“Do you think Merideth’s going to be alright?” I ask Evvie on the HSR.
“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” she answers.
“I suppose she’ll be busy moving her niece in.” Evvie doesn’t seem to be listening, or even pretending. I change the subject to try to engage her. “We’re going to have to get you a bed, Ev.” Still nothing. My attempts at conversation are going unheeded, but I continue to talk anyway. I can’t stand the quiet with the elephant in the railcar. “My stuff only takes up two of the dresser drawers and less than half of the hanging space in the closet. Do you think we’ll be able to fit in all of your things? By the looks of your luggage here I’m worried we won’t,” I tease.
“We’ll make it work,” Evvie responds absently. “I can get rid of a lot of the stuff Meri’s gotten me. I just couldn’t do it before I packed it,” she says.
“I see.” I can’t break the stiffness between us, which is heartbreaking with how utterly thrilled I am to have her back. There is a mysterious, dark cloud robbing both of us of this hard-to-come-by time of honest happiness.
“I see now why you skipped coming over last week, you little rebel,” I joke as I lift the strands of neon-striped hair and mischievously flick them toward her face. Evvie leaves the hair hanging in her face and says nothing. At this point, I decide I have to offer some settlement to my sister’s anguish to help her relax until we’re able to talk. “Evvie, I got your message. I can tell this is important. We’ll talk just as soon as we can, okay?”
“Okay,” Evvie concedes. Her eyes glisten the instant my support is offered, but I can see she’s not secure that I’ll be able to handle the information that she brings. Her hands are trembling again.
I feel completely powerless, as I have so many times in my life. I am powerless to two entities: death and the county government. Death first took my father, and upset my entire future. Then it stole my grandma, my stronghold. Lastly, it found its way to my poor mother, covered in blood on the cold, white tile.
The government had their hand in the death of my grandma by way of an appallingly agreed upon law that forces the elderly to be euthanized on a randomly drawn date during their sixtieth year. The government’s ugly population plan and unforgiving system for orphaned children tore an innocent pair of light-eyed sisters apart.
I’m tired of feeling helpless. I finally have my sister back. I am finally old enough and brave enough that I will never allow that to be changed again. But I have to be patient. Against my protective instincts, I have to wait to dispel whatever is bothering Evvie.
Instead, I place my hands on her cheeks and shush her, tucking the feathery strands of hair behind her left ear. I lay Evvie’s troubled head against my shoulder and hold it there until she calms. Her eyes close and I dry the tears that have carved their way down her cheeks. I breathe in and out with Evvie, until the rhythm soothes her so much that she falls asleep.
“Evvie, we’re here.” I gently pat her knee to wake her from the light sleep that only lasted a few minutes. It’s time to depart the HSR; this is a close to the transition building as it gets.
None of the pretentious passengers bothered to take notice of how distraught Evvie was earlier and, following suit, none offer a helping hand to the two young girls trying to carry loads of luggage through the bustling bodies that are exiting and boarding the rail. We don’t need anyone’s help anyway. We’ve always gotten along without it.
It takes us some time, and certainly a lot of effort, but we manage to jiffy up two rigs to haul her two suitcases, three boxes, and a ridiculous lamp the extra quarter-mile we have to weave by foot to reach the transitions building in Sector Seven.
Evvie and I get right to work unloading her belongings into pockets where we make room. The place is quite small for one—it’s certainly not intended for two. I don’t think I’ll mind the increased tightness because it means that I’m back with my sister. But I imagine the hostel will be some adjustment for Evvie, who had her own bedroom and attached bathroom for the last two years. Hopefully she prefers this living space to the openness of the orphanage, which I know she still remembers clearly.
After everything is sorted and situated, Evvie and I gather trash and empty boxes to be taken out back. I pick up the teaming box Evvie artfully labeled free. She insisted that I call her less-than-practiced writing artful rather than sloppy. I was happy see a piece of her humor return.
Evvie follows me toward the entrance of the transitions building with the garbage and recycling. I picked up the heavier item, but definitely left the awkward bits for her to juggle. I let the box plummet to the floor with a thud and use my foot to usher it against the wall. I take a couple recycling items from Evvie’s hands and one from under her chin.
