“That’s terriful! Aren’t you afraid Scientist Daniel will try again?”
“Lila assured me he’d leave me alone. Besides, I’m not going to be an assistant.” I give an excited squeal. “Lila asked me to become a scientist.”
Lila flips back her long red braid. “Ripping impossible.”
“No one can become a scientist,” Marcus says.
“I will. My new name will be Angeleen Dupree.”
“Sounds French,” Lorelei says, a little more interested. “Nous pourrions parler français ensemble.”
“I have no idea what you said, but maybe Angeleen will know French, and then we can have fun conversations together,” I say, smiling.
But when I glance over at Marcus, his expression is darker than the blackest thundercloud. “Jennz, don’t do it.” Marcus kicks at a clump of grass. “You belong with a Family.”
“I’m a criminal in ShareHaven. If I leave here, I’ll be executed.”
“Not after we clear your name,” Marcus says with fierce determination.
“You can become whoever you want—like a Ying.” Lorelei gives a playful tug on my hand. “We can have such fun together. You’d love it.”
Marcus shakes his head, and I think he’s going to insist I join his Family. “Be yourself,” he says.
I’m touched by his understanding. I can’t go back to my youth or the Cross Family. Will I fit in with the scientists? Martyn ignores me. I haven’t even met Kataya. Daniel almost turned me into a droll, and his assistant Frost hates me simply because I exist. But a memdenity will make me one of them. They’ll have to accept Angeleen once I become her, and this will be my forever home. Surrounded by sky, sea, and my best mates, hope rises within me.
We pull out the picnic lunch, sharing chicken sticks, fried potatoes, and spiced asparagus. Marcus, who loves to eat, chews, while Lorelei shares the latest ShareHaven gossip. I’m never sure how much is truth, and it’s hard to follow some of her stories because she keeps slipping into French. When she does, her mouth twists down in a way I’ve never noticed before, and she moves her hands in jerky excitement.
Glancing up at the fading sun, I’m sad our time together is ending.
When we’re finished eating, I pick up the woven basket. We turn our backs on the sea. Trees and tall weeds rise on each side of the path, and as I reach for the camouflaged door, it appears like a flat rock against dark earth. I lift a clump of moss and pull a lever.
We slip from daylight into a false brightness of illuminated walls. I take the now-familiar passage to the elevator and level one. The room where Lila held my party only a few hours ago is empty of gifts, cake, and guests.
Marcus leans close to me. “Need to talk,” he whispers. “Alone.”
The urgency beneath his words tightens my heart. I’ve sensed something troubling him. Now I’ll find out. But first I have to distract Lorelei.
“Want to see my room?” I ask them.
“Would I ever!” Lila’s velvet jacket twirls with her enthusiasm.
I lead them back to the elevator and rise to the second level.
When I push open my door, Lorelei is all about the fabrics—as I expected. After examining each of my party gifts, she opens my drawers, admiring and insulting my coverings. “This fabric is fine, with a thick weave, yet it breathes so you won’t sweat. But this tunic isn’t purple—it’s the color of puke. Burn it now, because if you have to wear it, you’ll hate yourself.”
I glance over at Marcus, expecting him to tease Lorelei. But he’s staring out my window, frowning.
Lorelei flits like a hummingbird, lifting pieces of clothing from drawers and waving them in front of her. She flutters over to my closet, yanking it open. “Now this is more like it! Capes, tunics, and scarves! This scarf is très jolie. I wish I could try it on.”
“Why don’t you?” I suggest.
“Oh, could I?”
I gesture to my privacy room. “Go in there. Take as many coverings as you’d like. We’ll wait here.”
As if she expects me to change my mind, she grabs scarves and tunics, then practically dances into the privacy room. When the door shuts, I touch Marcus on the arm. “Talk. Fast.”
His head droops. “It’s not—I mean—I don’t know how ….”
“What?” Crossing my arms to my chest, I give him a fierce look.
“Nothing.”
“Your eyes shift when you lie, Marcus.”
“Don’t call me by my youth name.”
