by Sandra Smith
The class erupted in applause. They had heard.
Stan pointed at the clock. Folders snapped shut and everyone started stacking their chairs in the corner.
Who was James Gardener? What happened in 2064?
CHAPTER 25
Lily
Swimming had tired me. Too much. I was starting to nod off. Arturo felt the loosening of my grip.
“Lily! Wake up!”
I sat up straighter and took a few long, deep breaths.
“We are going to a town,” he said, determined.
“Why? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“We need to find friends. More light in town. More chance to see pistas.”
“But—”
“—is decided.”
I glanced at the time, not yet midnight. I knew it was risky, but Arturo was right. I did keep nodding off. He was having to steer with one hand and squeeze my hand with the other to keep me awake.
After what seemed like no time in my half-asleep state, we were cruising into a town with one main street. The flat one-story buildings and old-fashioned street lamps caught my attention, helping to wake me. Seeing a single traffic light a few blocks ahead, Arturo turned, setting off into a residential area. Fewer lamps lit the side streets, but the place was awake despite the late hour. The voices and laughter of people on porches floated in the thick air. Monitor shows, too loud, seeped out open windows. It was cooling now, and folks were still up, finally able to enjoy life if you were among those who couldn’t afford the cooled air systems. They waved and nodded their greeting as we drove by. It seemed a friendly place. Still, we knew to keep our heads down and use the alleys whenever possible.
It was in such an alley that baskets of purple flowers hanging over a fence caught my attention. We’d been told that any purple flower could be used as the symbol. I motioned for Arturo to steer closer. Though there were no lamps in the alley, the inside of the yard had its own lights. The lights shone directly onto the baskets, which each held an array of purple flowers—and only purple flowers. Could it be? I jumped off of the slow- moving bike, awake now and alert.
“Get off and help me look.”
Arturo parked the bike and peered over the gray wooden fence, shining his light into the backyard.
“Be careful,” I whispered. I shone my light along the outside of the fence. And then I saw it. Down so far that the grass in the alley had nearly obscured it. A roughly hewn circle within a circle, so indelicate as to appear scratched crudely by a kid with a rough-edged rock.
“Here!”
Arturo was beside me in a flash, adding his light to mine.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, is definitely the symbol.”
CHAPTER 26
Lily
A door creaked and we flew around. We hadn’t noticed the section of fence that was a hinged gate. A woman with wisps of white in the front of otherwise dark hair stood a few feet away. She must have seen Arturo’s light probing her property.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Don’t call the police!” Arturo pleaded. It wouldn’t have been my first response, but I guess none of us knows what ghosts another’s past might harbor.
She smiled slightly, her tired face kind and gentle. “No,” she answered, “I wasn’t planning to.” She wore a large, long-sleeved shirt covering a scant nightgown. Had we awakened her?
“Um, is this your place?” I asked, trying to remember the protocol.
“Yes,” she said, watching us intently, “this one here, with the flowers on the fence.” She patted the fence as she spoke.
“Oh, um, well, do you know where Amber Jensen lives?” I’d practiced it so many times not wanting to say the wrong name when the time came.
“In fact,” she said, “I do. Won’t you come in for a rest? My name is Sara Jane.”
Sara Jane, thin as a whisper, and an indeterminate age, walked us through a spartan living room where large fans loudly circulated the midnight air. We ended up at the kitchen table. From a tiny refrigerator she drew a polka-dotted glass pitcher.
“Tea?”
“Yes, please,” I answered as Arturo nodded in agreement.
The three of us sat in silence. Arturo and I drank the cooling beverage, my tiredness weighing on me like a lead suit. Before I could figure out what to say, a loud and rude yawn escaped, contorting my face as it ripped from me.
Arturo’s eyes, wide in astonishment and embarrassment, met mine.
“Oh my,” Sara Jane said simply. “I guess whatever we need to say can wait until morning. Let me get your rooms ready for you.” With that, she left us alone, sweeping out of the kitchen. Not gone long, she returned with an armload of towels.
“Follow me.”
We obeyed, following her through the modest house.
“Lily, you get the guest room,” she said as she stopped in a doorway.
“Arturo, you will sleep in my son’s former room;” she pointed to a door down the short hall and to the left. “This is the bathroom,” she said, motioning across from my room. “There’s only one, so be conscientious.” She placed a towel and washcloths in each of our arms. “Now: I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning. Sleep tight.”
With that, she entered a room next to mine and gently closed the door. Arturo and I looked at each other. I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his finger to my lips. “Mañana,” he said. Which, by now I had learned, meant both “tomorrow” and “morning.” I nodded and shuffled into my room.
