by Sandra Smith
CHAPTER 10
Lily
“Lily, this is Aaron, I’m Meg. How was your ride?”
“Um, fine,” I answered, still reeling from the sight of the white truck. “It wasn’t that far.”
She laughed, her laugh a tinkling wind chime. “That’s true,” she said, eyes sparkling. “How did you like Abner and Evelyn?”
“Oh, they were great,” I answered honestly. “Like no one I’ve ever met.”
I saw Aaron smile, though he remained quiet.
“Or likely to meet,” Meg said. “They’re sort of one-of-a-kind. Everybody loves them.”
Meg asked a lot of questions, but nothing incriminating. There seemed to be an unwritten code about knowing too much about anyone. In my case, however, nearly every question held secrets: my family, my friends, what I did in my spare time. My answers were bare-boned and flat. Eventually silence won. The thing about silence, though, is that it’s not really there. Inside the silence is all the noise of everyone’s thoughts, competing to break out. And some people will never break into the silence, until an opportunity to speak opens so wide that it cannot be denied. And that’s Aaron. So after several minutes of masquerading calm, I heard Aaron’s voice for the first time.
“I suppose you’re curious as to why Ab and Ev wanted you to meet us?” He turned as he spoke. His blue eyes matched the flowers on the Hawaiian shirt he wore but conveyed none of the lightheartedness.
“Yeah,” I offered. “I guess.”
“Did they tell you anything?”
“No, just that you were young people in the Movement and that they thought we should meet.”
He nodded, looking straight ahead again, silent.
“Almost there,” Meg chirped.
I looked around; we were surrounded by large buildings, or were they more walls?
“What is all this?”
“You’ll see.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Row after row of clean, antiseptic-looking strawberries dangled, heart-shaped and red, over the edge of white stacked pots. I had never seen anything like it. The berries looked nothing like the frozen ones I’d tasted at Abner and Evelyn’s. Instinctively, I reached my hand toward the jeweled, red fruit, some bespeckled with seeds, others completely smooth.
“Go ahead,” Aaron said. “Taste one.” He plucked one from its stem and handed it to me. Unlike the blueberries I’d eaten at Ana’s house, the strawberry was too large to pop into my mouth. I took a bite, not sure what to expect. How can I explain it? It was soft, but also hard. Not crunchy, not chewy. Firm, maybe. Flavorful, sweet, moist.
“Mmm, good,” I said. “I think I like berries. I had some blueberries back home.”
Aaron had gathered several more berries and filled my hands. “Enjoy.”
“How does it work?” I asked, when I’d eaten my fill. This wasn’t a garden. We weren’t even outside. There was no soil.
“Have you ever heard of hydroponics?”
I shook my head.
Aaron told me that hydroponics meant growing plants without soil. The plants are grown directly in a water and nutrient solution, saving water, space, and eliminating contamination from soil-borne diseases. It allows crops to be grown in places where the temperature outside is too extreme. He went on and on, losing me in the technicalities. It sounded ideal; it looked ideal. It was overwhelming.
“GRIM pretty much insists on it for certain crops such as strawberries, lettuce, herbs.”
“But what about Evelyn and Abner? They still use soil, don’t they? And they grow for GRIM.”
“Yes,” answered Aaron. “They were ‘grandfathered in,’ so to speak. Like Meg said, everyone loves them. Even the GRIM agents in charge of the area. But farms like theirs are rare. And the berries from their farms are never sold as such. They’re only used for flavoring in Sweeties, Juice, and Snacks. Or for stored extracts.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the berries from soil farms aren’t sold as fresh berries, they are only used in berry-based or flavored products.”
I was still puzzling this out; he must have read my confusion.
“Oh, you’re wondering about anybody getting fresh berries; I understand. The truth is, our berries go out to countries where fresh produce is still sold to the public. And to the people in this country who can buy fresh produce—a very small percentage—those with power and money. I thought maybe you already knew.”
I didn’t already know, and hearing it made me mad. Speechless in my anger, I stared at the clean, abundant red berries, wondering how it was that my life so far had consisted of eating only sealed and packaged remnants.
I looked at Aaron with daggers in my eyes. “How can you be a part of this?”
He remained calm, as if he had foreseen my response, or maybe he had dealt with it before, with others.
“Don’t look at it that way. Crops have to be grown by someone. Even though most people only have access to processed food, it all originates somewhere.”
“But it’s not fair! Everyone deserves a choice.”
“We agree, Lily. So why not be a grower, even if it means working with GRIM? We plan to be around to see things change for the better.”
“Lily, it’s very dangerous being both GRIM-sanctioned and a Seed Saver,” Meg said quietly. Busy checking monitors and gadgets while Aaron and I spoke, she was just approaching as I lashed out.
I had forgiven Abner and Evelyn easily enough, maybe because they were old people. Maybe because they seemed remorseful. And besides, they didn’t consider themselves officially a part of the Movement. Somehow I was having a harder time with Meg and Aaron. Perhaps I was homesick, or tired. Meg started to say more, to try to explain or to convince me out of my accusations. Aaron moved next to her and held her hand, communicating something to her without speaking. She stopped mid-sentence, excused herself, and left the building. Aaron, meanwhile, started walking around, checking the plants, picking up where Meg had left off.