“Don’t avoid the topic,” I retort. “What’s wrong?”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I can’t tell you … you’ll hate me.”
“Me, hate you? Never! You can tell me anything.”
“Not this.” Shoving his hands in his panton pockets, he looks down.
“Are you nervous about your memdenity?” I guess. “I was too, but it wasn’t painful. The memories confused me a lot at first, with voices demanding to be heard in my brain. But now instead of fighting the voices, I listen and wait till they stop. The memories sort of tickle my mind. I’ve learned so much about retro-life, and you’ll be amazed at how different things were before the mind-plague. People climbed inside metal planes and flew in the sky.”
He blows out a deep sigh. “This isn’t about memdenity. There’s something else … I have to tell you … only I couldn’t around Lorelei.”
I’ve never seen him look so miserable—and guilty. But what does he have to be guilty about? I’m the one who freed a killer. He never broke any rules except helping me by returning Petal to the sea ….
“Petal!” A sharp fear pierces me. “Is this about her?”
Marcus winces, the color fading from his face. “I—I’m so sorry.”
My heart squeezes. “You took her to the Fence. Didn’t you?”
“I … I meant to.” Misery hangs heavy with his nod.
Sick inside, I can hardly speak. “But you promised to keep her safe! Please … tell me she’s alive.”
“I think she is … I hope.”
“How can you not know? I gave her to you and you promised to take her to the sea. I warned you she needs salt water or she’ll die.”
“I tried.” He hangs his head. “There’s a sea pond on our compound for cultivating salt for spices. I poured salt water in a bucket and Petal dove right in. Her health improved immediately. She splashed and made tinkling sounds.”
“She still needed the sea,” I say accusingly.
“I meant to take her!” he cries. “But I had to wait till morning. I rose early and hid her in the bucket. I was ready to take her to the sea but then ….” He stops, rubbing his forehead as if in severe pain.
“What?” I demand.
“The shed door opened. Uncle Sean—he’s temporarily taking over Leader duties—stood there. I thought he was angry until he slapped me on the back and congratulated me. He was excited because he’d never seen a creature like Petal. He thanked me, then took Petal away.”
“You let him steal Petal!”
“I’m not the Leader yet. I couldn’t stop him. Besides, I thought he’d return her to me. When he didn’t, I searched everywhere in our compound. But I couldn’t find Petal.” His voice chokes. “She’s gone.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
I’m shaking with waves of fury rushing through me. My hands clench into fists. I want to strike at Marcus, punish him for betraying me … for losing my sweet Petal. I clamp my lips shut to hold in my rising anger.
Petal will be okay, I assure myself. Didn’t she make her way miles to find me at the Cross compound? She even found my window and waited in a curl of sweetness on my pillow. She’s tiny but large with bravery. She will have found a way back to the cave.
But I imagine her lost, hurt, crying for me. And I want to cry too.
“What do you think of this scarf as a belt?” Lorelei exclaims in a flurry of gauzy mauve as she twirls from the privacy room.
My arms are folded against my chest. I ignore Marcus’
s pleading look and turn abruptly from him. I force a smile for Lorelei, a volcano boiling beneath my calmness. “The scarf is lovely,” I tell her.
Marcus says nothing, and Lorelei glances between us curiously.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, unwinding the scarf from her waist.
I shake my head, and Marcus murmurs a low “no.”
Lorelei asks again, knowing us too well. But neither of us will talk about it. If I speak Petal’s name, I’ll break down in tears.
There’s a knock at my door. Visla arrives to escort Marcus and Lorelei to the solar cart. My birthday surprise—which started out so wondrous—is over.
“I hate leaving you.” Lorelei throws her arms around me. “What if I never see you again?”
“You will,” I say, although I’m unsure.
Marcus moves toward me, but I hold back, unable to look at him. He murmurs, “I’m sorry,” then hurries out of the door.
I’m tempted to run after him and mend the hurts between us—until I think of Petal’s trusting eyes.
The door shuts. Footsteps fade to silence.
