Guardians

by Susan Kim

  “What are you doing up here?” she asked.

  “Stretching my legs. I get restless sometimes, downstairs.”

  “You work for Gideon?”

  “If he’s the one who hired me. Stiff boy? Never smiles?”

  “That’s him.” Esther laughed now; it felt like forever since she had done so. This stranger who had emerged from the dark seemed like someone from a dream. Maybe he was. In any case, for a moment at least, she relaxed.

  “I sell things. Like this.” He indicated the tin. “And this. Watch.”

  Trey dripped hot wax on the landing and stuck the candle in it. Then he took something from his breast pocket and held it out. Esther examined it: It was a small metal rabbit, with a tiny white knob that protruded from its side.

  By now, Kai was wide-awake. “What’s that?”

  Smiling, Esther held the boy away. “We’ve seen toy rabbits before.”

  “But not like this one.” Trey twisted the button, which made a faint clicking sound. Then he leaned forward and set it on the ground. To Esther’s amazement, the metal animal scurried forward a few steps, paused, and then jumped in the air. It spun in a circle, ran in a new direction, then leaped again.

  Kai stared at the vision, openmouthed, then lunged at the toy. “Give me!”

  Although Esther held him back, Trey picked up the rabbit, crouched down, and presented it to the boy. Kai squealed with delight, then proceeded to examine it with both hands.

  “Are you sure?” Esther asked. She, too, was enchanted, although she managed to keep a straight face.

  Trey shrugged. “He can have it.”

  There was silence for a while, as Esther assessed him. Then she asked, “How come you wear white?” It was an impertinent question, yet she found she didn’t care.

  “Maybe I’m a ghost,” he said, and smiled, his teeth white, too. When he saw Esther’s quizzical expression, he grew serious. “I’m just passing through,” he said. “Had a little trouble. I’m trying to leave it behind. Ain’t easy.”

  “What kind of trouble?” This Trey encouraged openness, Esther thought. She was asking him questions she would normally keep to herself.

  “With a girl.” He shrugged, looking off. “She run away with someone else. Bad feeling here.” He thumped his chest once, to illustrate. “Don’t seem to go away no matter how far I go.”

  Esther was surprised to hear this. It was odd that such a confident—even arrogant-seeming—boy had the same problem she had. Kai was reaching out for Trey, and she had to rein him in.

  “I know how you feel,” she said.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s hard to believe, pretty girl like you.”

  Esther blushed. “It’s true, anyhow.”

  “He must have been crazy.”

  Esther didn’t know how to answer. Brooding about Aras seemed silly now, in the face of so much true suffering, seeing what she did each day. Still, in the quiet hallway, with no one else around to provide perspective, she felt the pain again. Knowing this boy had gone through something similar helped.

  “You mind?” He indicated the stair beside her. Esther made room and he sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him.

  Trey couldn’t help it; he kept looking at Esther. He had expected another kind of person: if not the diabolical schemer Gideon had described, then someone bold and experienced. Instead, he found a girl who was sincere, direct, and self-possessed. She didn’t flirt, nor did she wear artificial colors on her face or tight clothing that showed off her body. In fact, Esther almost looked like a boy at first, with her slim frame and short, tousled hair. Yet she was pretty in a way that made you want to glance at her twice. It made Trey feel funny about what Gideon had accused her of, and the lies he was about to tell her.

  Kai escaped Esther’s embrace and moved into Trey’s lap. Trey let the boy crawl on him, not minding, even enjoying it. Kai grabbed his nose; Trey made a monster face and growled. The boy squealed; Trey laughed. Then Kai settled into a ball in his arms and fell asleep again. Trey rocked him.

  Esther studied his profile as the little boy began to get drowsy. There was something about Trey that was utterly appealing, she thought. Small children didn’t like just anybody, after all.

