The Complex Law: Young Adult Dystopian Page-Turner (The Complex Trilogy Book 2)

by Heather Hayes

  I don't think Dad can take any more bickering. "Okay, everyone. Cook has made us a spectacular lunch. Let's go eat it while it's hot." Everyone grumbles but gets up and walks to the dining room. Everyone except me. I turn the opposite direction and start back toward the stairs when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Elira, come eat with your family." My father's eyes are pained as he pleads with me.

  "Dad, they don't feel like family. They obviously don't like me. I think everyone involved would feel much more comfortable if I ate downstairs."

  "I wouldn't. I know they are spoiled, and rude, but they are your brothers. Please help us have one meal together as a complete family? For your Mom and Dad's sake?"

  I cringe, but I let my father take my arm and lead me to the dining room. He seats me in between my mother and Joy. This is probably the safest seat for me, and I'm grateful. My father takes two plates from someone in the doorway and places a plate of—meat in front of me. I lean over to my mother. "What is this?"

  "Filet mignon"

  I don't know what that is, but it smells delicious. Joy taps my hand with her little fingers. "Help me?" The corners of my mouth turn up. How can I say no to that cute little face? I keep myself busy helping Joy cut her meat as her mother whispers conspiratorially with Brock.

  Greggory glares at me across the table. Brock smiles at me, but the smile doesn't actually reach his eyes.

  Father clears his throat. "Is there anything exciting going on that we can tell Elira about?"

  Brock's wife, Chantilly, lights up for the first time since arriving. "La Blanca just opened its doors this week!" She gushes on and on about the new high-fashion clothing store that opened up in their city.

  Brock opens his eyes super wide at Chantilly and then taps his watch. She nods at him and stops talking. Brock takes a deep breath. "Everyone, Chantilly and I actually have an announcement to make. Honey, would you like to do the honors?"

  Chantilly nods and lets the corners of her mouth curl up a tiny bit. "We are pregnant."

  My mother smiles and gushes, "Congratulations! How far along are you?"

  "Three months."

  I find my voice for long enough to say, "Congratulations; children are wonderful."

  Brock and Chantilly both smile and nod at me. Greggory just glares at us all.

  "I know a few excellent doctors in Adanlay that I would recommend."

  Chantilly looks down her nose at my father. "We already have the best of the best doctors for me and for the baby once it's born. Thanks anyway." My father looks cowed.

  Brock takes a big bite of his filet mignon and swallows it. "So, enough about us. Elira, how did you escape the complex of undesirables when no one else has in 40 years?"

  I swallow what's in my mouth and think about how to respond. "Through the laundry and garbage chutes."

  Greggory starts laughing uncontrollably.

  Brock glares at his brother. "Shut up, Greggory. That must have been unpleasant, Elira. It looks like you broke your foot in the process."

  "No, I was almost out when Mentor Briggs grabbed my foot. I kicked my shoe off, but he grabbed my toes. I kicked hard enough to break my toes and get away."

  Greggory stops laughing. In fact, everyone falls silent.

  "I hear you escaped with some friends. Did they convince you to do all of that unpleasantness?" Brock inquires.

  I shake my head. "No, I was the one who figured out how to escape. I couldn't let them kill my best friend, Avra. My friends followed me."

  Brock looks like he doesn't believe me. "Huh. Interesting."

  Greggory pulls a flask out of his pocket and pours some kind of liquid into his lemonade. When my father sees what he is doing, he slaps the loosely-capped flask out of Greggory's hand. It flies across the table and clatters onto my empty plate. Greggory and Father start shouting at each other. Yikes. I'm not used to hearing raised male voices like this.

  "Greggory, you're putting yourself in an early grave!"

  "I am not! You're treating me like a baby." I quietly pick up the flask and screw the top on tightly. I hold the flask in my lap, hoping everyone will calm down if they don't look at it.

  Brock pushes back from the table. "I think it's time for us to go. This was an interesting reunion. I'm sure we'll have another soon. Chantilly and Joy need a nice nap at the hotel."

