Among the Hidden

by Margaret Peterson Haddix

  “And, anyhow, you seem trustworthy. So-oo, now that I know you’re safe, I can tell you about the rally and show you our secret chat rooms and everything—”

  Jen was already leaving the room, so he had to follow just to hear the rest of her sentence.

  “Want something to eat or drink?” she asked, hesitating at the doorway to the grand kitchen. “I was so surprised, I forgot to be a good hostess the last time. What’ll it be? Soda? Potato chips?”

  “But those are illegal,” Luke protested. He remembered reading something about junk food in one of the books in the attic and asking his mother about it. She’d explained that it was something people used to eat all the time, until the Government shut down the factories that made it. She wouldn’t tell him why. But, as a special treat, she’d brought out a bag of potato chips she’d been saving for years and shared them, just with him. They were salty, but hard to chew. Luke had pretended to like them only because Mother seemed to want him to.

  “Yeah, well, we’re illegal, too, so why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves?” Jen asked, thrusting a bowl of chips at him. To be polite, Luke took one chip. And then another. And another. These potato chips were so good, he had to hold himself back from grabbing them by the handful. Jen stared at him.

  “Do you go hungry sometimes?” she asked in a low voice.

  “No,” Luke said in surprise.

  “Some shadow children do because they don’t have food ration cards, and the rest of their family doesn’t share,” she said, opening a refrigerator that was bigger than every appliance in the Garners’ kitchen put together. “My family can get all the food we want, of course, but”—she looked at him in a way that once again made him conscious of his ragged clothes—“How does your family get food for you?”

  The question puzzled Luke.

  “The same way they get it for themselves,” he said. “We grow it. We have a garden—I used to work in it a lot, before, you know. And then, we have the hogs, or used to, and I guess sometimes we’d trade a butchered hog for someone else’s butchered steer, so we’d have beef—”

  Those were all shadowy transactions in Luke’s mind. He had to strain his brain to remember overhearing Dad or Matthew reporting to Mother, “Ready to cook some steak? Johnston up near Libertyville wants some ham . . .”

  Jen dropped a plastic bottle full of brown liquid. “You eat meat?” she exclaimed.

  “Sure. Don’t you?” Luke asked.

  “When Dad can get it,” Jen said, bending to pick up the bottle. She poured a glassful for Luke and one for herself. Both drinks fizzed and bubbled. “Even his clout isn’t that great. The Government’s been trying to force everyone, even the Barons, to become vegetarians.”

  “Why?” Luke asked.

  Jen handed him his glass.

  “Something about vegetables being more efficient,” she said. “Farmers have to use a lot more land to produce one pound of meat than to produce a pound of—what’s it called?—soybeans.”

  Luke wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating soybeans.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “We always fed our hogs the grain we couldn’t sell because it didn’t meet Government standards. But since the Government made us get rid of our hogs, Dad just lets that grain rot in the field.”

  “Really?” Jen grinned as if he’d just announced the overthrow of the Government. She thumped him on the back just as he took his first sip of soda. Between the bubbly drink and her enthusiastic pounding, Luke started coughing. Jen didn’t seem to notice. “See, I told you you’d be a big help. I’m going to go post that on a bulletin board right now!”

  “Wait—” Luke sputtered between coughs. He didn’t know what she was talking about. But he couldn’t let her get his family in trouble. He chased her down the hall, catching up just as she was sliding into the chair in front of the computer. She switched it on, and it made the be-be-be-be-beeep sounds Luke had heard the last time. Luke stood to the side, carefully out of sight of the screen.

  “It’s not going to bite you,” Jen said. “Grab a chair. Sit down.”

  Luke inched back.

  “But the Government—” he said.

  “The Government’s incompetent and stupid,” Jen said. “Get it? Believe me, if they were watching through my computer screen, I’d know by now.”

  Meekly, Luke pulled over a padded chair and sat down. He watched as Jen typed in, “If the Government let farmers feed their animals the grain they can’t sell, there’d be more meat.”

