The screen slowly comes into focus. I watch, curious to see what Pioneer’s selection is. I’m hoping for something funny and happy. I want to laugh tonight, to forget the conversation between my dad and Pioneer. Still, I’m completely blindsided when the title pops up.
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
I look over at Pioneer to see if he did this on purpose. Does he know that Cody talked to me about it? Is this his way of letting me know? Is he testing my strength before I even leave for town? My whole body breaks out into goose bumps. I swallow hard and try not to feel sick.
I keep looking for Pioneer in the crowd around the pool. It takes me forever to spot him—probably because I can’t calm down enough to do a thorough search. He’s standing back by the projector with my dad. His back is to the screen and they’re in deep conversation, probably about tomorrow and whatever it is that they’re keeping from me.
He can’t know. It’s impossible. Right? I try to tell myself that his movie choice is just a bad coincidence. Maybe Pioneer simply noticed Cody’s shirt and somehow, subconsciously, it made him remember this movie. But deep down it doesn’t feel like a coincidence—not the part where it’s our turn to go to town or the movie or meeting Cody. It feels more like an attack on my resolve. An omen. A test. I grit my teeth and stare at the screen. This is one test that I’m not about to fail.
Do not set foot on the path of the wicked or walk in the way of evil men. For they cannot sleep till they do evil; they are robbed of slumber till they make someone fall.
—Proverbs 4:14, 16
I wake up to a hailstorm. Is a tornado coming? But it isn’t the season.… Is this it, the beginning of the end? I try to scramble out of bed but get tangled in the covers and fall out instead. I roll over and try to see out the window. From where I’m lying, the sky looks clear. There aren’t any telltale back-to-back flashes of lightning.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Still, something is hitting my window. I get up slowly and peer outside. Marie’s down in the side yard. She’s doing a sickly version of a jumping jack that looks more like a kid’s peepee dance than an actual exercise, and I laugh. When she catches sight of me, she motions for me to come outside. I can’t imagine why she wants to talk so early, but I slip out of my room and head down the stairs in a tiptoeing run. She’s obviously attempting stealthiness, since she didn’t use the front door, which makes me think that whatever it is that she’s up to can’t be good. Again. And yet everyone’s worried about me and my so-called misbehaviors. Figures.
“Jeez, Lyla, it took you long enough. I was beginning to think you were comatose or something.”
“What’s up?” I yawn and gather my hair behind my neck, twirling it into a rope before I loop it around itself into a loose knot.
“Listen, I don’t have much time. If my mom figures out I’m gone, I’ll be on permanent house arrest until Armageddon.” She half smiles. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”
I can’t help smiling back. This is classic Marie. “What, no ‘Goodbye, my dear, sweet friend and soul sister; I’ll hold the Silo door open for you just in case the world ends while you’re still in town’?”
Marie rolls her eyes and has the decency to look at least a little embarrassed. “I came to say goodbye too.” She sighs and then blurts, “I thought maybe you could try to get us some more magazines?”
I stare at her and she squirms. “How am I supposed to do that? I doubt the same lady you ran into last time will be out there again with another recycling bin, waiting for me to show up.”
Marie shoots me a look. “I know that.… I was hoping you would buy them.”
This time I laugh out loud and she claps her hand over my mouth and shushes me. “With what, my smile? We aren’t allowed to have any money, remember?” I whisper between her fingers.
She digs into her pocket and pulls out a napkin. In the center of it is a rubber-banded tube of cash. She takes my hand, uncurls my fingers, and puts it on my palm.
I stare at it like it might sting me. “Where did you get this?”
“I’ve sort of been saving it. I’ve been taking a little every time my family’s gone to town for the last year or so. I always volunteer to pay for stuff, fake like I’m trying to learn about money so I can explain how we’ve had to pay for things to my children or something someday. My dad thinks it’s kind of smart, actually. He usually lets me go in and pay at the gas station when we fill up the truck. I only ever take a few dollars at a time. At first it was more to see if I could get away with it than anything else, but then I thought it might be fun to buy some stuff.”
