Shymers (13 page)

“How did your family escape from Society in the first place?” Kai asks.

“I don’t remember,” Olive answers with a mouth full of bread. “I was young when they did it. My parents said they had Rebel friends that helped. I don’t remember anything about growing up in Society either. I always thought it was kind of strange, because I wasn’
t
tha
t
young.”

A spot of butter from her bread roll remains just above the corner of her mouth. Just when I consider reaching out to brush it away, she swipes it with her finger and smiles sheepishly.

“Do you know what else is out there, beyond the forest?” Kai asks. “You know, without having to travel to another country. Is there anything more to the Free Lands?”

Olive’s eyes narrow when she thinks. “We never traveled beyond the forest. I once asked my mother and she just gave me this blank look, like the question had never occurred to her before then.”

“More islands,” I blurt. They both look at me in surprise. “That’s what’s beyond the Free Lands. Other islands.”

Olive’s eyebrows draw together. “What are you saying? We’re on an island now?”

I dip my head in confirmation, fighting off the grin that is trying to surface. Geography was just one of the many things we learned from my grandfather’s book.

“How could that be?” Olive asks. “I mean I know there’s a lot of ocean surrounding the forest and everything, but don’t you think my parents would have known if we were on a
n
islan
d
? Wouldn’t w
e
al
l
know if we were on an island?”

“Maybe it’s just
a
really bi
g
island,” Bree says. “It’s not like any of us are allowed to leave Society to go exploring. There are borders around all of Society, Olive.”

The conversation soon shifts away to things Olive had available to her in the Free Lands. During the remainder of our lunch break, I steal glances of her, wondering what our lives would be like if I agreed to run away. Maybe we would find one of those other islands. Maybe life somewhere else would be simple, less complicated.

Maybe we could be happy.

When the buzzer announces the end of lunch, Olive bumps my shoulder as we stand up. I turn to see her flush as a smile spreads across her face.

No matter how much time I spend with her, it will never be enough. I may not have much of a future left, but when I envision the remaining days to come, her face is all I can see.

* * *

On the shuttle ride back to the orphanage at the end of the day, I sit beside Zeke. If I keep spending so much time with Olive, everyone is going to think there is something going on between us. I worry what Olive will say if she were to discover my feelings for her. She thinks Shymers’ lives have actual value. Would she think my life is worth investing in? Would she be embarrassed to learn someone with such a short life left to live wants to be with her, or would she want to be with me?

I take my time leaving the shuttle again, purposely not catching up to Olive until she has said her goodbyes to Bree. This time when we walk back to the orphanage together, her hand brushes against mine more than once. I glance her way from the corner of my eye and find her grinning.

Once we’re past the guards and deep into the mouth of the alley, she leans in close. “How did you know there were other islands?”

I gaze back to make sure the soldiers are well out of hearing range. “My grandparents left my family a book of information on the old world. It’s filled with stuff like hand-drawn maps.”

She gasps, her green eyes growing wide. “Wouldn’t something like that be illegal? Do you still have it?”

“I keep it safe,” I say.

“What else does it say about the islands?”

“That they’re even better than the Free Lands. Some people were able to get away before Society took over, and they started a new colony. They have their own guards who will kill any members of Society who trespass on their lands.”

She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. “Wel
l
tha
t
sounds inviting.”

I shake my head. “I meant government officials and soldiers. They won’t hurt anyone who can prove they’re refugees of Society.”

Her eyes light up. “Like us.” I dip my head, holding back a grin. “Can you show me the book?”

Her excitement, as usual, draws me in. Glancing back to the soldiers, I lick my lips nervously. The book is safely hidden behind the boilers in the orphanage, and I almost never bring it out. The knowledge inside that book is enough to get me suspended and they would probably do the same to Olive for even having knowledge of such a thing. She could be put into so much danger if we were to get caught.

“Someday,” I promise.

* * *

Olive won’t stay quiet about my grandfather’s book. She asks about it every single time we’re alone. After a few days, I give in and tell her to meet me at the stairwell leading to the basement at midnight. “Yo
u
hav
e
to be careful,” I warn. “If they catch you—“

“I can handle myself,” she says with a grin.

My insides clench with the possibility that she’s wrong.

The clock ticks by at an unusually slow rate until midnight finally rolls around. After two years of living in this horrible building, I know every creak in the floor and expertly move through the winding hallway toward the basement access. Cringing, I think of Olive maneuvering through here by herself. Telling her to meet me and sending her out alone was a terrible idea.

Midnight comes and goes without any sign of her. I anxiously pace the floors, wondering where she could be. Just when I have resolved to return to the girls’ sleeping room chambers to search for her, I hear a creak in the floor behind me. Suddenly, Olive collides into me, giggling. While I can’t see her face in the dark, I imagine her freckles dancing against her cheeks as they always do.

“Sorry!” she whispers into the dark. I squint until I can see her clearly. Her frame is even more delicate-looking in her sleeping clothes, and her silky blond hair hangs loose around her face. I wonder if an angel from the heavens would look as stunning as she does.

“Shhh, you have to be quiet,” I say, fighting the urge to laugh along. Without giving it much thought, I reach for her hand in the darkness. It slips easily into mine and a warm spark spreads all the way through me. I’m suddenly grateful for the darkness that hides my overly wide smile.

