Freedom/Hate (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 1)

by Kyle Andrews

  For a year or more, Uly had barely been around. He didn't go straight home from school. That day was one of the few times she'd even seen him in the cafeteria for lunch. She always assumed that it had something to do with Marti, but now she was beginning to wonder.

  Even if Uly was the one who spray painted those words on the wall, she still didn't know what it meant. He could have been acting out, because of the violence caused by Hate. He could have been letting the group know that their actions wouldn't shake the resolve of the people. They would not be prisoners of hatred and violence.

  She told herself that this was the case, and it made her proud. Uly was taking a stand for something that he believed in, and that was respectable. Of course, it was also illegal. If he was caught, his entire future could be changed.

  The sensible part of Libby's brain told her that she should tell someone about it. Willa would know what to do about Uly more than she did. He had broken the law. It was the job of every citizen to watch the people around them and report suspicious behavior.

  But was Uly really suspicious? Could she cast so much attention on him without being sure of what she was doing? Right or wrong, she couldn't bring herself to report him.

  Willa finally walked into the office and closed the door behind her. She was carrying a tablet with her, which she placed on the desk as she sat down.

  At first, it was like she didn't even see Libby sitting there. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and picked a piece of fuzz off of her jacket. She straightened out her desk calendar and took a sip of Coffite from a cup that had been sitting there when Libby walked into the room. It couldn't have been warm, but Willa didn't seem to mind.

  Then, once she was organized, Willa turned to Libby and smiled. It was a warm, pleasant smile, which went perfectly with the tone of her voice as she said, “Hey.”

  “Busy day?” Libby asked.

  “It's insane.”

  “I could come back. Or not.”

  Willa's smile grew and she shook her head. “If it were that simple, I'd be out of a job.”

  “I'm not troubled, or whatever you think I am.”

  “Why would you think that I thought that?” Willa asked, before stopping to double check her phrasing in her head. She gave herself a nod and turned back to Libby.

  “I just assumed that I triggered some alarm or sent up some flag or something.”

  “Well, you have been late for a lot of classes.”

  “I've been distracted.”

  “It happens to the best of us.”

  “Right. That's what I'm saying.”

  “And I'm on your side.”

  “Then we're done?”

  “No,” Willa answered, putting up a finger. “I might be on your side, but the office is on neither of our sides. We have to go through the motions and tell them what they want to hear, or else they'll have both of us jumping through hoops that neither one of us needs to be jumping through.”

  Libby knew that she probably should have disliked Willa, because she was there to shrink Libby's head and report her issues back to the front office. Despite that fact, Libby couldn't help but like her. She seemed just as crazy as Libby felt most of the time. She didn't seem to have any evil agendas, or that self-righteous attitude that a lot of teachers had around the students.

  “So...” Willa began. She was looking down at her tablet and scrolling through different pages in Libby's file. “Why are you late?”

  “Like I said, I'm distracted.”

  “By what?”

  “Life.”

  “You're making it really hard for me to check off this question.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Willa sat back in her chair and looked at Libby for a moment before she asked, “What part of life is distracting? Your home life? Your social life?”

  “Yes. All of it, I guess,” Libby told her. They were getting dangerously close to talking about Libby's actual problems, and she didn't like opening up to people. Especially people that she just met.

  Glancing down at the tablet in front of her, Willa asked, “How's your mother?”

  “Fine,” Libby quickly replied. “I mean, she's tired, but who isn't? She works long hours.”

  Libby was looking down at her hands, playing with her fingers. Even she could tell that this was the body language of someone who was holding back.

  When she looked up at Willa, she could see that the woman was waiting for her to go on, but she didn't. She remained quiet.

  Willa pushed the tablet aside and took on a look of genuine concern. She told Libby, “Forget the office and their stupid questions. You can talk to me. I won't repeat what you say. You won't repeat what I say. We can just talk. Unless you're planning to hurt yourself. I'd have to report that.”

  “I'm not.”

  “I didn't think so. So, what's going on?”

  Libby didn't answer. Instead, her eyes went to one of the posters with the kittens playing with yarn. Even if she wanted to explain everything to Willa, she wasn't sure that she would know how.

  “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Willa told her. “Did something happen?”

  The way Willa asked the question made it sound like Libby was covering up an assault or something. She looked Willa in the eyes and firmly said, “It's nothing like that. I swear.”

  The last thing she needed was to have people visiting her home, interviewing her mother, or tracking down her boyfriend.

  Willa seemed to accept Libby's answer. She nodded and said, “Okay. But I still get the feeling that something isn't right. It seems to me like... Well, it seems like you're scared.”

  Scared for her mother's health. Scared about the madman on the loose in the city. Scared about whatever it was that Uly was getting himself into. Scared that her boyfriend was playing cops and robbers, with government backing.

  Yeah, Libby was scared. But what was that going to get her? It wouldn't fix her problems. Talking about it sure wasn't going to make things any less complicated in her life. So, she tried her best to look at ease and said, “Nope.”

