Unfavorables

by JM Butcher

  “Okay,” Melli responds. “Thank you for your service.”

  One of the Coats looks in Ronnie’s direction, then back to Melli. “Looks like you have some Riffraff of your own back there. Not sure what a pretty girl like you is doing with an Unfavorable. Better watch yourself.”

  Melli smiles. “Always.” The Coat smiles back.

  “Moooooomm!” the boy yells. His mother can’t possibly hear him over her wailing. She just watches him disappear.

  The Coats pull the boy to their vehicle. Olivia’s car catches their attention, and one of them rips off her bumper sticker, crumples it, and tosses it on the ground. They leave with the boy in their custody.

  “Ugh,” Melli says. As Melli walks to the woman, I realize that she was putting on an act for the cops. She hugs the woman, the same way she’s hugged me so many times when I felt hopeless.

  “Chalk up another win for Washburn,” Lexa says.

  Ronnie adds, “The Union is saved once more.”

  “Come on,” Melli says, as she extricates herself from the crying woman. “And be careful. There’s gotta be more Coats are around.”

  I glance over my shoulder one last time. The woman is back on her knees, but her shrieks have turned into silent heaves.

  My eye twitches and I close my eyes. They shoot open when a hand grabs my arm, pulling me away from the others. I expect to see a Gray Coat, but I see Olivia’s familiar face instead. She looks different. Her black hair is down, and she wears a yellow blouse in place of her AFI shirt.

  “You look so…” I begin to say.

  “Hot!” Olivia responds.

  “…different.”

  “I gotta wear this dumb shirt to blend in here. I’m a freakin’ yahoo, too. Did you see what those Coats did to my car?”

  I turn my head. Melli tells Lexa and Ronnie something. I say, “I’m supposed to be with…”

  Olivia interjects. “Too many people. Gotta be careful, Magz.” No one has ever called me Magz before. I kind of like it. “There are Coats swarming the area. We’ll meet them on the other side.”

  Reluctantly, I allow Olivia to escort me through the center of the mall. We have to weave through the crowded walkway. It’s like people are here to witness more arrests, not to shop.

  We eventually make it to the end of the line of shops. We walk into an athletic store. A loud bell rings to let employees know someone entered. A boy with a red and gold letter jacket—the colors of our rival school—greets us. He’s muscular with spiked blonde hair, probably a lineman.

  “So I finally meet the Girl with No Thoughts,” the lineman says. I blush. Is that all I am? A Girl with No Thoughts? How does he know me, anyway?

  “Shut it, Seth,” Olivia responds. “The others here?”

  “I think so,” he answers. “Let’s go back.”

  Seth leads us around racks of sportswear and behind the counter to a storage room. There are two others in the room. One is Grant, with his slicked back hair and unbuttoned letter jacket. Another is a short, petite girl with a white tank top on. Her hair is buzzed and bleached. I don’t count the number of earrings she has, but the left ear has more than the right. There’s a black tattoo running down each of her arms. This will be Olivia in a year.

  There actually is a third person, skinny and pale, standing in the corner. He hides behind his thick-framed glasses. His dark brown hair is matted down, parted on the side. A skinny red tie hangs from his neck, reaching down to the waistline of his dress pants. His alligator leather shoes complete the St. Anthony Catholic Prep School uniform.

  Before I ask where Melli is, the door to the back exit opens. She enters, with Lexa and Ronnie closely behind.

  “Whoa,” Seth says. “That dude is an Unfave. He can’t be here.”

  Melli steps in. “They’re cool.” She looks at me. The rare, threatening formation of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows is a little scary. “You shouldn’t have brought them here. You put us all in danger.”

  “Why?” I ask. “They want to know about Billy, too.”

  Olivia responds, “This isn’t about Billy, Magz.”

  “But Melli said…”

  Seth puts his hand up. “We can’t have an Un-fave here, Melli.” He waits for support from the others.

  Melli says, “I know, Seth.” Her shrugged shoulders and wandering eyes don’t reflect the always composed Melli that I know.

  Olivia gives me a nod, then addresses Seth. “Your sister is an Un-fave.”

  “I know and that’s why she’s not here,” he quickly responds. “We’re screwed. Especially with these Coats roaming around.”

