Rebel

by Rachel Manija Brown

  Felicité checked to see if they still had him trapped. Mrs. Callahan was talking to her mother near the table where Jack was selling refreshments. Henry had vanished. He probably hadn’t come back to Felicité because he wasn’t sure what to say to his sister, and of course he wouldn’t want to talk to his mother any longer than he had to. Who would?

  But Felicité couldn’t say any of that. Belatedly, she said, “I’m glad it’s over.” That was awkward. She tried for something more graceful. “Have you had anything to eat yet? I ordered extra crumble because I knew some people would be on the wall. You could take a napkinful to Brisa after the play.”

  Felicité was rewarded with the return of Becky’s smile. They went to the table to collect the crumble. Becky’s happiness gave Felicité an uncomfortable pang of jealousy. What had happened to Becky was terrible, but at least she had no more secrets. Felicité still had to hide for the rest of her life, even from her own boyfriend.

  She gave Becky the dessert, then took refuge in greeting her party guests and making light conversation in Mother’s style.

  Mr. Horst’s booming voice rose above the chatter. “Look how happy everyone is, Tom! Shame you didn’t do this years ago. Who knows where you’d be? No, I know. We’d all be sweating on the walls in one of your endless drills, instead of having fun!”

  Some people chuckled, but Grandma Lee’s eyebrows arched in disapproval. “Aren’t you supposed to be the defense chief, Noah? Doesn’t it concern you at all that Voske is preparing to attack us from the sea?”

  Mr. Horst let out a loud laugh. “What’s he going to sail in, conches? A few months ago Gold Point was underwater. And that was a first, because it’s landlocked! His entire empire has fallen apart. And now he suddenly has a war fleet? I’ll worry about that five years from now. If he’s still alive.”

  Daddy took out a handkerchief and polished his glasses, then deliberately glanced southward, in the direction of the black singing trees that had once been the soldiers sent to murder the town council. But Mr. Horst didn’t seem to notice, let alone understand the implications. Subtlety was lost on him.

  Felicité was sure he thought Daddy was stepping on his toes, with Kerry making her report to Daddy rather than to him, and with Daddy using his Rangers to execute his coastal defense plan. Like Mother said, Mr. Horst swung in the wind like a weather vane.

  Mr. Horst went on, “I feel sorry for your poor Rangers, parading up and down the beach. But don’t worry, Tom, they might have some excitement yet. I saw a dead jellyfish this morning. They better investigate! It might be a spy from Voske!”

  A roar of laughter rose, and Felicité shook her head in disgust. But Daddy was too dignified to get into a fight. He merely said, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy watching your new Changed friends put on a play, Noah. In fact, it looks like it’s time to take our seats.”

  Mr. Horst pushed through the crowd toward the center of the front row. But when Ms. Salazar seated herself there, her halo of golden light sparkling, he retreated to the end of the row rather than sit next to a Changed woman.

  Swinging in the wind, Felicité thought.

  Daddy and Mother took their seats with quiet dignity. As Felicité sat next to Daddy, Henry appeared at last, holding a napkin.

  “Sorry I’m late. There was a huge line for the churros. One for me, one for you, and one for Wu Zetian.” He sat down beside her.

  She inhaled the delicious aroma of the fresh-baked pastry sticks coated in cinnamon and sugar, then gave him a kiss. “That’s so sweet of you.”

  The crowd quieted down in expectation as a horn tooted. A middle-aged woman stepped out onto the stage.

  “Nowadays,” she intoned in a portentous voice, “Changed people are persecuted and discriminated against—even driven away from towns where they sought help.”

  Felicité’s pleasant anticipation died into a chill and a heavy lump in her stomach.

  “But long ago, it was different,” the player proclaimed. “Then, it was the Norms who were oppressed and the Changed who ruled with an iron fist! The Changed Capulets rule, headed by the tyrant King Capulet, and the Norm Montagues are their ill-treated servants.”

  The stage filled with actors. Foremost was a tall man wearing fake horns and a long fake tail attached to his butt. Rage burned through Felicité as the lights glinted off a pair of wire-rimmed glasses exactly like Daddy’s.