  "You don't have to stay at a hotel. Why don't you stay here?" Mother asks.

  Chantilly opens her eyes as wide as they will go and shakes her head almost imperceptibly to her husband. He gets the hint. "No. Thank you. That is out of the question. You have a house full already."

  "I don't need a nap, Papa!"

  "Yes, you do, Sugar. We'll visit Grandma and Grandpa again soon."

  Mother stands up. "Before you go, you must promise not to turn Elira or her friends in or tell anyone about anything we've talked about."

  "Mother, this situation is really testing me as an enforcer of the law and a candidate for the Senate."

  "Brock, she is family. You know the complex law is old-fashioned and unfair. The way they escaped is not for you to repeat to anyone or use in any political way."

  Brock looks at me and softens slightly before he promises, "I won't tell a soul, Mom."

  Greggory swears and throws a fit, but eventually promises not to tell when he is reminded that he will be completely cut off if he doesn't. "I can't believe my ‘high moral' parents are asking me to break the law."

  "I'd think you would like us more because of it," Dad mutters under his breath.

  We all get up and move to the front door. I hide the flask in the pocket of my pants. With my mother's prompting, I give each of Brock's family members a hug. Joy's chubby little arms feel so nice around my neck. Brock and Chantilly hug me stiffly back and leave. The sunshine that falls on my face as the door opens and closes warms my troubled heart.

  I give Greggory a hug despite his complaining and secretly slip the flask to him. He immediately stops grumbling and looks at me with a quizzical brow. I really don't understand what he has to complain about. He has such a good life. "Enjoy your time at the university, Greggory. I wish I could go there to learn, but obviously I can't. Maybe you could bring me a book to read when you're done with it. See you later." He doesn't say anything to me, and still looks perplexed as he waves half-heartedly and walks out the door.

  Chapter 8

  "Elira, do you want to go outside?" my mother asks as she leans over the back of the sofa.

  I drop the history book I'm reading in my lap. "Yes! Of course, I do."

  "I need to pick up a custom chess board I ordered. You guys can have a chess tournament if you have more than one board. The shop is located next to Complex Supply Row. I think that is something you should see."

  "Is that where they sell the stuff my friends make in the complex?"

  "Yes."

  I sit up. "Yeah. I want to see it."

  "I want to see it too. Can I come?" Jefrey asks from right beside me. I jump in surprise. Where did he come from? Was he eavesdropping on me?

  Mother shrugs her shoulders. "One more won't cause a scene, but you're all I'm willing to take this trip. You two go get your disguises on."

  Jefrey is positively giddy as he glues his fake black eyebrows and soul patch on.

  "What are you so excited about, Jef?" Garth asks his brother suspiciously.

  "I'm going to Complex Supplies Row with Elira."

  "I want to come too."

  "No. You can't. Florence said she's only taking the two of us."

  "Why did she choose you?"

  "She didn't, but I chose me. When you snooze, you lose, brother." Jefrey pats Garth on the shoulder. Garth throws his hand off and storms off to his room. I get a weak smile fr
om him before he slams the door to his room.

  Mother purses her lips as she watches the whole exchange. "All right, Elira, Jefrey, don't forget your sunglasses, and let's go."

  She walks us to the garage and opens the driver side door of a black car with four doors. Jefrey looks at the other cars in the garage before asking, "Can we take this white one instead?"

  Mother shakes her head. "I think a sports car will draw too much attention to us right now. Let's stick with the easily-forgotten black sedan."

  Jefrey frowns but then looks at me and smiles. I think he's pleased to have me to himself. He takes my hand and pulls me into the back of the car. I don't really want to hold his hand, so I let go quickly. I force a smile on my face and hope this trip will change his attitude toward the complex and everything else.

  This is only the second vehicle I've ridden in. It is so much fancier than Ernestine's van. I hope my feet don't dirty the perfectly black floor. As we drive down the road, we see so many buildings of different shapes, sizes, and colors. I am in complete awe of the beauty that variety gives the outside world. We see a thin teenage boy about our age riding on a skinny, metal contraption with two wheels. It is so loud, I cover my ears. Jefrey can't take his eyes off the teenager. "What is that guy riding, Florence?"

