The Secret Under My Skin

by Janet Mcnaughton

  “But can’t I tell people my name?” There’s a pleading tone in my voice I had not intended. I have waited so long for a name, I must be able to use it now.

  “Yes, of course. It would be cruel to say otherwise. Use your name, Blake, tell people about the micro-dot but don’t mention Lem.”

  “All right,” I say. “I can do that. But you won’t know for weeks?”

  “If that was summer,” Lem says, “and you were still with your family, I’ll skip the early part of the first year. That should speed things up a bit.”

  What a task he has before him. Again, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. For the first time I can remember, I would willingly put my arms around a man. Just to let him know what this means to me. But I don’t think he would be able to accept my touch. “Thank you,” I whisper. My eyes fill with tears. There are tears in his eyes, too. He turns away.

  After a long moment, Erica speaks. “Well, you won’t be idle while you’re waiting, Blake. I was in Kildevil making arrangements this morning. We leave for the Tablelands tomorrow.”

  Geology Lessons for Bio-Indicators

  We arrive home to find Marrella eating a breakfast she made for herself. She looks annoyed. “You must wonder where we’ve been,” Erica says, smoothing the tension from the air while she enables the cloaking device.

  “Well, yes.”

  “First of all, I’ll tell you your good news. A boat is leaving Kildevil with a shipment of cloth. It was supposed to leave today but I have arranged for it to wait until tomorrow. You will be in the cabin so we can travel to the Tablelands without violating the taboo that prevents the townspeople from seeing you. That way, you can complete your final test before the weather grows too cold and keep the date of your ceremony without difficulty.” Erica looks proud of herself. That explains why she was in Kildevil before dawn, at least in part.

  “Thank you,” Marrella says but grudgingly. She would rather not owe Erica anything.

  If Marrella’s reaction angers Erica, she does not show it.

  “We have other good news,” she says, “as Blake will tell you herself.” Not for the first time I feel as if Erica has made me the center of attention without warning.

  “Who is Blake?” Marrella asks.

  The words catch and I must clear my throat before I can speak. “I am,” I say. “There was a micro-dot implanted in my arm. Now I know who I am.”

  “The secret was in the kitchen scanner all the time,” Erica says, telling the truth without saying more than Marrella should know.

  Marrella turns pale. “But if you know who you are, does that mean you’ll be leaving me?” The alarm in her voice is sincere. I can’t help responding with warmth. “Oh, no. I have a name, but that’s all. My past is lost. Of course, I’ll remain here with you.” The color returns to Marrella’s cheeks.

  “Go to William now, Marrella,” Erica says, but kindly.

  “Tell him I was able to arrange this trip. He will prepare you. Blake and I will spend the day packing.” When she leaves, Erica says, “I had no idea she had grown so fond of you.” She sounds as pleased as I feel. Perhaps Marrella cannot bear to part with me because I provide the answers she needs, but I can’t help hoping she likes me just a little.

  After the morning observation set, we begin to pack. I always imagined that knowing my name would change my life completely. Outwardly, it changes nothing, but while I work, ideas begin to knit themselves together to form a new picture of myself. Not an unwanted child, cast aside. Not set adrift because my parents couldn’t keep me. The Someone who held me was not just a product of my imagination. “Mother.” I test the word on my tongue, quietly, when I am alone, to see what it feels like. And I can almost see her, at the edge of my vision. When we make lunch I ask Erica some questions, hoping to bring that Someone into focus. “What did Lem mean this morning when he said Blake was a poet’s name?”

  “William Blake. A poet in late eighteenth-, early nineteenth-century England. He lived around the same time as your Shelley, though Shelley was younger and died young. Blake was a madman or a genius. Filled with passion and ideas. I’m not sure you were named for him, but if you were, your parents were probably idealistic. And they were almost certainly educated. To me, that explains a lot. You never seemed like a street kid. Not that street kids can’t be intelligent. Of course, they can. But your interest in poetry, your kindness, suggest that someone took good care of you the first few years of your life.”