Marie is looking around and shifting from foot to foot like she’s poised to sprint. None of this is really about the magazines at all. It’s about this delusion that she has about finding Drew in one of the magazines, famous and happy and safe. Does she think that if she actually manages to find him, she’ll be able to contact him and get him to come back? Even if it were really possible, there’s nowhere near enough time for that to happen, she has to know that. But then it dawns on me that this is her last chance to try, to hold on to her hope, before we’re underground. After that she has to give up this pretense of seeing him again, because he’ll be dead for sure. She needs to keep holding on for as long as she can. I can see it in her face. And it reminds me of my mom. It must have taken every ounce of bravery that she has to bring this to me, to risk my disapproval. And admittedly, I’m not making things very easy on her. Should I?
Marie gives me this awful pleading look and I feel my resolve softening. If I’m smart, I can just promise her I’ll do what she wants and not actually do it. I can say there wasn’t a good time to try. She’ll understand that. I can keep her safe and help her keep her hope without her knowing that that’s what I’m doing.
“Okay, I’ll try—but I’m not promising anything,” I say reluctantly, and she hugs me.
“You’re the best!” she squeals, and hugs me again.
I take the rubber band off the cash and unroll it. There are twelve ones and one five-dollar bill, seventeen dollars in all. It’s the most money I’ve ever held. It almost seems fake.
“I was hoping maybe—if you figure out a way—you could get us one of those romance novels too—you know, the ones with the shirtless guys on them … and lots of, um, kissing inside?”
I can’t help shuddering a little. Getting magazines is one thing, but buying books with half-naked guys on them and blush-worthy love scenes is quite another. I’m not sure I could survive the embarrassment of taking one up to the cash register, even if I am a little curious about them too.
I glance up at the house. The lights are still off, but it won’t be long now before my parents get up. The sky is more blue than black and I can see pink sunlight peeping over the horizon behind Marie. “I’ll do the best I can, I promise, but don’t get your hopes up too much, okay? You know how my mom is when it’s our turn. You’ll be lucky if I manage to bring you back a gumball.”
Marie hugs me all over again. “I have faith in you. If anyone can do this, it’s you. You’re the last person anyone thinks is capable of something like this.”
She must mean this as a compliment—at least her big smile sort of hints at it—but I feel a little insulted anyway, especially after yesterday.
Now that I’ve agreed to the magazine mission and everything is settled, Marie seems less jittery, more serious. “Be careful out there, okay? Come back as soon as you can.”
She touches my shoulder softly and this one movement seems more affectionate than all of the hugs she’s given me in the last few minutes. We stare at each other. I want to tell her to take care of Will for me, just in case—because with the end so close, who really knows—but I can’t quite get the words out. I hope she knows that she is my sister in every way that counts even if I can’t tell her now without breaking down.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” I finally say because it’s the only thing I can say around the lump in my throat. She nod
s just as my parents’ bedroom light comes on. I close my fingers around the cash she’s given me and we turn away from each other. I slip back into the house and up the stairs to my room mere minutes before my parents head downstairs to prepare for the trip.
Once the truck is loaded with furniture and my parents pack the cab with a cooler full of waters and snacks, I say goodbye to Will. He tucks my hair behind my ear and strokes my cheek.
“I hate that you’re going. I know you’ll be fine, but I don’t like having you so far away from me.” He kisses my forehead. I close my eyes and breathe him in. I’ve always liked the way Will smells—like grass and chlorine and sunshine. He’s my own perpetual piece of summertime. His smell calms me, makes me happy the same way painting does. He’s pure comfort and I tell myself again how lucky I am that he’s mine.