When we round the corner back to our hall, I drop my items and signal for Evvie to stay put and watch me. Noting no stirrings in the hallway or stairwell, I swoop onto the window ledge, tuck the key under the ceiling tile, and land weightlessly onto the thin, stained carpeting.
“You’re going to grab it on the way back,” I whisper as I lead my sister toward the back door and opened it for her.
“What if I’m not tall enough?” she asks.
I take the trash and recycling bags from her after discarding my odds and ends and hurl them into the appropriate bins. Additional stench extricates from the dumpster as the trash makes its landing. Evvie doesn’t seem to notice. She was closer to the center of Miles where she and Merideth lived in Sector Ten, which means she has built up a strong tolerance for these kinds of odors. I hope to help her promptly eradicate that tolerance. It’s one I won’t allow.
I step in close to Evvie to compare her height to mine. Her eyes are only slightly below mine now. “You’ll be fine,” I confirm. I grin excitedly, but she remains vexed.
Evvie tries to hoist herself onto the window ledge, but having such a minute hold, she fails. Her forehead wrinkles and jaw tenses as she focuses her current frustrations into her fingertips. The fear she holds fosters her determination as she tries a few more times. Evvie swings her body’s momentum onto the ledge, and uses her strength to patiently pull herself into a delicate stand. She steals the key from under the ceiling tile, and descends with perfect finesse.
My sister doesn’t allow me a moment to bask in her success. She approaches me after her ten-point landing and urgently whispers, “When are we going to talk?”
“We can try now,” I say as I shepherd her back inside our apartment, “but it’s possible that we won’t be able to.” I search for the right coding to make Evvie understand me and yet create a plausible mask. “We might not have enough time with the pizza already in the oven.” I truly had slid a pizza in two minutes ago, before we had taken its wrapping and the rest of the trash out.
What I hoped to convey to Evvie is that we might not be able to talk within the bounds of Miles, just to be on the safe side. I detected the seriousness of the problem instantly when I saw Evvie’s anxiety in the courtroom. Since it didn’t dissipate at all after the case was won, I know that I need to find out what is going on as soon as I can. I’m tired of trying to imagine situations that could be causing her this much distress. Not knowing is driving me crazy.
“I’m not hungry, Sydney!” Evvie spews. She is beginning to become angry with me for not finding a way to listen to her and solve the problem. She clearly isn’t wise enough yet to pick up on my subtleties. How can I clue her in on my plan to talk outside of Miles without leaving an obvious trace in our conversation? There is enough of a rumor buzz about tablets, projectors, and speakers being tapped for sound and video feed that people with dissenting views often express them cryptically.
I have a better solution than code. I know how to get out of Miles entirely—to where we can speak openly. It’s clear that my ability to go on outings is going to be an indispensable tool when dealing with my fourteen-year-old sister. My only option is to lead Evvie on the path that will take us out, and trust that she can follow
without getting herself hurt or the both of us caught. Violating my promise to the judge that I would never leave the limits of the county would surely result in her being ripped from my grasp.
The oven dings to let me know the pizza is hot and ready, and it circumstantially relieves some of the rigidity in the air. I don’t care if Evvie is ill-tempered right now—it’s still nice to sit down to a dinner with someone. I never quite realized until now how lonely I have been the last two years, living here by myself. At first I loved the quiet compared to the cafeteria in the orphanage. But quiet grows gray fast too.
“So how are we going to talk? Where are we going to—” I forcefully raise my pointer finger to my mouth to shush Evvie, but she’s already given more away than I would have liked. I angrily lop down from the stool and go back around to the kitchenette. I yank an empty glass from the cupboard and clumsily place it between the slices of pizza lying untouched on our plates.
After scrounging, I pull a notepad, an ink pen, and a matchbook from a poorly organized drawer. I quickly scratch the words, BE MORE CAREFUL and TRUST ME PLEASE, on the pad. Evvie’s eyes follow the words, and then she sorrowfully lowers her head. I tear the note from the pad, crumple it, place it into the glass, and promptly light it on fire. On the other side of the kitchen, I wrap my arm around Evvie’s shoulder as we watch the paper burn. I feel terrible for having to be sharp with her so soon, but I need her perception and understanding to mature quickly if we are going to pull this infraction off by morning.