  “I remember feeling happy until the last memory,” I say.

  “The one of being snatched away into the night.”

  Erica nods. “That might have been when the troops found your parents if they came here looking for the Beothuks. They’d do that, take you away and leave you somewhere to be found. They didn’t have children at Markland.”

  “And then Hilary found me. Do you think that’s what happened?”

  “It seems likely. Hilary was good to you, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes. She loved me.”

  “How old was she?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think she knew. Not that much older than me, though. She was still growing. She needed new shoes and clothes sometimes and when she outgrew her clothes, she gave them to me.” I smile, remembering. “They were big but I loved them because they were hers.”

  “That explains a lot, too. All through your childhood someone loved you.” Erica jerks her head toward the workcamp. “It isn’t like that for most of them down there.”

  I haven’t given those other kids a thought since I left.

  Now my conscience jabs me. “I guess I’ve been lucky.”

  Erica looks troubled. “Most people wouldn’t say so but in a way I suppose you have.”

  By the end of the day, my back is sore from bending over boxes and sacks. It was like a day in the landfill. But everything is neatly packed. Two of some things, because Marrella and I will go to the Tablelands alone while Erica and the Master wait where the boat lands. The sleep that would not come last night sings sweetly to me. I want only to surrender to it but I cannot. While Marrella is bathing, I find the right book in her room, Geology Lessons for Bio-Indicators.

  The chapter on the Burgess Shale captures my imagination. I am taken back 530 million years, to an underwater world inhabited by strange animals with musical names. I mean the names came later, only a few hundred years ago. But pretty names—Opabinia, Aysheia, Amiskwia and Marrella, the creature she was named for. And funny-sounding names—Yohoia and Hallucigenia. Some are graceful, some so odd it’s hard to imagine they existed. I learn the shapes of their bodies and how they moved, reconstructing them in my head. Some were graceful, some awkward. I dive into the holograms and swim with these animals in a time long before man.

  When I finally fall asleep, the creatures of the Burgess Shale come with me, filling my dreams with their silent dance. They are not afraid of me. They treat me like a friend. I wake before dawn, filled with that now-familiar feeling of joy. “Opabinia,” I whisper to myself. “Opabinia, Yohoia.” My secret words. But why should I feel this way? It’s not the morning of a test. What do these mornings have in common? Only the books I read the night before. The idea snaps into place with an almost audible click. On the floor by the bed a small pack is waiting. I slip the book in, hiding it among my clothes. Maybe Marrella can read it on the boat.

  As I make green tea in the kitchenette, I look around. I have lived here such a short time but it is my home now. I don’t like to think of leaving, even for a few days. I wake Marrella as gently as I can. She looks troubled. “Sit while I drink my tea,” she commands. She sips silently, brooding. I thought she would be happy to be going to the Tablelands. “This is the last test,” she says. “William explained it. It’s very simple. They will leave us at the Tablelands with food and shelter until a dream comes to me. That is all.” I don’t know what to say. I can’t assure her she will succeed, can I? I can hardly meet her eyes. “Blay . . .”

  I interrupt her with
out thinking. “Blake. My name is Blake.” My voice is kind, but firm. My name is the only thing I own. Whether this angers her or not, I want to hear my name.

  But she only nods. “Blake. You will not betray me, will you?”

  I look up, surprised. “Of course not.”

  “But why? You could be the one they honor. Why don’t you want that?” The anguish in her voice startles me.

  This never even occurred to me. Even now, so bluntly put, it makes no sense. “You are the bio-indicator. The one who suffers. The one they want. I am . . . nothing. Nobody. I didn’t even have a name until yesterday. No one would accept me in your place. I’m only here to help you.”

  “How can you feel that way?”

  I shrug. “Why should I feel any other way? I’m grateful you brought me here.”

  After a long pause, she says, “Do you know why I chose you?” Her voice is hard again.

  To befriend me. I know that isn’t the answer. I just wish it were. “No,” I say. “Why?”