Flinging myself on the bed, I give in to the tears. How could Marcus betray me? And poor sweet Petal, where is she? What did that terriful man to do her? She could be locked in a cage, crying out for me to help her, or lost too far from the sea, withering to bones, dying alone.
She’s too clever to get lost or caged. If she can make the long journey from the Edu-Center to the Cross compound, she can travel the short distance from the Sarwald compound to the sea. Petal’s probably in our cave.
I won’t know unless I check the cave. Lila will surely offer to help if I explain about Petal. But if I tell her the location of my cave, it won’t be my secret anymore.
I’ll have to search for Petal alone, even if it means risking arrest and execution. But I won’t rush out without thinking like the old Jennza. I’ll wait till it’s safe to slip out of the Gate, then I’ll go to the ocean path beyond the Edu-Center. It’s not an impossible distance, closer than when I lived with the Cross Family. When I know Petal is safe—she has to be!—I’ll return before I’m missed.
I’m impatient to leave, but my Milly memories warn me to be cautious. I rise from my bed and pick up the hair frivels Lorelei crafted for my birthday gift. My fingers trail along the velvety bows, and I think how no other ShareHaven youth has ever had a birthday celebraze. Lila has done so much for me, bringing my friends here, my party, and the picnic by the sea. I’ll show her how much I appreciate her kindness by becoming the best scientist ever. Even if Marcus and Lorelei clear my name, I won’t join a Family. My future is here with Lila.
Slipping on socks and shoes, I cross the room. My hand is poised on the knob when I hear a sound. Shuffling from beneath my bed—like a snake or swizard or … Petal!
I rush toward my bed, then draw back with a gasp.
A dark shape rises from the floor.
Nate.
THIRTY-NINE
“Hi, Jennza.” Nate brushes dust from his shirt and stretches his arms and legs. “I thought your friends would never leave.”
My mouth hangs open. Although he wears the stiff gray uniform of a droll, his blue eyes shine with so much life there’s no mistaking him for a mindless slave. I hardly know which of the questions spinning in my head to ask him first.
“Why … why were you under my bed?”
“Not the best hiding place. So dusty I had to pinch my nose to stop from sneezing. Cramped too. My leg fell asleep.” He smacks his foot on the floor.
“Why did I go to all the trouble to help you escape if you’re brain-lacking enough to come back?”
“I had to see you.”
His words tug at my stomach in a not-unpleasant way and heat rushes through me. Being so close to him, I’m dizzy with feelings I don’t understand. I want to be angry, yet I’m thrilled to see him again. He’s risking his life, I remind myself. If he’s caught, I won’t be able to rescue him.
Yet he came to see me, and I’m smiling.
“They’ll execute you if you’re caught.” I try to sound angry.
“It’s worth the risk to speak to you again,” he says. “I like the sound of your words, how they rise and fall soft like calm waters on the beach.”
I like his sounds too, and I admire the contrast of his dark brows over his blue eyes and how his mouth curves into dimples. His face is so unlike those of my born-mates—rough, pale, with faint, paler lines of scars—a jagged line on the side of his nose and a deeper line along the curve of his left cheekbone. It’s as if his face is a map of a life very different from my own.
“Happy birthday,” he says, sitting on the edge of my bed. He gestures to the boxes piled on my dresser. “Sorry to miss the party, but I wasn’t invited. Still, I can give you a gift.”
“It’s not really my birthday.”
“Would you like this?” He reaches beneath the heavy droll robe and withdraws a folded paper—retro paper, yellowed and sturdy. He unfolds the single sheet, then hands it to me. “It’s only a copy I drew to find my way here. I have no further use for this, but you might find it interesting.”
I look down, marveling at black lines spreading across the paper like the dark veins of age on Grandmother’s arms. The oblong dark mass of land surrounded by curvy lines of waves is our island. A map, I realize, recognizing the tiny symbols for rivers, trees, low and high lands. Only it’s unlike the maps I saw in the Edu-Center, showing not only ShareHaven but the whole island. I look beyond the Gate where Nate escaped, following a line running beneath the ground to an arch symbol with a word: Home.