  Willa tapped her finger on the desk in a way that told Libby that she wasn't buying into what Libby was telling her. She picked up her tablet and typed something into it while Libby listened to the artificial clicking sounds of the on-screen keyboard.

  Then Willa set the tablet back on the desk and said, “You remind me of someone.”

  That was it. That was all Willa said before falling silent once again, leaving Libby to wonder what she meant by that. Did she remind her of someone in a good way? Or did she remind Willa of the crazy girl who liked to eat her lunch inside of her locker while crying?

  Moments passed and Willa didn't offer anything else. If Libby wanted her to go on, she would have to engage Willa in conversation. She was a little amused when she realized the position that Willa had put her in.

  “Nice,” she said to Willa.

  Pretending to be innocent, Willa said, “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

  “Who do I remind you of?”

  “You remind me of me.”

  “I should have seen that coming.”

  “I'm serious!” Willa laughed. “This isn't a tactic, I swear. You really do remind me of myself.”

  “Mmm-hmm. In what way?”

  “Well...” Willa said, before trailing off.

  She leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on her desk. She looked toward a poster on the wall, which showed a puppy chewing on one of those calendars where you rip a page off every day. Underneath the puppy, it said, 'Seize The Day.'

  The poster must have been an antique, because nobody wasted paper like that anymore.

  “When I was in high school, many, many, many, many, many years ago.”

  “Is this the part where I say that you look twenty-three, tops?”

  Willa waved her hand in the air, as though she didn't buy Libby's compliment. It was true though.
Willa looked young, despite the clothes she wore. If Libby had to guess, she would have said that Willa had been dealing with her own high school drama just a couple of years earlier.

  Continuing, Willa said, “Anyway, I thought that I needed to handle everything myself. My family. My friends. If anyone ever had a problem, it was my problem. Except, it wasn't.”

  “Whose problem was it?”

  “Theirs. Or, someone who wasn't me. I was a kid. It wasn't my job to look after everyone else. The thing that changed my life was when I realized that the world wouldn't fall apart without me.”

  Libby was listening to what Willa was telling her, and it made a certain amount of sense. She tended to want to control situations and handle problems herself, but what was there to do? Her mother would be taken care of at the hospital. Uly was capable of taking care of himself. And yet, all these problem felt like they were hers.

  With a big smile on her face, Willa leaned in a little bit closer to Libby and said, “I've seen you in the hallways here at school, talking with more than one cute guy.”

  Libby tried to think of who Willa could be talking about. Aside from Sim, who did she spend time with at school? When the answer came to her, she cringed and told Willa, “I think one of those guys you saw me with was my cousin.”

  “No, not Uly. The other one...” Willa looked down at her tablet and said, “Justin.”

  “How much do you have written about me on that thing? Is there a complete bio or something?”

  “Notes, mostly.”

  “Well, your notes are crazy and outdated. Justin is Uly's friend. We haven't spent much time together since we were kids.”

  “You are still kids.”

  “Hardly.”

  Willa sighed, as though her point weren't getting across. She then took a deep breath and moved on, saying, “Tell me about your boyfriend, Sim.”

  “He's reciting the pledge at the game tonight.”

  “Exciting.”

  “He's good at sports.”

  “Tight end?”

  “Quarterback.”

  “Not what I meant.”

  “Eew.”

  “Why? What's so gross about taking pride in your boyfriend's assets?”

  “Aren't you supposed to be an authority figure?”

  “I'm not saying that I want to have sex with your boyfriend. I'm just asking what you think of him.”

  “I... like him. That's why we're dating.”

  “Are you going to the game tonight?”

  “I can't. I have to get dinner cooked for my—” Libby didn't even bother to finish that sentence. She knew that she was walking right into a trap.

  “You should go to the game tonight. Be there for him. Maybe go to a party. Have some fun. Embrace youth for once,” Willa told her, with what seemed like genuine concern in her voice. She didn't sound wrong. Everything she said was completely sensible. Yet, Libby still resisted. So, Willa went on, “I've looked at your records, Libby. Being late is the worst offense you've ever committed. No drinking. No requests for birth control. Your records read like my grandmother's.”

  “Are you saying that you want me to get drunk and put out for my boyfriend?”

  Willa rolled her eyes and sighed. Then she looked back at Libby, shrugged, and asked her, “Would it be the worst idea in the world?”

  Libby couldn't help but laugh. The conversation had suddenly taken a turn toward the bizarre. She didn't have any idea how to respond to what Willa was telling her. Maybe this was how girlfriends were supposed to talk to each other, but Libby's closest girl friend wasn't around anymore. She didn't know what the norm was at this point. All she knew was that the topic seemed awfully personal.

  “You're blushing,” Willa told her, with a smile.

  “I'm freaking out.”

  “Why? You're a maturing young woman. In a couple of years, you won't have the luxury of taking the time to explore what the world has to offer, or find out who you are. Frankly my dear, you don't have time to be shy. You'll end up missing out on everything that youth is supposed to be.”

  “I'm not missing out.”

