Canopy, p.14
Canopy, page 14
Mangrove took my hand again, gently this time, and we descended into the lower boughs as the remaining daylight faded. By the time we reached Bough Seven, our eyes were adjusted to the murky dark.
Mangrove disappeared briefly into the warm candlelight of his new living space, a shanty built for two but hung with three hammocks. Having lost their shanties during the storm, many of the men and women of the sixth and seventh boughs were tripling up. I heard snatches of good-natured ribbing waft from inside. A curious male head poked through the door, eyes squinting to catch sight of me, the woman who had kept Mangrove out so late. Mangrove elbowed his shanty mate out of the way and strutted toward me with the remains of a hazelnut loaf and a squirrel leg, a generous gift on any evening, but especially lavish in the midst of rationing. Together with the berries I gorged myself on earlier in the day, it was a healthy, balanced meal, and I felt fortunate. We nibbled the meat off the tiny leg and choked down ripped chunks of the dry loaf.
Our meal complete, we were both suddenly tongue tied. “Thanks for dinner,” I said, sweeping imaginary crumbs from my thighs, faintly bluish in the gloom. When I looked up, my forehead crashed into Mangrove’s chin. He yelped, then chuckled, and then his hand was stroking the hair off my face. His lips brushed lightly against mine, his tongue tasting of charred squirrel. I was startled and stiff at first, but his lips were soft and warm, so I closed my eyes and kissed him back. Behind my eyelids I saw my mother, her lips straight and stern, her forehead wrinkled in disapproval. I opened my eyes and backed away slowly.
“Gotta go,” I said. “This was, um, fun.” Fun? I’m such an idiot.
“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow?”
“Maybe. You know where I’ll be.” And then, I’m ashamed to say, I realized I’d been twirling my hair. I stopped immediately.
“Clinic. Yeah.” His eyes were soft and dreamy as he looked at me and it occurred to me suddenly how adorable he was.
“Um, yeah, so. Okay. Bye.”
I raced toward the central Great One and ran down flight after flight of the twining staircase until I reached Bough Two. I considered a number of excuses as I hurried home: patients I’d examined, accidental injuries I’d doctored, sprained limbs I’d wrapped. It was no good, I could never explain to Mom’s satisfaction where I’d been and why I’d been out past dark. My mother would assume, correctly this time, that I’d been with a man.
We’d kissed some, sure. Michelia would imagine much more. I wondered whether the fiction that I’d slept with a man, or the truth—I’d sailed over the abyss on a climbing rope—would be worse in my mother’s eyes. She saw women both before and after they’d consummated their relationships with men. The wise ones, my mother told me, came to see her before. I hadn’t told my mother about Mangrove, though she suspected plenty. Would she see me come in late and think I’d been unwise? Or would she assume, with my training, I’d known enough to take the appropriate precautions?
Of course, Mangrove and I weren’t there yet. Nowhere even close. I wasn’t ready to be partnered, and no matter what he felt, I could tell he wasn’t ready either. I had no plans to be like Cassia, watching other people’s kids while repopulating the canopy and living on Bough One. A woman with a pregnant belly can’t climb into the Outer Reaches, can’t cross the abyss, can’t smuggle food from the skygardens.
If my mother discovered the truth about what I’d been doing, what would happen? Would she punish me? What would that look like? Would she denounce me to the Council of Maestros? I doubted she’d go that far, but it was interesting to consider. What would the council do if one of the climbers broke the rules? Our canopy was so intimate, our community so small that rule breaking was virtually nonexistent. Everyone belonged, every one of us vital to the lives of everyone else. Except for small misdeeds, there was no need for punishment because there was no crime.
No, my mother’s disappointment and anxiety would be punishment enough. After Joshua—better that Mom suspect me of sleeping with Mangrove than that she know the truth.
