“Oh. Maybe your mother was just confused,” Rice offered unconvincingly.
My mother was not easily confused. My heart sank as I wondered if she’d forgotten how old I was.
“Well, let’s let Baby try these on.” Rice held the shoes out to her, but she just looked at him blankly. She didn’t seem to get that they were hers now, even though she stared at them longingly.
Go on. Put them on your feet, I instructed her.
Baby took the shoes and carefully held them, fingering the laces. Do you want me to help you?
She nodded. I knelt and showed her how to put on the shoes and tie the laces. First you make a bunny rabbit. I held the knots with one hand and signed with the other. See the ears? Then the rabbit goes through the rabbit hole. I finished tying the bow.
What are you talking about? she asked, puzzled.
That’s how I learned to tie laces. My dad taught me.
But Baby wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in the feel of her shoes. She held out her foot and shook it.
Feels heavy, she said, taking a few awkward steps. The shoes thumped dully against the linoleum floor. She looked at me and wrinkled her nose. Why is everything here so loud?
I laughed, surprised it was the way I used to laugh in the Before, not careful to be silent.
“What did she say?” Rice asked.
“She wants to know the point of shoes when they make so much noise.”
You don’t have wear them now if you don’t want to, I told her, wanting Baby to be as comfortable as possible in her new surroundings. She slipped the shoes off her feet and clutched them to her chest.
“I told her she doesn’t have to wear them today. That’s okay, right?”
Rice gave me an uncertain look. I got the feeling he had a hard time breaking rules.
“What’s the next stop?” I asked to distract him.
“School. You don’t have to go yet,” he assured me, “but I’ll show you where it is.”
“Fan!” I smiled, trying to sound enthusiastic, but inside I was worried. Baby had never played with kids her own age and I didn’t know how she’d react.
We reached another large, nondescript building that looked more like a prison than a school. Inside, each door was painted a color to correspond with the jumpsuit colors. The doors even had windows, so I peeked in a yellow one as we walked by. A cluster of children, all wearing yellow, were sitting quietly, while their teacher lectured from a chalkboard.
“This is where all the kids go during the day. The bottom floor is classrooms for children under twelve, the second floor is for Class Five, and the top two floors are the dorms.”
“Dorms?”
“For children without a parental claimant.”
A parental claimant? Those must be the kids who were found wandering around without their parents. Kids who had watched their families die.
“How awful,” I whispered, looking at Baby.
“They’re very well taken care of,” Rice assured me. “You shouldn’t be worried.”
I signed to Baby everything Rice told me as we walked up the stairs.
What if I don’t like it? Can I leave? she asked.
No. You’re supposed to learn things, even if you don’t want to. She nodded, trying to understand, but clearly confused.
“This is where the Class Five students study,” Rice said as we reached a set of red doors.
“I guess I won’t be attending classes, since I’m not the right age.”
“Oh no, you still can. Your mother said you were a wiz in school. We can test you in. You may even qualify for investigative study.”
“Investigative study? Is that like college?” I asked, excited despite myself.
“Sort of. You can do your investigative study in biological chemical engineering, civil and environmental engineering, advanced physics, nuclear science and engineering, genetics, aeronautics, medicine. . . .” He paused when he saw my blank expression. “The sciences are extremely important if we’re going to rebuild society. We need better equipment, better vaccines, people who can design buildings. . . .”
“Not the people who like to study plays, poetry, and novels.” The truth of what I was saying had sunk in. The arts were probably pointless now that everyone was focused on survival. I thought back to all my time alone, reading, as the world crumbled around me. It was the only thing that gave me solace and hope.
Rice seemed to read my mind. “That’s not true,” he insisted. “We need people with all kinds of talents. Under the director I’m learning how to engineer a society in which all the members are valued for their unique abilities.”
“You sound like a propaganda poster,” I told him, secretly relieved.
He looked embarrassed. “Sorry. I just want you to understand what we’re trying to do here.”
“No, I get it. It’s just a little much,” I said, trying to hide my frustration. “Maybe we can skip the tour and just meet up with my mother?”
Rice looked at his watch. “We still have some time to kill; it’s an hour before we meet the director for lunch.” But he cut short the lecture and took us around the side of the building to a playground. Small children sporting either blue or pink jumpsuits wobbled around, attended by several older women who all wore purple T-shirts. We sat on a bench and watched them. I never liked little kids much, except for Baby, but I now felt drawn to them. It was relaxing, seeing them play and struggle.
Baby grabbed my hand. Amy? Why does that little boy look like you? She pointed and my eyes followed her finger to one of the blue-clothed children close to us.
He was playing with a bright yellow truck, filling it with sand and emptying it out in a heap. When he stood, I could see him better: he had my dark hair and eyes, my round chin. He did look like me and my breath caught. Staring, I watched as he joined a line for the slide, impatiently hopping from foot to foot. When he reached the stairs, he rushed up, took a misstep, and fell forward.
“Adam!” someone yelled. One of the teachers rushed to his side and scooped him up. She checked him and comforted him, wiping the tears from his face.
