One of Us (5 page)

Oskar steps forward, resting his hand against the glass and letting his fingers spread out and relax.

He's remembered that I'd like to be an artist. He doesn't know that in my back pocket is the letter that came today, telling me that because of my missed deadlines and poor attendance I've been expelled from school. I won't even be able to take my exams.

And how would going to the Institute help me keep in touch with Oskar? I watch the sea grass
waft in an invisible current. “I don't understand.”

He lowers his voice. “We believe there's a cell of militant Brotherhood extremists at the Institute, maybe even linked to the Central Station bomb.”

I feel my heart start racing again. How can Oskar ask me to go somewhere like that? “Who's ‘we'?” I ask. “Why do you . . .”

“K,” he says.

“OK, I know you can't answer that.” I stare into the water and right at the back I suddenly see a small seahorse with its tail curled around a stem.

“That's where you come in. We want you to infiltrate the Brotherhood cell. We need someone they'll trust.”

“You mean . . . you want me to be a spy?” I stare at Oskar. Then I laugh, the sound harsh in this quiet place of humming pumps. “Me? That's crazy.”

Oskar has seen the seahorse too. He's watching it move away, its gentle head bowed and the fin on its back whirring. Maybe he's a fantasist. I step back.

“No, no, no.” Oskar turns toward me, holds my gaze with his eyes. “All we want you to do is go to the school, then just keep your eyes and ears open. You can feed back the dynamic of the groups: who's saying what, who's doing what, who's in charge. You might not find out anything at all. That's fine. We're playing a long game. But if you do, you might be able to prevent the deaths of innocent people.”

“I don't know . . .”

Oskar and I both turn as the two boys run in. We move without speaking into the next room. The circular
tank in the middle is full of bright fish swimming purposefully round and round. I stop in front of the glass and wait for a middle-aged couple to walk out through the other doorway.

“I don't know much about the Brotherhood.” Grandma made sure of it. “I'd never be able to pull off a big lie like that.”

Oskar rests his hand against the tank. The water is clear and blue, with tiny silver bubbles fizzing up from clam pumps. “It's a lot for you to think about,” he says. “Of course it is. But K, we can make a new world, one where people will be safe. It has to start small, with people like you and me, because we know the real cost. We have to be determined and brave. And remember, you won't be on your own. You'll be part of something bigger.” Between the cage of his fingers a yellow striped fish darts past.

He thinks I'm brave. Is that true? Will he be there for me? For always? I bump my finger gently against the face of a curious ultramarine fish on the other side of the glass. I wish I could paint it with colored inks, so that the colors would bleed into each other.

“And I can't stress strongly enough,” Oskar says, “that you won't be a spy at the Institute. All you have to do is be there and establish yourself as a Brotherhood girl.” He's trying to make it sound easy.

“I couldn't do that. I'd have to be, pretend to be . . .
Brotherhood
.” I think of their long skirts and hats. Long hair for women, short for men. Getting married so young.

Oskar stays silent, watching the fish swim past.

“I'd be alone in the school.”

“You're right.” Oskar smiles his warm smile. “But you'll be part of the fight against fear and chaos. So you'll know inside that you're one of us.”

“I am one of you.” I turn to look into his face. I think how wonderful it would be to completely belong to something that important. To be that important. “But . . .”

“You can do it, K,” says Oskar. “I'll help you. You've heard of Brer Magnus?”

I nod. He's always in the news making anticitizen comments.

“He's a Brotherhood leader but he's also the school director. He runs a student group and big meetings at the Institute. The police haven't been able to get him for anything yet. Someone will give him your cover story before you even get there—”

He puts up one hand to stop me interrupting. “It's based on the truth.” He takes out a notebook. “Who are you? Verity Nekton. Daughter of Brotherhood activists sadly killed when the Strife began.”

He stops and looks searchingly at me. His fingers tap lightly on the glass. “Where have you been?” he continues when I don't say anything. “In care since your parents died. No grandmother. It's not your fault you were raised citizen not Brotherhood . . .”

The yellow fish glides past again, its eye cold and black. I pull my thin jacket more tightly around me.

Oskar touches my arm in warning as the children run into the room. He guides me toward the door. The spiral stairwell beyond is empty and we start climbing. “You see, now you're nearly sixteen and old enough to make
your own decisions, you want to return to your roots.” His knuckles look yellow against the handrail. “That'll explain why the Brotherhood's new to you.” He laughs shortly. “Everyone at the Institute will feel sorry for you. They'll want to help you truly be a Brotherhood girl.”

“But why will they believe it?” I take two steps at a time to keep up with Oskar. “What will they do to me if they don't?” Why am I even thinking about this?

“Why won't they, K? Verity Nekton's social worker will visit. She'll have all the paperwork, birth certificate, and so on. And Nekton is a respected old Brotherhood name.” Oskar stops when he reaches the landing. “And of course I'll keep in touch, all the time.”

