Dark Parties (22 page)

“They took Sanna.”

“What? When?” His face creases with worry.

“There was a demonstration today—”

He doesn’t let me finish. “No, Sanna wasn’t there. She said she had to—”

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” I interrupt. “She knew you’d be against it, but the police… she’s… and now, I think they are
coming after me.”

“Let’s get you inside,” he says, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders. He takes my duffel bag.

I’m exhausted in a way I’ve never felt before. My body feels heavy, but my head is floating above me. “Sanna. We’ve got to
rescue her.”

“We will,” he says in such a calm, reassuring way that I believe him. We are different people than we were a few days ago,
but that electricity still fizzes between us. It’s painful and sweet all at the same time. It doesn’t feel right to be with
him when Sanna is locked away somewhere. But at the same time, I feel as if I’m exactly where I belong. There’s a pressure
building between us.

He leads me up the stairs. When we reach his bedroom, I notice his bare feet. For some reason seeing him without his boots
makes me almost giddy.

“I thought you slept in your red boots.”

He laughs, which breaks the tension, and I laugh with relief. I don’t know what’s so funny, but I can’t stop. My stomach aches.
We tumble onto his bed laughing, his arm still around me. Our laughter subsides into a whimper.

“I’m really sorry about what’s happened, but I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

“Thanks for letting me stay. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to find Sanna.” I want to tell him about the message from my grandma, but I guess there’s still a part of me that
doesn’t trust him. I’m not sure I can leave anyway. I can’t decide until Sanna’s safe.

“How can we find out where she is?”

“I think I know someone who can help.” I don’t tell him about Senga either. I decide to keep my secrets for now.

I finally work up the courage to ask, “What happened between you and Sanna after she caught us?” Funny that I can’t say the
word
kissing
. It hurts to remember last night. It feels a lifetime ago.

He moves away from me. “She was crying and begging me not to go. I couldn’t leave her like that.”

I told him to go to her, but I feel a pinprick of jealousy at the thought of them alone together. I hate myself for it. “I
can’t believe her guardians let you stay.”

“They didn’t know or didn’t care.”

“I wonder if her brother knows she’s been arrested.”

“Sanna found out this morning from some underground contact that her brother has been sent to a Community Farm again.” He
glances at me. “For a year, maybe longer.”

I sit up. “Now no one will care if she’s gone. We have to find her.” I’m all she’s got.

There’s something about the way that he narrows his eyes and sets his jaw that I know he’s thinking.

“Braydon.” I poke him in the side to get his attention. He looks at me as if he’s forgotten I am here.

“Neva, Sanna was so angry with you last night.” He looks out the window into the darkness. “Even if we can find her, I’m not
sure she’ll want to talk to you.”

“She doesn’t have to talk to me. She doesn’t have to like me.” I walk to the window. I need distance from him. “Even after
everything, she’d risk her life to save me. I know she would.”

He walks up behind me. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” he whispers in my ear. Electricity ripples
through my body.

“I’ll sleep in the other bedroom,” he says, turning to go.

I can’t bear to be alone. I grab his hand. We don’t say a word. I scoot into his bed, and he follows. He nudges me onto my
side and cuddles my back. We fit perfectly together. I don’t let myself think of Sanna. I block out the guilt that is eating
me alive. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel that dark solitude in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Braydon says, squinting to see house numbers. We’ve parked his bike and are looking for
Senga’s house on foot.

“I think 10978 will be on this side of the street.” We cross the road. “Are you sure this is Blue Sky Crescent?” I look around
even though I know I won’t find a street sign. Most of them are long gone or weatherworn to the point that you can’t read
them anymore.

“That’s what the map said, I think.” Braydon rotates the map a quarter turn. “It’s either that or Starry Night Lane. Who came
up with these names anyway?”

Most of the houses look abandoned. Some have boarded-up windows. The doors of a few houses stand open, like a gaping mouth
ready to scream. They all look alike—two story brick structures. Some have different-shaped windows or garages attached, but
they are fundamentally the same. “I think it’s this one.” I point to a house up the road. Its shrubbery has been trimmed into
neat boxes. Chipped clay pots with red geraniums frame the front door.