  Luke was relieved that she hadn’t mentioned his family. But, unless the Government was spying on them, he couldn’t understand what difference it made for her to write that.

  “Where’d that go?” he asked as the words disappeared. “Who’s going to see it?”

  “I put it on a Department of Agriculture bulletin board. Anyone with a computer can find it now. Maybe a Government worker with half a brain will see it and actually think for the first time this decade.”

  “But—” Luke squinted in confusion. “Why does it matter?”

  Jen fixed her gaze on Luke.

  “You don’t even know, do you?” she asked. “You don’t know why they passed the Population Law.”

  “N-no,” Luke admitted.

  “It’s all about food,” Jen said. “The Government was scared we’d all run out of food if the population kept growing. That’s why they made you and me illegal, to keep people from starving.”

  Luke suddenly felt doubly guilty for the potato chips he was still cramming into his mouth. He swallowed hard and lowered his hands to his lap, instead of back into the chip bowl.

  “So if I didn’t eat, my food would go to someone who was legal,” Luke said. But in his family, that would just be Matthew or Mark, and they were hardly starving. Matthew was even starting to sport the same roll of fat around his waist that Dad had. Then Luke remembered the tramp from long ago, saying, “I ain’t et in three days . . . .” Was that Luke’s fault?

  Jen laughed.

  “Stop looking so worried,” she said. “That is what the Government thinks, but they’re wrong. My dad says there’s plenty of food, it’s just not distributed right. That’s why they’ve got to stop the Population Law. That’s why they’ve got to recognize you and me and all the other shadow kids. That’s why we’re going to have the rally.”

  As ignorant as he was, Luke could tell from the way she said it that the rally was important.

  “Can you tell me about the rally now?” he asked humbly.

  “Yes,” Jen said. She pushed away from the computer and twirled on her chair. “Hundreds of us—all the shadow children I could track down—are going to march on the Government in protest. We’ll go right to the president’s house. We won’t leave them alone until they give us the same rights everybody else has.”

  Just my luck, Luke thought. I finally meet another third child, and she’s absolutely crazy.

  “And”—Jen said, as bubbly as the shaken soda—“You can come, too. Won’t it be great?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I—” Luke said. He couldn’t look at Jen’s triumphant grin. “I don’t think I—”

  He thought about how terrifying it was just running back and forth between his house and Jen’s. Even this morning, on his third run through their yards, his heart had pounded so hard, he’d wondered if it could burst from fear. And in the yard at least, he was sure—or as sure as he could be—that no one was watching. How could Jen think he would dare go out in public, where he knew people could see him—people in Government, no less—and say, “I am a third child! I want to be treated like everyone else!”

  “Scared?” Jen said softly.

  Luke could only nod.

  Jen turned back to the computer.

  “Well, I am, too,” she said matter-of-factly. She typed something, then looked back at Luke. “Some. But don’t you think it’ll be a relief? No more hiding, no more pretending, just—being free!”

  Luke wondered if he�
��d always misunderstood the meaning of the word “relief.” Jen’s rally sounded like his worst nightmare.

  “You can think about it,” she said. “You don’t have to decide anything today. Now, ready to chat?”

  Luke looked back at the computer screen, where rows of words were unfurling:

  Carlos: It’s 105 here, and my parents think it’s a waste to run the a.c. during the day. Can you say heartless?

  Sean: Why don’t you just crank it up, then turn it off again right before they get home? That’s what Pat and I do. They’ll never know.

  Carlos: Yeah, but my parents probably read their electric bill.

  Yolanda: So what are they going to do? Ground you?

  Carlos: Good point. I’m searching for the temp control right now.

  Yolanda: Where’s Jen?

  Sean: You know she never gets up this early.

  Carlos: Curses—my parents have the temp control locked somehow. Told you they were evil. Where is Jen? I can’t wait for her sarcarstic comment.

