I Am Margaret

by Corinna Turner

  “Oh, Bane, you know.”

  “Suit yourself. That blind boy’s mine.”

  “Well, when you let him know that, it might help if you knew his name.”

  “His name’s Jonathan. I’m one of the few people in here who isn’t an idiot, you know.”

  Jane got up and went back to her bunk. I sighed once again and returned my attention to my pad. But I’d barely written five words when a guard unlocked the door.

  “Exercise. The boy can stay, Doctor Richard’s orders.”

  We trooped out, leaving Jonathan sleeping. He was still asleep when we got back and didn’t wake until I shook his shoulder at lunchtime.

  “Lunch, Jonathan.”

  He started awake, then relaxed.

  “Oh, Margaret... You can call me Jon, by the way.”

  “Ah. Margo, if you want.”

  “Well, it’s shorter.”

  “Yes. You know, I do think we ought to try and get a few more of your clothes back. You’ve hardly enough for the summer and when winter comes…”

  Jonathan shrugged.

  “Well, it might not be so hard, if we could persuade the guards to look properly. My mum—bit embarrassing, really—she sewed name tags in pretty much everything. She was afraid people wouldn’t believe I knew what was mine just by feel.”

  He picked up his stick and pulled a face.

  “Can I take your arm, just this once? ‘Cause I’m old enough to know walking into walls is far more humiliating. And painful. First thing after lunch, I shall learn my way around.”

  “Of course.”

  He attached himself lightly to my arm and we headed for the door, his stick snaking so sinuously in front of him I doubted he’d really trip over anything left around.

  “Would you like to walk with me?” asked Jane in an uncharacteristically bright and cheerful voice. “I’m Jane.”

  “Jonathan. Nice to meet you. But I’m fine with Margo, thanks.”

  A blind boy could probably pick up on ‘uncharacteristic’ a mile away. Jane gave me a much more characteristic glare as we passed. I just shrugged.

  “We’ve a mutual friend.”

  “You do?”

  “Bane.”

  “Oh. Well, Jonathan, when you get bored discussing Margaret’s love life, you’re welcome to hang out with me.”

  “Thank you,” said Jonathan politely, but he didn’t seem very interested. Jane glowered at the back of his head and looked daggers at me.

  “I take it it’s not too nice over there.” As we headed down the corridor I jerked my head across the courtyard, then realized he couldn’t see it and added, “In the boys’ block.”

  “Not too pleasant, no,” replied Jonathan calmly. “Everyone’s in one gang or another, the strongest gang rules and the others all fight amongst themselves. They’re not allowed to inflict permanent damage on each other, so it makes them rather… inventive.”

  “However does the Major stop them?”

  “More easily than you might think. Any boy who inflicts permanent harm on one of the others is dismantled within the week.”

  I stared at him.

  “Come on, that’s got to be the sort of tall tale you tell to make kids behave. Everyone knows even the Commandant doesn’t have any say over who gets dismantled when. That’s entirely up to the dismantlers.”

  “So it’s supposed to be, but they say the Major has something on dear Doctor Richard. A boy goes too far, he leans on the good doctor and the boy’s gone.”

  He seemed to sense my continuing skepticism.

  “Hey, after Riley—he’s the top dog over there—gave this scary talk about how things were I thought the same—just the Major’s clever story to keep the dim ones in line. And so did another boy, Rob. He obviously wanted to get up the pecking order just as fast as possible, and so he broke this other boy’s arm on day two. And on day three, the dismantlers took him away. What’re the odds?”

  I blew out a breath.

  “Sounds like it’s really true, then. But they don’t seem to have taken to you much, despite that.”

  “No,” he said flatly. “Well, that’s the weak point in the Major’s little control strategy, isn’t it? If a whole bunch of boys try and harm another, which one does he get dismantled? Suppose normally he’d make an example of a gang leader, only I wouldn’t join a gang at all. They want you to do things, bad things, to prove you’re in the gang. Stuff I wouldn’t do. Which didn’t go down too well—they were all after my blood.”