I prepared myself for battle, the screaming war of words and recriminations, but when I arrived at the hanging shanty on Bough Two, the taper burned low in the candle holder, the flame nearly drowning in melted tallow. Mom lay stretched out and drooling in her hammock, unaware of my infraction. Maybe she thought I was sleeping at the clinic? Had she forgotten that it was Wingnut’s turn? But if that were true, why had she left an unattended candle burning? That wasn’t like her, my overcautious mother. A mystery, but not an interesting one, and I was tired. I pinched out the taper and dropped into my hammock, my head full of Mangrove’s glistening berry-red lips and deep brown eyes.
Chapter Twenty-One
A dark shape hovered over me in my hammock, and then rocked me roughly until I realized I wasn’t dreaming.
“Whaaa …” I yawned, grabbing something to cover my naked body. And then I realized I’d slept in my clothes.
Cedrus grabbed my shoulder and whispered in a rough morning voice, “We need you at the school. Cassia can’t teach today.”
I rubbed my eyes and blinked them into focus. “Toona. Get Toona.” Realizing that she’d be unable to continue teaching at the school after her twins were born, Cassia had been forced to take on a trainee. Toona had applied for and received the position, which meant I had to see both her and Salix nearly every day as I crossed Bough One to the clinic. Lucky me. But Toona’s training didn’t begin until afternoon. Lucky her.
“No time. Already late. Got a double shift today.”
The construction of the labyrinthine bridges to the new skygardens in the south, weaving as they did through the eastern Outer Reaches before cutting back to the south, meant that the builders took turns camping away from their homes. I wasn’t sure what that would eventually mean for the gardeners who worked there. Maybe they’d build shanties way out to the south for them, too.
I groaned and stretched. Today was not ideal for an early wake-up call, not after my late night with Mangrove. My skin tingled as I remembered our kiss, and I floated out of my hammock. My skin was already sticky in the moist morning air, itchy under my leather shorts and bandeau. “You can leave now,” I shot at Cedrus.
“You’re awake? Not going to fall asleep the minute I leave?”
“I’m a professional,” I said in my best Michelia impression. “And I don’t need you gawking while I change my clothes.” Nailed it. He jumped down from the shanty, and I pulled off my itching clothes and grabbed one of my mother’s soft cedar fiber shifts and a pair of fiber shorts. The air flowed through them and created a mild breeze around my body when I moved.
Outside, I splashed myself with tepid water from the rain barrel. It was refreshing at first, before it heated to my body temperature. We’d been skipping breakfast, saving our rations until mid-day, but my stomach wasn’t feeling as empty as usual. The berries and dinner I scarfed down yesterday might have had something to do with that.
I peeked into the shanty again before I left. My mother still slept soundly. Maybe she’d taken some Passiflora tincture the night before. She was relying on it more and more these days to help her fall asleep.
Zelkova was already in the classroom when I arrived. The little redhead was curled in a fetal position on the pile of cedar mats. Her cheeks were flushed and she drooled, snoring softly. I placed my hand on her back, her bones prominent against my palm. I jostled her lightly.
“Wake up, Zelkova. Wakey, wakey.”
Her eyelids drifted open and she smiled at me. Dark circles underlined the huge blue eyes in her thin face. “Hi, Ostrya.”
“Hi yourself. You’re early this morning.”
“Yeah. Daddy had to work. Mommy is in bed. She’s sick.” Like Cedrus, Zelkova’s father was a bridge builder. He was likely working the same shift as Cedrus.
“Did you have breakfast?”
“No.”
The dull, hot throb of anger started building in me again. The same anger I had felt about Yucca. The anger I felt at the adults who were letting all this bad stuff happen. “Is there food at your house?”
“I don’t think so.” She stared at me with huge, hungry eyes.
I looked around the classroom. No food here and why would there be? Kids went home for lunch; they didn’t eat at the school. I thought of those berries I had yesterday. Now I was angry at myself. Why hadn’t I picked more? Why had I given them all to Mangrove? I should have saved them and brought them here this morning.
Mangrove was right. I had to go back across the abyss and pack all the food I could carry into my satchel. I would dig up beets and carrots, pick berries, whatever I could find. I’d replant what I could, help to feed the kids until the bridges to the new skygardens were built. I’d cross my little bridge to the west side after work today, load my satchel full of fruit and sneak it to the school. The kids would have it tomorrow.