  "It's called a motorcycle. He should be wearing a helmet. Motor scooter crashes can be deadly."

  "Are cars safer than motorcycles?"

  "Yes. Cars have seatbelts, air bags, and metal to slow down an oncoming vehicle from hitting your body. Motorcycles don't have that."

  Jefrey nods, always appreciating safety features. "If we ever get to live out of hiding, I'm going to get a sports car, except mine will be red."

  Mother is silent for a minute as she thinks. "You never know, Jefrey, if you work hard and save your money, you could get an expensive car like that."

  He looks confused. "Was your sport's car more expensive than this car?"

  "Yes, much more expensive."

  "Where do you buy a car?"

  "At a dealership. It's a store for cars. Speaking of stores, we're here."

  Mother parks next to a row of stores that touch sides and go on for half a mile on both sides of the street. The one we're closest to says ‘Gail's Custom Woodworks' on the sign. The store next to it says ‘Complex Cleaning Supplies.' My eye travels down the street and then moves to the other side of the street. The signs for Complex Paintings, Complex Catering, Complex Clothing Design, Complex Rugs and Carpets, Complex Cabinetry, Complex Steel, Complex Plastics, and Complex Linens stare back at me.

  "I'm just going to pop in to Gail's Custom Woodworks and pick up my chess board. Why don't you two take a look in the windows of these stores while I'm gone?"

  "Okay," Jefrey says cheerfully as we exit the car. He comes around to my side and takes my hand. I'm not feeling the zing I felt when he held my hand in the complex, but he's so happy, I just let him do it.

  "I'll join you two in a few minutes."

  "Okay, M—Mrs. Hamble."

  Jefrey pulls me by the hand past Complex Cleaning Supplies and to the window of Complex Paintings. "Look at that red and black swirly one. I like it."

  I focus in on each brush stroke of the red and black painting in the window. I wish I knew who painted it. I'm almost positive that they were unhappy when they created this piece. I see the darkness, despair, and the downward pull that the artist felt as they painted. It makes me feel like I might fall into the abyss with them. "Why do you like this one, Jefrey?"

  "It looks the way I feel most days, swirling around in the dark."

  "You don't have to feel that way. Look at this bright, yellow one. You could feel sunny and optimistic like this artist if you wanted."

  His eyebrows crease. "I don't get to choose the way I feel."

  "Yes, you do."

  "No, I don't. How can I, when I have you and Garth irritating me all the time?"

  I feel my blood start to boil. "You're choosing to be irritated."

  "No, you're choosing to be irritating."

  I roll my eyes in exasperation. "Whatever. Let's keep moving." A sweet smell draws us to the next building. We practically press our noses against the Complex Catering window. The cinnamon rolls, cookies and cakes look delectable. A sign in the window lets us know that appetizers are buy one, get one half off this month.

  "Those flower cookies look delicious. I'm going to ask how much they are." Jefrey bursts into the shop before I can stop him. I don't know what else to do, so—I follow him. He smiles at the shopkeeper. "Excuse me, ma'am, how much is one of these flower cookies?"

  A tall, scrawny woman scratches her gray head with a pencil. "This isn't a bakery, sonny. This is a catering service. We don't sell anything individually. If you want a cookie, you'll have to buy them by the dozen."

  "So, how much is a dozen?"

  "Six dollars."

  Jefrey nods as he takes in everything else in the display window. "Okay, I'll have to think about it." I'm relieved that the woman isn't calling the peace officers. She must not recognize us. I let out a long breath as I read the picture boards promoting sliced hams, turkeys and roasts. As we leave the store Jefrey asks me, "If it's six dollars for a dozen cookies, why won't she sell me one for 50 cents?"

  I shrug. "Obviously she makes more money if you are required to buy more."

  "I'm going to ask your mom for six dollars."

  My feet stop walking. "Jefrey, what if Shasta made those cookies yesterday without pay?"

