by Rebecca Sky
Both Marissa and I look to my ma. If we don’t let him make a call, he’ll know something’s wrong. If he calls, he’ll definitely know something’s wrong and, worse, the police will know where we are.
‘Let me go get the phone,’ Ma says, setting down her cup and standing.
Marissa and I share a look.
‘I could just … you know,’ Marissa offers.
‘There’s no need for that,’ Ma says, firm, a warning as she leaves the room.
Ben fills an empty mug with chai and shifts further into the side of the couch, away from Marissa. She flops back and crosses her arms, leans to me and whispers, ‘I liked my plan better.’
‘Be serious for once,’ I whisper back, shifting to face her. ‘It’s your fault this is happening.’
‘My fault?’ Marissa whips around, bumping Ben, who almost spills his tea. She points over her shoulder at him, her whispers getting louder. ‘If he wasn’t hot, I wouldn’t have stopped to turn him. So blame him. You know what? Actually, you’re the one who pissed me off. If you hadn’t been late, none of this would’ve happened.’
‘You’re not seriously trying to put this on me?’
‘Then blame Ben’s hot face if it makes you feel better.’
I slap the magazine on the table and sit hard into the couch. ‘Don’t you mean his nice shoes?’
The sound of Ben clearing his throat causes us to stop. We slowly turn. ‘So, what are we talking about?’ he asks, a large grin spreading across his face. ‘Whose fault? What plan?’
He’s newly returned to his mind, but it’s probably still broken because the amount of flirt he’s offering Marissa is disgusting. I hide my groan.
‘It’s nothing,’ Marissa says, narrowing her eyes and cocking her head like she’s accepting some unspoken challenge. ‘We missed a big test at school today and Rach is a bit upset about that. Or maybe she’s jealous I met you first. I dunno.’
Another quick lie.
He consents to that with a smile, before leaning back. The last thing I want is to see Ben’s mischievous grin directed at her. I push myself off the couch and head to the kitchen.
From behind me I hear, ‘So. You like my shoes, huh?’
When I reach the kitchen, I plop down on to a stool.
‘Has your ma sent you? Does she need more tea?’ Dad trips over his feet running to the stove to grab the kettle.
‘No, she’s fine.’ I use my arm for a pillow.
‘A snack then?’
‘I said she’s fine.’ I whack the table with my knee.
‘Don’t talk to me like that, young lady!’
‘Wha— ?’ I’m pretty sure I just got in trouble, which means – Dad actually paid attention to something I did. My heart quickens, and I sit up straight.
‘Your mother doesn’t like it when people raise their voices,’ he continues.
And just like that my heart sinks. Every time I fall for it. You’d think I’d learn by now that he doesn’t care about me, not even enough to get mad. But once, just once, I let myself hope he’d be different. This is why I want to be a social worker. No one should have to feel this way.
I have nowhere to go so I just stay there, resting my chin in my hands, and staring out into the garden.
That’s when I see Ma out there, on the cordless phone. I glance at Dad, head over a steaming pot, so focused on cooking dinner for Ma he’s already forgotten I’m here. I slip over to the door, and crack it open enough to listen.
‘Ammon, it’s me … yes … listen, I need you to tell Benjamin Blake that he was injured and that he is to stay with us until you come to get him. Is that clear? … No, you don’t need to come, just tell him … Good. Now that that’s done, tell me what the police know about the escaped prisoners … OK … You freed them, yes? … Hmmm … OK … if anything changes, tell them you received an anonymous tip-off that they’ve gone to Canada … Good. When you’re finished with Ben you will forget me and this conversation. Am I clear?’ Ma straightens out her saree, whips her pallu over her shoulder and presses the receiver to it, then spins on her heel and heads for the door. I rush back to the kitchen, leaning awkwardly on the counter, hoping she won’t notice me. But of course she does, so I smile, trying to look natural as I follow behind her into the living room. She marches up to Ben and holds out the phone in her gloved hands. ‘Here. It’s Ammon.’