Though I had intended to wash up and brush my teeth, somehow I’d fallen asleep before making it to the bathroom. I awoke to light streaming into my room, atop the bed, still in the clothes I’d worn the day before. It took me a moment to remember where I was and how I’d gotten there. Voices. Laughter. A woman, and a man—Arturo. I got up and walked to the door, stuck my head out and peered around. The voices came from the kitchen. I jetted across the hall into the bathroom and almost cried out when I saw my reflection in the mirror. What a fright! My hair had dried into thick ropes from swimming, and I had an odd-shaped sunburn on my face where the helmet and sunglasses had been. My clothes were filthy and wrinkled. In the reflection, I spied the shower stall behind me and instantly recalled the towels Sara Jane had given us. Mine was pink and Arturo’s dark blue. His towel hung wet and used on the towel rack, and a fresh scent still clung to the air. I returned to my room, grabbed the towel and washcloth, locked myself in the small bathroom, stripped, and stood in the shower, warm water pelting and caressing my skin.
Being on the road was teaching me about the small pleasures in life that we take for granted.
“Good morning.” Sara Jane greeted me cheerfully, yet measured, as I stepped into the kitchen. Arturo turned, beaming.
“Good morning,” I answered. “Thank you very much for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
By then I had walked over and pulled out a chair and joined them. I glanced at the empty plate in front of Arturo, wondering what he had eaten and feeling a pang of hunger.
“Arturo tells me you’ve come from Florida.”
“Yes.” I looked at Arturo, suspicious and fearful of what he may have told her. They read my apprehension.
“It’s okay,” she said. “He hasn’t told me much. He said it was up to you, and I respect that. As I’ve told him, you can be assured I am a friend. And I don’t work for GRIM, so you can stay here as long as you like. I am fully set up to help those in the Movement. And though I’m a Seed Saver in name, I don’t grow or save seeds. This place is one of the most secure safe houses in the area. Arturo did tell me that you hadn’t been given my whereabouts, that you stumbled upon me. I’d say you are very lucky.”
“Gracias a Dios,” Arturo whispered to no one in particular.
“So, what’s up? Obviously you are part of the Movement if you asked about Amber Jensen.”
“Yes. Um … ” I wasn’t sure where to start. “Do you know a lot of Seed Savers?”
“Yes,” she answered. “As I said, this is a safe house for those who need it.”
“Do you know—” I wanted to ask about Aaron and Meg but was still plagued by doubt. Darn that Rose, what had her betrayal cost my ability to trust? I tried again. “Can you give me some names of people you know?”
“There are so many … where would I start?”
“How about those in Florida?” Arturo suggested.
She shrugged her shoulders and started reciting names. On and on she spoke, name after name. I was beginning to understand the futility of my request and also the enormity of the Movement. And then there it was: Aaron and Meg.
“Stop! What did you just say?”
“Bob White?”
“No, no, before that.”
She paused and thought. “Aaron and Meg Steadman?”
“Yes!” Arturo and I shouted together.
“Oh yes, Aaron and Meg. We go back a long ways. You met them? Aren’t they still farming with GRIM?”
We nodded.
“And yet they hosted you?” she asked rather incredulously. “I’m shocked. That’s pretty risky given the situation down there lately.”
“What situation?”
“How much do you know about the history of Seed Savers?”
“A lot, I guess.”
“So you know the major names of the Movement—the Gardeners, O’Shea, Cruz?”
“James Gardener—I’ve heard of him.” My voice came out small.
She was studying me hard. “Yes, and Junko. People often forget about Junko, but she was crucial.”
I nodded.
“James had been imprisoned in Cuba but recently escaped, so the government has had Florida under extra surveillance. They think he might be there or at least have passed through. So I’m surprised Aaron and Meg would take in any revolutionaries.”
“But we aren’t—” Revolutionaries?
CHAPTER 27
Clare and Dante
Clare looked at her chair and then at the door. Jason was already outside. She knew she couldn’t wait for the next politics class. She wasn’t even sure if there would be another one, as now all inside lectures were dependent on the weather. And besides, Stan had acted as if everyone knew what happened in 2064. She left her chair for someone else to put away and rushed toward the door.
“Jason, wait up.” He didn’t hear her. She ran to catch up with his quick gait. “Jason!”
He turned. Clare thought how he looked older. His stern face caused her courage to briefly falter.
“Wait up. Where ya goin’?”
“Walking,” he said. “Thinking.”
“I don’t know,” Clare began, “what happened in 2064. I don’t know who James Gardener is.”
He shook his head slightly, made a little puff sound through his nostrils. “I swear, Clare, sometimes I don’t know what you’re doing here.”
She opened her mouth to respond.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just . . . this has been my whole life. My family has always been a part of Seed Savers. The Movement and the crackdown were stories I grew up on. I cannot wait to get back again—when the time is right. I lose my patience with people here who don’t have the urgency I feel.”
Clare felt a little guilty; her only sense of urgency was in learning to garden. She got the feeling Jason meant something more. He always seemed so—so restless. Discontented.
“So,” she said quietly, “will you please tell me about 2064?”
“Isn’t that your host mom over there?” He nodded toward the orange truck pulling into the driveway.
“Yes,” Clare said, grimacing. “And I can’t ask her to leave me here.” She needed to think fast. She had to find out.