  “So I gather. I imagine you’re not really too disappointed to find yourself in a girls’ dorm, all things considered.”

  “All things considered… I don’t know. It has its own… complications.”

  “More complicated than being dead?”

  “Being dead is very… uncomplicated.”

  I shrugged, bemused. Realized he couldn’t see it… but he was holding my arm and had probably felt it.

  “Oh, well, we put up a curtain for you, while you were asleep. If that makes things any less… complicated.”

  He was silent for a moment too long.

  “Oh. Thank you. That was… kind.”

  The curtain hadn’t pleased him? Odd. Could’ve sworn having to take his clothes off in front of an unseen, giggling, ogling horde hadn’t been his cup of tea. Point in his favor as far as I was concerned.

  “Stairs,” I told him, as his stick found the edge of the first one.

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s get your stuff, Jon,” I suggested after lunch, steering him towards the guard.

  “Right. Can we speak to Captain Wallis, please?” he said to the guard the moment we reached him. Could he hear the man breathing or something?

  “Right now?”

  “Well, it’d better be pretty soon,” I said. How long would it take the boys to think of ripping out those labels?

  “All right,” said the guard. “On your own heads.” He tapped something into his wristCellular and raised it to his lips. “Couple of the girls… uh… reAssignees… want to see you, Captain.”

  “I’m busy,” the Captain’s voice squeaked from the wristCell. It sounded like she had her mouth full. “Just lock them back in.”

  “We’ll have to speak either to her or to the ReAssignees Welfare Board,” declared Jonathan, without turning a hair.

  “You hear that, Captain?” asked the guard. “You or the Really Wet Board, they’re not fussed.”

  A snarl like that of an angry dog came from the wristCell.

  “I’m on my way!”

  “She’s on her way,” the guard informed us, with an ominous tilt of his eyebrows.

  “Good,” I said sweetly.

  Captain Wallis slammed into the cafeteria only a short time later.

  “You,” she hissed, as her eyes fell on me. “And… Jonathina. What do you two girls want?”

  “The guards didn’t bring all my clothes with me,” said Jonathan. “The other boys had taken most of them. But they’re all labeled, so there’s no reason why the guards can’t fetch them.”

  “Ugh! My pie’s going cold!” snarled the Captain, making to walk out again.

  “I assume you’ll be providing me with alternative clothing, then?” demanded Jonathan. “At the Facility’s expense?”

  The Captain hesitated. Replacement clothing probably wouldn’t look too good on the accounts. People would wonder why it was needed.

  “Can’t you manage with what you’ve got?” she snapped.

  Why was she so reluctant? Couldn’t she just get the guards to look? Ah. She had to get Major Everington to get the guards to look. Pissing him off once in one day seemed to be as much as she cared for.

  “I have one pair of boxers and no socks. I have no warm things at all. I have…”

  “Perhaps we can find you some clothes from somewhere…”

  Thinking about Major Everington’s dress suggestion? Jonathan clearly feared so, though he couldn’t see her face.

  “If I don
’t have anything suitable to wear I’ll have to write and ask my parents to send me some new clothes. I’ll have to explain why. Obviously I can’t guarantee who’ll get to hear about it. Especially if there’s any trouble about me receiving the parcel.”

  “I suppose your parents might be a bit upset to hear you’ve been put in the girls’ block. Especially why,” I put in thoughtfully.

  “You listen to me,” snarled the Menace, grabbing the neck of Jonathan’s shirt and yanking him towards her, finding she was looking up at him and shoving him away again. “If anyone, anyone at all, outside these walls finds out you’re in with the girls, let alone why, I am going to make your life pure, one hundred percent hell, do you understand me?”

  “Captain,” said Jonathan blandly. “Obviously I’d rather not mention to my parents anything that would distress them the way this would. So can I just have my clothes, please?”

  Actually, the rumors would surely get out and the most the warden’s threats could ensure was that Jonathan assured his parents all was well and made sure they didn’t contact the RWB. The censors certainly couldn’t work overtime on the Facility’s letters for the next two whole years!