  “Because you looked like someone who could never compete with me. Ironic, isn’t it?” She laughs, bitterly. “Make my bed now. I have things to do.” She rises and leaves the room.

  I feel the numbness of a heavy blow, a hollow place that pain will eventually fill. But pain does not come. I’m trapped in a vacuum of feeling. I make her bed and tidy the room seeing nothing, all my thoughts imploded inward. I am back in my own room before feeling returns to me, but when it does, it isn’t what I expected. Not pain, not grief, but a white-hot bolt of anger. Why did she have to tell me that? I thought she chose me for my value, not my lack of it.

  But she is wrong. The thought surprises me, but it’s true. I have been wrong too. I am not nothing. I will never be nothing again. I stand in the middle of the room, frozen by the idea. Then I tuck it away, like a key that is unneeded now but may unlock something in the future. I go downstairs and the chaos in the kitchen swallows me at once.

  “You’ve packed too much,” the Master says. “We can never carry it all.”

  “William, we might be gone a week. The weather is colder. Show me what we can do without.” Erica is flushed, annoyed.

  The Master throws up his hands. “Show me how we carry it.” I’ve never seen them argue like this.

  “The boys from the boat are coming to take it. At Green Gardens, we need only carry it from the landing to the top of the stairs. I’ll repack for the girls and we’ll help them to the Tablelands. I’m not stupid, you know.”

  He pauses. “Erica, my dear, I do know.”

  She smiles. “Today is bound to be stressful. We shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously.” There is a knock at the door. “The boys.” Erica turns to William. “Blake and I will help them. Please tell Marrella to keep out of sight.”

  Carson Walsh is at the door. “Missus,” he says, “we’ve come for the things.” As Carson and the others enter the kitchen, I realize what this means. We will travel on the boat that Erica and Carson spoke of on the path a few nights ago. And Carson will be with us, carrying the encrypted code. My feelings scatter in all directions. Marrella will be so close to Carson but unable to see him. Until this morning, I would have felt sorry for her. Not now.

  But my heart pounds when I think about traveling with the encrypted code. Is Erica crazy? No, just very clever. No one would suspect anything this daring.

  Carson has brought two boys, one about his age, and a younger one, closer to my age, small and dark. The two older boys set to work at once, but the younger one stares at me, his mouth slightly open until I redden under his gaze. Carson elbows him. “Tuck your eyes back into their sockets, Fraser, and get to work. Where’s your manners, my son?” Carson is not unkind but the other boy laughs at the one called Fraser, who sets to work like a whipped dog. He doesn’t look at me again and I’m glad. There must be something wrong with him. When the kitchen is emptied, Carson returns. “We’ll get your things stowed on board now. Everyone will leave after that so you can get the bio-indicator tucked away. When I see the rowboat tied to the boat someone will bring us across. We should be underway in no time.”

  Carson leaves and Erica enables the cloaking device. I’m glad, because I want to know why we’re doing things this way. “Couldn’t you have used a vehicle?”

  “Not without offending the townspeople. Attitudes toward technology relaxed after the technocaust, but the change has been gradual. Fuel cells are tolerated in boats, but avoided on land unless long voyages make them necessary.”

  “That’s confusing,” I say.

  She smiles. “Human behavior generally is. Now it’s time to leave. Would you tell Marrella and William they can come down?”

  Just before we go, I make one last trip to my room.

  Closing my pack, I see the book, Geology Lessons for Bio-Indicators. Are the books really the key? I wonder. I take it out. I could leave it here and let Marrella fail her test. But I won’t. No matter how I feel about Marrella, I can’t disappoint the Master. I slip the book back into the pack and go get William and Marrella.

  Half an hour later, we leave the house. Marrella is dressed in an uncomfortable suit that covers her completely to protect the townspeople from seeing her. But we don’t get far without being noticed. In front of the workcamp, Warder November waits with four other warders. When William sees them, he tenses. His hand goes to his side involuntarily, as if reaching for a weapon that is not there.