Evvie’s eyes alternate between the untouched pizza sitting on her plate and remnants of the charred paper in the glass. “Evelette Harter, eat your pizza,” I command. “I have an eventful day planned for us tomorrow and you are going to need your energy.” My eyes narrow in and lock on hers. Finally, she understands how this business must be done. Hopefully she will be able to decipher my code naturally like she did when she was very little. I had to tell someone about the world beyond Miles County, and Evvie is always my someone.
“We’re going to go shopping tomorrow,” I say matter-of-factly when we’ve both finished our dinners.
“For a bed?” she asks.
Evvie has taken me literally, although we’ve practically just finished going through heaps of unnecessary items. Does she really think I’m interested in getting her anything new? I guess answering yes, that we’re going to go shopping for a bed, will be a sensible cover. I need to make this more obvious to her.
“Yes. I’m going to wake you up early to go because I love shopping but I don’t love the crowds.” I catch Evvie’s attention by using the words love and shopping in the same sentence. She knows me way better than that. I have her—now we can get somewhere. Hopefully, I can dull down the corniness from here on out. Obvious sarcasm is fairly contradictory to well-coded thoughts and plans. “If I take you shopping with me, don’t go running off. Stay close,” I say, emphasizing the last words.
“Okay,” Evvie nods. She’s hooked. She knows my first rule.
“I literally want you on my coattails. And no stopping to yap while we’re out, okay?”
“Not a word,” she promises. That’s my girl. She’s catching on. Evvie’s breathing accelerates and she focuses on my every word, calculating.
“Good. I want to get in and get out, so quickness is very important. It’s a good thing you’re in track. Hey, by the way, did you take up long jumping like I suggested?” I ask in a literal sense but to ascertain crucial information so that I know how to proceed with her on the jump.
Evvie looks a little puzzled. She is striving to be careful and is trying to determine whether this is code. I show her an okay hand gesture and then roll my hand in waves as if to roll her answer along. “Yeah, I just started, like two weeks ago.”
“You have to be pretty brave for that event. That’s how I knew you would be good at it. You have to be pretty confident that you’ll make the pit. How many feet can you jump?”
“Almost sixteen. My coach says I’m a natural,” she boasts, spirits rising some.
“That’s my sister!” I give her a little squeeze on the shoulder, quite proud of her sporting feat. I’m also overjoyed to know she’ll have no problem jumping a distance that will get her into an area of decent depth in the pond across the barrier. “Maybe you can show me sometime tomorrow.”
Evvie nods that she’d like to show me. The essential messages have gotten across successfully. “Syd, am I going to be able to stay on my track team?”
“Probably not, Evvie,” I confess. Merideth had no problem providing Evvie with some positive opportunities that I can’t afford for her. I am sorry for that, but it doesn’t change my belief that being with me is right for her. She might forget about organized sports altogether after she partakes in tomorrow’s adventure. That kind of adrenaline is in a league of its own.
“What if I work?” Evvie suggests.
“You’re a year too early for that, and I don’t think we need to go asking for a variance to allow you to work a year early. It might show weakness, like I can’t provide well for you, and we don’t need to give the court any reason to change their minds about this. Plus, if you were working, you might not have enough time for sports on top of school. Your schooling is more important and I know that you know that.” I feel sorry for her, but Evvie just nods and accepts it. She doesn’t appear too upset.
“What do you say we order a movie and call it an early night after it’s over?” It’s not as much of a question as an outline of how the rest of the night will go. “You go order it. I’m going to clean up here and pick something out for each of us to wear tomorrow. There’s an intense day of shopping ahead and we need to look the part. Also, you better hydrate and stretch during the movie for good measure,” I giggle, trying to make my underhanded command seem as though it’s a girlish joke. In my mockery, I pull a genuine smile from my delighted sister.
Concealed in the Shadows Page 7
