Naomi Grim (The Silver Scythe Chronicles) Part 1

by Tiffany Nicole Smith

  Four days left. Mother was still on assignment. I needed her to come back before we left. I needed her to tell me I would do a fine job and I wouldn't let my family down. I wished there was a way we could communicate while she was out, but that was impossible. When we were on assignment, we had to be focused on the task at hand.

  That morning at the breakfast table, I read over my notes as I waited for Doyle to come over and give that day's lesson. My bagel tasted extra dry. Even the strawberry cream cheese couldn't save it.

  Bram entered the kitchen and headed for the coffee pot. "You still sad about them?"

  I ignored him. I didn’t know what I was sad about.

  "They're just Foragers, Nay. They keep money from our pockets and food from our mouths. If we don’t take care of them, our colony won't function. Is that what you want?"

  I threw my bagel down on the plate. "There are other ways, Bram. Technically, they're Grims too, and there are plenty of lifestones to go around. Unequal distribution is the problem. The Grims of the Upper Estates have more than necessary."

  Bram walked toward me with his coffee cup. "Yeah, so we should just share like one big, happy family. That's the best part about the Upper Estates—they live forever. Of course, you can't see that. You'd rather sit around and feel sorry for our enemies. You’ve never had the heart of a Grim." I'd lost track of how many times he'd said that to me.

  Keira and Josh arrived, followed closely by Doyle and, unfortunately, Dunningham and his dogs. Didn't he have better things to do than to sit in on our lessons?

  We settled into our usual spots on the sofa. Today's topic: fashion. Doyle handed us several magazines and catalogs to flip through. I saw a variety of short, sleeveless dresses, skirts, and colorfully printed pants. Nice, but not exactly my style. In Nowhere, we tended to stick to black jeans, black tanks, and black hoodies. It was comfortable, and since we could be dispatched at any moment, it was proper life-collecting attire.

  Of course a lot of us girls opted for the more fashionable hoodies: the ones with skulls, crossbones, scythes, or the Grim emblem embroidered with crystals. I'd heard that the girls from the Upper Estates actually had their blazers embroidered with diamonds.

  Like most girls, Keira and I kept our fingernails and toenails perfectly manicured and painted black, which many human teenagers also did.

  "I refuse to wear a tutu skirt," Keira remarked, turning a page in a magazine.

  "You don't have to," Dunningham said, "but you cannot wear black jeans and hoodies every day. You'll stick out like sore thumbs. Try to find a style you feel comfortable with."

  Once our teachers left, Bram grinned mischievously. "You guys want to come with me?"

  "Come with you where?" Josh asked.

  "I'll tell you when we get there."

  "No, thanks," I answered. Nothing good could come from blindly following Bram anywhere.

  "I want to go," Dorian said, but the quiver in his voice told me he didn't really mean it. He was always trying to prove himself to Bram or our father.

  "Me too," Josh said. Of course. Every male in Farrington was intrigued by Bram.

  "No," Keira said firmly.

  "Oh, come on. It won't take long," Bram promised.

  Since the boys insisted on tagging along, Keira insisted on going to make sure her brother was okay, so I went along too.

  Bram walked briskly with his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie and, as always, we trailed behind.

  After twenty minutes, I realized that Bram was taking us to the edge of Farrington, toward Litropolis.

  "Bram, seriously, where are we going?" Keira asked with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

  "I want to get something that's really going to help me fit in on our mission," he answered.

  "What?" Dorian asked.

  "A tattoo. And maybe some ear gauge plugs."

  Both of those things were forbidden by Grim law and considered body mutilation. It was also thought to be low class. Something only Foragers and the people of Litropolis did. I had to admit, since I was ten, I'd wanted a really cool tattoo.

  "Bram, are you crazy?" Keira asked.

  "Nothing's going to happen. I'm doing it for the assignment. Dunningham will understand."

  Keira stopped. "Josh, let's go back."

  "No way!" Josh argued. "You heard what Bram said. We're not going to get in trouble."

  Keira grabbed her brother's arm. "Bram doesn't know what he's talking about and he's the last person you should be listening to. Let's go."

  Bram put his hands up. "Listen, if Josh wants to come along, he should. Let him be a man. Like I said before, Dunningham won't mind. He'll understand."

  I wasn't so sure about that.

  Keira let go of Josh's arm probably knowing she couldn't change her brother's mind. "Fine, but we'd better make it quick."

  We had to pass through a bushy area before reaching the shallow creek. I pushed the branches of tall shrubs out of my way. I pulled my hood over my head to prevent my face from getting scratched. The other side of the creek was where Litropolis officially began. Our view of the city was blocked by an ugly cement wall. There was a place in the wall where the cement blocks could be taken out and moved for someone to pass through. I didn't know why Dunningham had never made a move to seal it. Surely his efficient Watchers had to know about it. I looked around for one of them, but there were none in sight.

  "Great. We have to get our shoes wet?" Keira asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

  "I'll carry you over," Bram offered.

  Keira pushed him away. "Don't touch me." She tiptoed across the creek and the rest of us followed.

  My leather boots proved to be good protection from the creek water, so I couldn't complain. We had to walk almost half a mile down the wall to get to the spot where the stones were loose. The whole way I thought about how stupid we were being, but I knew Bram would do something even more moronic if Keira weren't around.

  Bram knelt and grunted as he pushed a cement block. It dropped with a thud. Josh and Dorian stepped forward to help, but Bram told them to stand back. He did the same with several blocks until there was a spot big enough for us to slide through.

  Bram raised his finger at us and then stuck his head through the space. "Okay, come on," he said before crawling through. Josh and Dorian followed him. Then Keira and I pulled up the rear.