He's planned every detail, as if it's real, as if I'm part of it already. He must have been checking me out. But it was me who told him everything, wasn't it? I climb up the last flight of stairs. Why does Oskar think I would be able to do all this, when he doesn't even know me? Nobody else thinks I can do anything, not even the social worker who's supposed to help me. But this almost-stranger believes in me.

“Where would I live?”

“At the Institute,” says Oskar. “It's not a boarding school, but some of the older students live there.”

I don't speak, because I'm afraid that if I open my mouth I'll just say yes to him.

“It won't be that hard, K.” Oskar walks toward the doors. “All you have to do is be there and keep your real feelings to yourself.”

That should be easy for me. It's the one thing I'm really good at. Years of living with people you can't
trust will do that. I smile at Oskar, and in the glass door behind him I see my eyes lit up, green and alive again, not dull and sad.

“Take all the time you need, K.” Oskar isn't smiling now. “You'll do the right thing. You know what's at stake.” His eyes hold mine. “We both know we have to do everything we can to prevent the Strife starting again.”

I look back into his eyes. Since Grandma died, Oskar is the only person I've known who understands a loss like mine. And now he's offering me a way to do something about it. A chance to set my own life aside and work with him to stop our country from plunging back into war and chaos. Oskar opens the door and an icy wind cuts in.

A
S WE ROAR
uphill back toward the station I make two lists in my mind:

If I say yes, I'll be working with Oskar. Isn't it true that an individual, weak and helpless on their own, can become strong when they are part of a bigger whole? Doesn't the possibility of saving even one person make it worth trying? This might be my only chance. It's now or never. And I could study Art, for the first time.

If I say no, I'll never see Oskar again. I'll still have my room at the halfway house, but only until I'm sixteen. I can't go back to school. I will have thrown away the opportunity, however slim, to finally do something to stop
them
. Maybe one small piece of missing information could have stopped the bomb at Central Station. Just like one person's observation could have saved my parents thirteen years ago.

Am I as brave as Oskar thinks? Could I really go that far?

O
F COURSE I
'
M
not going to do it. It's crazy, unreal. I have no idea how to be a spy.

Oskar pulls up in the train station's parking lot and I climb off the bike.

But as my fingers fumble with the helmet strap, I hear myself say: “I'll do it.”

What am I doing? But I can always leave, can't I?

Oskar lifts his helmet off. “Good. Good.” His face breaks out into a smile.

It'll be OK.

He pulls off his gloves and unclasps my helmet strap because my fingers are too cold to do anything except fumble. “I knew you would.” His friendly eyes smile into mine. “We'll get together in the cafe tomorrow, sort out your Brotherhood ID.” He pulls a folder out of his crate.

He has it with him. He knew I would say yes.

“Here. This will tell you everything you need to know about the Brotherhood. Don't let anyone see it. Keep it with you always. Oh, and don't get a haircut.”

“OK.” I take the folder.

“Hey.” He pulls me into a sudden bear hug. “You're not alone. Not now.” He lets me go and laughs into my face. “Don't look so solemn.”

But I don't feel solemn at all. I watch Oskar's bike roar around the corner. I know I'll see him again now that we're working together. The guilt that has been
gnawing at me since the bomb lifts, just like that, and a wave of peace fills me. I think of the little boy with the cupcakes. “I'm doing this for you,” I whisper.

I run back to the halfway house with the folder clutched to my chest. For the first time ever, it feels like going home.

CHAPTER 5

I
STAND OUTSIDE
the gate of the Institute, my finger pressing the buzzer. On the other side of the road, Oskar is watching me from the woods, which are dark in the dull afternoon light. Once I cross the threshold, there's no turning back, just as there was no going back after I walked out of the halfway house without saying where I was going. I look at the graffiti scrawled over the low stone wall in front of the fence:
Hoody Scum
. . .
Murderers
. It wasn't there when we drove past before.

Nothing happens, nobody comes. I could still turn back, run across the road to the clearing up the hill where Oskar parked the car. I could tell him I've changed my mind. But am I such a coward as that?
You might be able to prevent the deaths of innocent people.
I made up my mind and I gave my word. I press the buzzer again.

This time the gate swings open immediately, and before I have time to think again I walk in, pulling the new red suitcase Oskar gave me. The gate clangs shut behind me, and suddenly everything is different. I'm in a world controlled solely by the Brotherhood. My heart starts leaping about under my blouse.

A high barbed-wire fence borders the drive, with another locked gate at the end, trapping me in, under scrutiny.
Murderers . . . murderers . . .
My feet walk to the beat of the words as I approach the second gate. Beyond it there's a lodge, and behind that the stone mansion, with its leaded windows and crooked roof, squats solidly against the white wintry sky. Other old buildings sprawl around and behind it.