I could feel Baby’s eyes on me. Rice’s too. I must have looked terrible or at least in terrible shock.
“I think that’s my brother,” I whispered, also signing my words to Baby.
The color drained from Rice’s face. “Oh my gosh, how could I have been so stupid? I’m so sorry, Amy.” He put his hand on my arm and I didn’t pull away. “I should have thought. I knew the director’s son would be here. I should have prepared you.”
Baby buried her head in my side and wouldn’t look up. I pushed aside my own distress. What’s wrong? I asked when I finally managed to place my hand in hers.
If you have him, you don’t need me, she said, her worst fear coming to light. With all the events of the past day, I hadn’t thought about how Baby would react to my “new” family.
You’re my sister, I told her. It doesn’t matter how many other people we love, we’ll always be sisters.
Baby nodded, still with her head on my side. She didn’t want to let go of me, and I didn’t mind. She anchored me to who I was.
I looked up at Rice and smiled. “We’re okay,” I assured him.
“Great,” he exhaled loudly, genuinely relieved. He clearly wanted to move on. “Let’s get some chocolate milk.” He grinned at Baby. “Would you like that?”
Baby raised her eyebrows and half smiled. She didn’t understand him, but she knew he was excited about something and wanted her to be excited too. She waved her hand in front of her face.
“Fan!” Rice shouted, pleased. I smiled. The tension melted away, though I was still unsettled.
I like him, Baby told me.
Me too. He’s . . . nice. I wasn’t sure how I felt. His knowledge of this place was comforting, and he did make me feel at ease—which was something I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was also cute, and something dipped in my stomach every time we were close. But after bein
g on my own for so long, I wondered if I would recognize a crush if I tripped over one.
“Can you teach me more of the words in your language?” Rice asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. “It’s fascinating, all the modifications you’ve made, especially how sometimes you sign into each other’s hands when you don’t want people to know you’re communicating.”
“Oh, you noticed that?”
“It’s not obvious,” he assured me, “but sometimes you hold hands and tell me what she’s saying. Either she’s letting you know somehow or you’re a mind reader.”
I bit my lip. “You wouldn’t believe the latter, would you? You shouldn’t underestimate my psychic ability.”
“I’ll believe it if you guess what I’m thinking right now.” He turned and looked intensely into my eyes. I noticed again how good-looking he was. He and I stared at each other, not saying anything, for what felt like minutes. I smiled, a real smile this time, not the forced, tense imitation of a smile I’d been wearing all morning.
It was strange. On some level I genuinely felt comfortable with Rice, almost like he was a friend from Before. I raised my thumb and pointer finger to each temple. “You are thinking . . .” I feigned concentration. “. . . that you wish you didn’t have to babysit two post-aps when you could be off somewhere engineering chemicals.”
“Clearly you are not a mind reader.” He grinned, turning to Baby. “I’m actually enjoying this. You and Baby are . . . different.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
“No, I mean in a good way.” He looked at me again. “I’m really glad you’re here. And I won’t tell anyone about you two being able to communicate through touch.”
“Thanks,” I said again, and this time I meant it.
We walked to another large white building that turned out to be a standard cafeteria. A smell that made my knees weak hit me immediately.
Burgers. Not pigeon burgers. Not squirrel burgers. Not rat burgers. Honest to goodness hamburgers. I sniffed the air. There was another scent, just as heavenly: French fries.
My stomach growled loudly. I looked at Rice and grinned. “I skipped breakfast.”
“We’re supposed to wait for your mother . . . but go ahead, if you want.”
We made a beeline for the servers and I grabbed a tray. But before I got in line, I stopped.
“I don’t have any money,” I told Rice.
“It’s okay, we don’t use money here. We have enough resources for everyone, at least for now. If you live here, you get whatever you want.”
“Fan.” I smiled and piled plates onto my tray, thinking of what Baby would like to eat as well. Hamburgers, fries, a baked potato, three slices of pizza, some kind of burrito thing, and two pieces of crude-looking apple pie. I made my way past a table of kids my age, all dressed in red, and another table of pregnant women, talking excitedly. I brought the food to an empty table and signed to Baby that she shouldn’t place her shoes on the tabletop. She dropped them under her chair and looked at me expectantly.
Well, dig in, I told her with a smile. I ate until I was in danger of bursting. Baby was on her second slice of pizza. Rice just watched us, trying to make conversation.
“You know, you’re not really eating beef.”
“You could have fooled me,” I mumbled, my mouth full.
“It’s a synthetic protein that we manufacture from soy and a chemical compound.”
“Sure tastes real. My dad used to make us eat soy burgers all the time and they weren’t half as good as these are.”
“We’ve perfected the formula this past year,” Rice told me, obviously pleased. He went on to explain how there was a nearby dairy farm that they were able to save when the Floraes arrived and how they kept the cows fed a steady diet of a synthesized organic compound that maximized milk output with minimal caloric intake. I tried to listen, but I was lost in the euphoria of the banquet in front of me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Days seem to go by here, but there are no windows in my room and I am unsure about the passage of time. More often than not, I am unable to focus. I can’t think very well. When I ask questions, no one answers. I’ve learned that probing just confuses me and I keep forgetting why it is important in the first place. I’ve stopped asking for my mother, for Baby. If either of them came to see me I do not remember their visit.