  Luke read the words Jen was typing: “I’m right here, and, Sean, I do so get up early. I just don’t always choose to see you first thing. And Carlos—what’s wrong? Is there sweat in your eyes? There’s only one ‘r’ in ‘sarcastic.’ ”

  She hit another key, and the words appeared right up with everyone else’s. They were followed quickly by another line:

  Sean: Good morning to you, too, Jen. Glad to see you’re still among the living.

  Jen typed quickly: “No, just among the hidden. Not the same thing at all!!!!” Then she sent it, too.

  “What is this?” Luke asked. “Some sort of game?”

  He remembered Jen mentioning a Carlos before, and never explaining who he was. Were these some sort of computerized imaginary friends?

  “Carlos, Sean, Yolanda—they’re all other third children. Sean’s even got a brother, Pat, who’s a fourth child. This is how I talk to them.”

  Luke watched the next line of type appear: “Carlos: Thanks for the sympathy, Jen.”

  “But how—?” Luke asked, still doubtful.

  “Oh, you know. It’s the Net,” Jen said. “If you’ve got a spare hour or two sometime, I’ll give you the technical gobbledygook to explain it. All I care about is that it works. I’d die without someone to talk to.”

  She was typing even as she talked. Luke craned his head to see what she wrote: “Guess what? The kid I told you about, Luke, is here with me.”

  Quickly, three “Hi, Luke”s appeared on the screen.

  Luke fought down panic.

  “But the Government—” he said. “They’ll find me—”

  Jen playfully slugged his arm. “Chill, okay? Nobody from the Government can get in this chat room. We all use a password. Just third children know it. And, anyhow, even if someone else read this, what would they know? Just that somewhere in the world, there’s a kid named Luke. Big deal.”

  “But they can trace you through the computer, and then they’d find me, too.” Luke’s heart was still pounding.

  “Look, if they could trace people through the computer, or through this chat room, wouldn’t they have found me a long time ago?” Jen asked.

  Luke tried to think clearly. “Your parents,” he said. “You said they bribe people. So you’re safe. But mine—”

  Jen was shaking her head.

  “No, I’m not safe,” she said grimly. “Even my parents couldn’t bribe the Population Police if they found me. Maybe to keep them from looking—but maybe not even that. The Population Police get some ridiculously big reward for every illegal they find. Why do you think I hide at all? Why do you think we have to have the rally? Everybody ought to be safe. And nobody should have to use bribes just to walk down the street or go to a mall or take a ride in a car . . . .”

  Luke glanced back at the computer screen, where the conversation continued.

  “How did all those people find out the password?” he asked. “How did you?”

  “Well, I created the chat room, so I made it up,” Jen said. “And I knew a couple other shadow kids, and I got my parents and their parents to get the password to them. And then some of those kids spread the password to other kids they knew. Last time I counted, I had contact with eight hundred kids.”

  Luke shook his head. He didn’t think even his parents knew that many people.

  “So what is the password?” he asked.

  “ ‘Free,’ ” Jen said. “It’s ‘free.’ ”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Luke left Jen’s that day with a pile of books and computer printouts clutched to his chest.

  “Some reading material for you,” she’d said. “So you’ll understand.”

  Back in his own room, Luke sat down on his bed and opened the first book. It was thick and carried its title in ominous black letters: THE POPULATION DISASTER. The type inside was small and closely spaced. Luke read a sentence at random: “While debate continues over the carrying capacity of the earth—” He skipped ahead. “If the Total Fertility Rate in industrialized countries had remained at or below 2.1—” Luke saw that reading this book would be like puzzling out the letters Dad got from the Government. He glanced at the other two books: The Famine Years Revisited and The Population Reversal. They looked no easier. The computer printouts were at least brief, but both “The Problem of the Shadows” and “The Population Law: Our Country’s Biggest Mistake,” were full of big words.

  Luke sighed. He was tempted to put the books aside and just ask Jen to explain them to him. And he might have, except for what she’d said as she’d begun handing them to him. “Oh, my gosh! I didn’t think—you can read, can’t you?”