  How dare they write an entire play just to mock him! And no one could say so, because they’d reply, “Of course King Capulet isn’t supposed to be Mr. Preston. Mr. Preston isn’t Changed . . . is he?”

  If Daddy got up and walked out, she’d follow. Felicité hoped he would. But he sat like a statue, his arms folded.

  “But true love defies prejudice,” continued the narrator. “The Changed Prince Capulet and a lowly Montague Norm saw each other at a ball, and made arrangements to meet in secret.”

  A young couple tiptoed onstage, looking back over their shoulders, then clasped hands and swore their eternal love. At the sound of footsteps, Prince Capulet exited and a girl swept onstage. A chorus of rustles and snickers rose from the audience at the sight of her gigantic hat, which had holes cut into it to accommodate a pair of fake rat ears, and a scarf so long that it dragged on the ground behind her like King Capulet’s tail.

  The rat-eared princess ordered the poor Norm girl to scrub and clean. “Get busy, while I get ready for the ball!”

  Felicité didn’t want to believe her eyes, but the hat and scarf were unmistakable. That ridiculous-looking villain was supposed to be her.

  The Norm heroine’s friends came to meet her, giggling and chattering. The Changed girl snapped her fingers. “Your job’s not done. Get moving, Normie!”

  The heroine’s friends gasped dramatically. “I can’t believe you used that word!”

  Felicité’s stomach lurched. That had to be a direct slam against her for calling Ross a mutant at Luc’s. Jennie must have told the Catalina Players when she’d conveyed Mr. Horst’s invitation. And they’d spent all the time since plotting to publicly humiliate Felicité at her own graduation, for one word that she’d said six months ago. And apologized for!

  With patent insincerity, the Changed princess said, “Oh, my goodness. How did that slip out?”

  A hand touched her arm. Daddy whispered, so low no one else could hear, “This is the price of power. Don’t let them win.”

  Felicité hadn’t realized until then that she’d been poised to get up and run away. She forced her muscles to unclench and smoothed out her face. Everyone who looked at her—and she knew people were looking—would see her future mayor smile. Just like the one Mother wore right now as she held hands with Daddy.

  Felicité took Henry’s hand. He squeezed hers, then whispered against her ear, “Shall I punch them in the nose for you after they take their bows?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Let’s pretend we thought it was wonderful.”

  Henry grinned. “I get it. They’ll hate that.”

  Felicité made her smile even broader. She wouldn’t let anyone see how upset she was. A breeze tugged at her hat—the hat that that was being mocked onstage right now. Nervously, she wondered if she shouldn’t call attention to it by adjusting it. Then she decided that it was a perfect opportunity to demonstrate how much she didn’t care. She straightened the brim, then fluffed her scarf. Daddy was right. The Catalina Players thought she was important enough to write an entire play just to hurt her feelings. If you thought of it that way, it was almost flattering.

  But that didn’t mean she had to listen to their hateful play. Felicité broke off a tiny piece of churro and fed it to Wu Zetian. She’d play a game of how long she could make a single churro last. By the time she was done, with any luck, the play would be over.

  Felicité was engrossed in watching how Wu Zetian’s whiskers twitched as she waited for her next bite when another puff of wind rustled her hat, bringing a smell of smoke harsh enough to sting her nose. Those stupid players
must have set something on fire. But she certainly wasn’t going to look.

  A distant voice shouted, “FIRE!”

  Felicité glanced up. Nothing was burning onstage, and both actors and audience were looking around in confusion.

  “I smell smoke!” someone yelled from the back of the audience.

  Daddy jumped to his feet an instant before the town bell began to clang the pattern for fire. Felicité’s mind blanked. Then she remembered that her fire post was to relay messages, so she was exactly where she was supposed to be—with Daddy.

  Everyone else seemed caught by surprise, either freezing in place or milling around before they finally started hurrying toward their fire posts. It wasn’t just being at a play for the first time in ten years that confused everyone. Back when Daddy was defense chief, they’d had fire drills every three months. It was true that Daddy had been calling for defense drills more frequently ever since Voske’s attack—but Mr. Horse hadn’t called for any kind of drill since the election. No wonder everyone was rusty.

  Mia leaped up, flailed her absurd puffed sleeves, then ran madly away, purple ribbons trailing after her.

