“Only for you, clumsy Jennz,” she teases.
“I’d rather do something exciting.”
She arches one eyebrow. “And your idea of ‘exciting’ is?’”
“I don’t know.”
“If you listened to the Instructors instead of window gazing, you’d be better prepared. I love you, Jennz, but learn discipline or you’ll never adjust to a Family. I have worked hard on my stitchery and will do well with the Ying Family—if I’m lucky and they Choose me.”
“They will be lucky to Choose you,” I say. Lorelei’s crafting skill transforms coral into hair frivels, cloth into coverings, and shells into luminous buttons. When I gift her with coral and shells, she pretends I found them within boundaries, although she knows they come from the sea. She’s very loyal that way.
“Seam work is my dream community role,” she says with a passion I envy. “So much more fun than office duties, repairing machines, or dirt-digging.”
“I’m all for dirt-digging.” It’s Marcus coming to join us, taking the seat on the other side of mine. When I catch his gaze, he winks at me.
“Your filthy fingernails prove that,” Lorelei teases him.
“Heya, I just scrubbed them!” He wiggles his tanned fingers that I have never seen so clean. “I can’t wait to muck out animal pens.”
“You’re the oddest boy ever.” Lorelei flips her braid, then adds in a lofty tone. “I still want to know how you visited the Sarwald Family without us knowing. Did the Instructors allow it?”
His gaze shifts away. “Some may have.”
“Vagueness is a form of lying.” Lorelei wags her finger at him. “It’s unlike you to keep secrets and break rules.”
“Not break … bend. Jennza is the rule breaker.” He playfully taps my shoulder. “But I’m learning too.”
“If I don’t agree with a rule, I’ll find a way around it.”
“You can’t, Jennza,” Lorelei argues. “It’ll dishonor your Family.”
“What can they do? Return me?” I say recklessly.
“Shhh!” Marcus glances around the room. But the other youths are too busy talking to notice us.
“I was only joking,” I tell him, shrugging. “Returning is a scarytale.”
“It’s real, Jennz—even if Greta Hu won’t admit it,” he adds bitterly.
Lorelei’s jaw falls open. “What do you mean?”
“Greta lied to us.” Marcus narrows his brown eyes to slits. “She said she was still friends with all of her born-mates. But that’s impossible.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because one of them was Returned.”
Lorelei nearly falls out of her chair.
“Are you sure?” I ask him.
Marcus nods. “The youth, Carlos, was bonding well with his Family until he suddenly stopped talking. One morning when his cousin told him to help with kitchen chores, he sliced her face with a knife. He was Returned.”
The way Marcus says “Returned” chills me. No one knows what happens to the Returned, only that they’re never seen again.
“Who told you this?” I demand. “An Instructor?”
“No. I heard it from ….” His brows furrow, as if he’s reluctant to say any more. So I stare him down, challenging him to finish.
“Scientists,” Marcus finally admits in a hushed voice.
“No way!” Lorelei smacks his arm.
I find it hard to believe too, although I can’t remember Marcus ever telling an untruth. It’s just that the scientists are so … so mystical. Only Grand Sarwald is allowed to consult with them, and for this, he must travel to the highest peak of our island where the scientists live in a mysterious compound seemingly invisible to ordinary eyes. Every morning it’s customary to arise, look to the east, and recite the Faith Pledge: I pledge to honor Family, community, and the miracles of the scientists. Peace and safety forever.
“You did not talk to scientists,” I say skeptically.
“Ripping impossible,” Lorelei adds.
“But I did.” Marcus speaks so sincerely I know he’s truth telling.
“Seriously? You met them?” I’m still shaking my head. “But the scientists keep to their compound.”
“Not always. You already know I visited the Sarwald Family.” He glances around nervously. “They asked me to dine with them, and during dessert, two visitors arrived—a man and woman in purple and gold robes.”
“Scientists.” The word tastes mysterious on my lips. The four scientists seem almost magical, more thrilling than ordinary humans. If the scientists had a Name Book, I would have been eager to study, dreaming of wearing gold and purple robes. A secret wish I have, not even revealed to Marcus and Lorelei, is to go to the top of our island where the scientists live.
