When the nurse came out, one look at his face made pressure bloom in my chest.
“Aly, Nadiah, I’ll be honest with you,” he started, looking between the two of us. “It does not look good for your grandmother, and I’m sorry to have to tell you that.”
Shaking my head, I met his gaze. “Then don’t. Tell us what in the world changed from two days ago when we talked to her on the phone. She was fine!”
“She wasn’t,” he countered, his tone grim. “She hasn’t been, for a while. Even with the treatments.”
“How is that possible?” I blinked, hard, trying to hold back the tears building behind my eyelids. “We’ve been here, been around her, she—”
“Aly, people lie. To preserve the feelings of their loved ones, people lie around here all the time. The numbers don’t lie though.”
“That’s your answer to this? That my grandmother is a liar? You’re telling me that everything I’ve sacrificed—”
“Aly,” Nadiah spoke, putting a hand on my arm. When I looked at her, her eyes were wet with tears. “We knew this was coming. She hasn’t been looking good. Remember, you wondered if they were actually treating her?”
I did.
That didn’t mean I wanted to accept it.
“You’re the relative everyone here wishes they had on their side,” the nurse said. “You’ve done the best you could by her, and we’ll keep treating. Keep trying. But at her age, the level of kidney function just isn’t enough to keep up with the demands of her body anymore. Unless a transplant is an option for you…”
I laughed.
Right in his face.
I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I thought about how taking the bus to get here had been a splurge. I was barely affording the most basic of treatments, so a transplant- the surgery, the aftercare, the maintenance- was out of the question.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and I shook my head.
“No. You’ve done nothing wrong,” I assured. “Um… can we see her, at least?”
He cringed. “She’s sleeping right now. Can you come back in a few hours?”
Only if we want to get snatched off the street on the way home.
“No,” Nadiah answered for me. “We won’t wake her. We need to see her.”
For a moment, he said nothing, just looking between us. Then, with a sigh, he nodded. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”
Fine.
Something was better than nothing.
I wasted no time gathering myself and Nadiah to follow him down to Gran’s room, where he opened the door to allow us in, but didn’t join us.
She looked so small.
Not that she’d ever been a large woman, but now she seemed tiny, like the bed and stark white linens were swallowing her. Her thick white hair was neat as always, braided into a crown around her head. That was soothing, even if just a little – arthritis had taken over Gran’s hands, stripping her of the ability to do it herself, so one caregiver had to have done it for her.
She was being taken care of.
But it didn’t matter.
It would not save her.
I would not save her, as hard as I’d tried. No wonder she’d been so adamant about me stopping the treatments. They were bleeding me dry, but not helping.
“I got the official offer,” Nadiah said, just above a whisper. My eyes lifted to meet hers, confused for a second before I realized what she was talking about.
The scholarship.
“I found out yesterday, but I was waiting so I could tell you both,” she continued, her hands gripping the railing at the side of the bed. “This was supposed to be a happy moment.”
“It still is,” I insisted, approaching her side of the bed. “Still. That’s wonderful, Nadiah.” I cupped her face in my hands. “I am so, so proud of you, and so is Gran. And so are mom and dad.”
Nadiah shook her head, pulling away from my touch to turn back to Gran. “I’d rather hear that from them.”
Yeah, you and me both.
She’d been so young when they died. Barely a teenager. One of my most vivid memories of my mother was a conversation about Nadiah – about the things she’d need me to help teach her. Mama had thought the lessons would come easier from me, since Nadiah studied me back then, modeling everything I did. If I was pouty, so was she. If I was in a good mood, so was she. If I forced myself to accept the mournful state of the world without complaint, so did she.
But we were adults now.
I’d done the best I could, with Gran’s love and support, but the bottom line was, we weren’t Nadiah’s parents. They’d been prematurely stripped away when she was a child – when she still had that certain elasticity that only children have.
She felt the loss differently now.
With years to understand the depth of their absence, the things they’d never gotten to pass along, the things we never got to tell them… I knew because it wasn’t the same for me either. For Nadiah, it was harsher now, grief with its edges sharpened by the reality that soon, we’d be saying goodbye to our grandmother.
For me, it felt inexorable.
In the back of my head, a tiny voice nagged, reminding me that this was the natural progression. Especially if we loved them, people died.
All I’d succeeded at was delaying the inevitable.
“Well, I’m proud of you,” I reiterated. “Even if that’s not enough.”
“That’s not what I meant. Your opinion means everything.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist, and she returned the gesture, resting her head on my shoulder. “When are you supposed to report for classes? Will you have to travel every day, or are they putting you in a dorm?”
Straightening, she shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t responded with my acceptance.”
“What are you waiting on? You will accept, right?” Her expression was blank, giving nothing away, but the delay in her response made me uncomfortable. “Nadiah…”
“What?” She lifted her hands. “It’s not a light decision.”
“You’ve been busting your ass for years to get one of those invitations – on what planet is this not the easiest decision you’ve ever made?”
She scoffed. “Um, the one where my grandmother is gravely ill? The one where chasing an Apex degree means leaving you here by yourself? The one where a week ago, we found out that the APF is lying about the Burrows, so who knows what else?”
