “Don’t,” she said. I could see tears were welling up in her eyes. “Don’t make me feel worse than I already do. I leave here and make her food and I put her to bed and I… I just can’t be there alone with her all the time.”

  “Of course you can’t,” I said. “But… this is too much.” I hesitated not wanting to offend her. “Can we help? Dad and me?”

  She shook her head. “Anyone different in our house just confuses her even more. Even Daniel upsets her now. She keeps thinking he’s my dad.” She sniffed. I fetched her some tissues.

  “I could ask––”

  “No,” she interrupted. “Please don’t. I just can’t bear for anyone to get involved.”

  “But you can’t do this alone, Angela.”

  “No!” she repeated. “I just want to do things my way.”

  I nodded. “All right. But you know where I am if you need me.”

  The three of us were alone in the basement. Upstairs my dad fussed around in the kitchen making a cup of tea. Daniel silently mouthed the words from an old c
omic-book. Angela returned to frowning over Dickens and I focussed on practising my ability. The room reverted to its usual tranquillity. My muscles relaxed and for the first time in weeks I felt a sense of contentment. All of which was shattered when Daniel screamed out in pain.

  Angela was first over to him. “He’s having a vision,” she said to me. “Get a piece of paper and a pen.”

  She took him in her arms and held him close as he squirmed in pain. He pulled on his hair as though trying to pull the image out of his head and his face turned to a violent shade of purple I only saw in the murals of the ghettos. For a moment I stood there frozen until Angela turned back to me and yelled at me until I snapped out of it.

  22

  I rifled through Dad’s things with shaking fingers looking for a pencil and paper. Daniel lost consciousness and Angela propped him up on the tattered sofa. She stuffed cushions behind his back whilst I stood, helpless, trying not to look at a thin line of blood dribbling from his nose. It sent chills down my spine. It was different this time, more violent.

  “What’s going on?” Dad said, hurrying into the basement. “I heard screams.”

  “Daniel is having a vision,” I said. “They give him terrible headaches.”

  Dad rushed to Daniel’s side. “Does he always pass out?”

  “Yes,” Angela said. “He is usually out for a few moments and when he comes to, he draws the vision.”

  “I brought a pen and paper,” I said.

  “All right, you two watch him, make him comfortable and monitor his breathing. I’ll get something for the headache,” Dad said before leaving.

  I watched as Angela made Daniel comfortable. He looked so much younger with his eyes closed. He had sun-kissed skin from working outdoors, the kind of tanned skin that never quite loses its colour in the winter. He stirred and then mumbled my name.

  I moved towards him. “I’m here,” I said.

  He grabbed hold of my hand and smiled which sent heat coursing through my veins. He didn’t open his eyes once.

  Dad’s footsteps came clattering down the stairs and he bustled over with a wet towel and a glass of water. He wiped away the blood and placed the towel on Daniel’s forehead. Angela remained very still, her eyes never moving from Daniel’s hand on mine.

  “How is he doing?” Dad asked.

  “He stirred a little but seems to have calmed down,” Angela mumbled.

  She moved away from Daniel and sat cross legged on the floor looking up at us. She reminded me of a child too – one who had just been tricked out of a toy. I wanted to comfort her in some way but couldn’t find the words.

  “Paper,” Daniel mumbled.

  His eyes opened and he let go of my hand. I took the pencil and paper and then moved away to give him space. Daniel’s hand travelled quickly and expertly across the page, tiny cross-hatches and lines creating a man’s face. Dad peered forward with a frown. I recognised the man immediately – it was the same man I had seen my dad talking to at the Resistance meeting. I looked across at him, watching his reactions. He said nothing. Daniel finished the drawing and leaned back against the sofa. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face almost sloped to one side with the pain of his migraine.

  Dad passed him the water. “Drink this. I dissolved Aspirin in it for your headache.”

  Daniel took the water with thanks.

  “Do you know who that man is?” I asked Daniel.

  “Mina, let the boy recover,” Dad said, with irritation.

  I smiled sheepishly at Daniel. “Sorry.”

  “No,” Daniel answered, ignoring my dad and my apology. “I don’t know who he is. I saw nothing but his face. But I got a bad feeling at the same time, as though something bad is going to happen.”

  “Do you think the man causes it?” I said. “Do you think he is the reason why the bad thing happens?”

  “Maybe,” Daniel answered. “I mean, I can’t be certain. But it would make sense. Why else would I see him?”

  “That’s enough questions,” Angela snapped. “Daniel is tired. We should go home.” She turned to him and said firmly,” You need rest.”

  “He can rest here,” I suggested. I had a strange urge to look after him.

  Angela ignored me. She avoided my eyes and looked only at either the floor or Daniel. She barely waited for him to finish the water before helping him to his feet.

