Drowning in Deception (12 page)

Clover concentrated hard to keep
fresh tears from gushing out and took a big breath with the hope that it would
prevent her voice from shaking. She somehow managed a small smile. “Zander and
I had a little fight, that's all.”

“Oh?” Her mother stepped back and
looked into her eyes.

Clover desperately wanted to yell
and cry and tell her mother everything. She hadn't promised Zander anything,
but she wasn't ready yet to spill his secrets. She tried to think about how the
old Clover would act after a fight with Zander, the Clover of only two days
ago. It was hard to decide, since they'd never really had much of a fight
before. She deepened her smile and looked right back into her mother's eyes. “We
can't decide on the size of house we want to live in,” she lied. “But it will
all work out, I'm sure.”

Her mother breathed out and
grinned. “Well, yes, certainly nothing to get so upset over. I have every
confidence that the two of you will sort it all out. No more tears.”

Clover shook her head and smiled.

“Now you go on upstairs and wash
your face. You look frightful.” Aspen gave Clover a bright smile and a wink
before turning back to the stove.

 The family was soon seated at
the dining room table with bowls of steaming stew, fresh buttered buns, and
tall, full glasses of milk in front of them.

Clover suddenly felt like an
outsider, observing her family as if they were players in some sort of game.
They all wore pleasant smiles and chatted amicably to one another. Sprigg told
his parents about the tree fort he was building with his friends, and their
father nodded eagerly and asked him questions about it, laughing jovially when
Sprigg said something amusing. Her mother, she realized, was too pleasant,
almost to the point of being fake and flaky. Her words came out too
rhythmically as if everything was a song, and the smile never left her prettily
painted face. Clover had read a book once, where all the women in a town were
replaced by perfect robot replicas. They were always cheerful, always with
perfect homes, making perfect meals and being perfectly perfect in every way.
Her mother's actions and attitudes reminded her of this book, and she couldn't
help but wonder if that's what she herself was like, or had been like. Did she
come across as a robotic flake and a big shiny phony like they did? Is that why
Sera hated her so much?

 She studied her father with his
big, burly body and his huge, toothy grin. He was such a friendly, jolly man.
There was no way he would ever harm anyone. The bruise and cut on his lip was
healing nicely, and she suddenly found herself wondering exactly how he'd
gotten it.

She watched as her entire family
drained their glasses of milk to the very last drop, while hers remained
untouched.

“Drink your milk, Clover,” her
father ordered in a good-humored tone.

She looked to her mother and
matched her father's upbeat tone. “Actually, I quite enjoyed having it in my
bag the other night when I went out. It was nice to be able to sip it all night
long. I think I’d like to do that again.” She beamed brightly for added effect.

Her mother looked to her father
before nodding. “That's just fine. So long as you’re drinking it all up. We
want only healthy, law-abiding citizens in this family,” she sang.

“Of course.” Clover grinned. It
was strange. She should have felt bad for purposefully deceiving her parents.
But she didn't. She found she even liked the feeling a bit.

***

She arrived at the other side of
the Wall just as the sun disappeared over the far side of Eadin's city limits.
Shivering at the feel of Arma's cold dress, which had been stashed in the icy bushes,
she threw it over top of her own clothes and warm jacket.

After the day she’d had, she
almost hadn’t come. Between learning that she’d been unknowingly drugged all
her life, and Zander’s friend accusing her father of being a corrupt brute, the
last thing she needed was to deal with Rye and his bad attitude. That and he
still made her nervous. But he wanted more milk for Abilee. Drugged or not, the
milk seemed to be helping the little girl. So, Clover had decided she would
come and give him the milk and forget about the reading lessons. She had better
things to worry about than teaching an ungrateful boy how to read.

Closing the Wall door behind her,
she glanced over to see the glow of lamplight coming from the little nest of
bushes, causing the thin layer of snow on top to turn pale yellow. She took a
step forward and then froze at the sound of voices coming from inside the
bushes.

She recognized Arma’s voice. “Rye,
you’ve got to stop this. She obviously doesn’t know. It’s too dangerous.”

“Stop worrying. She’ll be fine.
She’s bringing more milk for Abilee and she wants to teach me to read.”

“I know you, Rye. You like her.
And it’s not right. It can’t happen. You know as well as I do that you have to
put a stop to this. Before it’s too late.”

Clover drew in a breath. It was
obvious they were talking about her. Rye liked her? He sure had a funny way of
showing it.

“She’s…different. Not like the
others. I just want to get to know her better. That’s all.”

Clover heard Arma sigh in
frustration. “Well, at the very least, you have to tell her the truth. Then she
can decide for herself if she still wants to teach you to read, or if she ever
wants to step foot through that door again.”

There was a long pause before
Arma continued sternly. “And if you won’t tell her, then I’ll do it myself!”

Clover had been standing, breathless,
so she could hear their words clearly. Her bag suddenly slipped from her
shoulder and swayed to bang against the side of the Wall.

“Clover, is that you?” Rye
called.

“Yes, I’m here,” she managed, and
made her way to the bushes.

Arma offered her a small smile
and instantly got to her feet. “Clover. Nice to see you again. And thank you
for all your help. I must get home to check on Abilee now.”

Clover didn’t miss the warning
glance that Arma shot at Rye before she left.

When Arma was gone, Clover looked
at Rye closely. He still looked hard and dangerous, but something was
different. His eyes seemed slightly softer, like they had lost a bit of their
animalistic edge.

There was a long, awkward
silence. Rye just sat there staring at her, and she could feel the thumping of
her heart as she stared down at the wool blanket self-consciously. She was
waiting for him to tell her whatever it was Arma wanted him to tell her. And
she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. She wasn’t sure
she could take any more bad news. The day had already been hard enough.