  I look at the ground. “I’m an Unfavorable,” I timidly say, fully aware that it’s not a secret in this crowd. “You invited me here.”

  Bleached-hair girl breaks in. “But you can’t think.” Despite taking offense, I’m too distracted by the tattoo on her left arm to voice my fury. It’s not just black. A dark green serpent emerges from the red third of our black, white, and red URA flag. It circles around her arm, returning up to bite the black third.

  “Okay, Makayla,” Olivia says. “Let’s play nice.”

  “Kay’s right,” Seth declares. The wrinkles on his forehead make him appear older than a high school student. “Isn’t that why we brought her here?”

  “What?” I ask, turning my head toward Melli. “What does he mean?” Without answering, Melli takes a few steps away.

  “Tell her, Jack,” Olivia demands.

  The Catholic schoolkid gives up his corner spot and approaches. I’m surprised to see that he’s the spokesperson for this group. “Maggie, is it?” I nod. “It is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you. To get straight to the point, we need you, Maggie.”

  Lexa, who has been quiet, steps in between Jack and me. Giving him a slight push, she says, “Dude, what do you mean need her?” I catch a smile from Ronnie, as he watches his girlfriend go on the offensive. I can’t help but smile too.

  Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Makayla jumps in. “No. We can’t tell her with those two here.” She’s not talking about both of them. Only Ronnie. “You know he’s being monitored.”

  Melli rejoins the group, arms at her side. “Tell them, Jack,” she says. “It’s okay. They’re cool. I’ll take care of it.” The tone of her voice sounds like that of a disappointed parent.

  “Bad idea,” Seth replies.

  “The worst,” Makayla agrees.

  “No, no,” Jack responds. “It is perfectly fine.” For someone so scrawny, Jack’s presence is remarkable. “Before you freak out, please listen closely. Your friend Billy is with us. Well, he was with us. The Gray Coats have detained him.”

  “She knows that much,” Seth chirps.

  Jack puts his hand up, silencing the lineman. “Billy joined us roughly a year ago. We had to wait until he took the Exam to put him into action. We thought his school talks would attract people. The plan backfired. He was one of our most dedicated members. It’s our fault he is gone.” Despite admitting responsibility, Jack doesn’t apologize. “He is committed to our cause,” he continues. “We are the underground youth resistance.”

  “Huh?” Lexa guffaws and throws her hands in the air. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re here to save the world. Is that it?”

  “Maybe,” Jack says in a calm, dominant tone. “We are the Youth Rebel League. We might not be able to save the world, but we believe we can change it.”

  President Washburn mentioned the YRL before. He made it sound like it was just a bunch of angsty Unfavorables trying to get attention. But these aren’t Unfavorables. I figure Lexa would be excited that these people agree with her convictions, but her cynicism doesn’t fade.

  Seven pairs of eyes stare at me, waiting for me to react. I let them stare.

  The better part of ten seconds passes before Olivia says, “Okay, Magz. You see how Washburn operates. He creates fear. The people all hate and are scared of each other. We might not always see it because we’re in the good repub
lic. We live in the burbs. The entire Union is a freakin’ burb. How many non-Ivories do you know?” I begin counting on my fingers. “Sleepers? Leftovers? How many?”

  I make it to the ring finger on my second hand.

  “Exactly!” Olivia exclaims. “That’s because they’re moved to the South or West. Or thrown in jail. The poor kids. Gone. Stripped from their parents. All for what he wants to be the superior Union.”

  “If they’re lucky,” Grant says, “they make it to Texas or Florida. For whatever reason, Washburn has let those states keep their self-proclaimed independence.” I forgot he was here. For the first time ever, Grant appears somewhat intellectual. Somewhat human and not just a cleared clique jock. “For now, at least, they provide refuge for the Union’s runaways and deportees.”

  “Whoa, dude,” Lexa blurts out, pointing a finger at Grant. “Didn’t you call Livvy an Unfavorable today in class?”

  “Gotta keep the disguise,” Grant answers.

  “A poor choice,” Olivia says, glaring at Grant. “Don’t give Tatum ideas.”

  “You said some pretty mean things, too,” he reminds her.