“How do you know we can trust her?” he asks, his pace slowing.

“Just trust me.” I take his hand and pull him forward. When I realize what I’ve done, I wiggle my hand free. Our whole morning
was like this. We’d get close and then one of us would remember Sanna and we’d create distance.

I knock on the door to 10978. Braydon stands behind me, like a bodyguard searching for threats. The door opens and Senga waves
us in. “We’re friends of—” I start as soon as she has closed the door behind us.

“I remember you,” she interrupts. “Follow me.” The woman has her hair in pink foam curlers and wears a threadbare gray bathrobe.
She’s shuffling her feet, and that’s when I notice the tattered bunny slippers. They make me smile but somehow feel less safe.
Mom wouldn’t have sent me here if it wasn’t safe. Sanna wouldn’t have taken part in the silent demonstration if Senga couldn’t
be trusted. I look back at Braydon and can tell he’s got the same reservations I do.

She leads us to her backyard. “Take a seat.” She gestures to a rusty metal chair, a lounge chair missing half of its can
vas ribbons, and a tricycle. I take the bike and Braydon chooses to stand. Senga gingerly sits in the lounge chair. “Sorry
I can’t offer you something to drink; with three kids we don’t have any to spare.”

I’m thrown off by the
we
and the kids comment. I wonder where her family is. As if she can read my mind, she adds, “My husband’s at work and the kids
are at school—”

“Sanna’s been arrested,” I blurt. Her full, round face seems to elongate when she frowns. “I was hoping you could help me
find her.”

Senga glances at Braydon. I can tell she’s not happy he’s here. “Not sure,” she says hesitantly.

“Where would they take her?” Braydon asks. He’s not comfortable either. He’s shifting in those red boots of his.

“Listen,” Senga says to me. “I’m doing this as a favor. I told your mom I’d help you escape up North.” Braydon gives me a
pointed look. I haven’t been completely honest with him and he knows it. Senga doesn’t seem to notice the temperature rise
between Braydon and me. “But no one told me about him.” She gestures toward Braydon.

“He’s Sanna’s boyfriend,” I say by way of explanation.

“I don’t care who he is. As a matter of fact, I want him out.” She points to her back door, but her rigid arm tells me she
wants him farther away than that.

“Yeah, all right.” He kicks at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “I’ll wait by the motorcycle. Don’t be long, okay?” He squeezes
my shoulder as he passes.

Senga waits until she hears her front door shut before she speaks. “I wish I’d never told that girl anything about the
resistance. But her mom was fundamental to the movement. I felt I owed it to her. Sanna begged me to tell her about the silent
demonstration. Gave me some big dramatic speech about her friend counting on her. You know Sanna.”

“She was arrested at the silent demonstration yesterday.”

“Damn it!” Senga falls through the missing canvas strips with the force of her anger. Her bottom is now on the ground and
her legs are bent and sticking up in the air, but she doesn’t move. She continues as if nothing has happened. “I thought the
younger girls had gotten away.”

“Where would they take her?” I stand and help her out of the chair.

She stands really close to me and whispers, “I’ve heard rumors, but it’s just rumors, mind you, of a Women’s Empowerment Center.”

I remember those words. They were on a file on Dad’s desk. “What is it? Do you think that’s where Sanna is?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I think it’s where they are taking young women when they get arrested.”

“Do you know where this center is?”

She shakes her head. “But maybe I could find out. If you’re sure?” She’s staring at me, sizing me up.

I look her directly in the eyes. “I’ve got to find Sanna.”

“It’s going to be dangerous; and I mean dangerous. I don’t mean some patriotic seminar or time at a Community Farm. This is
serious business, and if the rumors are true… well, let’s hope people are exaggerating.”

I want to ask her about these rumors, but I don’t really
want to know, not right now. It doesn’t matter what the consequences. “I’ve got to do it.”

