The world remains, p.15
The World Remains, page 15
Terra was rambling: “Or could it be that you’ve never even seen one before? I’ll admit it: I caught a glimpse of Student Devon’s one time in the water. The younger boys were roughhousing, and well, accidents happen; and lo and behold, his bottoms came right off! And what was under there? It was nothing like what you might think! I can go into detail if you want, but it wasn’t anything mighty or majestic or anything like that. If I’m being honest, it was sorta flabbery.” She stuck out her tongue in distaste. “But I’ve heard contrary things from my aunt, so it could be that it was just him?” She scratched at her matted hair, and then – “So what all do you want to know exactly?”
I stared at Terra. Was she serious?! “NOTHING. No, I definitely don’t want ‘advice’. Besides, I’m not sure you’d be the one to ask.”
Mae snorted. Terra didn’t notice.
“It does have to do with my marriage, though,” I continued, pushing the ‘flabbery’ visual from my mind. Terra perked up. Whoa there. Before she could get too excited, I hurried to add, “It’s just that I’m worried about Sella – urgh, Student Sella. We two are close, and if – urgh, when I get married, I won’t be able to spend much time with her. I won’t be attending class any longer, and I’ll have to worry about my new house, and whatever job they give me, and . . .” I swallowed and was grateful that I wouldn’t actually have to do any of those things. “Would YOU look after her? Both of you, I mean. She might seem like a tough nugget, but she’s weaker than she comes off. Plus, she’s in class with those god-awful sisters of Lale’s, and that’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone . . .” I anticipated some sort of debate or at least a contemplation or something, but –
“Sure thing, Student Ashlin! No problemo!” Terra saluted me. The speediness of her acceptance caught me by surprise.
“R-really!?” I said. “You mean it!?”
“Uh-huh! You can count on us! Isn’t that right, Mae? Can’t she count on us?”
Mae shrugged with a witting sort of half-smile. “Of course she can.”
I let out an exhale. “Thank you,” I said. “No, more than ‘thank you’. I really appreciate it. Take care of her no matter what, okay? No matter what . . . er, happens.”
What happens? That sounded suspicious, but the girls nodded all the same, once more agreeing to the task at hand. Good. That was a weight off.
“Sorry if I’ve made you late,” I said. “Shall we?”
And with that, we entered the schoolhouse – that old concrete building – for what would be my last time.
The hallway smelled like paint. Sella’s class had been practicing brushwork on canvas in the two days I’d missed. She’d refused to tell me what it was she’d chosen to paint, but she’d promised to show me once she finished. Would I ever see it? No, probably not. Unless I returned as a ghost. Like Olté. A ghost among frauds.
The schoolhouse was cold. Too much air conditioning, per usual. Kinamo was there, near the door to our classroom, being unruly next to Devon. There was no sign of Richar, though, and he was someone I wanted to speak with at least once more before I left.
Hm.
“OY, SQUEAK!”
The loud-mouthed cry had certainly come from my husband, who’d just spotted me.
“Keenis. It’s been too long, eh?” I said. “Why don’t you –”
I was cut off, for the jerk had run to me and slammed my shoulders against the wall.
“HEY!” yelled Terra. Devon, too, hopped up to stop him.
“What gives?!” I said.
“I hope you thought of a solution in your two days of absence!” Kinamo’s teeth were tight. His cheeks were shaking. His eyes were dark and dangerous.
“Enough, Student Kinamo,” said Devon, docile. He was disinterested for the most part. Even at a time like this.
Geesh. To think I’d once found him suitable.
Kinamo slammed my shoulders against the wall a second time. Terra was ornery. She directed it at him. “Stop it right now, Kinamo!” And when he didn’t acknowledge her, she appealed to Mae. “Do – uh – something!”
Something? But what exactly was Mae supposed to do? What were any of them supposed to do? Kinamo was unstable as ever.
Mae secretly looked as though she wanted to jump in. Instead, she clutched her throat. She planned to act as damsel. “Shall I fetch a teacher?!”