  Lexa puts her hand up and singles out Grant. “What role do you play? You expect me to believe that you, Charlie football star; that you, Mr. Rich; that you, King Grant Fields, are a part of some secret resistance group?” Ronnie laughs to support Lexa.

  “I love football,” Grant says. “But I love my brother more. He failed the Exam. My parents sent him to a Juvenile Unfavorable Home.” He drops his head. “To hell with this jacket if it means Brett’s future is done. To hell with it!”

  Lexa at first looks to be unmoved by Grant’s admission. It doesn’t work. “And you…?” she asks Seth. She tries to act strong, but I see her eyes start to water. “You’re as Ivory as Washburn’s toilet seat. Did your brother fail too?”

  “No,” Seth snaps, keeping his eyes fixed on Ronnie. “If you must know, it’s my sister. My parents adopted her when she was four. Non-Ivory.” Seth turns his back, his body slightly quivering.

  “That’s why she’s not here…” Lexa says softly. All hostility has left her voice.

  “Bingo,” Seth says. “I’ve been holding down my home, watching my biological sister, while my parents search for Tanya. Good people, my parents. Putting their lives as risk.”

  I can’t help but thinking that his parents remind me of Dad. I ask, “When will they be back?” Right after I finish my question, I realize the answer is clear. They won’t be coming back, not with Tanya at least.

  Jack changes the focus. “My best friend.” That’s all he says. His face is stone cold.

  I watch Lexa’s reaction. Her face turns pale. I follow the path of a tear as it runs down her cheek and rolls around her chin, coming to rest on her neck. I want to close both of my eyes, but I won’t let my mind clear. I need to hear these stories. I need to understand.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” I choke out to Olivia.

  “Nah,” she answers, nonchalantly. “Only child. I just can’t stand to watch the youth of our country torn apart, by having their thoughts monitored. Thoughts! There have been two kids detained tonight.”

  “Three,” Melli says. “We saw one too. Thirteen, non-Ivory. Hispanic descent, I think.”

  While others share a moment of silence, Jack steps up. “Do you think a thirteen-year-old is going to blow up a mall, Maggie?” I shake my head, frightened by his dark tone. “Do you know what is going to happen to him?”

  I pull my bangs over my twitching eye, and I shake my head again.

  “A Home,” Makayla answers for me. “Or sent to the South, if he’s lucky. You don’t want to know what happens to kids in Homes.”

  Using my peripheral vision, I witness Grant turn his head, surely picturing the fate of his brother.

  “I’m with Livvy,” Makayla says. “I can’t take living in this police state. No free speech. No free thinking. Washburn will raise the voting age for Unfavorables soon. Twenty-one to twenty-five. Twenty-five! Without the Unfavorable vote, his rule won’t end.”

  “This is not a conspiracy theory,” Jack says.

  “And what can five kids do about it?” Lexa responds, having regained her composure. “I mean, I agree with everything you say. And I’d love Washburn to peace out. But honestly, five underground kids. Six with Maggie.”

  “We are much larger than six,” Jack asserts. He loosens his tie. “There are hundreds of us in Ohio and thousands spread throughout the Union. We’re all over the country. Do not underestimate us. The youth change history. Without thought and without a voice, the youth are damned. That is how Washburn wants it. We, the YRL, can have an impact on the future of this country. We can decide our future.”

  With her hands on her hips, Lexa asks, “So what does this band of rebel kids actually do?”

  Jack puts his hand to his chin. “We have camps that provide refuge for Unfavorables. We organize protests. We hope to take action against legislation. Our efforts will be more effective with more people and with Maggie.”

  I’m only half listening at this point. There’s one person who has not provided justification for being a part of the YRL. I turn to Melli. At some point during this conversation, she managed to put her hair up into the Bic-bun, without me noticing. Her makeup is smeared. She’s been crying.

  The others continue to talk; with a frown, I watch tears intermittently drop from Melli’s eyes. The rest of the group must catch on, because their conversation abruptly ends.

  Quietly, voice shaking, I ask Melli, “Why?”

  Melli even looks pretty when she cries. “Do you really need to ask?” She approaches me and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Her trembling body sends vibrations through mine. “It’s you, Maggie,” she muffles into my shirt. “It’s because of you.”