  "I want to know if she's any good at it," he says nonchalantly.

  "Hello, you two," My mom's voice says from behind us.

  "Hi," I say unenthusiastically.

  Mother looks in the window of Complex Catering and huffs. "How does seeing the work of your friends' unpaid hands make you feel?"

  "Angry."

  "Hungry. Can I have six dollars?" Jefrey asks. You have got to be kidding me.

  Mother purses her lips and points to the car. "No. Absolutely not. If you want something to eat, we'll go home where our paid chef has lunch waiting."

  Chapter 9

  Peeking through the blinds, I see a fluffy white cat chasing a plastic bag blowing in the wind. I wonder how that fluff would feel on my fingertips. I point the cat out to Garth, who is sitting beside me. He puts his arm around me and scoots closer so we're cheek-to-cheek as we look through the little gap in the blinds. His cheek sends a jolt through mine as it bumps into me. I wonder what it would be like if he turned his head and...

  "Elira, Garth, come join us at the computer desk," Mother yells across the basement, louder than is necessary. We reluctantly get up and join everyone at the computer desk in the corner of the great room. This enormous desk usually has one computer on it, but Mother has squished in two more. She squeezes my shoulder when I join her. "It's time to give you kids computer classes. Ernestine and I have many things on our minds and we'd like to pass the researching of your parents on to you. There are only three computers, so you'll have to take turns. Everyone, watch me and then you can try."

  We learn that we can find information about my friends' parents using these funny light-up screens and keyboards. Avra takes these lessons much more seriously than I do. Unfortunately, her parents are the hardest to find anything about.

  For three weeks we search these things called newspaper websites trying to find news articles about families struggling with the loss of their undesirable children. We look through thick books called phone-books hoping that a name will spark some kind of memory for Avra. It doesn't work. Ernestine sneaks out a few times, much to my mother's dismay, and talks to people who ‘know things.' First names of undesirable children just aren't much to go on.

  Avra, Jefrey, and I are sitting side by side at the computer de
sk when Jefrey sits straight up in his chair. His computer screen is open to a tabloid newspaper article about a mother who had twin boys taken away 14 years ago. Jefrey reaches over and squeezes my hand. I slip my hand out of his before he can say anything. "Elira, listen to this. ‘Mrs. Yesterly said, ‘taking two at once isn't fair.' While Mr. Yesterly insisted, ‘If you take away my two kids, you should take away the hospital bill I still haven't paid as well. I shouldn't have to pay for kids I don't get to keep.' Huh. What do you think?"

  I don't know how to respond, but I'm determined to be nice yet firm with Jefrey. "Well, the mother sounds sad that her twins were taken away. It could be them, but maybe not. You probably weren't the only twins in the complex." Garth and Rocky overhear us and leave their chess game to join us at the computers.

  Rocky scans the article quickly. "There was only one other set of twins our age in the complex. They were reds and only lasted to age six or seven. I think it's a 50/50 chance that these are your parents."

  Garth reads what the dad said over again. "I don't know if I should be happy that we may know who they are, or sad that my dad only cared about a money refund when he sent me away."

  I spin around in my swivelly chair and punch Garth playfully in the arm. "I'll look up the present whereabouts of Mr. and Mrs. Yesterly. You and Jefrey should find the other set of parents of twin boys from 14 years ago."

  Avra has been leaning on her arm, listening to us dispassionately. She stands up and yawns. "I've been looking for my parents for hours today, and I still haven't found a single thing." I detect a trace of jealousy in her voice. "I need a nap. Garth, you can use this computer." She walks sleepily back to our bedroom. I wish I could comfort her, but I promised the boys...

  Garth sits down in Avra's empty seat. I have a twin on either side of me now. It's not as awkward as it used to be, but it still isn't a comfortable setting. Garth smiles at me and gets to work, Jefrey follows suit. Every time Garth's hand bumps into mine I feel tingles. When Jefrey's hand does the same thing, I don't feel—much of anything. I'm glad I have something to keep me busy.