Ben hands the phone back to Ma when he’s done and smiles anxiously. ‘I hope it’s not an inconvenience if I stay a little longer. Until Ammon picks me up?’
‘Of course not,’ Ma says, taking the phone from him and resting her free hand over her black and gold beaded necklace. ‘Now, how about I grab us all a little something to eat? Rachel, will you help me?’
Ma’s tone is enough to silence any potential argument from Marissa, who shrugs and slides closer to Ben on the sofa. He smiles at her and I quicken my pace out of the room.
Dad looks up from the stove as we enter the kitchen.
‘My love, what can I do for you?’
‘You are doing more than enough,’ Ma says as she takes a seat, smoothing the dyed tablecloth out of habit. I tap my foot as I wait for her to explain – the whole table shakes from it.
Despite what Ma said, Dad brings her a mug of masala chai. She thanks him with a smile before turning to me.
‘What’s going on, Ma?’
Ma sighs, takes a sip of her tea and sets the mug down hard. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware, after graduation every Hedoness is encouraged to sign on to a seven-year commitment.’
‘Yeah, but I’m not planning on it. Why are you bringing this up now?’
She glances at me. ‘You are told the work years are voluntary, but they are mandatory.’
‘Mandatory? But … university?’ I say, feeling the loss pour out of me with the word. No wonder Ma tried to encourage me away from it.
‘Yes,’ she says, not making eye contact. ‘It was a difficult revelation for me too. But my hope is that they’ll find you a job similar to being a social worker.’
I want to tell her that any job involving working as a Hedoness would crush my soul, but now hardly seems the time.
‘As St Valentine’s is now closed—’
‘What? Wait? Closed? When did that happ—’
‘I spoke with Mother Superior before I spoke with Ammon. The police were poking around, they’ve taken some of the Sisters in for questioning, so the Committee intervened, as they often do,’ she says, so offhandedly that it makes me think there’s a story there. ‘Anyway, students are being transferred immediately.’
I sit forward. ‘Transferred? To where?’
‘They’ve arranged for them to go to Committee headquarters in Athens. You’re to continue your education there.’
‘What’s with this Committee?!’ I explode. ‘Why do they think they can dictate my whole life?’
‘Rachel …’ She cocks her head.
‘I’m serious, Ma. What’s their deal?’
Ma slides her cup away and leans in. ‘There was a time when gods and man lived and interacted together,’ Ma starts, sounding a little too like one of the Sisters reading from a textbook. ‘Things went awry, as they normally do, and the pact was made ensuring the gods would never again leave Olympus and interfere in the ways of man.’
‘I learned all this in school.’
Ma ignores me and continues. ‘That pact established the Committee – a group of mortals tasked with the responsibility to govern and oversee the demigod offspring, where the gods couldn’t. The Committee soon learned of the difficulties of rearing young Hedonesses, and established the interfaith programme, mimicking various religious establishments to guard us as they assist in training.’
I let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘I know all that. But what I don’t know is if I’m going.’
‘Of course you’re going,’ she says, in a manner that makes me realize she has no clue her words just shattered my heart. ‘Like it or not, you need to complete your training
. And if they want you at headquarters for that, then we’re all going to Athens. No way I’m letting the Committee take my only daughter to the opposite side of the world without me.’ She chuckles, but it isn’t her usual warm laugh – there’s hesitation in it. After a moment of silence, Ma clears her throat and takes in the room with a long sigh. ‘I guess we’ll need to sell the house.’
‘Ma, please. I don’t want this.’
‘I’m sorry, Rachel. This is our way.’
‘Why? Why does it have to be?’
‘Rachel—’
Suddenly this hand-dyed tablecloth I helped Ma pick out on our trip to India, this small kitchen where I’ve eaten every meal, these brick walls chipped by my chair from years of being whacked with my book bag – it all means so much to me. This is my home. It’s all I have. I’m tired of losing everything because I’m a Hedoness. ‘I won’t go,’ I say, a whisper.
‘Excuse me?’ Ma crosses her arms.
‘Ma, the last thing I want is to fight with you. But the Hedoness way isn’t my dream.’
