Vanquished (6 page)

 

 

 

 

9

 

Graduation is two weeks away. Mrs. Sewell asks me to help my classmates prepare their paperwork for their Tests before our Sunday break. I finish up with Graham Miller, and then step to the next student. I stifle a groan because it's Lilith Winters. She's dazzling in a crisp white dress against her coal-black hair. How did she manage to get a dress like that, since no one has enough allowance for some things? Regardless, she'll make a stunning entertainer dressed like that.

“I don't really need any help,” she says. Her bright blue eyes dance icily.

If it wasn't about ninety degrees in the school I would probably shiver.

“Do you have your essay written?”

She nods. “Of course.”

I don't know why I bother helping her. I should probably let her mess up—but of course I won't. I have to do the right thing. “And you've filled out the front and back of the questionnaire?”

She pauses. “Yes.”

My eyes narrow. “Are you sure you don't want any help?”

“Nope, I've got it under control.”

I shrug and slide to the next student, but I see Lilith pull her questionnaire from her folder. I'd bet my entertainment allowance she didn't look at the back.

“Can you help me word part of my essay?” Bernadette asks.

“No problem. Which part?” I slide into the desk beside her. Bernadette's quiet, but when she speaks, people listen. I'm eager to see what she has to say on paper.

She points to her essay, and I scan while she talks. “I can't word exactly how I feel about the Greaters, and how they provide for us all. I want to express how I want to teach that to future generations.”

The Greaters have met my every need, including food, education, and entertainment. They've given me a place to live and provided laws to keep my family safe and happy. It is my hope to relay the knowledge of these blessings to future generations of our society. This is why I want to be a teacher. I want to train the future generations to make our society brighter.

I stare at the paper, hearing Bernadette but not hearing at all. How can I help her express how good the Greaters are when I'm not sure I believe it anymore? Are the Greaters good? And other problems with her logic pop out at me. A place to live? The houses and buildings were in our city long before the Greaters established a new nation, and the laws that keep us safe and happy are also working to keep us quiet and ignorant.

“What do you think?” Bernadette asks when I don't say anything.

I sit back with a sigh. “I think what you've written comes off right, but let me think about it, OK?”

She accepts this answer without comment, and I hurry to Mrs. Sewell. “I need to use the restroom, Mrs. Sewell.” I've got to clear my head.

She waves me away, and I hurry to the hall. The hallway is empty, besides two boys who walk toward me. The bigger one has his arm around the smaller one. Neither is in the graduating class, and I'm not sure of their names, but the bigger one looks familiar. I smile and wave.

The bigger one smirks at me and the other keeps his head down, almost like he's cowering away from the first boy.

I frown as they pass, and when I reach the restroom I turn around to see where they've gone. I catch a glimpse of the first one holding the second one against the wall. He shoves the boy against a locker and mutters something close to his face.

The smaller boy nods quickly, obviously agreeing with whatever the bigger boy is saying. Still, the smaller boy's feet begin to lift off the ground.

I remember the older boy's name then, it's Kohen Lamb. He's been suspended from school once already for kicking a boy in the bathroom. The boy ended up with a broken rib.

Just then Kohen turns to me. He sees me standing there, witnessing his fury. Apparently, he doesn't like it because he drops the little boy and heads toward me. The boy lets out an
oomph
when he hits the floor, and he curls into a ball.

My heart speeds into double time and my brain screams
think fast!
I can't go into the bathroom. He'll just follow me. Instead, I sprint down the hall, toward the principal's office. I can hear him behind me at first, but then the sound fades. I don't slow down. I arrive out of breath and panting. The rubber band that held my hair in a ponytail snapped while I ran, and now my hair hangs in my face. I push into the principal's office. He takes one look at me and jumps from his seat.

“What is it, Hana?” he asks, frowning.

“Kohen Lamb is chasing me. He's in the hall. He was beating up some little kid.”

The principal follows me back to the hall, but Kohen is gone. The principal helps the younger boy get cleaned up and sends me back to class.

I still haven't gone to the bathroom, so I slip into a stall while I will my nerves to calm down. I splash cool water on my face and take a deep breath. After a few minutes pass, I stick my head out the door. The principal has Kohen cornered. I hear words like “third strike” and “Lesser.” I shudder as I think about the bully being sent to a Lesser city, and I'm reminded of why our government system works. Those who bully others, who hurt them, who are violent and unruly, should be sent away. That is who the Lessers are. Our government knows this. They know it well, and that's why the rules are in place.

Jamie comes to mind then, and I remember how she's been meeting Easton outside of school. Alone. She's breaking the law, too.

I shake my head. Jamie's OK. She's not doing anything stupid, so even if she gets caught alone with Easton she won't be sent away.

I creep from the restroom and return to class. My adrenaline still pumps, but I think I'm prepared to help Bernadette now.

 

 

 

 

 

10

 

School is out on Sundays. It's the only free day each week, and I want to spend this morning with Mom. After my visit, I'll meet up with Jamie so we can go to the market together. Our food allowances go from Monday through Sunday, and we need to use what we have left before they expire.

Mom is sleeping when I get to the hospital. Dark circles line her eyes, even in her sleep, and her breaths are shallow and quick. I swallow hard. What happens if the natural treatments don't work? My mom has always been there for me, no matter what. She was the first person who ever suggested I would like working in government. I like solving problems; making things better. I'm good at it, and can work through problems logistically and objectively. She never pushes me to be the person she wants, only to be the best person I can be. She listens when I talk and offers advice.

Just the thought of her absence makes my stomach clench. I can't imagine living in the house with only Dad. It doesn't mean I don't love him; it's just that he's always busy working on lessons or growing super veggies. And he's not Mom.