Lorelei’s eyes widen like dark moons. “Are they really aged beyond twenty-five? With wisdom lines and hair shining like stars?”
Marcus nods. “Scientist Lila’s hair has more silver than her brother Scientist Daniel’s, but the wisdom lines are deeper on his face. It was hard not to stare. When Scientist Lila noticed, she ordered me out of the room. I left but could still hear when she shouted, ‘There’s nothing wrong with the process!’ Leader Sarwald argued, ‘Then why did that youth attack his cousin? We need to be sure these new youths aren’t a risk or there will be more Returns.’” Marcus breathes hard as if he’s run a long distance. “They stopped shouting, so I couldn’t hear any more. But later I asked my sister—my future sister—what happens when a youth is Returned, and she told me they cease to exist.”
Cease to exist? I wonder. As in dead? What would cause a youth to go crazy, and why would Leader Sarwald blame the scientists? We’ve been told over and over that we’re precious gifts to ShareHaven. With only fifteen youths born every twenty-five years, Families treasure us. Yet a youth was Returned.
Could it happen again?
Marcus looks so miserable, and I know it’s because he broke rules by repeating a private conversation. I squeeze his hand to remind him he’s with friends. I clasp Lorelei’s hand too. No matter who we become, we’ll always be best mates.
“It’s right you told us.” Lorelei also squeezes Marcus’s hand, so we’re now a circle of friendship. “But no worries. Our Families will love us.”
I smile at Lorelei. “Your Family will love you so much they’ll shower you with gifts.”
“I only want one thing. Can you guess?”
“What?” Marcus and I both ask.
Lorelei sits up straighter. “Memdenity. All three mems right away.”
“Not a good idea.” Marcus frowns. “Memories must be carefully timed over a year for proper adjustment.”
I nod. “Or your brain will explode.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Marcus says, pretending to be annoyed.
“It could happen.” I shrug. “Maybe.”
“I’ll more likely explode from waiting.” Lorelei twists her white scarf. “A whole month before the first mem—and then I’ll only have up to age fifteen memories. Torturous! I want to know everything from fifteen to forever about my new brothers, sisters, cousins, parents, aunts, uncles, husband and children.”
“If we have children in our new role, they’ll already be age twenty-five,” I say, my uneasiness returning. “I read in a retro-book that youths used to be grown by genetic parents.”
“Not in a lab?” Lorelei’s brows arch. “That’s ripping random.”
“It was nice in the book. Youths had mothers and fathers.” I idly tap my hand on my chair. “It’ll be strange to be called mother.”
“It won’t happen if you Choose a Lost One who never married or had children,” Marcus says with deep meaning.
“I don’t care if I have a zillion children. I just want the Celebraze to start now,” Lorelei says, with a frustrated look at the wall timepiece. She throws up her hands, her shell-bracelets jingling. “Why haven’t they come for us yet? It feels like I’ll be a youth for centuries. I’m tired of being treated as if
I’m brain-lacking because I’m only a youth. I’m still growing too, but not in places where I want to. And I found a pimple yesterday.”
“Really?” I look closely at her face. “I don’t see anything.”
She touches her nose. “I clear-creamed it away. But what if it comes back and brings friends?”
“I see it,” Marcus says, pointing at her chin.
“No!” She jumps from her chair and rushes over to the wall mirror at the far side of the room.
“You’re a wicked boy,” I accuse Marcus, not sure whether I’m angry or amused. “Her face had no mark.”
“My mistake.” He grins with no apology. “So did you read it?”
I nod, well aware we’re no longing speaking of Lorelei.
“And memorize the names?”
I humph, insulted. “There were only three.”
“Recite them,” he orders, clearly doubting my study skills.
“Seriously?” I retort, annoyed by his superior attitude.
“Unless you can’t remember ….” He says this slowly, taunting me.
“Oh, I can,” I reply with a wicked-sweet smile. “Agnes Candras was trampled by a team of hoxen. Vesper Sanchez drowned while collecting algae samples in her role at our water system. Hilda Treveno died from falling off a cliff and landing on a deadened tree limb that pierced her throat.”