I lead her through the maintenance door and down the long stairway. Enough light shines on the steps that we climb down safely until reaching the floor of the boiler room. Her hand twitches at one point, squeezing mine in the process. I almost stop short, wondering if she did it on purpose. We weave our way through the massive, loud machines all the way to the back corner.

“Hold on,” I say, breaking contact to reach down to where I know the book rests safely wrapped inside a towel. When I bring it out, my hands are covered in cobwebs. I didn’t realize just how long it has been since I last looked at it.

After my father’s death it became too difficult to look through the book on my own. Too many memories of the time we spent together return along with it. Before now, I had only leafed through it a few times in this basement. I lead Olive over to where there is a brighter light. Her eyes grow wide when I place the heavy book in her hands.

“This is amazing!” she whispers. She opens the leather cover and flips through the thick pages. I watch her delicate fingers gently brush over the smooth paper. Her gaze takes in every piece of information with delight.

In this moment I know without a doubt that she is the most attractive person I have ever laid eyes on. Even in the times when she is upset with me, it is hard to look past her exquisiteness. I have to fight every cell in my body not to reach out to touch her freckle-covered face or her plump lips.

After a while, she pauses on one of the pages to study it closely, her face scrunched. “Your grandfather talks about the Rebel leader as if he knew him well.”

I nod. “They were close friends. Before the DOD system became mandatory, my grandparents spent a lot of time with Derald and his wife. No one will ever come straight out and say that Derald was murdered, but my grandfather was convinced the government did it to stop the Rebel movement.”

The color drains from Olive’s face when she lifts her head. “My parents told me the Rebel leader died, but they never said anything about him bein
g
murdere
d
. How awful.”

I nod in agreement. Her eyes sweep back down to the book, the spark of excitement gone. The level of compassion she is capable of amazes me—even if for total strangers. She’s right, she doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a Shymer, even though she is one. Her heart is too big to be treated so cruelly. No one deserves to be treated the way we are, even though most Shymers don’t know any better.

“We can’t stay down here long,” I tell her after more time has passed. “The guardians do security checks during the night. The next one is in an hour.”

The disappointment that fills her cannot be ignored. Her bottom lip pushes out even farther than usual, and her mouth turns down. “It will take longer than that to look through this whole book. Can’t we just hide out down here?”

“Sometimes they come down here to check on the air system and make sure everything is working. But we can come back another night. We can come back as often as you like,” I say, wanting more than anything to see her happy again.

I am willing to do whatever she wants, as long as it involves the two of us being alone together. I hope over time she will want to spend as much time with me as I want to with her.

Her face is illuminated once again by her smile, making my stomach roll in excitement.

* * *

We sneak down into the basement together every night to study the book. I tell her the stories my father told me, and she throws in stories from her family with the same excited rush. She becomes so comfortable with me that she sometimes touches my arm as she speaks, or pushes my shoulder playfully when I make her laugh.

The nightly ritual is the highlight of every day. I can’t wait to spend the stolen moments alone with Olive. The more days that go by and the more time we spend together, the more it almost literally hurts when we are apart. I can’t get enough of her and find any excuse to brush her hair, touch her hand, or lean in close.

Staying awake during lessons becomes difficult, however, and I often catch myself drifting into a sleep filled with dreams of holding Olive in my arms. Zeke’s suspicious glares have become more frequent and I fear he knows I am up to something. As difficult as the task will be, I may have to try to show less interest in Olive whenever he’s around. It may be necessary to keep her safe. Zeke has told me straight out he doesn’t approve of the way she openly talks against the government.

One night as I sit next to Olive on the cool floor of the basement, my shoulders pressed up against hers and the back of her hand resting against my thigh, a small piece of paper slips from beneath the pages of the book. Olive’s slim fingers wrap around the paper and she passes it over to me.

“What do you think it is?” she asks with the level of excitement I crave.

I shrug and take it from her, letting my fingers brush against hers. Handwritten notes are not as common as they were in the old days, so I figure it must be something from my grandfather.

Olive looks on with a giant grin as I unfold the paper. When the handwriting is revealed to me, my stomach drops.

The note is from my father.

My hands tremble as my eyes pass over the letter that was quite obviously left for me to find after he was gone:

My dear son,

Your mother is going to tell you not to run. It’s only because she’s afraid. She wants you to live your life happily more than anything, and that certainly won’t happen if you stay in Society, in a horrible orphanage.

 
I wish I could have somehow given you more time on this earth, or at least given you a different life away from the mixed up ways of our government. But we both know it’s too late for that. Still, it’s not too late for you to experience freedom. If you go to the edge of the Future district, you will find Rebels who will help you cross the border safely. You must go at night, and you must go alone. Be quick about it, Harrison. Remember what this book has taught you about the old world and life beyond Society. I love you, son.

Be safe.

I draw in a deep breath. My father wanted me to run. Why didn’t he have the courage to tell me this before he died? Was he afraid I would run away before they were gone?

I spent two years alone in this orphanage, trying to honor my mother’s last request. It’s no one’s fault but my own that I didn’t look through the book sooner. If it weren’t for Olive, I probably never would have found the note.