  “You’ll have to speak to the Major yourself,” snapped the Captain. More scared of the Major than the RWB?

  “When will we be able to see him?” asked Jonathan politely.

  A rather sly look, a plain nasty look, crossed the Captain’s face.

  “I expect you want to see him right now, eh?”

  “Well, it would be best,” said Jonathan warily. The Captain smiled, barked an order into her wristCell, spun on her heel and strode to the door.

  “Come on, then.”

  Jonathan took my arm again and we followed her. Was this a good idea? But the boys would surely rip the name tags out, if given very long.

  A guard arrived at the cafeteria door as we came out. Captain Wallis led us all through into the guard block and up to a door that must lead into the little courtyard garden.

  “Captain?” blurted the guard, as the Menace scanned her card and began to open the door. “You’re not taking them in there?”

  “What did you just say?” The Captain attempted to skewer the man to the wall with her gaze. He gulped.

  “Ah… nothing. Nothing, Captain.”

  “Good. Wait here. In you go, girls.”

  I glanced at Jonathan, but... bit late to back out now—I led him through the door. And stopped, staring. The garden looked lovely from above; from ground level it was utterly spellbinding. Two little paths wound their way among the bushes and shrubs, with a gorgeous little tree in the center and in three of the four corners. Jonathan’s nostrils flared in appreciation. Even this early in the season it was a riot of color and the scent of flowers was strong.

  “Get that boy out of here right now!” My eyes jerked from the garden to the Major, visible through the central bushes, his eyes narrowed with fury and his voice an enraged hiss. “Get him out right now!”

  “Too bad, you’d better go,” said the Menace, with an unpleasant smile. She thrust Jonathan back through the door with a rough hand, pushed it shut behind him, then advanced several paces, shoving me ahead of her.

  “Sorry to intrude, sir, but these two girls demanded to see you at once.”

  The Major’s gaze shifted to me. That strange, white-hot fury had departed with Jonathan, but he still looked pretty irate.

  “Threatened to contact the RWB if I wouldn’t bring them to you immediately,” lied the Captain smoothly.

  “We did not!” I said indignantly. “We just asked when we could see…” Her open-handed blow rocked me back on my heels and I grabbed the nearest sturdy bush for balance. Ouch. Nobody had ever hit me before, not like that.

  “Get out,” snapped the Major. The Captain reached for my arm... “Just you. Leave the girl.”

  The Menace shot me a murderous look. As though I wanted to remain alone here with a man she feared! But she stamped back to the door and slammed it behind her.

  “Telling tales on the bitch-queen? That wasn’t smart, young lady. She’ll hate you now.”

  “Too late,” I muttered, letting go of the bush and straightening, trying not to wince. “Hates me already.”

  “Really? That was quick work. Now, come here.”

  I advanced slowly, at first reluctant to get closer to him, then caught up in the garden’s beauty. The paths were mossy stones and it had the look of a wild place stumbled into, yet every plant was chosen to complement those around it. Beyond the central tree and its loose ring of bushes was an open grassy space, a miniature glade. Flowerpots encircled it; young plants being reared?

  A huge wickerwork hanging seat stood in the treeless corner—like a domed cage with a cushioned bench inside, running around an integral central table. The horizontal wickerwork had been removed from the sides so someone sitting in it would be able to see just the garden, not the buildings towering above it—the windows of the gym corridor were blacked out inside and covered out here with winding creepers.

  A plate stood on the table, with a half eaten slice of pie on it, but from the way the knife and fork were placed neatly together, and the plate pushed to one side to make room for a row of flowerpots, the Major was not nearly so fond of his food as the Captain.

  He watched my slow approach.

  “Do you like flowers?” he asked, when I stopped several prudent meters from him.

  “I’d only say well enough, usually, but this is beautiful.”

  “Yes.” Major Everington spoke matter-of-factly. “No one is allowed to come here. The bitch-queen was trying to get you in trouble.”