Devon nodded, having sized up Kinamo, but I shook my head. “NO. It’s fine.” I locked eyes with Kinamo and waited for him to interpret the message I was so forcefully shoving into his pupils. “It’ll all be fine.” Unfortunately, the blockhead was thick. I was made to wait half a minute or more. I waited until –
“. . .Truly?” he said at last.
Took him long enough. I tipped my head to show agreement, but did not unglue my eyes.
“Oh,” he said, releasing me. “You mean –?” I rubbed the sore spot where his hand had dug into my shoulder and nodded. “Hell!” He grabbed my cheeks, squeezed, and planted a forceful kiss on the top of my head.
“Uh –?” Terra exchanged a look with Devon. She was clearly puzzled. Devon shrugged. Mae dropped the hand that’d been clenching her neck. To them, we appeared very strange, very dysfunctional lovers.
“Well?” urged Kinamo.
“Now really isn’t the time. Is it, darling?”
“Fine. Later then.” He took my arm. “Let Us go. Class is starting.”
I let him pull me, but not before giving Mae and Terra one last wave of gratitude for what they’d agreed to do.
The classroom hadn’t changed in the days of my absence. Well, except for one thing: a certain cat-faced priss was there. Alongside Bess and Dole, Lale stood twisting her braid. Joy. What the hell was she doing? After her marriage to Dole there’d been no need for her to attend class. She was unwelcome.
Probably stopping in for a quickie under the guise of delivering his tea or something.
Sure enough, a steaming mug was in the good teacher’s hand – a steaming mug which he slammed onto his desk the moment he saw me. “Student Ashlin! How nice of you to join us.”
I countered his sarcasm: “Don’t get too excited. I’m not staying. Just here to grab my notebook.”
Wow. I was surprised by my own rudeness. So, too, was Dole.
“P-PARDON?! If you think you can miss class again, just because you’re joining in matrimony this week, you are profoundly mistaken!”
“Sorry, Teach. I’ve got things to do. Flowers to arrange. That sort of thing.”
I was feeling bold. Uncouth. Maybe I wanted to make my last time with them memorable. Or maybe I was simply taking out my frustrations. My frustrations over Kinamo and Olté and the weakness of my blood. I took the notebook from my desk.
But Teacher Dole had surely lost all color. “TEACH?!” he repeated. Never had anyone addressed him so disrespectfully, it seemed.
Equally offended was Lale, who, to my misfortune, found it necessary to defend her dear husband’s honor. “How dare you!” she shrieked. Mouth hanging open like gull, she paraded over and planted an open hand on my cheek.
I had to process. Had that really just happened? Had she really just . . . smacked me? Yup, the prim and priggish girl had smacked me clear across the face.
I, in turn, hit her in the nose with an open palm.
“Student Lale!” Bess ran to her.
Whoops. Maybe that’d been a little harsh. Lale was sobbing.
“OUT,” said Dole, shaking. “NOW.”
Gladly. As I made gauche, hurried steps for the door, I noticed Kinamo goggling after me with an open mouth of what was either admiration or fear.
Whichever, it stands as one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced.
I went to my house to pack. My parents were out in the fields, so they wouldn’t notice I was home. Not that it mattered much anyway. I just had a few things I wanted to bring along.
I opened the drawer of Olté – the small shrine I’d pathetically kept in his absence – and contemplated chucking the whole thing in the trash. But, no. I wasn’t strong enough to do a thing like that. I had to cling. No matter what, I had to cling to him. It was hardwired into me by now, no matter how angry it made me.
So I’d take them. So that they wouldn’t be found after I left. Along with the notebook from my desk containing incriminating sketches, I’d take them. I found my beach bag on a hook in my closet. Besides my backpack, that was the only bag I owned. But neither of those would do. Neither was big enough. My parents had another sack, though, that they sometimes used to bring goods home from the market. That was what I’d use.
I took it from the kitchen cupboard and began to fill it. The drawer of Olté – condensed – was first in. After that, two changes of clothes. Extra undergarments. A toothbrush. What else? What else did I need? What else couldn’t I leave behind?
There was nothing.