  Everyone turned to Daddy, who used to lead the fire drills. Before he could speak, Mr. Horst raised his big voice. “Where is the fire?”

  “It smells like it’s somewhere in the south or east,” someone yelled. “That’s where the wind is coming from.”

  Mr. Horst turned to Daddy. “With that wind kicking up, it could spread fast. Why don’t you take charge at the south end of town? The north end has always been my post.”

  “Good thinking,” Daddy said. He turned to the waiting crowd. “I’ll set up my command post at the sentry tower at the main gate. Everyone to your posts!”

  Ross and Summer and Kerry, who had never been present for a fire drill, stayed where they were. Jennie didn’t move either. She had nowhere to go, now that she’d been thrown out of the Rangers. Felicité hoped Daddy wouldn’t put her back with them, even for this one emergency. She didn’t deserve another chance.

  Felicité held her breath in anticipation as Daddy eyed Jennie. She stared right back, squaring her shoulders like she wanted to challenge him to a duel.

  Mr. Riley stepped up. “Jennie, why don’t you join my fire team?”

  Jennie broke her staring match with Daddy and left with her father.

  Mia bolted up right then, puffing and clanking. She’d buckled an elaborate leather harness with hundreds of tools attached to it over her ridiculous dress, and rattled at every step. She skidded to a stop, patted at the tools, then looked down in surprise at a strange-looking gun. “Oh. I forgot that that was on there.”

  Mia turned in a circle, purple ribbons fluttering in the smoky wind. “Ross? Oh, but you won’t be fighting.” Then she saw Becky. “Yes!” Mia unclipped the weird gun and offered it to her. “Becky? I won’t need my cloud viper gun, but you might.”

  “What’s its range?” Becky asked.

  “Best is twenty yards. Here’s the darts.” Mia pulled a pouch from the harness. Becky calmly clipped the holster to her belt, then pocketed the pouch.

  Felicité felt as if the entire world had turned unreal. Becky asking about weapons range—Becky with a gun!

  Daddy said to Mia, “You’re with me. I’ll need you to coordinate fire teams with water, once we know where the fire is.” Then he pointed to Ross, Summer, and Kerry. “You come along, too. I’ll assign you as soon as we know more.”

  “What about Whisper?” Kerry asked. “I haven’t had time to train him to do anything but come when I call and go to my room. Will he be safe if I send him to Singles Row?”

  “Your rat?” Daddy asked, looking around. “Where is he?”

  “Whisper!” Kerry called. Felicité would have sworn the plain creature was nowhere around, but the rat pup appeared at Kerry’s heels seconds later.

  “Animals are taken to safe places, unless they’re well-trained and we might need them.” Daddy indicated Mr. Tsai, who was headed toward the veterinary building with seven leashed dogs in tow, and the veterinarian Ms. Segura and her apprentice, who were coming from the same direction with armfuls of empty cat cages and bags of cat treats to lure them in. “Singles Row is fine for your rat if you’re sure he’ll stay. Otherwise, give him to Ms. Segura.”

  “He’ll stay.” Kerry bent to her rat. “Whisper. Go home. Stay there.”

  The brown rat took off. Felicité lost sight of him as he passed behind someone, and no matter how hard she looked after that, she couldn’t find him again. She shrugged. Her own rat, unlike Kerry’s, was both well-trained and needed.

  Grandma Jing stepped offstage. “What can we do to help?”

  Felicité was surprised that Grandma Jing’s hair didn’t burst into flames at the look Daddy gave her. Then he unclenched his jaw and assigned the Catalina Players to join the closest fire teams.

  Henry spoke up eagerly, “I’ll lead a fire team. I fought that fire at the cliffs, and I know what to do.”

  Felicité’s heart sank at the annoyed crease that appeared between Daddy’s eyes. “How about you assist Felicité? She might need a runner besides Wu Zetian.” And he walked away.

  Henry started after him, but Felicité grabbed his arm. “Don’t make it worse.”

  “But I do know how to fight fires,” Henry protested. “We put that one out at the cliffs, and it was more dangerous than this one.”

  “Maybe you’ll get your chance,” Felicité said, deciding not to point out that nobody knew yet how bad this fire was. “Remember, Daddy doesn’t like it when people don’t follow orders.”