It was awkward, being alone with him, but his presence was also soothing. There weren’t—had never been—any men in my life. And though he was much younger than my father would be now, I recognized Aaron was probably the age my father had been when he first led the Seed Savers Movement. Despite my indignation, I found myself growing calmer. Eventually, I started following him around, and he began to explain what he was doing. It was in this way that I finally came around, that my anger slowly dissolved, like the nutrients in the water that fed the berries.
The hydroponic farm was fantastic. I peppered him with questions: Was the food as tasty? How many others used this method? Did small, illegal growers use hydroponics? I thought back to Arturo’s basement greenhouse—was he using water, or soil? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t really gotten close enough or talked to him long enough. Arturo…
That evening, in the house, we got down to business.
“So Abner and Ev told us you are a Seed Savers Youth traveling south, that you asked questions about the Movement. Do you know the secret symbols and passwords?”
I stared blankly at Aaron.
Meg’s light laughter relieved the tension. “I’d say that’s a no!”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the paper Ana had given us. “Here,” I said, sliding it toward them. “This is all I have.”
Aaron picked it up and held it for several moments, looking it over. “And you got this where … ?”
I talked fast. Suddenly I felt on trial—and yet—they had already shared so much with me. “From Ana. She’s the one who was teaching us, me and my friends—they ran away. GRIM raided their house and Ana’s later on. Trinia Nelson was asking about me . . . ” I was blathering like an idiot, staring at my wringing hands.
“Trinia Nelson?”
The seriousness of his voice jolted my eyes upward. “Yes. She, um, she paid off a friend of mine to spy on me and Ana.”
“What do you know about Trinia Nelson?”
CHAPTER 11
&
nbsp; Clare and Dante
“Each pair will get a thirteen centimeter pot, fill it with soil, wet the soil, and plant approximately fifty seeds.”
Dante and Clare beamed. Planting seeds already, and it was only February! It wasn’t yet a year since they had planted their first seeds, but it seemed so long ago.
“Any questions?”
“Yes, can you go through it all again?”
It was Minnie. An audible sigh escaped somewhere in the back of the room. Genevieve stared in disbelief. “Which part?”
“Well, so we’re planting onion seeds? I thought that onions were planted from bulbs.”
She seemed to be showing off again. What was a bulb? Clare wondered.
“Many people plant bulbs. Some start with seedlings. What we are dong here today is planting seeds to grow the young plants. That’s why we are putting so many in a small pot. When the starts are ready and the ground outside suitable, they will be transplanted into the garden, much farther apart. We will also sell some of our starts at the farm festival in April.”
“Oh.”
The class seemed relieved that Genevieve’s succinct summary satisfied Minnie.
“Anything else?” Genevieve asked, undeterred.
Clare glanced around. No questions. Everyone seemed as eager as the children to finally be getting their hands dirty.
“Clare, ‘member how we had a ceremony when we planted the tomato?” Dante asked as they stood in line to get a pot.
She nodded her head. “Of course, how could I forget?”
“D’ya think we should say a blessing this time?”
“Sure, why not? Lots of people say a blessing before every meal. Why not a blessing for each planting?”
Sowing the onion seeds didn’t take long. Somehow the anticipation of the first planting always lasted longer than the act itself. It was just a small pot filled with a special mixture of soil, saturated, sprinkled with the seeds—exactly fifty—according to Dante, covered with more soil, and patted down. No garden to prepare or weeds to pull. A simple prelude to spring, the first tiny seeds in a tiny pot.
“Now?” Dante asked.
“Yes,” Clare answered. “Do you want to do it?”
“Okay.” They closed their eyes and held hands.
“Thank you God for these onion seeds. Bless them and help them grow.” He paused, pondering if it was enough. “And take care of Mama. Amen.”
“Amen.”
“One more thing.” Clare wrote the name of the onion variety on a bamboo stick and stuck it in the pot. “There. All done.”
There was a sadness in her eyes and she sighed as she poked the stick into the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Dante asked.
“Oh, nothing. I was just missing Lily. It’s the first time we ever planted seeds without her. I wish she were here. Remember how she was in such a hurry to plant more seeds? Remember those pictures she sketched and everything?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “She still has the seeds. Maybe she will plant them this spring when it warms up.”
“Maybe,” said Clare wistfully. “Maybe she will. Lily’s not the kind of person to give up just because things get tough.”
CHAPTER 12
Lily
Suddenly I found myself in deeper than I had anticipated. The conversation had gone from them checking me out to some serious information sharing. I clammed up tighter than a dog on a bone. What did I really know about them?
“I think I need to go to bed now.”
“Lily.”
“I—I—really … can we talk more tomorrow?”
The couple exchanged hesitant glances and then agreed.