I turned again to the spy stories I’d read as a child. ‘As a child’ seemed fitting this time, for I felt adult-like at last. Sort of.
A flashlight? A knife? Sure. I’d bring a knife along. One of my dad’s hunting knives that was only ever used for cleaning the meat he traded from other residents. I found one beneath his bed and turned the blade over in my hand.
Empowering.
Hah, what did I expect to do with it? Was I really going to stab something? No. Probably not. Yet I threw it into the sack.
What else?
I rummaged through the house for a few other odds. It didn’t feel like this was really happening. None of it felt final.
I looked to the clock in my parents’ bedroom. Now what? Olté hadn’t mentioned how or exactly when they’d come to get me. Croix had only said ‘night’. Was I to go to the cabin? Or . . .? Once more, I looked around my parents’ room. My parents. I wouldn’t be seeing them. Chances were I’d never see them again. Never. Ever. How odd it was that I didn’t really care. I didn’t even care to say goodbye.
But somewhere deep down, I knew it was for legitimate reason. My parents weren’t like the parents in the books I’d read. Although they’d given birth to me, they were only paternal in the loosest sense of the term. Purités were wed when the Governs ordered, to whom the Governs ordered. Likewise, Purités became parents if and when the Governs had need for it. My parents didn’t love each other. They certainly hadn’t wanted children. They certainly hadn’t wanted me.
So I wouldn’t say goodbye. There was no need.
But what about Sella?
She’d be in class all day, but I had to see her afterwards . . . didn’t I? That was what I’d planned on, anyway. Thinking about it now, though . . .
Would that only make it worse?
My gut gave out an ache at the thought.
Then I wouldn’t say goodbye to her either. It was too hard. I would disappear. Cleanly. Decisively.
“But . . . wasn’t that exactly what he did?” I asked myself. “Wasn’t that exactly what Olté’d been thinking when he left?”
Oh.
I understood. For the first time in over two years, I understood why he’d done things that way. But that way wasn’t best. I knew that much, even if I didn’t know much at all. If I didn’t tell her, Sella would feel as terribly as I’d felt. She’d feel abandoned, even if I was leaving for her sake.
So I’d find her after class.
I examined the clock again and felt stupid. Really stupid. Why had I insisted on going all rogue and skipping?! What was I supposed to do for the rest of the day?! What was I supposed to –
There was a sound from downstairs. A definite creak of someone unfamiliar with the house stepping on one of the loose floorboards in the kitchen.
Someone knew about the plan?!
Paranoid, that was the first thought that entered my mind; and paranoid, I dropped to the floor and rolled beneath my parents’ bed.
Quite the reaction. Immediately afterward, I scoffed at the irrationality of it.
Little did I know, it wasn’t irrational at all.
Creak. The person was trying to be quiet – trying, but not really succeeding. Gah! What was I supposed to do in this sort of situation!? I’d known to drop to the floor, not because I’d been anticipating anything like this, but because those spy stories were still recent in my mind. I had to think. A sleuthing heroine . . . what would she do at a time like this? Easy. Arm herself.
The knife was in the bag. . . . The bag! Its strap was out! I pulled the sneaky thing beneath the dust ruffle.
Phew.
The creaking stopped.
The person had heard me? No. They were searching inside something. From the sound of it, they were searching in the pantry. Searching . . . for me?
I held my breath and waited for the creaking to start up again, but when it did, it was accompanied by a voice both cynical and badgering:
“Isn’t there anything to eat in here besides potatoes and carrots!? Oy, Squeak, you mind if I crack open a canister of jam? Or maybe you could come out and make me a sand –”
“KINAMO?!” In one rocketing motion, I was out from under the bed and down the stairs. “WHAT THE HELL?!”
Indeed, standing in my kitchen was Kinamo, jam in hand and lip snide. “Squeak is awfully rowdy today,” he said.
I snatched the jar from his greasy palm. “Let’s try this once more: WHAT THE HELL?!”
“I see. Mmm. So she IS planning to flee this place.” Kinamo surveyed the sack in my hand. “We were right. But of course We were! Silly Kinamo.”