Finally he broke the quiet. “Are
you okay, Clover? You look upset.” His words were soft and filled with
compassion.

She ogled him. This couldn't
possibly be the same rough and rude boy from before.

“It's just boyfriend problems.”

A look of disappointment took a
brief hold on his features, and then he smiled - sort of. His eyes brightened
and the corners of his lips twitched subtly upward. “I'm a boy. Maybe I can
help.”

Her brows knotted together. Had
the whole world gone nuts? The person who was supposed to be her future and her
constant had kept things from her, had lied to her. The people who were
supposed to be her comfort and her rocks were appearing to be nothing but drugged
up phonies. And this boy, Rye, who she had come to expect to be scary and mean,
was actually being nice to her. Maybe it was part of the effect of the drugs.
Perhaps he had been nice all along, but she had been too drugged up to see it.

She sighed. At this moment, it
felt like she didn’t have a friend in the world. Maybe it would help to get the
perspective of a stranger. “I think I want to break up with him - my boyfriend,
Zander. But I don't know...”

“Why do you want to break up with
him?”

She considered how to answer.

“Because...things have changed.
He's not the person I thought he was. I still care for him. But I'm pretty sure
I don't love him anymore. I'm not even certain that I ever did.”

“Oh,” was all he said. So much
for being helpful. He was at a loss for words, but Clover could have sworn his normally
feral eyes were shining.

“What's up with you?” Clover
asked suspiciously. “You seem...cheerful. Not at all what I've come to expect
from you.” She felt her face flush as she wondered if her question was
overstepping her bounds. She didn’t know how much or how little it might take
to set Rye back to treating her like one of the gods that he loathed.

He grinned from ear to ear now. “That's
because I am cheerful. It's Abilee. She's so much better. You should see her.
She even has color in her face again. Oh, and she loved your stories.
Especially the one about the turtle who dreams of flying. She talks about it
constantly.”

“That's great, Rye. So, is she
going to be okay, then? Will she live?” She asked the question quietly,
carefully.

“Clover, the milk - it’s helped
her so much. Such great improvement in only two days. With a little more, I’m
confident that she’ll be back to her old self again.”

Clover wondered how simply
drinking milk could have such a quick and profound effect on an illness. Yes,
it supposedly kept one healthy, but surely the small amounts of milk Abilee’s
family had been giving her from Quell would have helped a bit. And then it hit
her…

“The drugs!” She remembered
Skinny Dark-haired Boy telling her that the drugs were added at the Watch Tower
before distribution at the market, which meant that the milk in Quell wasn’t
drugged. She thought it was reasonable to assume that the drugs in Eadin’s milk
were somehow helping her illness.

“What?” he asked.

She ignored him and unzipped her
bag to pull out the bottle of milk she'd packed. “Here.” She handed it to him
and said, “I'll keep bringing it to you until Abilee is all better.”

“Clover, you are amazing.” He was
beaming at her. “You’re nothing like the other gods, and I’m sorry I thought that
you were. Arma said you were different, but I didn’t believe her. I was wrong.”

She smiled graciously. “My
friends call me Clove,” she said. “And we’re not gods, Rye. We’re human - just like
you.”

His eyes clouded and he quickly
looked away from her, like he didn’t want to meet her eyes. “How much do you know
about Quell?” he asked without looking at her.

“Only what you’ve told me. And
that there are monsters that live somewhere over here.”

He bit his lip and looked pained
for a moment.

“Why do you ask?”

He shook his head, struggled with
something, and finally said, “I need to tell you something.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath
to ready herself. She tried to convince herself that whatever he had to tell
her didn’t matter. Once Abilee was all better, she didn’t have to come back
here anymore. Then she could concentrate solely on picking up the pieces of her
broken life.

Rye inhaled deeply and bit his
bottom lip. “Clover, Clove…we, my people…”

“Ssh…” She looked up, hearing a
familiar sound. It was the helichoppers from the Watch Tower. They were making another
flight over the Wall. She heaved herself from the ground and pulled the bushes
apart, bringing herself out into the chilly dark of the night.

She glanced up to see two of the
flying crafts making their way over the Wall.

Rye joined her, standing beside
her and looking up.

“It’s the helichoppers again,”
she told him.

“Yes, they come here often.”

“My father flies in them. He
comes here to make sure the monsters aren’t getting out of control. He keeps us
safe from them.” Her words were thick with pride and admiration. Milk drugging
scheme aside, as far as Clover was concerned, he was still to be admired for
keeping his city safe from monsters.

“Your father?” Rye choked.

“Yes. C’mon. I wanna follow them.
I want to see.” This was her chance. She could see for herself what went on over
here, see for herself that her father came here to protect her people. Then she
could tell Zander and his friends that she had been witness to his bravery in
the name of Eadin. There was no way he could have done what Smith had told her.
And this would be her proof. A person who battled monsters and risked his own
life on a regular basis was not the sort to inflict pain on his own people. She
started to walk quickly in the direction the helichoppers were flying, high on
her new found sense of curiosity.

Rye hurried to catch up to her. “I
don’t think it’s a good idea, Clove.”

“It’s okay. I’ll stay out of
sight. My father would have a fit if he knew I was here, anyway.” She started
to run.

Rye ran after her, catching her
hand in his. “No, Clover. I don’t think you want to see this.”

She breathed heavy, jogging along
the lightly snow-covered ground. “Don’t be silly. I’m curious.” She loved how
the words sounded as they rolled out of her mouth. Being curious was a
liberating feeling. “Besides, how bad can it be? You’re with me. I know you’ll
keep me safe from the monsters.”