I sat on the bed, wringing my hands, piercing doubt getting the best of me. What had I gotten myself into? Neither Abner and Evelyn, nor Aaron and Meg were listed on the paper as Seed Savers. They all grew crops for GRIM. How had I strayed so far? I had already gotten Ana into trouble by trusting Rose. They seemed like nice people—all of them—but what did I really know? And it’s not like I needed their help. There were still names on the list I could try to find. Abner had slipped me a lot of money—I could go off on my own. Yes, that’s what I would do. I wouldn’t tell anybody about my father until I was absolutely sure they were Seed Savers. And the only way I could know for sure was if they were on the list. And what about Aaron’s question—were there really secret signs and passwords?
When it was completely dark, I slipped like a phantom into the night. I crossed the simple yard and made my way down the long lane surrounded by hydroponic green houses, turning my flashlight on only when I was out of sight of the farm. It was then, walking along the road in the black and humid night, that the stupidity of my actions caught up with me. Tears trickled down my face. What was I thinking? I didn’t even know if I was going in the right direction to reach town. And then what? The tears became a stream and my chest tightened so that I could barely breathe. I might have turned around right then, had those thoughts not been interrupted by a light from behind and the racket of a gas-powered engine. Startled into action, I ran to the other side of the road, turned off my light, and stayed still. From behind, I heard the vehicle approach and stop. Voices. A car door slammed.
It couldn’t be! I recalled the truck I’d seen a few times before. Was it them? Could this vehicle be following me? Looking for me? I began creeping away from the road, blind in the darkness. Had GRIM tracked me all this way? Or could it just be Aaron? Did he own an old truck? I stopped, listening. An unfamiliar voice froze my blood. It was a man’s voice, closer now, more audible. And it wasn’t Aaron.
“Do you see her?”
“No.”
The second voice was muffled and low. I ran visionless into the night. My foot caught on something sending me sprawling across the ground, my chin hitting hard. It hurt. I choked down my emotions, making small animal noises, a baby’s sob. They heard it.
“Over there!” The deep voice shouted. The sound of running footsteps echoed in the night as the other man drew near.
I sucked in my pain and lay frozen and silent on the warm ground.
“Lily?”
And there it was, the accented voice I’d grown to adore. Disbelief mingled with relief and confusion.
“Here.” I sat up.
He ran over, shone his light right in my face.
“Ow,” I pushed his arm away.
“Sorry. Lily—what do you think you are doing?”
I was crying, that’s what I was doing. He pulled me up and I collapsed into his arms—and fortunately for me, he caught me. I let go of everything I’d been clinging to and sobbed. He patted my back softly.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
When I stopped crying, Arturo led me to the pick-up. He introduced me to his cousin Juan, the man with the deep voice—no accent—and helped me into the seat. Then he surprised me by scooting in next to me, leaving Juan alone outside. Arturo spoke to him in Spanish through the open window.
“Slower, ‘Turo, slower. You know my Spanish ain’t so good,” he answered in English.
“Just wait a minute,” said Arturo.
He turned back to me. “Lily.”
“What?”
“What you are doing? You are crazy?”
“How did you get here?” I asked. It had occurred to me that the feeling of being watched back in Plant City might have been Arturo and Juan. “Have you been following me this whole time?”
He nodded his head. Juan, standing outside and listening, groaned and walked away.
“—but … ?”
“Lily, I saw you leave the box on my door. I started to call after you, but I was not sure … then I read your letter. I determined your destination. Papa and Abuelo, they tell Juan to bring me here. We afraid for you—alone. We come straight to Plant City. We watch you. That day, in the storm. I want to take you, but so afraid you are angry with me. Then the old man, he get you. I was there—me and Juan. We make sure you are okay. That Abner, he
is good man.”
I had a hard time believing my ears. Arturo and Juan drove all the way to Plant City to make sure I was safe? But they didn’t try to stop me, take me back? And …
“Wait, you know Abner?”
“Abner is old, but he like a fox. He found me watching. I thought he going to shoot me. But I tell him I am your friend and is—am—watching you for keep safe. He laughing, said ‘Good boy, you keep her safe!’”
I felt my face coloring. “Abner knew about you, and you still just followed me, rather than give me a ride? Or insist I go back? Why?”
He looked a bit hurt.
“Because. I don’t try to stop you. Lily, I just here to protect you. You not invite me to go. But I am afraid for you travel alone.”
His words always came slowly, trying to choose them carefully, trying to say what was in his heart but limited by his English. It helped me be a better listener, knowing his struggle.
“And now,” I whispered. “You intervene, now?”
“Intervene? Oh, si. Intervenir. Yes. Is the middle of the night! You is long way from the city.”
“Are,” I corrected.
“Are?”
“You said, ‘you is,’ it’s ‘you are.’”
“Okay, okay.” He murmured something in Spanish.
“The people here are okay and, but, you sneak away to where?” He threw his hands down, exasperated. Just then Juan peeked in the window. He sighed and walked away again.
“ I thought maybe I couldn’t trust them.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Well, they questioned me—asked if I knew special Seed Savers passwords and signs—”