  “Was she pretty, your girl?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah. I thought so.” He waited. “But maybe it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  Trey had to shake off his feelings about Esther. He was about to speak the false words he had prepared and needed to keep a clear head. “True. But it’s what I tell myself. See, my girl was a . . . well, what some people call a mutant.” He swallowed hard, aware of her eyes on his face. “Maybe that shock you. But I loved her the same as if she was a norm. Others didn’t like the . . . you know, the marks on her. The tattoos and such. To me, that’s ugly thinking. But people do what they do.”

  Esther said nothing, only listened. But the smile froze on her face and she could feel her spine tense up. Trey wasn’t looking at her; he was peering into the darkness.

  “Anyhow, we had a hard time. So maybe it for the best. She went off with one of her own kind. Can’t say as I blame her, but still.”

  “What was her name?”

  Trey paused and bit his lip before answering. “Lavie.”

  Esther watched her son, as he lay in the boy’s arms. She had an impulse to take him back but didn’t obey it. Then she glanced down to Trey’s crossed legs and his idly swinging sneaker.

  She saw what looked like a small weapon strapped to his ankle. Then, on the step near it, the round candy tin had some lettering on it, along with a faded picture of fruit. Esther squinted to see. It read LAVIE.

  “I better go,” she said quickly, and stood.

  “Something wrong?” Trey glanced up at her, a flash of concern in his eyes. As if, Esther thought, he was afraid he had made a mistake. She opened her arms, gesturing for her son.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  Trey glanced down and saw the container. He grunted and kicked it, lightly, to the side, cursing himself for his blunder. He hadn’t been able to use lazy charm and cheap tricks against this girl; Esther was too smart, too observant. He surprised himself by his next thought: And maybe that was a good thing.

  “Look, I . . . ,” he began, and stopped. The door in the landing above them creaked open and both of them glanced up, blinking in the unexpected light that spilled down on them.

  Skar stood, holding a torch overhead. “I am sorry,” she said. “But Sarah is crying and we did not know where you were.” Her lavender eyes held Esther’s for a second, then flickered over to the boy.

  Without a word, she stepped closer to her friend, as if for protection.

  “The boy—now?” Although her voice was firm, Esther’s outstretched hands had begun to shake.

  “Hold on.” The light had awakened Kai, who squirmed in the boy’s arms. Trey retrieved the tin and took out a piece of candy, which he gave to him.

  Esther brought her arms down, slowly. The hair was standing up on the back of her neck, and her body trembled with the desire to run. Had Trey been sent by Gideon? If so, then Gideon had surely told Trey what to say to her. She shuddered at the thought that she had been so nearly taken in.

  Even so, she was struck by the boy’s actions. He still held her child and was now stroking his head with what looked like true gentleness.

  “That’s a good little fellow,” he whispered. Trey hoisted Kai up under the arms. Before he could place him on his feet, Esther reached forward and seized him, holding him close.

  “Good night,” Trey said. He was gazing at her, a faint smile on his face.

  Esther’s nerves were still jangled. She thought of the boy’s lies and the gun he kept by his ankle. Yet his expression was soft, as if he were about to apologize. Had everything he’d said and done been insincere and duplicitous? Suddenly, Esther didn’t think so. But she put the feeling
aside.

  The two girls watched him disappear down the stairs. In a moment, only the soft tread of his sneakers could be heard fading into nothingness.

  Once she was sure they were alone, Esther turned to Skar. “That boy. He—”

  But Skar gave a brusque shake of her head and held a finger to her lips. Then she pointed upward, indicating that they should talk on the roof.

  The garden was silent and still warm from the day’s heat. Esther waited until the door was closed behind them before she told her friend what had just happened.

  Skar listened, her head down. “Gideon.”

  “I’m afraid so.” Agitated, Esther could not keep her voice as low as Skar’s as she frantically paced back and forth. Kai, who was dozing off in her arms, awoke with a start.

  “It sounds like this boy was trying to win your confidence. To see what you were up to.”

