Ridiculous. That's how she'd really looked — ridiculous. How had she forgotten? She was a gawky thirteen-year-old with thin braids hanging down on either side of her face. Even if she'd had the ball gown and the fold-up fan, they would only have made her look sillier.
No wonder Jason had betrayed her. No wonder Sally and Bonner had inched away from her in the woods, like they didn't want to be seen with her.
Nina wanted to cry again, but the tears didn't come. Her heart felt like a rock inside her chest. Everything around her was cold and hard and merciless: the concrete walls, the cement floor, the iron bars of her door. She had thought she could wrap herself in her memories of being loved — by Jason, by her friends at Harlow, by Gran and the aunties. But Jason's love was fake. Her friends hadn't defended her. And Gran and the aunties seemed so far away and long ago that it seemed like it was some other little girl they had loved. Some little Elodie that Nina could barely remember.
Nina fell asleep, dry-eyed and hard-hearted, just one more cold thing in the jail.
CHAPTER SIX
"There's the deal," the man said.
• •It was the middle of the night again, Nina thought, blinking stupidly and trying to wake up. The overhead light was blinding again. She felt dizzy from lack of food. Two crusts of bread and one small apple — in what, a day and a half? — did almost nothing to stave off hunger.
"We think you can be useful to us," the man was saying smoothly. He was holding out his hand to her. Nina blinked a few more times and made her eyes focus. What the man had in his hand was too incredible to be believed: a sandwich. And it wasn't black bread and moldy cheese, the kind of sandwich Nina was used to, but a towering bun, thick and golden brown, with pale pink curls of — was that ham? — ham overflowing the sides. Nina had seen such a thing only on TV, on the forbidden channels that showed life before the famines.
"Here. Take it," the man said, waving the sandwich care-lessly before Nina's eyes.
Nina had half the sandwich shoved in her mouth before she was even conscious of reaching for it.
"I see nobody ever bothered to teach you manners," the man said in disgust.
Nina ignored him. The sandwich was divine. The bun was light and airy and hid a slice of pungent cheese along with the ham. There were other flavors, too — the words from an ancient commercial flowed through Nina's mind: "Lettuce, tomato, pickle, onion…" Nina wasn't sure if that was actually what she was eating, but the sandwich was wonderful, absolutely perfect. She slowed down her chew-ing, just to savor it longer.
"That's better," the man said huffily. Nina had almost forgotten he was there. He handed her a bottle to drink from, and the liquid it contained was delicious, too, sweet and lemony. Nina drank deeply, thinking of nothing but her thirst.
When the sandwich was gone and the bottle was empty, she finally looked back at the man.
"A… a deal?" she said hesitantly.
"By law, we could have executed you the day we arrested you," the man said. "But sometimes even the Population Police can benefit from ignoring certain aspects of the law."
Nina waited, frozen in her spot.
"Oh, not that we would break the law," the man said. "Given the importance of our mission, there are loopholes written specifically for us. Say we have a criminal in front of us who might be rejuvenated to serve our needs. What purpose is there in executing her?"
"What," Nina asked through clenched teeth, "do you want me to do?"
The man shrugged. "Nothing that you and your buddy Jason weren't pretending to do anyway."
The words flew out of Nina's mouth before she could stop them: "Would Jason help me?"
"Jason, alas, did not seem as useful as you," the man said with an even more careless shrug.
"So he's—"
"Dead? Of course," the man said. "Swift and efficient justice, that's our motto."
Nina felt like everything was falling apart inside her. Her lips trembled.
"Now, now," the man said. "Don't give me any of that fake grief. He betrayed you, remember? Didn't hesitate an instant to stab you in the back when he thought it would save his own neck. Which it didn't, naturally. But I guess someone who would betray his own country wouldn't care in the least about betraying a mere girl."
Nina tried not to listen, but it was impossible. Jason had betrayed her. She remembered his voice on the tape, cold and calculating. She felt her anger coming back, and it was a relief, something to hold on to.
"Why did you think I could be useful and not him?" she asked, doing her best to hold her voice steady.
"I dunno. Maybe I can't see a little girl with braids as a hardened criminal," the man said carelessly. "Maybe I think the ones you need to trick would be more likely to trust a girl. Maybe I just didn't like Jason."
Nina longed to defend Jason, to yell and scream at this man that he was a fine one to be calling Jason unlikable. But it was impossible to defend Jason. Surely he had known that betraying Nina would lead to her death.
Why had he done it? Why had he tried to trick the Population Police himself?
Nina didn't have time to lose herself in such questions. The man was talking again, explaining what he meant for her to do.
"We have a group of illegals that we've arrested," he said. "Shadow children with fake I.D.'s—"
"I thought you said that was impossible. Shadow chil' dren can't get fake I.D.'s," Nina interrupted.