I am brought meals and medication by Dr. Thorpe or one of the nurses. I dutifully swallow the pills and whatever food they put in front of me and fall asleep soon after. I like being asleep. When I’m awake my head is foggy.
Eventually Dr. Thorpe encourages me to leave my room and visit the common areas and the small cafeteria. There I eat with the other inhabitants of the Ward. They don’t talk and neither do I. I leave them alone. I don’t want to cause any trouble.
There is a large window in the common room and I sit and look out it sometimes. There is nothing to see really, the glass is thick and covered in bars, but past that I can make out some trees. I like the color green. It goes on endlessly. When the wind shakes the leaves, it seems as if the world is rattling.
Sometimes, when I’m lost in the trees, I feel someone there, sitting next to me, holding my hand. The hands are rough and much larger than mine, but gentle and masculine at the same time. I feel like they belong to someone I should remember. Sometimes he doesn’t hold my hand, but I still feel him there, watching over me. When I turn to look, though, he’s gone and I wonder if he was really there at all.
• • •
He stares at you when he thinks you’re not looking.
Maybe it’s the fan haircut you gave me. Crossing my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at Baby. I can’t help that I’m beautiful.
He’s looking at your face, not your hair, Baby told me with a slight smirk. I realized she was giving me a hard time. I made another face at her, but I inwardly smiled and tried to hide my blush. I looked up and saw Rice watching us, trying to figure out what we were saying. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Baby was just talking about my awesome haircut,” I lied. “She did it herself.”
Rice smiled widely. “She did an excellent job . . . very . . . even.” He gave Baby an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
See, he likes it. I told her. Maybe you should get your hair cut just like me.
Baby’s eyes widened, and she nodded her head vigorously. Then everyone will know we’re sisters!
“And that?” Rice asked, echoing Baby’s excitement.
“She wants her hair cut just like mine so people will say we look alike.”
Rice’s amusement faded. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“Why not?” I touched my Mohawk self-consciously.
“It’s just . . . not the style for children here. You wouldn’t want to make her too different. . . . I mean . . .” He struggled for the words to explain, but I understood.
“More different than she already is?” I muttered.
Baby was still looking at me expectantly. Well? When will you cut my hair too?
Maybe later.
Baby pouted, not understanding. She’d never had to deal with social norms. I wanted to cheer her up, so I turned to Rice.
“There was mention of chocolate milk, for Baby,” I reminded him. I wanted some too. I hadn’t had fresh milk in a long time.
Rice nodded and practically jogged over to the counter, returning with two glasses.
Drink it, I told her.
What is it? She wrinkled her nose. It’s very brown.
It’s good. I took a sip to show her. As the sweet creaminess hit my tongue I was transported back to my childhood. Before the After. I gulped down the milk, not even pausing to breathe. The liquid added uncomfortably to my already full stomach, but I tilted the glass until the last drop trickled into my mouth. Rice and Baby stared at me as I put the glass down and wiped my lips on my sleeve.
Baby took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened. She drank slowly, holding the glass with both hands,
staring at the milk, unbelieving. Suddenly someone jostled her from behind and she dropped her glass. It hit the table before it rolled onto the floor and shattered. The noise startled her and she jumped up into the mess.
Adrenaline filled my body and I was at her side in seconds. Are you okay? I checked her feet for cuts.
“Why isn’t that child wearing shoes?” someone asked.
“Is she all right?”
“Where’s her Minder?”
Baby crouched and put her hands over her ears.
I was flooded with a sick panic. “Can you all just be quiet?” I pleaded. “Do you have any idea how loud you all are?” I looked around the cafeteria, overwhelmed. There were too many people, too much noise. I suddenly couldn’t deal with it.
I grabbed Baby’s hand and we ran, desperate to escape the racket. Outside was the Quad, which I knew was very close to our building. I stumbled across the pavement, focused on getting Baby away from the noise. I found our building and yanked her up the stairs to our apartment.
Inside, I put her on the floor and sat next to her, hyperventilating. Her face was wet with silent tears and she reached for my hand.
I’m sorry, Amy.
It’s not your fault. It was too much, too soon. I held Baby tight. Feel any better?
Yes. It’s just, there’s this noise in my head. Ever since we got here, I hear it all the time. When everyone talks with their mouths too, I feel like my head is going to burst. She started to cry again, soundlessly. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
Whenever you feel that way, you can come find me and we’ll come here, where it’s nice and quiet.
She nodded her agreement and I let her cry herself to sleep, stroking her head with my palm. It wasn’t long before Rice appeared, looking worried.
“Is she okay?” he asked loudly, opening our apartment door. Baby opened her eyes and glanced at Rice before closing them again and drifting back off to sleep. I put my finger to my lips. “Did she get cut?” he whispered.
I shook my head. Baby’s feet were strong and calloused. He sat down next to me, with a loud thump. I was very aware of his closeness. I tried to relax, to lose my unease.
In the After Page 12