  “But you left…”

  “No, Maggie,” Melli says, tears mixed with mascara streaking her cheeks. “I was protecting you…at least I thought I was. I just want you to be safe.”

  A comforting warmth consumes my body. I hold her tight. Her loose hair sticks to my face. The citrus scent of her favorite shampoo mixes with the candy-flower aroma of her perfume. I take a deep breath through my nose. This is what I’ve been seeking this whole year—the moment when Melli and I could reconnect.

  I don’t dare close my eyes. I tighten my grasp and she does the same. Roughly thirty seconds pass. Maybe a minute. I want ten more minutes. Thirty more minutes. Thirty days.

  A hand on my shoulder breaks the embrace. Melli raises her head as I spin to find Jack standing next to me, leaving one arm around her back. I’m frustrated that he doesn’t understand the importance of this. That this is everything to me.

  I have to close my eyes so that I don’t completely break down and throw a fit. When I open them, I glimpse at the makeup stain on my ugly melon-orange shirt. I smile that I have a permanent reminder of our moment.

  “Maggie,” Jack says, “you represent hope. People know the Girl with No Thoughts. They know you are the Tara Gordon’s daughter.”

  I gather myself in order to refocus on the purpose of this meeting. “Who knows me?”

  “How could you not know that?” Makayla blurts out. She looks at Seth. “This is our symbol of hope?”

  “People do, Maggie,” Jack answers. “You are quite famous. I didn’t know that you did not know.”

  Lexa fixes her eyes on me and nods, revealing that she knows about my fame as much as the rest of them. Then she turns to the group and asks, “Where’s Billy? Is he dead?”

  Addressing me, Jack says, “Don’t worry about Billy. If we’re successful, you’ll all get to see him again.”

  Seth, who has been silent for a while, speaks up. “If his chip hasn’t been hacked or, worse, if hasn’t been taken in to be deleted.”

  Melli ignores him and stares deep into my eyes. “Maybe even see your mom.”

  Her words punch me in the gut and
stick a hundred needles in my heart. “She’s alive?”

  “The Coats do not kill Transgressors,” Jack says. “Not the high-profile ones. You may not understand, but the Tara Gordon is a big deal. If she was killed, you would have heard. Washburn most likely is waiting for the right time to make an example of her.”

  The Tara Gordon. That’s the second time Jack has said that. What’s so special about Mother, other than the fact that she’s a Transgressor? Nobody has told me. Not Dad. Not Melli. Does Tyler know?

  “We need you to stop the T-Blox,” Jack says. How does he know so much about me?

  “What? Why?” I ask.

  Lexa gasps. “They need the Girl with No Thoughts to think.”

  “Precisely,” Jack says. “You are special. Not many Unfavorables are on T-Blox, and I do not know anybody who took the test at such a young age. You have not had night thoughts for more than six years. You are freer than any of us. Our brains have been corrupted by years of others telling us what to do and how to think. Our emotions have swayed our decisions. We cannot always recognize what truth is at the core of our thoughts. Your thoughts will be pure, if you are given the chance to think. To really think. At night.”

  Lexa rolls her eyes at Jack. “Stop your crap,” she says. “Maggie, they need you to think because it would be a sign of rebellion against the government. They need the daughter of Tara Gordon to think and to speak. You’re a symbol.”

  “Yes,” Jack says, “you are the Girl with No Thoughts. The daughter of the Tara Gordon. We need the Maggie Gordon.”

  The talk of quitting the meds gives Lexa her chance to throw in her opinions. “I think it is a good idea, Maggie. You should quit, even if you don’t join this…whatever this is. You deserve to think at night. You deserve to let your brain do its thing. You might feel more. Even have an emotional connection with your dad. Lord knows, you both need that.” Lexa pauses and looks at the floor. When she looks up, she says, “Otherwise, you are less than an Unfavorable. You’re a Nobody.”

  A nobody? Is that true? I open my mouth to defend myself. I can’t. Lexa is right. Without night thoughts and with so much emotional detachment, I am less than an Unfavorable. I’m a nobody. The walls seem to close in on me.