  Esther’s voice grated with frustration. “But why now?”

  Skar didn’t say anything at first. To Esther’s surprise, her friend, whom she had once thought incapable of lying, averted her eyes as if hiding something. Then she looked up with an expression that seemed almost defiant.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  Astonished, Esther could only listen as Skar told her about Silas: how she had approached him late at night. How she had asked him to infiltrate the lower levels of the District. How he had managed to trick his way down to the lowest level, to see what Gideon was hiding.

  “You asked him to spy on the mall? Without even talking to me first?” Esther wasn’t sure if she felt more shocked or outraged.

  “I tried to talk with you,” Skar retorted. By the light of the torch, her eyes were bright. “But you did not listen.”

  “I always listen to you!” Again, Esther forgot to keep her voice low. Yet instead of backing down, Skar grew as stubborn as her friend.

  “Gideon is doing terrible things,” she said. Unlike Esther, Skar kept her voice down, yet her words were relentless. “In the basement. There are special rooms down there. You do not understand what he is selling to people. To boys—”

  “I don’t have time for this.” At the thought of Gideon, Esther grew even angrier. “I asked him for help, and he turned his back on us. So I don’t care what he does.”

  “But you do not understand. He—”

  “No,” retorted Esther. “Let him just do things his way. That’s the only way we can get along, him and us. I’m not going to judge him.” She drew a shaky breath. “After all, variants used to be judged, too.”

  As soon as she said it, Esther realized her mistake. Skar’s eyes flared dark with anger. “You cannot compare us! Variants are nothing like Gideon . . . nothing at all!”

  She had already whirled around. “I’m sorry!” Esther called, a pang in her chest. “Come back!” But Skar was already halfway across the roof, heading for the door.

  Esther exhaled. She could feel her fury dissolving; now all she felt was regret for having lost her temper, as she had done a hundred times before . . . but never at Skar. The variant girl, Esther knew, was a careful and deliberate person; she always had a good reason for doing and behaving as she did. If she had gone behind Esther’s back, that could only mean she felt she had had no choice. And that said far more about Esther than it did about her.

  Full of contrition, Esther took off after Skar.

  In the moonlight, a lone figure wrapped in a blanket watched as Esther disappeared down the stairwell.

  Saith had not intended to eavesdrop. She had been sleeping, as she often did, in the guards’ lookout. The narrow piece of roof had been empty ever since the District opened its doors to Outsiders, and once she had discovered it, the little girl took refuge there since she found she couldn’t bear sharing a room with others. Yet she had been awoken by Esther’s voice raised in what sounded like anger.

  By instinct, she slipped behind a row of greenery and listened intently as Esther and Skar argued. She stayed there long after Skar left and Esther ran after her, pondering what she had heard.

  At first, the quarrel had given her hope that the friendship between Esther and the variant was at an end; both girls had seemed so angry. Yet the moment it was over, Esther seemed full of self-reproach, calling after the other girl. Disappointed, Saith realized that the two had a stronger bond than she had hoped.

  She would never get as close to Esther as she wished.

  And so Saith abandoned that plan as easily as she had formed it; her thoughts now turned in a new direction. What Skar had mentioned about the District seemed far more promising. Although Saith did not quite hear all that was said, it seemed clear there was action downstairs: desperate people coming in every day, things being sold for glass. And it sounded like there was one person in charge of it all: someone named Gideon.

  Saith made up her mind.

  There was no point in flattering and manipulating Esther any longer. It would lead nowhere, and frankly, Saith was already tired of the farm, the hall of sick people, and all that was upstairs.

  She gently laid the blanket down on the ground. Then without looking backward, she turned to the stairwell and headed down into the inky blackness.

  TWELVE

  THE NEXT DAY, TREY SAW THE LITTLE SPY AGAIN.