  “Of course,” Luke had answered stiffly. “I was reading in the chat room, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, but you could have been—oh, never mind. I’ve offended you again, haven’t I? Me and my big mouth. It wouldn’t have been anything to be ashamed of, even if you couldn’t. Oh, I’m making things worse. I’ll shut up. Here.”

  And it had seemed to Luke that she’d pulled even bigger books off the bookshelves after that.

  Now he resolutely turned to the beginning of The Population Disaster and began reading: “Since some elements of the overpopulation crisis were foreseen in the 1800s, an uninformed observer could only wonder why humankind came so near to total annihilation. But—”

  Luke reached for the dictionary and settled in for the long haul.

  It rained for the next several days, so Luke read constantly, not even tempted to race over to Jen’s instead. He could hear Dad banging around downstairs, stomping in and out from the barn or the machine shed. Now that the harvest was in, Luke thought Dad might be bored without the pigs to take care of. So Luke read cautiously, always ready to shove his population book under his pillow and replace it with one of his adventure books. The preparation paid off on the fourth day, when he heard Dad’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “Hey, Luke, what’re you up to?”

  “Nothing,” Luke said, turning Treasure Island right side up at the very last moment. Dad didn’t notice.

  “Want to play cards?”

  They played rummy on Luke’s bed. Luke could feel the corner of The Population Disaster poking his back throughout the entire game. And he kept wanting to ask Dad about what he was learning. He spent most of the first game biting his tongue. Dad won.

  “Again?” Dad asked, shuffling the cards.

  “If you don’t have any work you’ve got to do.”

  “In November? With no livestock? Only work I’ve got now is figuring out how we’re going to pay our bills once the hog money runs out.”

  “Isn’t there some way to grow stuff inside during the winter? Like down in the basement, with special lights, lots of water and extra minerals. And then you could sell it?” Luke asked without thinking. He’d just finished reading a chapter in the population book about hydroponics.

  Dad squinted.

  “Seems I did hear tell of that once.”

 
Luke won the next hand. Dad didn’t seem to be concentrating. At the end, Dad said, “Mind if we quit now?”

  Luke was terrified Dad would ask where he’d heard of hydroponics. So he just said, “No problem.”

  Dad left muttering, “Growing food inside . . . hmmm . . .”

  Luke wished he’d had the nerve to ask about the Population Law, or the famines, or even some family history. Once he got past the dense language, the books Jen had loaned him were full of revelations. As best he could understand it, the world had simply gotten too full of people about twenty years earlier. Poor countries had it particularly bad, and people there often starved or were malnourished. But then something worse happened: Terrible droughts struck the parts of the world that always grew the most food. For three years, they grew almost nothing. People everywhere starved. In Luke’s country, the Government began rationing food, only allowing people to have 1,500 calories a day. And, to make sure there was food, they seized control of all food production. They forced factories that had made junk food to crank out healthy food instead. They forced farmers to move to land that would be more likely to produce. (Is that why we don’t live near our grandparents? Luke wanted to ask his parents.) But the Government didn’t think that was enough. They wanted to make sure there would never again be more people than the farmers could feed. So they passed the Population Law, too.

  In the evenings, spooning in his stew or cutting up his meat, Luke felt pangs of guilt now. Perhaps someone was starving someplace because of him. But the food wasn’t there—wherever the starving people were—it was here, on his plate. He ate it all.

  “Luke, you’re so quiet lately. Is everything all right?” Mother asked one night when he waved away second helpings of cabbage.

  “I’m fine,” he said, and went back to eating silently.

  But he was worrying. Worrying that maybe the Government was right and that he shouldn’t exist.

  Only when he got to the two computer printouts did he begin to feel better. One of the articles began, “The Population Law is evil.” The other said, “Hundreds of children are hidden, mistreated, starved, neglected, abused—even murdered—for no reason. Forcing children into the shadows can be counted as genocide.”