  “I noticed.” I resisted the urge to rub my bruised face.

  “So you did. Now, what do you want?”

  “Jonathan needs the rest of his clothes and stuff. The guards only brought what was in his chest but the other boys had taken most of it. But it’s all labeled, so could you get the guards to go and find it?”

  The Major turned away as I spoke, gazing at his garden. His gloves lay on the table, soil-stained, but he was as immaculate as ever.

  “Which plant do you like best?”

  “Uh…” What did that have to do with Jonathan’s stuff? Still, better humor him. He scared me. I looked around the glade, trying to give the question proper consideration. My gaze stopped on an explosion of drooping purple flowers. No contest.

  “That one. I’ve never seen a purple one like that.”

  The Major smiled, not the cruel smile I’d seen before, but a soft, sad smile that made him look as though his thoughts were a long way away.

  “My purple fuchsia. It is the most beautiful thing in the whole world, never mind the garden. Nothing to match it. You have an eye for beauty.” He wandered to the wickerwork hut and leaned in to take a pot from the table. “I can’t seem to stop taking cuttings. I’ve far too many. Have one…” He held the pot out to me. A beautiful miniature of the magnificent bush grew from it.

  Hands behind my back, I made no move to approach.

  “What?” His expression grew sardonic, that cruel curve starting at the corner of his mouth. “Did you lie to keep the Commandant happy? Do you not like it?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the plant. That’s beautiful. But you’d have to put a gun to my head before I’d accept a gift from you.”

  His face went unreadable, as though invisible shutters had dropped across it. He stepped up into the wickerwork hut and placed the plant back on the table. Stretched out on the seat, booted feet crossed comfortably. The hut swung gently, creak, creak.

  “Clear off, then.”

  “Jonathan’s things? Sir?” I tried to speak more politely. Had I just lost Jonathan all his stuff?

  He nodded without turning his head towards me. Raised a hand and flipped it at me. “Go.”

  I moved to obey.

  “Wait. What is your name?”

  I turned back again. Stared at the man who sat in his comfortable cage, not lookin
g at me.

  “One, seven, six, four, five, eight, four,” I said coldly.

  His head snapped around and he rose on one elbow, staring at me. When he spoke it was in that soft, murderous voice which had so terrified the Captain earlier. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

  “I said. What. Is. Your. Name.”

  “Margaret Verrall.”

  “Margaret Verrall. Get out.”

  I fled. I refused to run, but all the beauty of that place couldn’t make me slow my rapid steps. I banged on the door, not a frantic hammering, honest, just deliberate taps, until the guard let me out.

  ***+***

  9

  THE PURSUIT OF THE MALE OF THE SPECIES

  The nod had indeed meant yes and my final bit of defiance hadn’t changed that, for we’d barely got back from our yard exercise—which Jonathan was also excused from—when a guard entered with a black bag.

  “There’s your stuff, Jonathina,” he laughed, chucking the bag on Jonathan’s bed and walking out again.

  “Are they really going to call me that?” Jonathan sounded revolted—judging that a rhetorical question, I let it go. He pulled the bag to him and began to unpack it.

  “Is it everything?”

  “Near enough. I’m not complaining. And I got this back.” He sounded genuinely pleased, holding up a little audioPlayer. “Though…” he searched the bottom of the black bag. “Bother, no headphones.” His fingers ran over the player’s case and he frowned. “Don’t like the feel of these cracks, either.”

  I scrambled down from my bunk and went to borrow Sarah’s headphones, dropping them into his lap.

  “Here. See if it’s working.”

  “Thanks.”

  He plugged them in and pushed buttons for a while, finally pulling out the earphones and tossing the player onto the bed.

  “Kaput,” he said heavily. “Well, it is going to be a long two years.”

  Imagine if my bookReader was broken... I’d be pretty glum too. There were a few audioPlayers in the room, but the stuff on them probably wouldn’t be his thing. Sarah’s old one was full of My Prancing Pony and Shaggy the Sheep audioBooks.