  “You are. And you're too scared to embrace life. You're young. You're attractive. You deserve to be carefree, for the couple of years you have to spare before you need to grow up. And where will that leave you as an adult? Too shy to assert yourself or work your way up the ladder in whatever job you get? Being comfortable in your own skin means having power over yourself. It's your body. Have fun with it.”

  Libby was at a loss for words. She'd never had a teacher—or anyone else—speak to her like this. Was this what her mother was supposed to be telling her? She wouldn't know, because Amanda had never been much of a traditional mother figure to Libby. She was more like a hard-working roommate that Libby had to take care of just as much as she took care of Libby.

  Whatever Willa was trying to teach her that day, Libby felt an urge to change the subject and get out of that office as quickly as possible.

  After struggling to find the right words, Libby finally asked, “What does this have to do with my being late for class?”

  The smile on Willa's face grew. She seemed so amused by Libby's discomfort that it was starting to annoy Libby.

  At last, she relented and told Libby, “I think that if you can find a way to take your mind off of your troubles, maybe you will be a happier, more productive student. That's the point that I was trying to make. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  “So, are we done?”

  Willa looked down at her tablet, and then back to Libby before she said, “I think we can be done for now. If I feel like we need to talk again, I'll track you down.”

  “Great,” Libby replied, already standing up and preparing to walk out the door.

  “One second...” Willa said, opening her drawer. She pulled out a small box and another tablet. She handed both to Libby and said, “I thought it was about time that we replaced your broken tablet. Hopefully, this will make your school work a little bit less of a hassle. You can turn in your notebook at the office on your way out today.”

  Libby took the tablet and the box from Willa and said, “Thanks.”

  She didn't stop to look at either item that Willa handed her before she walked out of the office. She just wanted to be done with that conversation before Willa started asking her to explain all of her issues in gory detail.

  Once she had put some distance between herself and Willa's office, Libby finally stopped to check out her new tablet and whatever was in that little box. It was a plain white box, without any labels that would give away the contents. Libby opened it and looked at what was inside. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was holding a box of birth control pills in her hand.

  She stared at the box of pills for a moment before closing it once again and turning around. She knew what she was going to see as she turned, and she was right. Willa was standing by her office door, watching her.

  The discomfort that she had felt in that office now seemed like a day in the park compared to what she felt in that moment. She didn't like the idea of someone else putting that much thought into her after-school activities. It gave her the creeps.

  Libby walked away, putting Willa and that office behind her. She went to her locker, where she stuffed the box of pills into the pocket of a her jacket. She didn't want anyone to see them. She was embarrassed by them.

  But why? Every other girl in the school was on them. It wasn't a big deal. Most of those girls talked about their sex lives openly. Far more openly than Libby would have preferred, to be quite honest.

  She stood at her locker, staring at the jacket. She knew where her issues came from. Her mother hadn't been much older than Libby was now, when she got pregnant. Her parents weren't married, and their drawn-out battle for joint custody was rejected by the state. Her father was reassigned to another city, and that was that.

  Last she heard, he died in a bus accident. Or, maybe he was hit by a car. It was somet
hing like that. She didn't really care.

  Maybe Willa was right. Maybe Libby was cutting herself off from her youth because of her parents. They were suffocating her, even when neither one of them was around. Their mistakes were ruling her life.

  The more she thought about how messed up her life was, the more angry she got.

  On her way home from school that day, Libby stopped by a payphone and dialed her home number. She didn't expect her mother to answer, because she knew that her mother was at work. After a few rings, the call went to voicemail.

  After listening to the robot voice tell her to leave a message, there was a beep.

  “Mom, it's me. I can't cook dinner tonight. Sim's reciting the pledge at the big game, and I think I should be there for him. So... Sorry.”

  She was going to hang up and let that be that, but she couldn't bring herself to end the message there. “There's a can of soup in the cabinet. It shouldn't be hard to heat up,” she said. “And try to get some rest. You have that appointment tomorrow. And...”

  She didn't know what she was going to say next, but it seemed like there should be more. After thinking about it for a second or two, she said, “Forget it.”

  Libby hung up the phone and went home.

  12

  Sophia allowed Collin to sleep in one of her spare bedrooms. It was a small room, which had once been painted blue. Over the years, the paint had yellowed slightly, giving it a greenish tint. Some spots were brown with dirt or water damage. Other sections of the wall had been patched with new pieces of drywall and they remained the bright white color of primer.

  This was the room where two of Sophia's children slept when they were kids, so the beds were small. By the time they graduated to a larger size, they were out of the house and living on their own.

  It was an unusual luxury for someone to hold onto a spare bedroom. Usually, when one's needs were reduced, they would be relocated. They'd also get a cut in their food allowance and work salary. At this point in her life, Sophia was only able to work part-time at a market, so she was enrolled in the state's retirement program. That basically amounted to her being fed stale bread and whatever scraps were left over from the younger, more productive citizens. But Sophia didn't mind. She had other methods of putting food on the table, and what the government didn't know wouldn't hurt anybody.