His face gets serious all of a sudden. “There’s still lots of time before the end. There’s no risk in this trip today.” He’s talking to himself more than to me, reassuring himself, which makes me feel a little shaky. I’d managed to deny the risk involved in making a trip away from the Community this close to entering the Silo, but now that he’s having the same thoughts, I can’t ignore it any longer. My face must be going pale, because Will notices and hugs me. “You’ll be fine. It’ll only be a few hours, tops.”
Pioneer is speaking with my mom and dad, handing over the list of supplies and tasks along with the usual envelope full of cash. I pat my pocket and try not to think about the stash of money Marie gave me. I feel sure that I already look guilty, that somehow Pioneer will notice and punish my whole family for this little bit of stupidity that I’ve volunteered for. Even if I’m not going to go through with it, how would they know? I’m having a hard time remembering why I agreed to do it in the first place. Didn’t I just promise Pioneer last night that I would do what I’m supposed to and nothing more? I scan the little crowd of people around us for Marie, hoping maybe I can find a way to back out and give her back the money, but I can’t find her.
I start to fidget and Will puts his arm around me again. He must think I’m still scared about the actual trip—which I am—but I’m also completely preoccupied with this money in my pocket. I stare at my parents and Pioneer and try not to scream at them to hurry up. I want this trip over with. I want to be back already. What is taking them so long?
Finally, Pioneer moves away from my parents and smiles at me, which makes my chest ache. I feel like the money is glowing in my pocket now.
“There’s my brave Little Owl,” he says, and Will lets me out of his arms so that I can enter Pioneer’s. Pioneer hugs me lightly, his hands equally spaced across my shoulder blades. He used to give me great big hugs when I left for town, but now that I’ve … developed, his arms corral me more than they actually touch me. I miss the old hugs, the ones that let me know he thought I was special, but I understand. I’m almost a woman now. I’m definitely shaped like one. In the Community, physical contact between unmarried adults of the opposite sex who are not Intendeds is usually restrained and careful. Given that most people think that I’m Pioneer’s favorite among the younger girls already, it’s only right that he keeps me at a distance now.
I throw my backpack onto the seat and then climb into the truck with my family. The interior smells like warm vinyl and cherries because of the deodorizer hanging from the visor. I’ve always liked the combination. It smacks of open road and new adventures. But today it’s overly sweet and suffocating.
“Ready, ladies?” My dad turns, gives me a smile, and pats my mom’s leg.
My mom sniffles and grabs for her seat belt, clicking it into place carefully before she grips the shoulder harness like it’s a lifeline. She closes her eyes and settles back into the seat. Her skin is pale to the point of translucent this morning. Her mouth is clamped shut; I think maybe she doesn’t trust herself not to start hyperventilating. Today will be hardest on her.
My father looks out the window one last time and turns the ignition. The truck shudders as he eases up on the clutch. We begin to roll slowly toward the back gate. My nerves thrum in time with the revving engine. This is it, we’re actually leaving.
I lean up between the two front seats and look out the front cab window at the gate, which is sliding back on its tracks. Will jogs next to my side window. He’s waving goodbye. I wiggle my fingers at him and then shake my head as he pretends to trip and wipe out in the dirt. I lean out the window and smile at him and he puts his fingers to his lips like he’s about to blow me a kiss, but then he just leaves them there, his face suddenly serious, and my stomach twists a little. I shake my head and wave one last time before I plop down onto the seat. The disquiet I felt last night settles onto my shoulders again. Does Will feel the same way too? Like everything’s threatening to fall apart?
This world houses a million fleeting delights.
I’d be a fool if I denied that. But I ask you, how can they ever truly compare to a long and safe life?
—Pioneer
The trip into town takes forever. There’s not much to look at on the way, just a ribbon of dirt and then blacktop winding through grass and trees. There are other cars now and then, but not enough to feel like we aren’t the only ones on the road. I put my sketchbook and some charcoal pencils in my backpack, but I won’t pull them out until we’re almost there. There’s nothing to sketch here. For now, I sit back and close my eyes and imagine what Will and Marie are doing back home. I drum my fingers against the window and try not to worry about being so far away from them—and the Silo.