‘Dreams are a luxury,’ she says, her eyes distant.
I reach across the table and grab her arm; she tenses beneath my touch. ‘Please, this is important to me. Is there any other way?’
‘What would people say if we go about disobeying the Committee?’
‘I don’t care what people say – this isn’t their life!’
Ma lets out a long breath and leans back. I can see the thoughts swirling in her eyes. But I have no clue what they are.
‘You said you want me to be happy, Ma. New York makes me happy.’
She pulls her arm free and spins her cup, but doesn’t take a sip.
‘Ma? Please, talk to me.’
She looks up. ‘This isn’t my first choice, either.’
My heart speeds. ‘We can just wait a little while. Until this mess all gets sorted and St Valentine’s reopens.’
She quirks her brow. ‘You begged me yesterday to leave the school.’
‘That was before it meant leaving our home.’
She’s quiet again and I know I have to say something to make her see things my way. ‘I don’t have much, Ma. I don’t get to have friends I choose, I don’t get to pick my school, or my clothes. My future is outlined for me like some bad screenplay. But this home, this city, it’s all I’ve ever known. Please don’t make me lose it too.’
She takes a long swig of tea, sets her cup down perfectly in the centre of a large dyed flower, and looks back up. ‘I suppose it doesn’t hurt to gather more information before uprooting the house.’ She frowns into her cup. ‘We’ll need to find someplace else to stay for the time being.’
It takes everything in me not to squeal thank you, thank you, thank you.
‘Don’t get excited just yet. This is temporary, Rachel. I don’t doubt we will be heading to Athens soon.’ She stops, her expression shifting to a more serious one. ‘That said, I don’t trust what’s happening here. It seems strange to uproot a whole school.’ She takes another sip. ‘It feels too similar to an incident I had with them before you were born. Getting all the facts will help ease my mind.’
‘Incident?’
She pauses for a long beat before answering. ‘Incident may be the wrong word. I’m not sure if it was a coincidence or not, but they once approached me and offered a position at headquarters. At the time, I was assigned to the consulate for my work years. I loved it there so I turned the Committee down.’ Her eyes fill with something softer, colder. Sadness? Anger, maybe. ‘Anyway, two weeks after I turned them down, a mysterious budget cut cost me my job placement.’
‘Seriously?’
‘It wasn’t for nothing,’ she continues. ‘The consulate is where I met your father and instead of continuing my work there, I continued with the greater calling we Hedonesses have. I had you.’ She says it almost as though she were a normal ma telling a normal kid how their parents met. Almost.
I lean against the table and puzzle over her words. ‘So what now?’
‘Now I make some phone calls and—’
She’s cut off by a high-pitched giggle from down the hall. Ma sets her cup on the table, tugging on her gloves out of habit. ‘You shouldn’t leave those two alone together too long. I don’t trust that friend of yours.’
I enter the room and flop down on the couch next to Ben. I’m not sure if I’m the third wheel, or if he is.
‘I can’t believe I’m still wearing this filthy uniform,’ Marissa complains, scratching the spot on her skirt that got dirty at the precinct. It looks clean to me, but she sees some phantom stain. ‘Can I go home and get a change of clothes?’
By the smile on his face, Ben’s enjoying her whiny meltdown. ‘I’m stuck here until Ammon comes – it’s only fair you are too.’ He leans back on the couch, stretching his hands behind his head.
Marissa huffs, crossing her arms and pouting. ‘This isn’t funny.’
He tosses one of Ma’s throw cushions at her. ‘It’s pretty funny.’ Ben runs his hands through his hair, taking extra care to make sure it all flows the same way. Marissa steals the moment to smooth down her previously perfect eyebrows after the pillow assault.
Ben notices me watching and cocks his head.
‘You two have a lot in common,’ I say, earning a glare from Marissa. I return it with a smile. ‘Borrow something from me.’
‘Great.’ She doesn’t even attempt to hide her sarcasm. ‘I prefer my dirty clothes to your clean ones.’ Marissa curls her nose and stomps down the hall in search of my room.
