First

by Chanda Stafford

  “Who cares? We have the time and my schedule, as it is, is open. If it makes you feel better, I’ll make the arrangements.”

  I take a deep breath. Do I want to see them? What would Max think? Would he be confused even more? Does he miss me? What would Tanner think? Worry and guilt swell inside me as thoughts of Will take over. But Tanner, he tried to save me. I owe him this much. With my decision made, I give him my answer.

  “I have lunch if you’re interested.” Will sets a plate of food on the desk a couple of hours later. My stomach growls, but I shake my head.

  “I don’t think I can eat anything. Sorry.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Yeah, kinda. Socrates says it’s fine, but still… no Second has ever gone back home after being chosen. I guess I’m just worried about how my mom will react.” My traitorous stomach grows as the smell finally gets to me.

  “Who’s coming with us?” I ask, turning away from the food as my stomach churns again.

  “Just you, Socrates, and myself,” Will replies, watching me closely, concerned. “And Ben, of course. Look, are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to if—”

  “Yes. My brother, Max, he’s only six and…”

  “And that boy, right? What was his name again?”

  I scowl, tempted to toss a pillow at him. “Tanner, and you leave him out of this.”

  “I heard you two were supposed to marry.” He arches his eyebrows at me, darkness and maybe something else seeming to cloud his vision.

  “Are you jealous?” I grin, boldly running my finger from his shoulder to his hand.

  Will clenches his fist and takes a step back. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Good, because Tanner and I… we were just good friends, that’s all.”

  “Just friends?” I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head. “Look, it’s none of my business.” Will spins around on his heel and stalks toward the door. “Then, I’ll just leave you to it, and I’ll see you when the pod’s ready.”

  I chuckle as the door shuts, almost in a slam, behind him.

  A few minutes later, the boy who brought my breakfast, Jacob, comes to my room and says the pod is waiting. Will comes to my room and escorts me to the transport room. Socrates waits there, wearing a blue cotton shirt and black pants. Ben sits patiently at his side, and when he sees me, his tail swishes back and forth on the floor.

  As I approach the sleek silver pod Will directs me to, my hands sweat. Will’s words echo in my head. Do I really want to do this? Should I? It’s never been done before. Should I be the first?

  Just as I’m about to change my mind, Socrates flashes me a reckless grin and winks before climbing into the transport first, followed by Ben, and shuts the door. The machine hums on, flashes a bright white light, and then goes dark. After a few seconds, the door pops open with a slight hiss. The pod is empty, and Will gestures for me to get inside. I offer him a shaky smile as I climb over the slight lip, but his face stays blank.

  When the door swings open, I’m faced with the interior of the manor’s pantry. One of the house servants, Tevan, stands stiffly by the door while Socrates grips his elbow. Socrates’s dog sniffs the floor, looking for snacks. Will clears his throat from behind me, and I stumble forward. He grabs my elbow to keep me from pin-wheeling out onto the floor. That would be a wonderful entrance.

  Will takes my arm and leads me toward Socrates, who is talking to Mrs. Chesaning on the veranda. As we get closer, I can hear Socrates’s voice, low and soothing, while she clenches her hands in front of her.

  “No, madam, there is nothing wrong with my Second,” he says.

  “Are you sure? She’s always been… well, we thought she would be…” She looks harried, her normally perfect chestnut hair askew, strands hanging around her face, her eyes, washed out but puffy around the sides. In my mind, I see Mr. Reynard shaking his finger at her and pulling out his little makeup box of horrors. Looks like she’s due for a renewal.

  He shakes his head. “No, she’s perfect. We have some extra time before leaving for my compound, and I felt that it would do her good to see her family. She didn’t get to say goodbye before she left.”

  She squeaks something about the short notice, but is too polite to outright object to our presence.

  Socrates puts a hand on her arm. “I understand, and I apologize. I can assure you that we’ll be gone quickly. We won’t disrupt the workings of your farm, and I sincerely appreciate your kindness and hospitality.” His voice is low, soothing, as if he’s trying to project calm and relax her. Good luck. The woman was a mess even when I was growing up. The house staff always complained about how she’d get worked up over the littlest things, like getting the exact shade of purple for her centerpieces correct. As if that really matters.

  She blusters something else, but I don’t pay attention, too busy staring at the barn and the apartment building where we live. Lived. Don’t forget, Mira. You don’t live there anymore. People in the fields and the barnyard stop their work to gawk at us. I recognize them, but they look hurriedly away, as if they know me but don’t want to.

  Will’s hand falls from my arm to my hand and squeezes it. I hold on for dear life, needing the comfort. The sinking feeling in my stomach grows glacier-huge. Will was right. This was a bad idea. Horrible, even.

  Socrates looks over at us, eyebrows raised, then back at the farm. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” He limps into the courtyard, leaning heavily on his cane. Ben walks on his left, there in case his master needs him. Tevan follows close behind. When we get down to the yard, my mother walks out of the barn in a group of other workers and stands stiffly. Where’s Max? Maybe they don’t want him to see me. The sister who was chosen, but came back.