  “Right,” Henry said. “Okay.”

  They hurried to catch up with Daddy. He stopped when Trainer Crow ran up, followed by two rats. “The abandoned cornfield north of the black trees caught fire,” she said. “It’s heading toward the wall.”

  Daddy dispatched fire teams all along the wall. Last, he turned to Felicité. “I want you at the mill as a lookout. Send Wu Zetian if there’s anything I need to know.”

  Henry looked like he was going to argue, but Felicité dragged him away. As they ran past the stage, she was glad that at least they didn’t have to sit through any more of that hateful play.

  Chapter Thirty-One: Becky

  Becky watched Henry and Felicité run off hand in hand, Henry grinning as if he’d pulled the best prank ever. Nobody else was smiling. Maybe he was happy because he was with his girlfriend.

  Sheriff Crow beckoned to her. “Let’s make sure everyone actually gets to their posts, without stopping off to help themselves to Grandma Thakrar’s beer.”

  Becky stationed herself by the barrels as Sheriff Crow moved through the dispersing crowd. The wind kicked up dust, bringing the stronger scent of burning leaves, which mixed with the yeasty smell of beer.

  Ed Willet began to fake-casually stroll past the barrels. He stepped up close, deliberately looming over Becky. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a fire team?”

  Becky’s heart thumped, but she looked him right in the eyes and deliberately fingered Mia’s dart gun. “I’m supposed to be right here.”

  Ed looked away first.

  Rick shouted, “C’mon, Ed. They’ll give it out free after the fire’s done for.”

  Ed brightened, and loped off to join his brother.

  Becky covered her nose as another gust of wind eddied through the nearly deserted town square. She wondered what had started the fire. It couldn’t have been lightning. She hadn’t seen a cloud all day. Maybe someone hadn’t put out a cook fire, and a spark drifted in the breeze.

  Or maybe someone had set it. Again.

  Sheriff Crow reappeared at a run. “Town square is secure. Let’s do a wider perimeter through the streets.”

  They set out past the infirmary toward the schoolhouse. Sheriff Crow said, “It’s too early in the season for spontaneous fires. We’re barely out of winter.”

  Nothing could be read in her skull face, but Becky knew her tone. “Do you think it wa
s set, too?”

  “Let’s consider the facts.”

  It was a favorite phrase of Sheriff Crow’s. Becky had heard it often enough now that it instantly set her mind going. Facts—like Henry’s grin. It hadn’t been his happy grin, it had been his distinctive “just kidding!” grin. It had caught her attention because it was so strange to see it during an emergency. What trick could he have possibly pulled?

  Her mind leaped to the fire on the cliff—which Henry had been at.

  He’d been at the barn fire, too.

  No. That was pure coincidence. Plenty of people had been at both. Like Alfonso. Becky remembered what Mr. Preston had said about heroes. He’d hinted that Alfonso might be that type, but Becky didn’t believe that. Mr. Preston didn’t really know Alfonso, other than the fact he was Changed, but Becky knew him. Alfonso was quiet. He never seemed to want others’ attention, not like Henry . . . who’d bragged about his heroism at the battle.

  The old sickness roiled inside her.

  Facts, she told herself. Henry used to put cockroaches in desks and honey in people’s shoes to amuse his friends and get attention from girls. But those were all harmless pranks, and he seemed to have stopped doing them recently. Anyway, he’d been in the town square when this fire had started. The entire town had been there, except for the sentries and some of the Rangers.

  Then she remembered her conversation with Felicité. Becky had been watching her mother and grandmother out of the corner of her eye, so she could avoid them. She’d seen them talking to Henry, then Henry had run off. The next time Becky saw him, he returned with a napkin full of churros, sweating like he’d run a long way. But Luc had been selling those churros right behind Grandma Thakrar, fifty feet to Becky’s right.

  So maybe he’d run off to play a prank. Henry would never do anything that could get people killed.

  Or would he? Becky had never quite believed in all those enemies he’d bragged that he’d killed during the battle. And even if he had, it had been in defense of the town. But she hadn’t liked the way he’d looked when he’d talked about it. Like he’d wished it was true. He’d had the same grin when he talked about snuffing enemies that he had when he stuck a roach in a girl’s desk.