  “Good morning, honored one. We will escort you to Kildevil, to see your journey off to a good start.” Warder November’s greeting is civil, but firm. This is not an offer.

  “As you wish,” the Master says coldly. Nothing will be gained by arguing. As they fall into step beside us, the air around Erica almost shimmers with anger.

  “How long will the quest take?” Warder November asks.

  She does not explain how she knows what we are doing.

  “The bio-indicator must wait for the earth to speak to her. This is not a matter to be measured in hours or days,” William replies.

  Warder November does not seem to notice the hostility in his voice. “I’ve always wanted to know more about the Way,” she says. “On the streets and in the workcamps, I had no opportunity to learn.” There is an awkward pause when the Master makes no reply. With all the hostility between them, Warder November should understand, but when I catch a glimpse of her face, I am amazed to see she looks hurt. Until this moment I had not suspected she was capable of anything like ordinary human feelings. Suddenly, I see the thread that binds us—both homeless kids longing for something more. She is like me.

  But this spark of sympathy is smothered by the oppressive feeling of being under guard. Walking like this, I realize how much of my life has been controlled and twisted by the Commission. And the same anger that Erica feels puts energy into my step.

  We finally arrive at the wharf, which is empty, as Carson promised it would be. A rowboat waits to take us to the larger vessel moored on the deeper side of the bay. The village looks abandoned.

  “We will take our leave of you here,” William states firmly.

  Warder November looks confused. Perhaps she hoped to learn who would travel with us. She gives a curt nod. “I hope the girl finds what she’s looking for.” This insult, calling Marrella “the girl,” is deliberate. No one else would. She turns and the other warders follow.

  I do not like boats. This one bobs on the water like a cork. William scrambles down with an agility that surprises me, helps Marrella into a seat in the bow, then reaches for my hand. I hesitate. I have reason to fear men. But William’s hands are not cruel. Even in anger, he does not raise them to do harm. So I force myself to put my hand in his and he helps me into the boat. The warmth of his touch stays with me long after he has turned to Erica. I tell myself it is not always necessary to fear the touch of men and for the first time, I know this is true.

  Erica faces William as he rows with his back to Marrella and me. She speaks in an angry whisper so her voice do
es not carry over the water. “Intimidation. That’s what that was. Letting us know our movements are known to them. What an insult!”

  “Erica, you know the game as well as I do. It’s best to pretend nothing is wrong.”

  She wrings her hands. “But, William, how much longer can this standoff continue? What are we to do?”

  “Let’s not waste time worrying,” William says, but he puts more power into the oars than is necessary.

  The boat that will carry us to the ocean is smaller than I’d expected. The cabin Erica promised is nothing more than a neatly cleared space in the hold. After a long struggle, Marrella finally emerges from her heavy suit sweaty and grumbling. “I spend the entire voyage here? This is unfair!”

  “Marrella, keep your voice down,” William says. “This behavior is unbecoming.”

  Erica glances upward to the deck as the engine hums to life. “Yes, Carson and the others are aboard now.”

  Marrella’s eyes widen. Her mouth falls open then snaps shut before she can betray herself. Now she knows. Carson Walsh is just metres away. She turns to me. “Make yourself useful. You’ve done nothing for me today. Make up my bed.”

  On my way to the boxes I slip Geology Lessons for Bio-Indicators out of my pack so I can place it beside her bed. Whether this is kindness or malice I can no longer say. Then I settle a sleeping bag on a self-inflating pad.

  “Not like that. You’re useless.” Marrella pushes me aside and grabs the bedding.

  William rises as if he intends to do something, then stops, defeated by the situation.

  “Blake,” Erica says calmly, “it isn’t necessary for you to remain shut in down here. Why don’t you explore the boat, dear? Get some air.”

  Marrella flings the bedding down and stares first at Erica, then at me, tears of frustration in her eyes. She is being punished for treating me badly but more than Erica suspects. Until today I might have remained with her out of loyalty or kindness. Not now.

  “Thank you, Erica, I will.”