by Kyle Andrews
The apartment still felt like home to Rose, whether she was assigned to it or not. No matter how much distance she put between herself, that place or those people in her head, there was always some part of her that felt as though she belonged there. This was the apartment where she took her first steps. Going back there was like stepping back in time and examining the roots of who she was.
No matter how romantic the idea of that place was however, the reality always slapped Rose in the face as soon as she walked through the door. Her roots were rotted and moldy.
“You weren't home last night,” Daph said to Rose as she walked away from the front door and toward the kitchen. “I called.”
“I got in late.”
“Hmm...” Daph had barely looked at Rose when she opened the door to let her sister into the apartment. Now she was stirring a pot with her back to Rose. If she'd just turn around, she might see the scrapes and bruises on her sister's face.
“I figured you went down to the HAND building,” Daph said.
“No. Just took a walk,” Rose lied. She'd stopped feeling bad about it years earlier. “It's not every night that curfew goes out the window.”
“It's not every night that the city blows up like that either.”
Daph tapped her spoon on the side of the pot and set it down on the counter before turning around and finally looking at Rose.
She'd always had a rounder face than Rose, but it was only recently that Daph had started to resemble their father in Rose's eyes. The shape of her mouth. Her expressions. Their father had died seventeen years earlier, but as Daph got older and those features became more pronounced, the memory of that man came flooding back.
Daph's eyes narrowed when she saw Rose, and then took on a somewhat accusatory shine as she asked, “What happened to you?”
Putting a hand to her face, Rose said, “Tripped on a curb. Hit my head. Turns out, it's dark at night.”
“And getting darker by the minute,” Daph sighed, nodding toward the muted TV. “Have you seen the news today? Little boys being gunned down by terrorists right there on the street? It's crazy is what it is. And the authorities? What are they doing about it?”
“What can they do?”
“You don't think they could take care of Hate if they wanted to? They could. But the damn politicians are just playing games. Half of them probably wish that we would all get gunned down, so they wouldn't have to shell out money for us anymore.”
“Us?”
“You don't see white boys being gunned down in the street, do you?”
“No. I haven't seen any white boys gunned down in the street lately.”
Not in person, anyway. A white girl, on the other hand... But Rose couldn't say that. She had to stand there and listen to her sister babble on about whatever foolish ideas Beta Winston had been spreading across the networks.
Daph took a step closer and studied Rose's wounds, wincing just slightly. She then asked, “Tripped on a curb?”
“It was a big curb.”
“Were you walking alone, or with one of your friends?”
“What friends?”
Daph stared into Rose's eyes for a moment, as though she could see through the act that Rose was putting on. Every so often, there was a moment where Rose would wonder how much Daph really knew about her sister. Did she suspect the truth? Did she know it beyond a doubt? And if so, why wouldn't she say anything to the authorities? Daph certainly had no love for Freedom.
“Staying for dinner?” Daph asked.
“Thought I might. I'll drop off a can of something tomorrow morning to pay you back.”
Nodding toward the TV, Daph asked, “What do you think about that?”
Rose turned and read the headline on the TV. It said: 'HATE MASTERMIND LIBBY JACOBS CONFIRMED DEAD'
Rose's first thought was to laugh at the idea of Libby being a Freedom mastermind. The girl spent most of her time wandering around with a deer-in-headlights look about her. She never organized anything. She never even officially agreed to join Freedom. She was forced into it without any say in the matter, though Rose had to admit that Libby managed the situation as well as could be expected. She was an interesting person to know. She was a friend. An ally.
“What should I think of it?” Rose asked.
“They say she organized the fire downtown last year. A skinny little thing like that. You'd never think that they could be so evil.”
“They also say that she built a time travel machine and became her own grandmother,” Rose quipped, a little too defensively.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you shouldn't believe everything you see on TV.”
“And you know better than the reporters? Is that how this works?”
“It means...” Rose started, feeling herself beginning to get more and more frustrated with her sister. She took a breath and forced herself to calm down. “It means, they don't tell us everything.”
“They tell us enough,” Daph smirked. “If this is them holding back the gory details, I don't want to know what the hell is going on out there. But what I do know is that there is no good reason for that little boy to be dead right now. There is nothing that could make that right. So whatever they're not telling us on the news has no impact on what they are telling us.”
This was how Daph's mind worked. If Rose were ever asked to make heads or tails of it, she would be out of luck. But she couldn't push the topic any further without implicating herself, so she decided to change topics.
“Where's Ze?” she asked.
Daph used her chin to point toward Ze's bedroom and said, “She's been feeling nauseous all afternoon.”
“I should say hi,” Rose replied and started to walk toward Ze's room.
“Rosie?” Daph said, stopping Rose. “Whoever you were walking with last night isn't worth the price you'll pay.”
Rose couldn't figure out whether Daph was hinting at knowing the truth about Rose's involvement with Freedom, or if she just thought that Rose had an abusive boyfriend. Regardless, she said nothing and continued to walk toward Ze's room.