Today, though, I would do what the adults could not. Today, I would feed Zelkova. And any other hungry little kids who came to school. But how? And then, I knew.
“Zelkova, you wait here. I’ll be right back.”
The door to the clinic was already open and Wingnut was wiping down the tables, preparing for the day. The key to the medical box hung around his neck. Just one lie. I was good at lying.
“Got an injury at the school. I need the key.”
“Um, okay.”
Wingnut unlocked the medical box. Easy. No questions asked. No Michelia to catch me out in a lie. I took the jar of apple alcohol from the lockbox and grabbed some bandages for good measure, then took off down the path toward the market.
Yew slumped in the chair at the front of the market, still waking up, picking his teeth with a stick. I glanced over my shoulder. No one around. No curious eyes. I tilted my satchel and he looked up and glanced inside. Suddenly interested, he leaned forward.
“Whatcha got there?”
“You know what I’ve got. Question is, what’ll it get me?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Food.”
“Hmmm, that might be a tough one. We’re having a famine, or didn’t you hear?”
“I don’t have time for this.” I looked over my shoulder again. An older, tired looking guy walked by but didn’t seem interested in my conversation with my loser dad. Even so, I wanted him to pass before I asked, “Have you got anything to eat, or don’t you?”
“Hunters dropped off their catch yesterday. I was cleaned out almost immediately. Haven’t had fruit or veg for weeks … you know that.”
“Anything, anything at all.” I was desperate and it showed. Not a great bargaining position.
“The entire jar.”
“What?”
“For what I’ve got. The entire jar.”
My father was an alcoholic. He was also a diabetic. A terrible combination, and I knew I shouldn’t. Especially as the doctor’s trainee, I knew I shouldn’t. I thought of Yucca slowly wasting away in that tiny hammock. I imagined naughty Zelkova, her mischievous grin, her red hair, all freckles and knees and toughness—she was already fading, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t say no to Yew. I wasn’t going to lose another patient.
I nodded and his dry lips twisted to reveal his teeth, yellow from chewing nicotiana. He reached forward and I placed the jar in his hands. My fingers lingered a moment as I considered the gravity of what I was doing, giving alcohol to my diabetic father. Well, he’d lived his life and made his choices. Zelkova deserved a chance to do the same. I let go.
He reached below the table and pulled out something from a hidden stash. “Put this in your bag and don’t let anyone know you’ve got it. Or where you got it.” An entire round of nut loaf. That’s what my jar of alcohol bought me. Dry, tasteless nut loaf.
Yew read the look on my face and said, “Is it appetizing? No. But it’s probably the most nutritious thing those little kids can eat.”
I stared at him, then grabbed the nut loaf and crammed it into my satchel.
“Don’t look so shocked. I know it’s not for you. You’re your mother’s daughter.” And he smiled at me, a real smile. He meant the comparison as a compliment.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Deep in the satchel, my hand crumbled the dry round into several pieces as I walked back to the school. Erica sat on the doorstep nibbling a fir frond. I knelt beside her and pressed a piece of nut loaf into her palm. “Don’t let anyone see you eat this.” Her fingers wrapped around the morsel and she nodded her head, eyes serious, before taking a bite.
“Why are you out here? Was Zelkova picking on you again?”
She chewed her bite and swallowed before answering. “No. It smells bad in there.”
I stepped in the doorway and the fecund stench of poo slammed me in the face. I gagged. “Did someone poo their pants?” That was probably not the way a teacher addressed a class, but I wasn’t a teacher and—yikes! The rankness was toxic.
Though it was well past time for class to begin, only three children sat in the classroom. With Erica outside, a total of four kids had come to school. Out of the ten Cassia normally taught, not including poor Yucca, six were missing. Zelkova and a brown skinned boy whose name I couldn’t remember pointed to Tung, thin, bowed, and slumped in a corner. A brown sludge ran down his leg. He didn’t seem to notice.
I hadn’t signed up for poo patrol; well, I hadn’t signed up to sub this morning either, but you got what you got. “Tung! Go to the toilet box. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He moved slowly, dragging himself up from against the wall. “I’m dizzy.” He wobbled across the room toward Erica on the doorsill, and then sat down abruptly.