Marcus rolls his eyes. “Why do you focus on life endings rather than life accomplishments?”
“Morbidity interests me,” I say to annoy him, although in truth I found Hilda Treveno’s community role interesting. She’s my top choice, concocting herbal cures that boost immunity systems and spiced up her salsa. I’ve found unusual plants in my cave and would be interested to learn more about them. If the Treveno Family Chooses me, I’ll be ready.
Lorelei returns to her seat and starts to say something but stops at the click of a door opening. The room goes silent.
Instructor Ivan appears in the doorway, a tall cornstalk of a man with a thick thatch of bark-brown hair on a long, sharp-boned face. He gestures to us and says in a deep booming voice, “Now.”
Marcus gives my hand an encouraging squeeze while Lorelei jumps up with a squeal. I look around the room at my born-mates grinning, rising, and moving to the door.
It’s time.
SIX
I’ve attended many events in the torium but never any so grand as the Celebraze. I step away from my born-mates and Instructors to peer through the doorway. My breath catches at the tiered seats, streaming banners representing each Family’s colors, and a stage adorned with banners and ribbons grander than on Haven Day, the anniversary of the Fence’s completion.
I am dazzled. Excited. Uneasy.
My too-long white tunic drags on the tiles as I line up according to my Edu-grade ranking: last. Grades are an unsensical way to define someone. I’ve learned more by exploring my cave, swimming with sea creatures and gathering shells, than from brain-dulling lessons. I’d rather be in the cave with Petal.
Poor little Petal. Alone in the storage room. How will I get her back to the cave? My only chance will be after the Celebraze, when I’m allowed to gather my belongings and say good-byes.
“Jennza!”
Startled, I look up at Instructor Penny. The line has started to move.
“Don’t be so sluggy, Jennza.” My Instructor’s smile takes the sting from her criticism. Her bark-brown tunic is styled similar to mine, but it fits well, not dragging. She’s tall and willowy, with shiny dark hair curled high on her head, reminding me of an elegant yet sturdy oak tree. Her gray eyes always sparkle with humor, making her seem more like a youth than a mature twenty-five.
“I’m hurrying,” I tell her.
She touches my cheek softly. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispers.
“Me, afraid? Never.”
“No need to pretend with me, Jenny.”
I shrug, looking down at the dusty hem of my tunic. I don’t care—I don’t want to care—yet I do. I don’t mean to voice what I’m desperately trying not to think about, so it’s a surprise to hear myself say, “No one will Choose me.”
“Of course they will.”
“Last.” I spit out this foul-tasting word.
I expect Instructor Penny to argue. You’ll be wanted and loved, she’ll assure me. But she slips her arms around my shoulders, saying nothing, only holding me tight. Soon I’ll walk to the stage to be judged among Family Leaders.
I will be chosen last. There’s no one to blame except me.
As I follow the others down the center aisle I hear flutters as the audience flips through booklets citing our grades, good habits, poor habits, health history, photos, and recommendations from the Instructors for placement.
“Lift your head; smile.” Instructor Penny pats my arm. “You’ll never forget the day you meet your Family. They’ll love you as I do.”
She is being kind and we both know it, but I lift my head with a forced smile. Being last doesn’t matter. Someone has to Choose me. Right?
Musicians perform on the stage, their string and pipe melodies soothing. Belonging to a Family is an honor, not a punishment. So why do my hands shake? I have no fear of high climbs or exploring darkness, yet leaving everything I know is scarifying. I tell myself it’s the natural way for youths. I’ll become a useful member of society, restoring lost knowledge, and gaining a Family—all connected to me by memories.
Someone else’s memories.
My own memories will be pushed aside like outgrown clothes buried in a closet corner. But I’ll hold tight to my important memories, reminding myself of them so often they’ll never fade. It’s possible because I’ve tried it already.
At age ten, we had our first memdenity lesson. Instructor Ivan said, “Raise your hands if you can remember something that happened when you were age six.” We all raised our hands. “Age four?” he asked. Only a few hands were raised. “Age one?” I looked around and saw no hands raised. So I raised mine.
“Are you sure, Jennza?” He arched one bushy black brow, doubting me.