“SHUT IT AND TELL ME WHAT THE HECK YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING IN MY HOUSE!” I was shaking dangerously, so I paused to gulp down a few mouthfuls of air. “Why aren’t you at school?”
“We were curious. Yes, We were. We were wondering why Squeak had suddenly developed a spine. We wanted to know from where her spine comes. We . . . liked her spine. We wanted more of her spine. AND We suspected the source.”
“The . . . source?”
“We suspected she might be running. Could that be the reason for her spine? Could it? Yes, We think it could. AND We have decided to run as well.”
My color was gone. Kinamo knew. And on top of that, he wanted to come with?! No . . . I should’ve remained beneath the bed. I should never have come out. I never should have mouthed off to Dole! I never should have hit Lale!
“So I was right,” he said quietly. “Excellent.”
“N-no!” I was defensive. “Leave? Hah! Where would I leave to? And how would I ever make it!? You’re delusional! Sorry, just wishful thinking on your part, Weeny.”
“How, she asks? How? We do not know. But we suspect it has something to do with that house in the woods. Why else would Squeak go there? Why would she? Because she was waiting for someone. But for whom was she waiting? Whose abandonment painted such a delicious frown upon her mouth all of those times? We don’t know, but we suspect they have come for her.”
I stared at him.
How? How could Kinamo know all that? How had he discerned it? I couldn’t really wrap my head around it. And I didn’t know how to cover it up.
“We enjoy this, Squeak. We really –”
I couldn’t take it. I picked a wooden spoon from the counter and chucked it at him. “STOP SPEAKING IN THAT MORONIC WAY! YOU’RE DRIVING ME COMPLETLEY CRAZY! ARGH!”
Kinamo had caught the spoon. He looked it over and laughed. “If I stop, may I come with you?”
“NO. Absolutely not.”
“So you ARE leaving then?”
“Wha . . .? N-no!”
But he knew. I was much too obvious. There really wasn’t any denying it.
“When?” he asked. “Today? Tonight?”
“Never.”
“Tell me, Squeak. Tell me . . . lest I’ll tell them.”
Lest he . . . uh-oh. I retaliated, “Who? The Governs? Tch! Like they’d believe you!” But I didn’t sound that sure. Kinamo smirked.
“It would be in your best interest to tell Us. We want to know, and if you do not tell Us, We will run to Govern Kennedy this very minute and –”
“UGH! Fine! Just stop talking like that! It’s so, SO stupid! I can’t stand it!”
He crooned. “I know.”
“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal anyway! Because, say I were leaving . . . sometime, I would never – not in a million, billion years – bring you with me.”
Kinamo jerked his head to flip his bangs. “Think of it as less of a choice and more of a requirement,” he said.
“A requirement?”
“Essentially either you bring me along, or I tell everyone your plan to flee. It is believable after your stunt with Teacher Dole. I’m SURE he’d back me up if I expressed to him my theory.”
That was probably true. And Dole knew about Olté. And Dole knew that I knew Olté. And if Kinamo told Dole what he suspected?
“Fine,” I said, defeated. I didn’t have a choice. I had to agree with him. I had to make him think he’d won. Even if I had zero intention of bringing him along. As if Olté would stand for it anyway.
But . . . on the other hand . . .
Maybe Olté wouldn’t mind at all if I brought my fiancé along because he had lovely Seriah. Olté and his new girlfriend. Psh. If I evened the circumstances he’d probably feel better, even! Alleviate some of that guilt. Unbelievable! Just thinking about it was making me irk!
“When do we leave, Squeak?” Kinamo’d returned to fishing about in my pantry.
I sighed. “I don’t know. It’d probably be best if you just went home and –”
In a flash, Kinamo turned violent. He pushed me against the island and planted his nails deeply into the skin of my arms. “Hell, Ashlin! How stupid do you think I am!?”
“Stupid? Uh –” Calm down. Calm down. I silently urged him to calm down.
After a moment he snickered once and released his grip slightly. “WE are not leaving her. No, we shall not leave her side, lest she squirm away.”
Scary.
“Have it your way,” I said, forcing nonchalance.