Ugh.
All of those were sensible, so I latched onto what was easiest to dissect. “You shouldn’t let worrying about me hold you back,” I told her, shaking my head. “I’m a big girl Nadiah, I’ll be okay. This is your chance to live so much better than we’ve ever been able to.”
“Maybe,” she countered. “But at what cost?”
“Nothing you can’t afford,” I hissed back. “If Gran passes, what do you have to lose?!”
“You, fool!” She rolled her eyes at me, grabbing her purse before she headed for the door, over me for the moment.
I sighed, glancing to where Gran was still peacefully sleeping, oblivious to her grandkids’ whispered arguing. Knowing there was nothing more for me to do, I got my things and followed Nadiah out the door, finding her waiting at the entrance for me.
“You know,” she said, scowling, before I could open my mouth, “I get that you’re the caretaker. You work, and you sacrifice, and you protect. That’s your role, I get it, and I cannot explain enough how much I appreciate you for it. But I know it’s selfish. I know you don’t do it just for us, it’s for you too, because you don’t want to be alone in the world. And that’s fine, Aly, I swear it is. But you don’t get to be selfish by yourself, okay? Just like you need me, I need you, too. I’d appreciate if you stopped acting like you’re not supposed to matter.”
With that, she pushed through the front doors, leaving me again. I took a moment to swallow her words, trying not to be irritated by them, but the truth was, I never considered what I might mean to Nadiah, or Gran. I
knew they depended on me – I knew they loved me, because we were family, and I wasn’t horrible, so why wouldn’t they? Maybe it was a strange distinction to make, and a stranger thing to overlook, but… I knew I was important to them, just didn’t consider that I might matter.
It never crossed my mind.
Catching up to Nadiah didn’t take much, and neither did grabbing her around the waist to make her laugh. Once that was accomplished, I fell into step beside her. We settled into silence – not comfortable, not uncomfortable, just there, with both of us lost in our own thoughts. I felt I could safely assume Nadiah was consumed with her Apex scholarship, or Mosley, or both, with a healthy dose of worry about Gran. I was worried about all of it, especially now that she’d brought up a point I hadn’t considered before.
Was that Apex scholarship as desirable as I thought?
Before seeing the Burrows for myself, it had always been a motivator.
Go to work because if you can’t pay the bills you’ll end up in the Burrows.
Don’t lose your job, or you’ll end up in the Burrows.
What you’re experiencing right now? It’s just existing, not living. But it could be worse! You could be in the Burrows.
And there was always the easy answer to convincing Nadiah to do her “boring” schoolwork when she was younger and swayed by threats.
“If you don’t put that book down and do your schoolwork first, you’ll end up in the Burrows!”
But all that was before.
Before I knew how we’d been lied to, how the Apex and APF had stripped a successful rebellion from public conversation. But there had to be people around here who knew about it – the Burrows were too close for all of us to have simply taken the government’s word for it… right?
Right?
I wished I’d asked Maddox how long ago the revolt had happened – I wanted dates, and details, I wanted to know everything.
I wonder if Gran knows about any of this?
I’d resolved to ask her about it next time I got her on the phone, and was about to ask Nadiah if Mosley had mentioned it to her when she took off running.
“Hey!” I shouted after her, putting all my speed behind catching up to and stopping her before an APF officer noticed. “What the hell is going on?!”
“Arleigh!”
I frowned. “What? What is that?”
“Bunny,” Nadiah huffed. “Her real name is Arleigh, and I just spotted her for the first time since I’ve been back. She and I need to have a conversation.”
From the fire in her eyes, a beat down was more likely than a talk, but my feelings weren’t much – if any – different. Her little friend had some explaining to do.
“Which way?” I asked, nodding when she pointed.
Instead of the pell-mell running Nadiah had wanted to do, we took a different, less noticeable approach. This part of the Mids – close to the Apex – was nicer – more buildings, better stores – but there was a steady police presence that was best avoided. We snuck around the back of the bank of buildings were Bunny had gone, picking our way through the alleys. I stayed ahead of Nadiah, risking myself as the one to peek around the buildings until we hit pay dirt.
Bunny was waiting for someone, at a corner.
I motioned for Nadiah to wait for me, and to be ready to run. Once she nodded her understanding, I took a deep breath and then took off around the corner, snatching Bunny from behind, with a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming until I had her pulled back into the alley, in a doorway hidden by a rusty dumpster.
“You better not scream,” I told her, dumping her to the ground.
She shot back up to her feet, but Nadiah was right there in the way, cutting off any chance of escape. “You’re not going anywhere, bitch.”
“Nadiah,” Bunny pleaded, her tone panicked as she glanced around. “Please. I can’t… I don’t have time for this right now. I need to—”
SMACK.
My eyes – and Bunny’s – went wide as Nadiah slapped those words right out of her former friend’s mouth showing her disinterest in what Bunny “needed”.
“The only thing you need to be worried about is explaining why the hell you tried to set me and my sister up,” Nadiah hissed.