The bedroom was the same room that Rose and Daph had shared as little girls, with the same yellowing wallpaper that was peeling off of the walls, and the floor that moaned like an old man when you stepped in just the right spot. It even smelled the same—like dust and mildew.
Ze was in bed, with the blanket pulled up to her chin. She was awake, but had her eyes closed when Rose walked into the room. When the floor moaned, Ze opened her eyes and for just a moment, Rose saw the little girl that she had fallen in love with years earlier. The bright eyes. The innocent smile. The chubby cheeks. It was amazing how much some things had changed over the course of Ze's fourteen years, but Ze would always be that little girl to Rose in one way or another.
“Feeling okay?” Rose asked.
“Feeling sick. I just want this thing to be over.”
“You'll get there.”
Rose sat on the side of Ze's bed and stroked the girl's hair as Ze looked up at her and saw the wounds.
“Are you okay?” Ze asked.
Rose smiled and said, “You should see the other guy.”
Ze smiled.
“I'm serious,” Rose grinned.
“I had to go to school today and everyone was talking about last night. It was pretty crazy.”
“What are they saying?”
Ze shrugged and looked away, appearing somewhat guilty. She then said, “Some people are saying that Libby Jacobs was murdered.”
Rose looked back to the bedroom door, to make sure that Daph wasn't listening in on the conversation. She then looked at Ze disapprovingly and said, “If your mother hears...”
“Close the door,” Ze replied.
Rose hesitated for a moment, not sure that she wanted to have this discussion with her fourteen year old niece. She hadn't exactly planned a speech for the day when Ze started asking questions about the government. What was she supposed to
say?
Finally, she decided not to say anything. She would start by simply listening to what Ze wanted to say. So, she stood and closed the bedroom door. By the time Rose returned to the bed and sat down beside her, Ze was reaching under the covers and pulling out several sheets of paper. She showed them to Rose. They were bits and pieces of the documents that had been discovered in Libby's DNA.
Snatching up the papers, Rose asked, “Where did you get this?”
“A kid at school was passing them around, behind the gym.”
“Have you read them?”
“I tried it out a little,” Ze said, with another shrug. “I mean, I wanted to see what everyone was talking about.”
“Do you know how illegal this is?”
“Relax. I didn't get caught, and a lot of kids were reading them.”
Rose held the papers in her hands, not knowing what to do or say next. She glanced at the words, but she didn't want to look too closely, for fear of Ze seeing Freedom reflected in her eyes.
“You said I could tell you anything,” Ze said.
“You can. You can always tell me things, little girl.”
“You said you wouldn't get mad.”
“I'm not mad. I'm just... I don't know what to do with this.”
“I do.”
“You do?”
Ze nodded and pulled herself into a sitting position, revealing her pregnant belly, which always sent wave of startled nausea through Rose.
Ze smiled and said, “You're giving my stomach the same look you're giving those papers.”
“I'm just still not used to it.”
“You and me both.”
Rose smiled and looked that little girl in the eyes. The adorable little kid was still present, far more than she should be in a person this pregnant.
“It's amazing how much I worry about you,” Rose told Ze.
“You don't have to worry. It's all worked out.”
As much as Rose would have loved to believe that Ze was declaring that she was grown up and mature enough to handle the burden of having a child, she knew better. Ze was talking about the system that was in place for girls like her. The government would 'take care' of the baby, while Ze was forced into a life even more miserable than it would be without a child. No hope for the future. Barely enough food to get by.
Abortions were the more common solution for girls Ze's age. It was the option that was pushed the hardest by doctors and guidance counselors in their part of town. The authorities even had some girls on frequent-patient plans. No fuss, no muss. They could drop by on Saturday and be back to cheerleading or chem lab by the time the school bell rang on Monday morning.
But either way, the goal was the same. To make these girls hopeless enough to run to the authorities and make whatever deal they needed to make. To sign away futures. To endure the psychological trauma that nobody seemed to mention in the pamphlets about the joys of sex. How many children in the Garden had been brought in by young mothers who couldn't sit back and watch their kids get sucked into the same system that had failed them?
Rose tried her best not to appear angry when she saw that belly, but apparently she didn't try hard enough.
“You're giving me that look again,” Ze told her, with a halfhearted grin.
“With worry, but love and support?”
“With serial killer eyes.”
“I just worry.”
“And love? And support?” Ze joked. “You don't have to. I'll be fine. I already have things worked out at school, with daycare and I can work part-time after, until I graduate. I can drop Junior off at dawn and not see it again until bedtime.”
She said it as though it was a good thing. That scared Rose more than anything else, but she couldn't allow herself to dwell on it. She tried to smile and asked, “What was your big plan for what to do about these fliers? What are you going to do?”
“Not gonna do anything,” Ze told her. “I already did it.”
Rose started to worry again. “Did what?”
“Called the hotline on my way home from school. Told them who was handing out those fliers. I even got a special 'thank you' from the Mayor himself. I mean, it was a recording, but it was still exciting.”