"Well, not good ones. Not ones that would fool anyone in authority," the man said. "That's why these kids got caught. I wouldn't be surprised if these kids made the fake I.D.'s themselves. But they're not talking. I have a duty, to the Population Police, to find out who made those I.D.'s, if there's anyone else involved in this evil. And we need to know who's been harboring these illegal children all these years. They were all found out in the street, and they refuse to reveal their parents' names or addresses. You see our dilemma? If we execute the children immediately, other criminals — the ones who hid them, the ones who made their I.D.'s — will never be caught. But if we put you in the same prison cell as these kids, and you get them to trust you and tell you the truth, then you can tell me, and we can get rid of all the criminals. And society's needs will be served. Do you understand?"
Nina understood, all right. That was why she was shiv^ ering violently. Even her braids were shaking.
"And if I refuse?" she asked. Her voice shook, too.
The man raised his eyebrows. "You would dare even to think of that as an option?" he thundered. "If you refuse, you join your wonderful friend Jason. You die."
The sandwich that had tasted so good only a few min^ utes ago was now churning in Nina's stomach. How could she possibly agree to do what the man was asking of her?
But how could she not agree, and let them kill her?
Jason had betrayed her. Her friends had not defended her. It was the way of the world to look out only for your^ self.
"Why would any of these shadow children trust me, anyway?" Nina asked.
"Because," the man said, "we'll make them think you're an exnay, too. Surely you can act the part."
Oh, yes. I can do that, Nina thought.
But can I live with myself if I get these kids to trust me, and then I betray them?
The man was already standing up, brushing crumbs off his pants.
"So, it's settled," he said, as though the conversation was over and Nina had agreed to help. "We'll move you into their cell in the morning."
He turned around and walked slowly toward the door.
It seemed to take him a good five minutes to get his key out, put it in the lock, turn the key so the door sprang open. Nina kept telling herself to call out to him,
Wait! I won't do it! I'd rather die than work for the Population Police! I am an exnay! My name is Elodie and I'm proud of it….
But Nina couldn't get her mouth to open, her tongue to move.
And then the man was out the door. He flipped a switch and Nina's cell was plunged into darkness
again. She heard his footsteps echo down the hall, a lonely sound in the bleak prison.
I belong here now, Nina thought.
I am a betrayer. I am evil.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By morning Nina was thinking about a fairy tale. But this time it wasn't one about a beautiful princess falling in love with a handsome prince. It was "Rumpelstiltskin."
I'm like the miller's daughter, Nina told herself.
The king told her she had to spin straw into gold or die. Given that choice, of course she didn't speak up and say, "Oops, sorry, I can't do it. Kill me." I'm not going to say that, either.
But the miller's daughter wasn't supposed to hurt anyone else. She was just supposed to do something impossible, not wrong.
What Nina was going to do was definitely wrong.
Maybe these other kids will be horrible and nasty, and I'll be glad to betray them, Nina thought.
Maybe they deserve it.
She couldn't make herself believe that.
Nina was still sitting wide awake in the dark when she heard the door of her jail cell scrape open. A guard came over and yanked on her arm.
"Come on with you," he snarled.
"The handcuffs — I'm chained," Nina protested. "I'm chained to the wall."
The guard swore and kicked her in the stomach. Nina doubled over in pain.
This was how the Population Police treated people who worked for them?
The guard stalked out of the jail cell and came back moments later with a key. He unlocked the chains on the wall, then jerked Nina to her feet. Nina hadn't stood in two days. Her legs felt stiff and useless beneath her.
"Come on" the guard commanded, pulling on her arm.
Nina stumbled after him. They went down stairs and through long corridors, past dozens of barred doors. Nina wanted to peek in some of them, but it was too dark, and the guard was rushing her too fast. They descended a final set of stairs, and the air got clammier. Nina tripped and fell, and her bare knee touched standing water before she could right herself. She ran her fingers along the stone wall, and it was moist, too.
They were in the basement. Maybe it was even a cave.
They reached yet another door — this one solid wood— and the guard gripped her arm tighter. With his free hand he unlocked the door, then propelled her forward.
"And if you make any more trouble, you'll get even worse!" he yelled as he released his grip on her arm. Nina flew forward, landing in a heap. The door slammed shut behind her.
"Hello?" Nina called tentatively. She peered into the darkness around her but couldn't make out anything. For all she knew, the walls could be inches from her nose, or miles away. "Hello?" she called again. "Is anyone there?"
There was a rustling off to her right. Nina wondered if it was just rats or mice, and this was all a cruel trick. But in the next second a match flared in the darkness, and someone whispered, "No, I've got it…."
And then a candle glowed. In the dim light Nina could make out two — no, three — faces. These were the kids Nina was supposed to betray. In horror she cried out, 'Are any of you older than five?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
All three faces stared resentfully back at Nina. She had never seen such filthy, ragged children in all her life. After two days in prison — with her dress torn and blood-soaked, her face streaked with tears and dirt, her braid ties lost — Nina knew she wasn't exactly a fashion plate herself. But these kids looked — and smelled, come to think of it— like they'd been born in one of Aunty Lystra's precious garbage dumps. They had dirt caked on their cheeks. They had smears of who knows what dribbled down their patched, baggy clothes. Their matted hair hung in ragged clumps into their eyes. It was impossible to tell if they were boys or girls. Nina wouldn't even have been surprised to discover that they were neither, but some sort of strange humanlike animal she'd never heard of.