“Okay. Rest there a minute. I’ll help you.” I reached into my satchel and pulled out two large hunks of nut loaf. Zelkova’s eyes grew even bigger and she reached out her hand. “Eat this in here where no one can see. Then go sit outside with Erica and wait for me. Don’t tease her!” I handed a piece to the other child before leaving the reeking school.
At the toilet box, I removed Tung’s shorts. Luckily, they were cedar weave, which meant they were easier to clean. I wiped his bottom with the broadleaf maple leaves stacked next to the toilet for that purpose. In mid-wipe he groaned and bent double. I lifted him by the armpits. Startling how light his limp frame was. I centered his bony behind over the hole. The kid was sweaty and pale, his too-large head wobbly on his skinny neck. His skin felt clammy and hot, not warm like a healthily perspiring person. He was sick, really sick, and I hoped against hope that he hadn’t infected Erica, Zelkova, and whoever that other kid was. The squirting noises stopped, and Tung collapsed his head into his two small hands.
“How do you feel?” I wiped the sweat from his brow with the side of my hand.
“Bad. Real bad.” His shoulders began shaking. “Only babies cry. I’m no baby.”
“It’s okay, Tung. Adults cry, too. Especially when they feel bad.” I stroked his head, all tight curls and tree sap and sweat. “Can you stay here? Don’t move? I need to find Cassia. Then you and me, we’re going to the clinic. Okay?”
I met Cassia on the path. She lumbered along, hand supporting her heavy belly. She was surprised to see me. “Why aren’t you at the school? Is Toona there already?”
“No. One of the kids is sick.”
“Who?” She grabbed my arm. “Is it Erica? She’s so fragile, so delicate.”
Cassia was always so concerned about Erica’s well-being. It seemed to me that Erica was the last child in the canopy we needed to worry about. Her mother obviously doted on the girl; she was always clean, well-groomed, and despite the famine, she seemed well-fed. Clearly her parents were giving her every last morsel of their rations. Why would Cassia fret so about Erica?
And then I knew why Cassia cared so much for the girl. Why she scolded Tung for teasing her, even more than she scolded Zelkova. Suddenly, it was clear why Cassia took time to compliment the child’s mother on Erica’s clothing, and braids, and grooming, why she smiled so large when the girl greeted her in the morning and said goodbye in the afternoon. I saw it now, and the truth seemed so obvious. That was Cassia’s secret. Erica was hers.
Almost as though she realized that I’d figured it out, that she needed to disguise her interest in Erica in case I wasn’t as smart as I was, she said, “And Zelkova? Is she okay? What about Corylus?”
“That’s his name! Corylus.”
“What? He’s sick?”
“No, no. I couldn’t remember his name. Always escapes me. You only have four students today, you know.”
“Well, I only had three yesterday, so that’s an improvement. Who’s sick?”
“Tung. He’s got diarrhea. I’ll take him to the clinic. Try to get some liquids into him. I needed to isolate him from the others in case he’s contagious.”
“Tung?” She blinked at me stupidly as though confused. “But he’s never sick.”
“He’s a tough kid, all right. You’re going to the school now?” I moved closer to her and tipped open my satchel so she could see the remains of the nut loaf. “For the kids.”
“Where’d you get—”
“Shhh! Take it. Careful, so no one sees.”
She looked around, but the few passersby paid no attention to us, two sisters exchanging greetings on the pathway. She snatched the remaining nut loaf from my bag and tucked it inside her bosom, one more bump on her body. “Thanks. But where?”
“Don’t ask.” I knew her secret, but I was keeping my own.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“We’re out of poultice, but I can give you more nettle tea.” Wingnut glanced over Thevetia’s shoulder as I entered the clinic with Tung nestled in my arms. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question before returning his attention to the old woman.
“Thank you, honey. I have enough tea. What I need is that potion for my fingers. So painful, they are.”
“Sorry, Thevetia. We really have none left. We use fresh nettles to make it, and they’ve been eaten. We only have the dried tea. Would you like some of that?”