  It was apparent that the child had neither heeded Trey’s warning nor appreciated the fact that the older boy had deliberately chosen to spare him. Instead, he was even more brazen than the first time, weaving his way in and out of people who filled the basement of the District. Trey watched him with disbelief mixed with pity. If the boy had learned anything, he thought, it was only to disguise himself a little better and blend more into the crowd.

  Still, he ran right into Trey.

  Silas looked up and recoiled. Skar had told him not to spy anymore, but he had done so anyway; being told not to do something had always had the opposite effect on him. Yet this time he realized he had pushed it too far.

  He saw Trey freeze, unsure how to proceed.

  Then Trey gripped Silas by both scrawny arms under his billowing robe and half lifted him in the air, pulling him close. Silas didn’t bother to fight back; he prepared himself for the worst.

  Trey leaned in and whispered, his voice low and urgent. “This the last time.” Then Trey released Silas, nearly flinging him to the floor.

  The boy gazed up at him, shocked. As relief swept over him, he scrambled to his feet and took off, racing for the nearest stairs.

  Trey watched him go, uneasily. He hoped the boy would bring Esther the message, so she’d hold off from spying. Gideon wouldn’t let it go about Esther, Trey knew; it was only a matter of time before he realized that nothing had changed. And although he wasn’t sure why, Trey felt he had to protect the girl. He had always served anybody, no matter how cruel or corrupt; he had taken no sides, as long as he was paid. Now that seemed unacceptable. Trey had a few minutes to get his story straight before reporting back.

  Then he turned and found himself staring into the face of Gideon.

  His employer had clearly witnessed what had just happened. His eyes flickered back to Trey in a question. Trey felt himself blush, the first time he could ever remember doing so.

  “Why you here?” He hoped his belligerent tone would put the other boy on the defensive. “You checking up? You don’t trust me?”

  Gideon shrugged. “Should I?”

  “You hire somebody, you let them do their job. And since you open that other room, my job is two times what we agreed on. Maybe it should cost you more.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Trey saw Eli, who was staring at them in open curiosity; Trey shot him a harsh look, and the drunken boy glanced away.

  Gideon ignored Trey’s words. “That little one name Silas. He Esther’s boy.” Gideon was following Trey through the basement, raising his voice to be heard. “He the one you see before?”

  Trey stopped. It was unavoidable; they had reached the small rooms near the end of the hall, where the girls w
ere sold. Here the crowd was so great, it was hard to get by; Nur and her guards had a hard time policing them. Gideon was at his back, his mouth nearly pressed against Trey’s ear as they squeezed past.

  “You let him go again? After you seen her?”

  “I do what I think best.” Trey couldn’t help it; his voice shook a little.

  “That right?”

  “That right.”

  They were now alone, their footsteps echoing in the dark and barren end of the food court. Trey felt sweat prickle at the back of his neck, another new sensation. He craned his neck to see how far they were from the others: Too far, he thought.

  That the other boy had caught Trey letting Silas go was bad enough. But what made it worse, much worse, was that Trey had all but guaranteed Gideon that the spying would end. And he had already lied to him. He claimed to have charmed and seduced Esther, sweet-talking her into not only confessing her forays into the District but also promising to call them off.

  Trey knew that Gideon wasn’t stupid, and it took no great leap of the imagination to surmise that Trey had let Silas go just now because of the girl. Still, Trey couldn’t come out and confess his unexpected feelings for Esther and her child; he could barely admit them to himself.

  He had always liked little children because they were innocent. They said what they meant and believed what you said; they loved without motive, without guilt. Esther was no child, yet she had the same kind of honesty and openness. He had learned that, upstairs, she helped the sick and desperate. She did it without gain for herself, not because she thought she could get something from it. Trey had met good people before, yet they had been invariably weak or foolish. Esther was neither; and the idea of betraying her bothered him more and more. But to tell Gideon this, he sensed, would be a fatal mistake.

  “So it ain’t true, what you say?” Gideon pressed.

  “What I tell you?”