  We stop about ten feet from my mother. She looks older now, her red hair frayed and frizzed, eyes lined and red. I find it amazing what a difference a few days and a lifetime can make to how I see them.

  “Mom.” I walk up to her, leaving Will and Socrates behind. Casting her eyes at everyone else, she pulls me into a tight embrace.

  “Mira, what have you done?” she whispers into my ear. I pull away from her.

  “Nothing! Why would you just automatically guess that I’d screw this up?”

  My mother glances back at the barn, and I see Max’s little head poking around the side. She looks past me to Will and Socrates. “Do you mind if Mira and I have a word, alone?”

  “Of course.” Socrates nods, gesturing to Will. The two men turn and walk back to where Mrs. Chesaning still stands.

  Mom leads me around the side of the barn to a bit of shade. “You should never have come back. People are going to think you were rejected.”

  “But I wasn’t. Honest. Socrates brought me back so I could say goodbye. I miss you and Max. I love you.” Nausea rises up from my stomach when she looks away and pauses before taking a deep breath.

  “I love you, too, Mira, but you don’t belong here, not anymore.” She walks over to an old rusty picnic table and leans onto one of the benches. I follow her, not looking back at Socrates or Will or even Max, who waits in the shadow of the barn, staring after us.

  “How can you say that? I was born here. This is my home!” My voice is getting shrill, but I don’t care.

  “Seconds never come back, even after… everything. They never come back. You coming here… it’s just not right.” Her eyes soften, and a tear tracks down one cheek. “We love you, Mira, your brother and I, we do. We miss you, too, but you have to move on. You’re Absolved now. We miss you too. Max asked about you after you left. I explained as best I could what an honor it was to be chosen, but he’s too young to understand what a gift it truly is.”

  “A gift?” I lean away from her. “I’m going to die in less than a week. Did you know that? Doctors are going to strap me dow
n on a table and kill me, just so Socrates can live another lifetime.”

  Her face blanches just a second before she looks away, wringing her hands. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “You had no idea.” She won’t look at me. “I guess they were right, then. They said you didn’t know about it. I didn’t think you’d actually allow me to be chosen if you knew.”

  She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them, she looks even older and more tired. “No. I didn’t know. I… well… I suspected they might not be telling us everything.”

  “But you still let me go? They’re going to kill me. How is that okay?”

  “It’s not, but there’s… there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  “I can’t believe this. I thought you loved me.” My words hit her like a physical blow, and she clenches her fists at her sides.

  “How dare you say that? Of course I love you.” I shake my head and start to protest, but she holds up a hand. “Is this really the kind of life you’d want? Married to a man you don’t love with children who will also have to stand in a line, waiting to be chosen? Is that what you want?” Her face gets all blotchy and red. Tears fill her eyes as she reaches out to touch my arm.

  I pull away. I don’t want her kind of comfort. “Maybe, maybe not. That doesn’t matter. Socrates said I have a choice. He said that if I didn’t want to do this, I don’t have to, and you know what? He’s right.”

  She angrily shakes her head. “Blood wins, every time. Your father and I were afraid of that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your knack for arguing, fighting, breaking the rules.” She sounds bitter, as though she’s had this discussion before. “We thought it came from your mother’s side of the family.”

  I lean back, feeling the blood rush from my head. “But you’re my mother. Don’t you mean from your side of the family?” I’ve never met my maternal grandparents. They were older when they had my mother and died before I was born.

  “No, I mean your birth mother’s family.”

  “Are you telling me you’re not my real mother?” My mind reels, but my body is frozen. All little kids dream, or have nightmares, of finding out their parents aren’t their real ones, but in reality? Never in a million years.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, and if you’re so determined to know the truth about everything, then no, I’m not.” She spits the words at me as if they’re poison. “Haven’t you ever noticed that you don’t look a thing like your brother or sister?”

  “I… well… no… but I’m not… I can’t be… Rosie was my sister. Max is my little brother.”

  “Half-sister. Half-brother. Your mother…”

  “I’m not your daughter?” I can’t believe this. She reaches out to me again, but I step back. “Don’t touch me. Tell me the truth.”

  “I’m sorry. Your mother died shortly after your birth. You’d be dead, too, if I hadn’t agreed to take you in, so you have no right to be angry at me.”

  “What do you mean?” She pauses so long, eyes looking inward, that I think she’s not going to say anything, that she’ll let me leave without telling me what on earth she’s talking about.

  “I know you loved your father, and you won’t want to hear this, but when he was younger, he was… well… a bit wild.” One of my last memories of my father, teaching me to help birth a horse, comes to mind. He was always so careful, always trying to keep me safe. Not a wild bone in his body. “He had an affair with… with… that woman.” She winces at the words, as if even now, so many years later, the thought of my father sleeping with another woman still burns her.

  My mind whirls. This can’t be possible. “No, he would never do that. He loved you.”

  She reaches for me again, the pain in her eyes so vivid I let her take my hands, too numb to pull away. “I’m afraid so. We had only been married a year and—”

  “What was her name?”