“How about I call you on your mini-Mon,” he said. “On second thought, I’d rather talk in person. Maybe I can come over tonight.” He handed her his notebook. “Write down your address.”
Clare was out in the yard when Jason drove up in an EVC shortly after dinner.
“I looked it up on the Monitor,” she said after they had made small talk, “but I still want to hear it from you. You know, I was born in 2064,” she added.
“If you already read about it, what else do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “Details. What went wrong; how they could make such a big mistake.”
“Okay, well, so you know that Seed Savers had grown and become a very widespread and powerful underground movement?”
“Yes.”
“So they kept teaching more and more people to garden, preservation skills, how to save seeds. There was massive networking across the whole country—that was key. Imagine, without the Monitor, they continued to keep in touch and actually grow. Mostly through a print newspaper—”
“—the Keeper—”
“—yes, the Keeper. James Gardener was awesome, and his wife Junko was a great teacher, according to my parents.”
“James Gardener’s wife was named Junko?” It couldn’t be.
“Yes … why?”
“I know a Junko Gardener.”
“You do?”
“My best friend’s mom is named Junko Gardener.”
Jason studied Clare. “You were born in 2064 and your best friend’s mom is named Junko Gardener?” He was thinking about everything Clare had told him.
“Where did you say you were from?”
CHAPTER 28
Clare and Dante
When Jason and Clare made the discovery that Clare was directly linked to James Gardener, it was as if they were long lost family, newly united. The bonding and sense of trust was immediate. Jason stayed until nearly dark as Clare shared with him every detail she knew about Ana and Lily and the Gardeners. He was stunned to hear that Junko had brought Lily up to believe her father was dead, nearly incapable of believing the legendary Junko he’d been raised on could be the same Junko Clare knew as Lily’s mother. Likewise, Jason shared with Clare about Seed Savers and the betrayal, Trinia Nelson and her ilk, and James’s long imprisonment and recent escape.
Clare wanted to get Dante midway through the conversation but was hesitant to stop the flow. It was difficult to believe what they and Lily had stumbled into.
“I’m thinking maybe that’s why GRIM was watching you,” Jason said, after they’d discussed everything.
“They were really after Junko?”
“Or Ana. Probably just keeping the town under surveillance once James escaped.”
Clare nodded her head. It was a lot to think about. Why hadn’t Ana told them anything? Obviously she had known. On the other hand, it did help explain why she stopped meeting with them once she had seen the GRIM officials.
“I wonder where Lily is now. If she really ran away like I was told.”
“I don’t know,” Jason said. “I suppose anything is possible.” He reached out and squeezed her arm. “It’s okay, Clare. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
That night Clare asked Dante to sleep on the floor in her room. “I have something important to tell you. Something I learned from Jason. You’re not going to believe it.”
“Secret Seed Savers stuff?” he asked.
“Very,” she answered.
And so they huddled closely, as they had often done throughout their cross-country journey, while Clare first explained a simplified version of food politics history and then about how they happened to live in a city where a great leader of the Movement had lived. Dante thought that was the important secret and was plenty excited just to hear that part. When he found out Lily’s parents were the leaders, and that her father was still alive, he jumped straight up and shouted, “No way!” so loudly that Clare was afraid he would wake the Woods.
“Shh! Sit down. There’s more: He recently escaped from prison.”
“No way!” he said again, this time in an exaggerated whisper. “Do you think Lily found out somehow? That’s why she left?”
Clare crinkled up her face. She hadn’t thought of that. “I—I don’t know,” s
he said. “I doubt it. What Jason and I couldn’t figure out was why Junko never told Lily anything. I mean, obviously she knew her husband wasn’t dead. Jason couldn’t believe Junko just sort of faded away and became so, so, you know, the way she is. So ordinary.”
“Wow,” Dante said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. There we were, running around stirring up trouble and we didn’t even know it. No wonder those guys kept following us.”
“I know,” said Clare. “Who knew?”
CHAPTER 29
Lily
“Yes?” Sara Jane asked.
I’d done it again, sort of blanked out in the middle of a conversation. Sara Jane had referred to Arturo and me as revolutionaries, setting me off on some other mind trip. What? What? What did I think I was doing? Clare, Dante, and I had wanted to change things. We wanted to bring back a freedom that had eroded and been confiscated, whether by ignorance and apathy or from underhanded trickery. We wanted the government to open its tight fist and let go. But I hadn’t counted on being called a revolutionary. In my short life, I’d only been called a child.
“You aren’t what?” Her look demanded an answer.
“We aren’t … we didn’t stay long. We only just met them on account of Abner and Evie wanted us—me—to.”
“Abner and Evelyn Hopper? What a pair! How did you hook up with those two? Aren’t they fun! A little dangerous, perhaps. Most of us hope they don’t accidentally spill any of the crucial and proverbial beans.”
I had no idea what she meant by that.
“What I mean is, they aren’t always wise in keeping quiet about things that need to be very, very secret.”