This time last week we were all out on the prairie shooting targets. Strange how different things are now. I doubt that there will be more practices anymore. Pioneer will pretty much lock down the development once we get home. The time for practicing is officially over. I don’t like how final everything feels today. And every mile that we put between us and Mandrodage Meadows increases my anxiety. It feels like the end is breathing down my neck now.
Once we get to Culver Creek, we drop the furniture off first. I do some quick sketches of the men helping my dad unload the truck. I try to sketch the people I come across in town. It’s much more pleasant to concentrate on the slope of someone’s forehead or the cleft in his chin than on the idea that he’ll be dead in a few months, even if he is evil.
My mom and I wait inside the truck’s cab. The windows are down, but it’s still extremely hot. I wish we could put the air on, but Pioneer doesn’t like us to keep the truck running. He says someone might carjack us if we do. It’s safer to leave it off and have my dad keep the keys with him.
My mom’s brought a book to keep her occupied while we wait—a collection of poetry. She says it relaxes her, but today her fingers keep flipping the top corners of the right-hand pages. It makes a small thck, thck sound that reminds me of a dripping faucet. It’s maddening, but I don’t ask her to stop, because in her current mood she’s liable to bite my head off.
After the furniture’s unloaded, we pull back onto the main road and head toward the Walmart where we can get most of our supply-list items all at once. Pioneer says it’s the perfect place for us to shop because it’s the only big store for miles and miles. Two towns’ worth of people come to it fairly regularly, so we’re unlikely to attract any attention with our own trip here—except that we’ll have several carts. Dad decides we should split up to save time. He’ll fill part of the list and my mom and I will fill the other.
I actually really like this store. There are always tons of really unique people in it. There’s even a hair-cutting place in front. I like to spend a few minutes there watching the people inside get haircuts. Sometimes they even have tinfoil and other objects twisted into their hair. My mom says that’s how they make it different colors, but the process seems ridiculous somehow. Why go to so much trouble just to go from brunette to blond?
I’ve never had my hair cut by anyone other than Marie, my mom, or someone else in the Community. Usually we’re in the backyard, not in some glass-f
ronted store where everyone can watch. It’s weird. Mom knows that I love to watch the goings-on inside and usually stands with me for a few minutes before we get down to business, but not today. Today she’s focused on getting in and getting out as quickly as possible. Her eyes already scan the aisles for the location of the first items on the list. I walk as slowly as I can so that I can look into the salon just a little longer.
The stylist in the salon is a big, big woman—and I don’t just mean fat. She’s maybe the tallest woman I’ve ever seen, besides being one of the roundest. Her hair is a shade I’ve never seen on a person before—apricot. It isn’t really curly or straight. It’s more like a puff of cotton fill, soft and springy. Her face is covered in more colors: stripes of blue along her eyelids and slashes of bright pink along her cheeks. She’s clashing in every way possible, right down to her black fingernails and aggressively snug yellow jeans. Her hands are buried in some boy’s longish brown hair.
Cody’s hair, I realize with a start.
No, it can’t be him, can it? I did tell him we’d be here today, so it shouldn’t be that big of a shock, but I can’t help it, it is.
I look over at my mom to see if she’s noticed him. Then I remember that they’ve never met. Pioneer and Brian are the only other people who’ve gotten a good look at him. I’m frozen, afraid to move and attract his attention. Seeing him again has simultaneously scrambled my brain and shaken my insides. I stop walking and stare.
Cody brushes some hair out of his eyes. The hair lady has combed most of it straight into his face and is trimming the back, her mouth moving constantly either because she’s babbling like crazy or really enjoying her gum. Cody puts both hands on his knees. I can see him squeeze them, his fingers taut against his jeans.
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