  “Moriah.” She drops my hands as if they are scalding hot.

  “Was she from here?” I feel detached. Everything makes some weird sort of sense. She’s always treated me differently than my brother and sister. I thought it was because I killed Rosie. Now I know it’s because I’m the bastard child of my father’s mistress.

  “No. She moved here just before the affair started. I don’t know where she lived before, some other farm, I guess.”

  “What was she like?”

  “How can you ask me that? Your father and I were barely married a year before I found out she was pregnant.”

  It hits me. The law. Adultery has particularly steep consequences. “The Chesanings found out?”

  “Of course, and she was banished, as is the law. They were going to send you out with her, but the night before they took her out into the forest she begged me to take you. She knew the wilderness was no place for a child, that you wouldn’t stand a chance out there.”

  “And you… what? Adopted me?”

  She shrugs. “I knew it wasn’t your fault, and I so wanted a child.”

  “What happened to Dad?”

  “Nothing. She admitted it was her fault and claimed she seduced him.” A satisfied look crosses her face, and she nods, as if justified. Is she proud of this? That a woman died?

  Disgust rises in my throat. You were my hero, Dad. How could you? She was pregnant with your kid. You abandoned her.

  As if hearing my thoughts, she continues. “You have to understand. If your father hadn’t done what he did, he would have been banished, too, and then you would have died with the two of them.”

  “Did he love her?” The words escape my mouth before I can stop them.

  Shock, then rage quickly turns her face from white to bright red again. “No! How could he? He chose me, us, over her. He saw the error in his ways, and we raised you together, as a family.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Suicide. After she was banished, she found some hemlock and swallowed it. We found out later she had connections to Live Once and was planted here to infiltrate the farm. It’s kind of ironic, really, you being chosen as a Second since all she really wanted was to stop that program.” She glances over my shoulder. “I know we probably should have told you earlier, but we didn’t think you’d ever need to know. You have to understand, despite everything, I’ve always loved you.”

  I let out a sarcastic laugh. My mother… well, the woman I thought was my mother, loved me. Right. I mean, maybe in her own way she did, but it’s not the same as all the other kids. I could never please her. Now maybe I can guess why.

  “No, really. You’re the most amazing daughter I could have wished for.” She smiles and reaches for me.

  I pull away. “That’s a lie. I’m a horrible daughter. I killed my own sister!”

  She looks away quickly, and something dark and slimy shivers up my spine.

  “What, next you’ll tell me that was a lie, as well?”

  “Mira, stop, please. It happened so long ago. Don’t make me talk about this.” She’s hiding something else. I can feel it.

  “Has my whole life been a lie? No wonder you wanted me to leave and never return.”

  Her hand cracks against my cheek before I can react, and then her finger pokes me in the chest. “You want the truth? Well, here it is. There was a First who was supposed to come the morning after your sister’s fifth birthday. His name was Nabokov, and he was looking for a young girl with black hair and green eyes. He liked them as young as possible and was coming to our farm first.”

  “But what does that have to do with her disappearance? That was my fault. It was so hot that day, and she wanted to go swimming, but I wouldn’t go. I wanted to hang out with Tanner instead.”

  “If I tell you more,
will you promise not to tell anyone?” She looks so miserable I feel myself feeling sorry for her, just a little bit because after she lied to me about being my mother all those years, well, it’d take a whole misery to make this right.

  “Who would I tell? I’ll be dead in a few days anyway.” I know I’m being mean, but I can’t help myself. She winces again at my harsh words. “Just, please, tell me what happened.”

  “We… well, your father and I met someone who said he could help. This man—I never learned his name—said that if we could arrange for the two of you to meet him in the woods by the border, his people would get you to a safe place. We’d never see you again or even hear how you were doing, but it’d be better than the alternative.” She paces back and forth in front of me, not once meeting my eyes, as if I would judge her and blame her for Rosie’s death the way I’d blamed myself all these years.

  “And you believed him? He could have been a pedophile, a murderer, someone who sells children.”

  “You don’t understand what it’s like to be a mother and to know your children are in danger. You’re right. We should have told you.” She reaches for me.

  I brush her hands away and shake my head to clear my thoughts. “You should have told me a lot of things. Did she make it? Is she safe?” In my mind, I see little Rosie with her long blue-black curls twirling in the wind, her hands full of dandelions. Giggling, laughing, alive.

  My mother frowns. “I don’t know. You were supposed to go with her, and if he didn’t show, you’d both come back.” She scrubs at her eyes.

  “So since I didn’t go, you let her go out there, in the forest, alone?”

  Her face hardens. “She wasn’t supposed to be alone, remember?” Anger flashes in her eyes.

  I shake my head. Suddenly, I feel as if a weight has been lifted, but instead of feeling relieved, I feel tired, exhausted. No, Mom, you’re not going to pin this on me any longer. “You know, for seven years I’ve blamed myself for my sister’s death. And now I find out the truth, and it’s still my fault.”