“Yes.” I nodded. “When I was learning to walk, I fell on a big rock and cut my knee. It was a deep cut and bled and bled. There’s still a little scar.”
The next day I was taken to the health-keepers. They dabbed clear-cream on my knee until there was no trace of the scar. But whenever I look at my knee, in my mind I see the tiny scar.
New memories may crowd my mind, but the important memories, especially my friendships with Lorelei and Marcus, will never fade. Instructors say stubbornness is my worst trait, but my stubbornness will keep me always Jennza.
So bring on the Choosing!
The music stops abruptly when all fifteen of us reach the stage. We line up in our white tunics while the Instructors, draped in dark-brown, file to their seats in the audience.
Grand Sarwald steps on a block of wood behind the podium. He has a scruffy white beard and no hair on his head. I’ve heard scientists are working on a hair growth pill but haven’t succeeded. He clears his throat, silencing the audience. Not even paper rustles.
“Welcome, Havenites. Has it already been twenty-five years since I last stood here to welcome youths into our Families?” He chuckles. “Time used to govern our existence; now it’s only visible in the aged faces of your founders.” His deep-set eyes crinkle with humor as he rubs his bald head. “On this joyous day, we welcome our newest Family members.” He sweeps his hand toward us. “It is my honor and pleasure to introduce our fifteen youths!”
Applause thunders through the room, and my pulse jumps with an unexpected thrill. ShareHaven has waited a long time for us; we’re as treasured as the rarest plastics. To be accepted and loved could be, well, nice.
“Also we’re fortunate to have our esteemed Instructors to teach our youths. They have worked hard to shape these fine youths and may now return to their Families until their roles are needed again.” Grand Sarwald gestures to the Instructors, each Family in the audience clapping
louder for one of their own members. I clap loudest when he calls Instructor Penny Dallow.
More introductions: each Family Leader. I’ve met a few Leaders on rare trips to City Central Museum or to pastures to observe cows, wooly grazers, and hoglets. Youths stay separate from the community to avoid favoritism at the Celebraze, which is why Marcus’s visit to the Sarwalds is so unusual.
I’m itching from the tunic but can’t scratch—not with hundreds of gazes on me. Grand Sarwald pauses, and I think he’s finished with his speech until he gestures to the back of the room. “We are much honored today with a rare appearance from our revered scientists,” he adds. “Lila Farrow, Daniel Farrow, Martyn Scallag, and Kataya Jovovich.”
Scientists! Here? Graces good! I shift in our lineup for a better view of the audience, peering at four figures shimmering in purple and gold robes: a twig-thin man with stooped shoulders, a taller man with midnight-black hair, and two women of contrasting seasons—strawberry summer and silvery-frosted winter. Silver hair? She must be the scientist Marcus overheard being warned by Grand Sarwald, “If we don’t change, there will be more Returns.”
Now on the podium, Grand Sarwald beams a gracious smile, founder lines deep on his aged face. “We owe much to our fine scientists,” he says. “Never forget our beginnings—over three centuries ago, when scientists from many countries came to this island to work together for the betterment of humanity. When the mind-plague struck, they searched for a cure. Sadly, they failed. But untrue rumors spread to the outside that we had a cure—which led to the Attack.” He grimaces. “Hundreds killed, research destroyed, and buildings burnt.”
I know our history well, yet his words bring it alive in vivid images of fire and blood. There’s a hush over the audience, their heads bowed.
“But out of chaos, the surviving scientists gave us immortality and memdenity,” Grand Sarwald continues. “We are protected in ShareHaven, safe from beasts and Nocturnes, sharing memories, resources, and respect for Family. We are not divided by warring religions as were retro-societies; instead, we’re united in the shared faith of science miracles. Some might say ShareHaven is utopia, where life is forever and not even memories die ….” He clutches the podium, doubling over with a hacking cough. “Dry … throat,” he murmurs, sipping from a water glass. His coughing ends quickly and he lifts his head, once again smiling. “As I was saying, we are a strong society, but societies can’t thrive without growth.” He sweeps his hand toward us. “Our youths bring hope for the future.”
Memory Girl Page 4