  I had been to Litropolis once before, but I was still in awe of what I saw. There were no houses in Litropolis—just rows and rows of tents or, for the more fortunate, tiny shacks made from old pieces of wood and tin. Countless fires blazed in large tin barrels lining the narrow streets. They had been set in preparation for nighttime. Litropolis had no electricity. I couldn't imagine how they lived that way.

  One of their biggest complaints was how they had to donate a portion of the little lifestones they earned to Nowhere's Generator Fund, yet their city had no electricity. It was a double slap in the face. On top of being poor, they had to give part of their meager earnings to a fund that didn't even benefit them. Their argument was totally understandable, but I wasn't supposed to be worried about it.

  As we navigated the street, almost everyone we passed stopped to stare. Of course, no one said anything. Judging from our clothing, we were obviously from Farrington, and therefore, above them. The people of Litropolis were draped in dark-colored rags and cloaks. I remembered that, twice a year, the Grim Ladies’ Society did a clothing drive to collect people's unwanted materials to donate to Litropolis. I wondered if I would spot someone wearing my old clothes.

  A group of small, barefooted children ran around us as they played a game of tag. They took no notice of the foreigners in their space.

  "Bram, where are we going?" I asked after a few minutes.

  "It should be around here somewhere." He squinted and looked inside the tents as we passed.

  "There it is," he said, pointing to a shack a little w
ays down. It was the biggest shack I had seen since we'd arrived in Litropolis.

  Josh sneezed. He had really bad allergies. "Bram, are you sure this place is . . . hygienic?"

  Bram patted his back. "It's fine. What's the worst that can happen? It's not like I'll die. I have six hundred and forty-nine years left. More on the way."

  Bram knocked on the outside of the shack. "Come in!" a gruff voice shouted.

  We had to bend down to enter. A man who appeared to be in his early thirties, with pale skin and black dreads, sat on a stool in the corner, cleaning something metal with a wet rag.

  He didn't bother to look at us as we crouched down, waiting.

  Bram cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I'd like to get a tattoo."

  The man looked up and gave us each a long once-over. "What are you guys doing here? I don't want any problems."

  "I'm not going to cause any problems. I just want a tattoo and some ear gauge plugs." Before the man could say anything, Bram removed his hoodie and lay on the man's rickety reclining chair. He rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. "I'd like a skull—a really ghastly-looking skull."

  The man paused and looked from us to Bram. "Sure. I could do that." He pulled a black case from the corner and opened it up. "You guys can have a seat there," he told us, pointing to a pile of blankets in the corner. Reluctantly, we took a seat in the cramped space and watched the man get to work. "My name is Drake, by the way."

  Drake pulled two long, sharp-looking needles from the case. I cringed when I saw them and quickly changed my mind about wanting a tattoo. Bram closed his eyes as Drake got to work. At first his face was calm as Drake began to carve into his skin. Then Bram grimaced. He looked like he was trying very hard to maintain his tough image by not making a sound. I was sure Bram was wishing Keira wasn't there to watch. I almost laughed as my brother bit his lips and pursed them together in an attempt not to scream. Drake stopped occasionally to rub ink into the lines on Bram's arm. Yep, my desire for a tattoo had completely faded. Why anyone would volunteer to have someone cut into their skin was beyond me.

  Bram lost his sense of pride and began to yell incessantly. I couldn't watch anymore. I stared at my boots, attempting to block out his screams.

  We sat for what seemed like forever. I smelled the aroma of food cooking, something burning. I wanted to be home. After a while, Drake stuck some type of white paper over Bram's completed tattoo. Then he took out a case of ear gauge plugs. Some of them were as large as my fist, which I thought would look ridiculous in someone's ears. Thankfully, Bram chose the smallest pair possible.

  This time he actually shed tears as Drake pierced his ears.

  "All right. All done, tough guy."

  With his tattoo covered with a white piece of paper and his freshly plugged ears, Bram slid on his hoodie and wiped the tears from his face. "Thanks."

  "Um… should we discuss payment?"

  "Oh, I don't have any money," Bram lied. "Listen, this is for a major assignment that's coming up. Think of it as doing your part in helping the cause. I'll put in a good word for you with Dunningham. He comes to my house all the time."

  Drake didn't look impressed. He wanted his money, but there was nothing he could do. Bram was a class above him. "Whatever, man," he mumbled.

  We rose and crawled out of the tiny shack.

  "You look cool, Bram," Josh said, readjusting his glasses.

  "Thanks, man."

  "Bram, you could have given him something," Keira said. "He worked on that tattoo for over an hour, and it looks really good."

  Bram smirked. "It's a business expense. Let Dunningham pay for it."

  Once we made it back to the open part of the wall, we crawled through and the boys replaced the stones. We had only moved a few feet away when I heard a scraping sound. I turned to see two boys from Litropolis moving the stones and crawling through. They looked to be seventeen or eighteen.

  "Hey," called one with long hair. "Stay out of our city."

  Bram turned and pointed to himself. "You talking to me?"

  "Yeah," said the other kid, who had a buzz cut. "You don't belong here. We don't go to Farrington and bug you. And where do you get off coming here, using our services, and not paying for them? In case you haven't noticed, we kinda don't have much and you kinda live pretty good over there."

  The boy was absolutely right.

  "What do you want?" Dorian asked.

  "A little respect," Long Hair answered. "We may be poor, but we're Grims just like you."

  Bram stepped to the boy. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," said Buzz Cut, moving closer to Bram.

  My heart raced. This was a whole lot of pride and testosterone. Keira and I exchanged knowing glances—something bad was about to happen.

  "You are nothing like me, and how dare you even open your mouth to say that," Bram said through gritted teeth.

  "What makes us different? Besides money," asked Long Hair.

  "Power," Bram answered. Then he pulled his arm back and punched Long Hair dead in the face.

  Chapter 7