“Is this where you live?” I lift my eyes to meet his and he nods.
“Far different than your sunlit room,” he says, shrugging. “But it’s safe.”
His tone hints at pride, and I understand that he loves his home, even though it’s beneath the ground. By giving me this hand-drawn map, he’s sharing a piece of himself.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “I’ll treasure it.”
He shrugs. “It’s only a rough drawing. Map-making is what I do, and I find even crude sketches like this useful in finding my way without waking sleeping beasts or being shot by your Uniforms.”
“How long have you been hiding here?” I ask, amazed he not only entered the most protected, secret place in ShareHaven but found my room.
He glances at the sky through the half-open curtains. “Three hours.”
“How did you get here?”
“By boat, foot, and hoxen.”
“You rode a hoxen?”
He grins. “Borrowed one.”
I start to argue that hoxen were genetically engineered to pull carts, not for riding, when I get a memory of galloping bareback across a field. I’m riding a sleek, dusky-brown horse while my sister Rosemarie trails far behind on a gentle mare named Buttercup. “Slow down!” she shouts, but I pretend not to hear. With a nudge of my boots, Rebel, the half quarter horse, half Arabian speeds ahead, kicking up tufts of grass as if racing against the wind.
Horses don’t exist, at least not in ShareHaven. I’ll never see one of these retro-creatures, yet I have memories of riding them since I-she-we were a child. I jumped barrels competitively and won beautiful ribbons and trophies. I hear applause, smell the ripe odor of hay and manure, and caress silky horse hair. Milly isn’t sweet or obedient when astride a spirited horse—she’s in control and confident. We hold firm to the reins, head high, heart racing with each hoofbeat.
“I wasn’t sure I could stay on a hoxen,” Nate is saying. “After the fifth time he threw me off, I figured out how to grab the mane and hang on tight. I stayed off roads and out of sight since I’m not in a mood to die today.” His words should be heavy with fear, yet he’s grinning.
“How did you get into my room without being seen?” I ask, worry twisting inside me.
“I found this hanging up on a wall hook.” He plucks at the fabric of his droll robe. “It hides my clothes, and no one looks in the f
aces of the zombie-workers.”
“Drolls. They’re called drolls.”
“They don’t blink. That was the hardest part, trying not to blink.” He smooths his hair back so it’s similar to the male drolls, except for a curl that waves around his ear. “Are they human?”
“They used to be,” I say sadly.
I think of the droll I saw on the first day—Carlos. I’m sure he’s the Cross Family’s last youth—and I almost ended up like him. I haven’t seen him since Frost zapped him with her electricity gun.
“How did you find my room?” I ask Nate.
“Snuck inside your friends’ cart,” he says, moving to the window and glancing through the curtains at a view of sky and wild grasses. “I’ve been hiding outside for two days, watching and waiting. I found the hidden entrance but didn’t know how to get inside until the cart stopped at the door. When the driver pushed a button that opened the door, I jumped into the back and hid beneath a blanket.”
I wag my finger at him. “You could have been killed.”
“If I had, would you mourn for me?” He raises his brows teasingly.
“Don’t be demental.” I try to sound angry.
“You must care a little. You broke me out of jail.”
“Something I’m starting to regret.” I cross to the window and shut the curtains. Doesn’t he realize the need for caution? What if someone saw him?
“Admit you’re glad to see me again,” he says.
“Stop talking nonsense, or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Nah, you don’t have it in you. But I could teach you how to fight.” He raises his hands into fists, playfully punching the air. “I’ve spent years practicing combat, weaponry, and hunting.”
I shake my head. “I have no cause for fighting.”
“Are you sure?” he challenges. “The world outside is dangerous.”
“But for you it’s more dangerous inside our Fence. Do you wish to be executed? Leave before someone sees you.”
“Not until I get what I came for.”
“What?” I glance away, picking up a small unwrapped box and plucking at its green bow. I thought he’d come to see me.
Memory Girl Page 26