  “I’ll help you up the stairs,” Dad said. I noticed that he didn’t meet my eyes either.

  After they left I found myself staring at the illustration on the sofa. In it the man was not smiling or posing, just natural, as though about to sit and read a book or make himself a drink. I knew nothing about this person, nothing about why my dad had been involved in discussions with him. Whatever it was, Dad clearly had something to hide or he would have admitted straight away that they knew each other. There was no way I could keep my knowledge to myself anymore. It was time for that confrontation.

  “You know this man,” I said, turning to face Dad as he descended the stairs into the basement.

  “What are you talking about, Mina?” He kept his face very still, not giving away any emotion.

  “Stop lying to me!” I shouted. The paper creased in my fingers as I gripped it harder. “I know!”

  He sighed. “You might think you know. But you do not, child.”

  “Child!” I spat. “I’m nearly sixteen. In months I have the Operation––”

  Dad put his face in his hands. “Do not remind me of that.”

  “You can’t keep treating me like a child,” I shouted. “I followed you into the Slums.”

  His head snapped up. “You did what?”

  He snatched his glasses away and glowered at me. When Dad got mad his face turned scarlet. It didn’t happen very often but when it did it frightened me.

  “Have you any idea how dangerous it is in that place?”

  I said nothing, my fingers clenched at my side. I had to concentrate to stop myself from using my power, it itched in my palms and I longed to let the flash of anger take over.

  “I don’t care. I had to know why you would go there. I had to know that you weren’t one of those… men.” I cringed. “I saw you heading towards the Slums and I had to know.”

  “When?” he demanded.

  “The night I stayed at Angela’s house.”

  His voice turned into a low growl. “And how did you see me? I didn’t go anywhere near Angela’s house, it isn’t even on the right route.”

  I dropped my eyes from his. I was too ashamed to tell him that I’d been so fascinated by the Resistance that I’d persuaded Daniel to take us. The Resistance killed my mother. How could I tell him that I was interested too? That I fantasised about joining them and running away, taking everyone I love with me and hiding out from the Operation?

  “You were out on the streets at night?” he said. “What have I done wrong? Have I not taught you to be a responsible young woman? Where did I go so wrong that you started breaking rules, important rules, the ones that keep you safe?”

  “We just went for a walk, Dad,” I pleaded. “We didn’t mean to break the rules.”

  “Don’t act stupid,” he said, his voice raised. “I’ve brought you up to respect the law and you know why. To protect you!”

  “I know but––”

  “No more buts, Mina!” He folded his arms and paced in front of the stairs. “And on the night that your friend was taken away by the Enforcers. How could you be so stupid?”

  “Nothing happened, Dad,” I said, feeling tears dangerously close. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. Me, Angela, Daniel––”

  “So they were all involved?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I hoped better for Daniel. I thought he might keep you safe, look after you––”

  “What do you mean?”

  “––but he just put you in danger,” Dad continued. “Well I’m not having you in danger any longer. There is too much at stake. I need to keep you safe––”


  “Dad, what are you talking about?”

  “––which is why you can no longer see them.”

  “What?” I said, aghast. “I can’t see them?”

  “Daniel is no longer welcome here. He will have to learn to read elsewhere. As for Angela, you can see her at school but she is not allowed in the house and you are not allowed at her house.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” The anger built up inside me, fingers twitching, until it ebbed over. “I can’t believe you are telling me who I can and can’t see.” The books flew from the shelves, crashing and banging onto the floor. Behind me I heard more noise as the sofa bounced up and down.

  “You will come home and you will train. That is all,” he finished.

  Incredulously I picked up the drawing and thrust it towards him. “And who is this? Are you even going to tell me? Are you going to tell me why Daniel had a vision of him? He could put us in danger. Are you going to stop meeting in secret with him?”

  “All in good time,” he muttered. “Now get out of my sight.”

  23

  I ran.

  I ran until my heels ached. Wind punished my skin and cold droplets of drizzle stuck in my eyelashes, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I wasn’t wearing my Blemished uniform or that my hair was exposed. What did it matter now? Why should I want to protect my dad when he clearly didn’t care about me?

  I was so angry that as I ran through the ghettos the things around me rattled; gates, pebbles, bits of rubbish or broken bricks. I ignored it all, no longer caring if anyone saw me. But of course, no one was outside anyway. They were inside watching GEMs parade around in their underwear on the screens.

  When I got to the fields I hopped over the stile and ran through the weeds, kicking the Earth in frustration. I wanted to scream, to rid myself of the heat inside me. I wanted to hit out at something, anything, but most of all – my dad. And when I’d done kicking up weeds and running I just stopped and burst into tears.