‘Second door on the right,’ I call after her. A part of me feels guilty she doesn’t know where my room is, that I’ve kept her from coming here all these years.
‘Is she always like that?’ Ben asks.
‘Worse.’
His smile is contagious, and I can’t help returning it. He picks up a magazine and flips through it. ‘So you’re a runner?’
It catches me by surprise – I’m not used to people noticing things about me. ‘Yeah,’ I squeak out. ‘Well, I was.’
‘I did track in school,’ he says. ‘Long jump.’
I would, if St Valentine’s offered it. ‘Elementary was my last team, and really we just ran after each other and everyone got participation ribbons, so I don’t think it counts.’
‘Sounds too communist for me.’ He shows a cheeky grin, a different version from the one he gives Marissa – it’s more transparent, real, and it’s the first time a guy’s ever looked at me like that.
A slamming door causes us to jerk towards the hall. Marissa, with an armful of clothes, comes storming into the room. She dumps the clothes on the coffee table and starts sorting through them. Pinching each item in her fingertips like it’s infected. ‘On second thought, do you have any of those fancy dresses your mom wears?’
‘A saree?’
‘Yeah, I want one that shows off my flat stomach.’
Ben flashes me a sympathetic look and mouths, ‘Wow.’ ‘I think I’ll check in on the bathroom. You two play nice.’ He stands and excuses himself.
He’s not even in the hall before Marissa starts on me. ‘Seriously, Rach, no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. Look at these clothes.’
‘How can I even have a boyfriend?’ I mutter, glancing down the empty hall after Ben.
‘It’s the principle.’ She flings my Wonder Woman T-shirt at me.
‘Last I checked, you don’t have a boyfriend either.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not because I can’t – it’s because I don’t want to be tied down.’
My anger rises, so I close my eyes and imagine Joan of Arc, with her sword and her horse, riding into the room and kidnapping Marissa. Even that’s not enough to calm me.
Marissa holds up a white tank top. ‘Guess I’ll try this,’ she sighs.
‘Do you hear yourself? All you care about is what you’re going to wear. Take some responsibility for once.’
‘Responsibility? You don’t know anything about r
esponsibility.’ Marissa cocks her head and drops the tank, placing her hands on her hips.
‘Excuse me? I’m not the one who got us in this mess.’
Marissa laughs. ‘Haven’t you figured it out yet? I seriously thought you were smarter than that.’
My expression must give away that I have no clue what she’s talking about because she rolls her eyes.
‘Back in first year when we were told to pick accountability partners, I picked you because the Sisters asked me to. They noticed your resistance and wanted me to show you how a real Hedoness acts in the hope that you could live up to your mom’s potential. But even I couldn’t help with that.’
I stare back, not sure what to say. I always knew we were required to be each other’s friends at the pair-up, but I thought it was a mutual thing. It turns out she was actually forced. Somehow that hurts more.
‘It’s why I tried to get you to turn Ben. Mother Superior told me to. But you failed and I had to deal with it, like always. We don’t have long until graduation and the Sisters were getting worried about your lack of ability. If you would’ve just attempted it, once, this wouldn’t be a problem. But for some reason you refuse to accept your truth.’ Her head bobs as she animates her words.
The self-righteousness is too much and I snap. I jump off the sofa and shove Marissa back.
She stumbles, catching her foot on the table, and falling into the pile of clothes.
‘You did not just—’ Marissa dives for my legs, knocking me to the floor. We wrestle on the pile, pulling hair and pushing each other’s faces. All the years of pent-up frustration come rushing out and I don’t hold back.
The commotion brings Ben running from the hall. He slides to a stop. ‘What the …?’ He runs his hands through his hair and watches the fight. Finally, he tries to pull us apart. It takes a few tries to grab one of us, but he lands a good grip on Marissa’s arm.
‘Stay out of this, Ben. This is because of you.’ Marissa clings to a handful of my hair as Ben lifts her.
‘Me?’ He drops her arm and stumbles back, a smile spreading over his face. ‘You’re fighting over me?’