Then they started talking.
"We're all older than five," the one in the middle said. "We're just small for our ages."
The smallest one nodded vigorously. "Matthias is ten, Percy is nine, and I'm six."
"And what's your name?" Nina asked gently.
"Alia," the child answered.
Alia. So the littlest one was a girl.
How can I betray a little girl?
Nina asked herself. When Nina was six, her aunties had taken turns holding her on their lap, teaching her to read. Gran herself was in charge of math lessons, and Aunty Rhoda taught her how to spell. Nina could still remember how it felt to snuggle so cozily in an aunty's lap, in the big armchair, with a book balanced on her knees. No matter how cold it got in their apartment, Nina always felt warm, when she was six.
And this six-year-old girl was huddled in a damp jail cell, waiting to die.
"If you don't mind," the biggest one — Matthias? — asked, "I think we'll put out the candle now. We only have the one. But we wanted to get a good look at you."
"Oh, go ahead," Nina said, though she longed for light. Two days in darkness had been much too long.
"My turn!" Alia said joyfully. She leaned over and blew. The flame vanished. Nina longed for it to come back.
But in the darkness I can trick them more easily. They won't be able to tell from my face when I am lying.
Was Nina going to lie to them? She couldn't decide.
"So. Who are you?" an unfamiliar voice — Percy's? — asked in the darkness.
And Nina was already lost. Which name should she say? Which names had they told her — real or fake? She had trouble imagining anyone wanting to name their kid Percy. So they were probably still pretending to be the people their fake I.D.'s said they were.
"You can call me Nina," she said cagily. "But my real name is—"
"No! Don't say it!" Alia screamed.
"We think they might be listening," Matthias explained in a whisper.
"So what?" Nina said recklessly. "They're going to kill us anyway."
Somehow Nina could feel the shocked silence on the other side of the room. Even in the dark she could picture those three grimy faces agape with horror.
"No, they're not," Alia said. "They're going to find out we're innocent, and then they're going to release us."
Alia's voice was buoyant with hope, calm and confident. Did she really believe what she was saying? Was she that stupid? Just from the way the three kids had huddled together, in the brief moments that the candle had been lit, Nina could tell that Matthias and Percy watched out for Alia. Maybe the boys, not wanting a hysterical six^year-old on their hands, had filled her head with lies: "Everything's okay. They won't hurt us. We'll get out soon."
Or was Alia acting, for the sake of the Population Police they thought were listening? Maybe one of the boys had told Alia, 'Act like you think we're innocent, and maybe they'll believe it." But could a six-year-old act so convinc-ingly?
Anyway, how could they possibly think the Population Police were listening? (Or know — if Nina told the Population Police everything, wasn't it like they were listening through Nina's ears?)
Nina rubbed her forehead. Everything was a muddle. How could she ever get these kids to trust her and spill all their secrets now? Did she really want them to tell her all their secrets?
I could find out their secrets and just not tell the Population Police, she told herself.
"How long have you been here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual, like she didn't really care but didn't have anything else to do but ask questions.
Nobody answered right away. Nina thought maybe they were whispering together on the other side of the room. Then Percy spoke up.
"We don't really know. It's hard to tell day from night down here."
"They've only brought us food three times," Alia said helpfully.
"How were you arrested?" Nina asked.
Again, it was a while before anyone answered. Nina wished so badly that she could see them.
"We were standing in line to buy cabbage. All three of us," Matthias final
ly said. "The Population Police came through the market, checking I.D.'s. They said ours were fake. So they arrested us—"
"But they're not fake!" Alia interrupted. "They're real, and the Population Police should know that. DO YOU HEAR ME?" Alia's voice was directed not at Nina, but at the door. Her words echoed so loudly, Nina could barely hear the two boys shushing her.
Nina decided to pretend she didn't notice.
"Why haven't your parents come to get you out?" Nina asked.
"Don't got any parents," Alia said.
Nina noticed the way she'd said that—"Don't got any," — not "Our parents are dead," or "We live with our grandparents," or "It'd be our aunt coming for us."
"Who takes care of you?" Nina asked cautiously.
"We take care of ourselves," Alia said hotly.
And this time Nina was sure the boys were whispering to Alia, telling her not to say anything else. A miserable lump filled Nina's throat. Filthy as they were, at least those three kids had one another. Nina wanted someone to huddle with, too.
If Jason were here—
No, not Jason. He was dead now, and anyway, he had betrayed her. How could she forget? Remembering his hugs made her skin crawl; thinking about his kisses made her wish she'd punched him in the nose instead of kissing back. Why hadn't she challenged him: "You keep saying we ought to do something about third children's rights, something like the famous Jen Talbot's rally. So why don't we?" Nina could have exposed him as a fake, right then and there. She could have been a hero, like Jen.
Instead, she was about to become a traitor.
CHAPTER NINE
Nina fell into a miserable sleep because that was the only way to escape. Let the other three whisper together all they wanted.
She woke when a light flashed over her — someone was shining a flashlight in through the open door.
Among the Betrayed sc-3 Page 3