My mind drifts to the folders that are usually stacked on Fischer's desk. How long does it take to get approval for the chemo drugs? It's been a week now, plenty of time for a message to get back and forth between cities.

Before I know it, I'm in the hallway. Fischer isn't around that I can see, and I inch toward his workspace. The folders are there, but Mom's isn't on top. I lay my arm casually on the counter and glance around. I'm still alone. I hope I look casual on the outside, because on the inside I think even my bones are shaking.

I slide one folder a couple of inches, then another folder, and another. The fourth folder down is marked “Maya Norfolk.”

“Do you need something?”

Fischer's voice spins me around like a whirlwind. Words don't come, but tears do.

He looks nervous himself, and he keeps glancing between Mom's folder and me. “I have a break in about ten minutes. I like to eat on the roof. Would you like to join me?”

What's he talking about? I shake my head. “I can't. I—“

“I really hope you will, Hana.” He closes Mom's file and takes the stack away.

I watch him go, my heart hammering. Is he going to report me? Why does he want to talk to me? The last thing I want to do now is meet with him on the roof, but I don't want to go to Mom's room yet. If she wakes up, she'll see that I'm upset, and she'll want to know why. What am I supposed to say then?
I'm upset because I'm afraid you're going to die.
I can't say that. There's never been anything I've held back from Mom, but I can't tell her this. I can't tell her I know about the chemotherapy, or that I'm scared she's dying and I don't know what's going to happen to her or me.

So I go to the roof.

Fischer joins me a few minutes later. “You came.”

I nod. “Yeah.” I'm not really sure what to say.

He sighs and leans against the roof's ledge. “Were you looking for something in particular in that file? If you have questions, it's always best to just ask them.”

Except sometimes there are questions that are difficult to ask or illegal to discuss. I watch his face, trying to gauge what he's thinking, but his face is blank. Open. Encouraging. “I overheard the doctors that first day. They were arguing about giving Mom chemotherapy drugs. I didn't know there were chemo drugs around anymore. I was trying to find out whether the drugs had been approved.”

He stays silent, and we look out across the city. It's quiet, with only a few people on the streets in this part of town.

One or two cars dot various places, but for the most part people don't drive anymore. Gas allowances are only given once a year, and each family is given a very small amount. People tend to use it for driving in the winter or heating their houses when it's cold.

A breeze tosses my hair into my face and I push it aside.

“You knew the drugs were requested?” he finally says.

I can't meet his eye, but I nod. “I saw her file the other day.”

“There are a lot of things that most people don't know, Hana. I'm sorry you had to find out about the chemo drugs this way. You wouldn't have ever known about them if you hadn't heard the doctors that first day.”

I nod. He makes a good point, but I do know about them now, and I won't ever forget. I want to know if they are approved, though. Why isn't he telling me that?

Still, I'm afraid to ask. What if he says they were denied?

“The request is still pending,” he answers my unasked question.

Relief fills me up, but then I remember what he said a moment ago. “What other things don't people know?”

He watches me for a long time, but finally shakes his head. “This isn't the time or place for a conversation like that.”

I stand up straighter and step toward him. “What do you mean? What's to hide?”

He sighs. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“Well you did say it.” I'm a little annoyed, but I know it's not fair to take it out on him. My real frustration comes from the issue with the chemo. This problem is too huge for me, and it hurts.

He watches me, his eyes soft. “You're right, I did say it. I'll tell you more if you want to know, but not here. Not in this place.”

“What's wrong with this place?”

He glances around and then his gaze finds mine again. “Please trust me on this.”

I turn my attention back to the city. Anger burns my insides. Anger at the doctors, at the mysteries, at the mutation. “How can I trust anyone?”

He scoots closer to the edge of the building and rests his elbows on the ledge, looking out over the city. “There
is
someone you can trust.”

I snort. “Who?” It feels strange, being so cynical. I don't like this personality that's coming out.

He leans closer, his eyes wide and serious. “Have you ever heard of God, Hana?”

My breathing stills. God? I try to ignore the memories of my aunt dying when I was little. My parents had argued, because Mom wanted to know what happened to her sister after death. My dad yelled and said she was reincarnated, just like everyone else. I could tell Mom didn't agree, and there was some mention of God, but Dad was so mad Mom never brought it up again. I've never been sure of reincarnation since, but I haven't mentioned it. Religion is against the law, and Dad's a stickler for law-abidedness.

That's why we have meditation now. Besides the fact that religion separated the people of the country in the past, their belief in a God didn't do much for them. Meditation puts the responsibility on us, the people. We free our minds and spirits, and when our minds are clear we can find the answers we need.

“I guess so,” I finally answer his question.

He nods and looks away. “There are answers to be found, if you want them.”

Answers. That word intrigues me, because hadn't I just been thinking how there sure were a lot of unanswered questions floating around? Besides, if Mom might die, she would probably like to know what's going to happen to her afterward.

“Will you meet me?” he asks.

Meeting him would mean breaking the rules. Girls aren't allowed alone with boys. It isn't that the government is trying to prevent love; it's just that they're trying to prevent babies and extra mouths to feed. Back in the Early Days they had something called birth control pills. We don't have them anymore, but if we did, I'm sure the government would require we used them.

I swallow hard and look at the city one last time, and then I turn to him. I give one firm nod. “Yeah, I will.”

 

 

 

 

11

 

Back in Mom's room her eyes flutter open, and she moans. It's a deep-throat moan of pain. My insides clench, and I rush to her side. “What's wrong, Mom?”

She swallows and glances around the room wildly. Finally, her eyes settle on me. “I'm fine, Hana. Sorry about that.”