“Well, okay then.” Her face is getting red and beads of sweat are forming on her brow. “Let me ask around and see if I can
get a location. I’ll see if any of my contacts can confirm that that’s where they’ve taken her. Come back tomorrow morning.”
She looks behind me. “Alone.”

My body is rattling. I have become one with Braydon’s motorcycle. I can’t feel my butt or legs anymore. I press my cheek into
Braydon’s back to keep my teeth from chattering. I think I’m still holding on to him, but I am disconnected from time and
space. The landscape is barren; a line of trees borders the highway, then fields. Everything is dry, brown, and dying. They
don’t operate the precipitation program this far north anymore. The road is an endless black line ahead of us. We pass a car
every half hour or so.

At first I was caught up in the excitement of it all. Braydon and Neva to the rescue. Braydon had driven me to Senga’s house
early this morning. We’d watched her husband and three kids leave. My heart ached when I noticed that all three of her children
were girls. I understand exactly why Senga is doing what she is doing. She is risking everything to give her girls a future.

She gave me vague directions to what she had been told was the location of the Women’s Empowerment Center. Senga had said
she couldn’t promise that Sanna was there, but someone had told one of her contacts that Sanna had been transported to a facility
up North. She told me to take the main highway out of the City. She said to look for a newly paved exit ramp. One of her friends
in Resource Management said that nearly three years ago funds had been diverted by the Minister of Health to renovate a big
complex up North.

“This has to be it,” Senga had said. “What is the Minister of Health doing creating roads? It’s going to be well guarded.
Good news is there’s only portable generators up that way.”

“Why is that good news?” I’d asked.

“Means they won’t use power for nonessentials like electronic fencing or surveillance systems. They will guard the facility
the old-fashioned way. Are you sure you want to do this?”

I had nodded, but everything inside me screamed to call the whole thing off. What did I think I was doing? Braydon
wanted to wait, but I’d said no. He doesn’t know I’ve got no time to waste—only three days. Also, if I had time to think about
what I was doing, let the reality of it sink in, I’d probably never have the strength to go through with it.

He gathered some supplies: food, water, blankets, and an extra battery for his motorcycle. There are no more official charging
stations more than one hundred miles north of the capitol. If Senga’s directions are right, we are going well beyond that.

The highway is vacant and never ending. It is as if we’ve escaped into another place. Braydon and I are held together by the
pull of the road. Braydon elbows me in the ribs and points. I see it. Up ahead there’s a black diagonal line angling off the
highway. As we drove, if I looked hard, I could see where other roads branched off. Most of these roads were overgrown with
weeds that sprouted from fissures in the pavement. But as we approach, the dark line becomes a road, almost an arrow, beckoning
us to follow it.

We exit and feeling comes rushing back into my body. It’s only then that I realize that I was beginning to like this no-man’
s-land that Braydon and I are inhabiting. The low mellow hum of his bike. The sun-warm feel of his leather jacket against
my cheek.

The highway felt open and expansive. This road, which cuts through a forest, feels as if it endlessly narrows. The black,
oily asphalt is only one car-length wide. Tall trees with thick trunks create a staggered wall around us. Their branches reach
crippled fingers across the road and block
out the sky. The sun pokes its slim rays through the treetops and we travel through thin columns of light.

The sound doesn’t register at first. I think I’ve imagined it. But as it gets louder, I realize it’s outside of me. Braydon’s
body stiffens; he’s heard it too. I look around wildly. Our balance is unsettled, and the motorcycle wobbles. I mold to Braydon
to help steady us. But I’ve glimpsed something behind us, a van maybe. Near his ear I yell, “We are being followed!” I’m afraid
the wind rushing past has stolen my voice until Braydon nods. He accelerates and I’m jerked back. I dig my fingernails into
his jacket and he leans us forward. The sound behind us gets louder. It’s gaining on us. I don’t have to turn around to know
that it will be there, looming large behind us. We speed up. The bike shudders between my thighs. It’s as if it’s straining
every gasket to propel us faster and faster.