Bunny shrank back, holding her face where Nadiah’s blow had landed. It wasn’t enough to hide the red handprint darkening her light brown skin. “It wasn’t like that!”
“I think it was exactly like that,” I snapped. “You showed up at my door and lied about my sister being hurt. You tried to keep me there in that house. You pretended you didn’t know where my sister was. So you tell me more about how it wasn’t like that.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she insisted, choking on the words as tears trickled down her face. “I swear, I didn’t want to do it!”
“There’s always a choice!” Nadiah advanced on her again, but I grabbed her arm, keeping her back. The girl was already on the edge of a meltdown, there was no telling what might happen if Nadiah hit her again.
“What do you mean, you didn’t have a choice?” I asked.
Bunny’s eyes came to me, grateful for a chance to explain herself. “My mom, and my brother. They took them to the factories, in Division Ten.”
No…
“That’s a lie,” Nadiah snarled. “I was just at your house! I saw them…weeks ago.” A little of the anger that had bristled earlier evaporated. “Okay, I haven’t seen them in weeks. But you said nothing about it.”
Bunny’s gaze dropped. “Because I couldn’t. If you’d known something was up…”
“She wouldn’t have followed you,” I finished, shaking my head. “So this wasn’t an impromptu lie, you planned this. Nothing you say is going make this any better. My sister has been nothing but a friend to you, and you do this?” I snapped, shouldering my way past Nadiah to put my hands around Bunny’s throat. “Why?!” I asked as I squeezed, ignoring the contradiction of expecting an answer from someone you’re choking.
This time, it was Nadiah with the cooler head, pleading with me to let her friend go as she tried to peel my fingers from her neck one by one. “Aly, please. You’re better than this.”
I shook my head and tightened my grip. Because of this girl, I’d almost lost my sister. Could’ve lost my life, which would’ve affected Gran too. She’d traded my whole family for herself. “Not today.”
“Every day.” She stopped trying to get my hands loose and faced me instead, with pleading eyes. “I want to hear what she has to say. I want to know why. Please?”
Shit.
I shoved Bunny away from me with a grunt, staring with cold eyes as she dropped to the ground, sobbing. My hands were shaking as I stepped back, alarmed by my sudden rage. Aside from those guys in the alley – which hadn’t gone well for me – the last time I’d been in a physical fight was…
Whenever the last time was that I’d had to protect my sister.
Apparently, that was a sensitive issue for me.
“Arleigh,” Nadiah called, crouching in front of her friend, trying to calm her down enough to speak. “Tell us what setting us up did for you? You said you didn’t have a choice. Why?”
Bunny sniffed. “The guy, the recruiter for the Diamonds. He knows somebody in the APF who arranges travel. As payment, he needed two ‘quality’ recruits.”
“Aly and me,” Nadiah said. She pushed out a sigh as she straightened to stand, and Bunny nodded.
“So you were trading us, to get your mom and brother back?” I huffed.
“No,” she denied, shaking her head. “Not to get them back. Getting them back was impossible. My mother owed too much money from when my father was sick.”
Nadiah’s eyes narrowed. “So then for what? What transport were you using us to pay for?”
“To take her there,” I answered. “So they could be together.”
“What?” Nadiah snapped. “The factories are prison camps. Why…?”
“Because it’s better than being al
one. At least I’d get to see my mother.”
“You weren’t alone,” Nadiah argued. “We were friends!”
“You’re an amazing friend, Nadiah, but it’s not the same thing. You don’t understand.”
“Why, because I don’t have a mother anymore?”
She didn’t answer.
Her non-answer was an answer though.
“I can’t miss this ride,” Arleigh insisted, looking back and forth between me and Nadiah. “If I do, then I’ll never…”
“Go.”
Nadiah’s eyes went big, angry that I was letting Arleigh go. She blocked her at first, but I shook my head. As much rage as I had about the situation, the fact was that Nadiah and I were fine. It had scared us, but we walked away with no lasting harm. We had each other still, and Gran as well for now.
Bunny had no one.
With nostrils flared, Nadiah stepped aside, and Arleigh took off, running back in the direction where she’d been waiting.
“I can’t believe you’re letting her slide, after what she did. She sold us out, Aly!”
“To get to her family,” I countered, turning to face my baby sister. “I know you’re angry – you have every right to be. I’m angry too. But you know what, if you were somewhere and I couldn’t get to you, or if it was Gran – I would step on anybody too. Without a second thought.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
I huffed. “It’s not right. It’s horrible. It’s ugly as hell. But look around us, Nadiah. Do you see the world? It’s not right, horrible, and ugly as hell too. Can you blame people for adapting?”
“For adapting, no. For using people – for betraying your friends. Hell yes. You won’t convince me she deserved any grace.”
“I’m not doing a great job of convincing myself,” I admitted, with a wry laugh. “Not ten minutes ago, I had my hands around her neck. I’m not ready to throw the girl a parade. I just don’t want either of us to be on the side of the wrong thing. Standing in her way didn’t feel right.”
“So which is it, Aly?” Nadiah asked, frustrated. “Are we adapting to the world, or doing the right thing?”
Wonder Page 11