“You turned them in?”
“It's what they say to do, right?”
“Yeah, but..”
“But now you're worried that I'll get my ass kicked in school.”
“Something like that.”
Truth be told, Rose hadn't even considered the possibility of Ze getting beaten up at school. Her mind immediately went to the poor kid who would be hauled away by HAND that night, all for daring to illegally distribute hostile content. That was the same charge that they originally went after Collin Powers for, and look how that turned out.
Ze shook her head and said, “Don't worry about me. I've known this kid since I started school. I think I could kick his ass even with the baby bump.”
“You know him?”
“Charlie Reilly. I used to have a huge crush on him until I found out that he was a terrorist.”
“Maybe he's just curious.”
“Yeah, I get curious about murdering people too,” Ze joked.
“Sometimes the news can exaggerate things,” Rose told her niece. In response, she saw a look of complete bafflement in Ze's eyes, followed by a hint of distrust.
Quickly changing subject, Rose asked, “Did you know that kid who got killed in the alley?”
“Croy? I knew of him, I guess. I always thought he was kinda creepy, but I guess I was wrong. Now I feel kinda bad about it.”
Rose's head was spinning. Every word out of Ze's mouth was misguided. She believed everything that she saw on the news, even when it contradicted a lifetime of firsthand experience with people.
The longer this conversation went on, the more worked up Rose would undoubtedly get. She'd been hoping for a nice, normal family dinner but she forgot how crazy her family could be at times. It killed her to see them this way. To be repeating lies, and to know that if she even tried to tell them the truth, they would reject it. They would believe a random news anchor before they would believe her.
“You should rest,” Rose told Ze. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
“I feel like I'm going to throw up. I don't think I could eat.”
“I thought you were past morning sickness.”
“I think I have a bug or something.”
Rose brushed a strand of hair away from Ze's eyes, which were still as wide and bright as when Ze was just a toddler. She wondered if she had been wrong all this time, keeping the truth from the girl. She wondered if she should sit her down and make her listen to the truth, even if it did end up costing Rose her freedom or her life. She wanted to. But deep down in her heart, she knew that Ze would turn on her in a second if she knew the truth. There was no such thing as love in their world.
Rose walked to the door and opened it. Before she left the room, she turned around and asked, “Charlie Reilly? Was that the kid with the scruffy blond hair?”
Ze smiled and nodded, still half-swooning over the boy even after handing his life over to HAND. She said, “I think he might like me too.”
Rose shrugged and asked, “How racist could he be then?”
She left the room and closed the door behind her without waiting for an answer. She didn't want to hear how Ze might respond. She just wanted to leave the girl with a question and hope that she thought it over a little bit before taking a nap and forgetting it entirely. She was ready to leave that conversation behind her and pretend that everything was perfectly normal, until she saw Daph standing just down the hall, staring at her.
“How racist could he be?” Daph asked, with an accusatory tone to her voice.
“We were having a conversation. It made sense in context.”
“The walls in this apartment are as thin as paper. I know the context.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“How about you start by tellin
g me what really happened to your face. Where were you last night?”
“I was taking a walk.”
“Past the HAND building?”
“Daph, I...” Rose started, but she had no idea where she was going with that sentence.
“I want the truth. Just say it.”
“Say what?”
Daph turned away as though she was going to walk back to the kitchen and leave the matter alone, but she stopped after a few steps and faced Rose once again.
In a rather angry whisper, so Ze wouldn't hear, Daph said, “I have been dealing with you and your 'friends' for years now. Do you think I'm an idiot?”
“Daph, I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“A child was shot to death. A child! And you're going to sit there and pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about, just so you can protect your 'friends?'”
“He wasn't a child. He was a seventeen year old who could probably bench-press both of us at the same time.”
“So that makes it okay to gun him down in a dark alley? That means that he shouldn't be allowed to walk down the street in his own neighborhood?”
“This conversation isn't happening.”
“Why not? Are your friends going to kill me too now?”
That comment sent Rose through the roof. She balled her fists and walked toward Daph, lowering her voice as low as it could go as she said, “Your daughter just handed a kid she knew and liked over to the authorities because he passed out a flier. Do you know what will happen to him now? He will be tortured because of her.”
“Maybe he deserves it.”
“You aren't listening to me.”
“You're not giving me anything to listen to.”
Now Rose turned and took a few steps away from Daph before turning around and moving right back to where she started. The whole time, her mind was racing with so many thoughts that she had a hard time identifying just one.
“You want me to tell you where these cuts and bruises came from?” Rose asked. “They came from Croy Fisker, when he cornered me in an alley.”
“What are you telling me?”
“I'm telling you that I was walking down the street and decided to cut down an alley last night. I'm telling you that a man came at me. He attacked me. He slammed my head against the ground so hard that I almost passed out. I'm telling you that if I had given him the chance, that 'boy' would have raped me. And I'm telling you that I am glad that I stole that gun from a HAND officer outside the HAND building last night, and I'm damn glad that I didn't hesitate to use it.”
