The chaperone, p.23
The Chaperone, page 23
Zoey doesn’t wait for a response. She turns to me, says, “Let’s get out of here,” and walks right past the guys as they watch us go.
I’m completely astonished by her behavior, but I don’t dare tell her. Instead I follow her and wonder how long it will be until any of this makes sense.
CHAPTER 92
During lunch the next day, Willow drags me to a table at the edge of the cafeteria.
“So what happened, Sequins?” she asks. “How did you get out?”
I look over my shoulder before I answer, a habit I can’t seem to break. “I asked my chaperone—”
“Wait.” Willow drops her fork. “You asked your chaperone for help? Like you could trust her? Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“How is that even possible?”
I search the room again.
“What is it? Tell me.” She sounds insistent, but I don’t want to betray Sister Laura.
“I guess it doesn’t matter what I say. No one is listening, right?”
Willow shakes her head. “I seriously doubt it.”
“Dr. Fineberg told me Sister Laura…well, she’s…”
“Out with it, Sequins.”
“I guess she’s a sleeper chaperone.”
Willow leans back in her chair. Admiration oozes out of her. “Oh, that is so badass.”
I work hard not to flinch. “You know about sleeper chaperones?”
“Sure, everyone here does. They’re amazing. There’s not much braver than going undercover with all those creepy Minutemen, is there?”
“Probably not.”
Willow lifts her chin to the ceiling. “Jesus.” This time I do flinch, but at least she doesn’t notice. “I would never even consider doing that myself.”
“Me neither.”
“So what did she say when you asked?”
“She couldn’t help me herself. It’s too dangerous. She introduced me to someone who could. A woman named Angel.”
“Angel? That’s who got me out too!”
“I think she did it for a lot of girls.”
“I’m sure.”
“So I wonder who’s helping them now.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
I try to swallow the food in my mouth, but a piece of meat gets stuck in my throat. I choke the words out. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
I can’t say it. I can’t say out loud that Angel is dead because of me.
Willow puts both hands on the table and leans forward. “Tell me, Stella.”
It’s the first time she’s ever called me Stella.
How can I tell her the truth? She’ll hate me.
“Are you crying?” Willow offers me her crumpled napkin, studying me while I dab my eyes. Then she puts it together. “Oh my God.” She looks away, her gaze roaming frantically across the cafeteria. She’s clearly trying to hold it together, but when she looks back to me, her eyes brim with tears. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Angel’s dead.”
I nod the tiniest bit.
“You were there?”
I nod again, too horrified to speak.
The two of us sit there. Not talking. Not eating. Just crying and remembering the brave woman who saved us.
CHAPTER 93
At the mall that weekend, Zoey leads me to the food court, where she says a bunch of her friends are dying to meet me. Is this what it’s like to be free? You decide you want to go somewhere or do something, and then you just do it. You don’t have to ask permission, you don’t have to drag your chaperone along, you don’t have to plan weeks in advance.
You just do it.
Five tables in the food court are pushed together. I expect to meet a couple of girls. Maybe three or four. But there are dozens of people. Girls and boys and people I can tell are what Zoey and Alex call nonbinary. I’ve never had a friend who isn’t a girl in my entire life, much less someone who isn’t defined by gender.
The chairs are askew. Two boys sit cross-legged on top of a table gazing into each other’s eyes. One girl has her feet propped up. Another girl sits in someone’s lap. Zoey introduces them all to me. Her best friend, Sara Ann, says, “You are so amazing, Stella. I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”
“I guess.” I shrug because how can you say no to a hug?
Sara Ann’s hug leads to more. Soon everyone is hugging me. I haven’t touched this many people in years. Since kindergarten when you couldn’t go a day without another kid running up and embracing you for no reason.
The result is electric.
Their acceptance ricochets through my body like lightning. Is this connection? Is this what other people experience their whole lives?
Is this what they’ve stolen from us?
* * *
We see an R-rated movie about a gorgeous female superhero who makes really sarcastic comments while saving the world. She reminds me of Zoey. There’s a ton of sex and violence, and I can’t believe we’re all sitting in the theater watching this together, laughing and screaming the whole time. Like it’s perfectly acceptable behavior.
Zoey orders extra-large popcorn and slushies for both of us on her phone, and it sends her a message when they’re ready. I’ve never seen anyone pay with a phone before. Mom always used cash, which Zoey calls “super old school.” I don’t tell her sometimes Mom ran out of money and had the bill sent home to Dad. Or that I wasn’t allowed to buy anything at all until I turned eighteen. She already thinks I’m the weirdest person she’s ever met. Though she also says she likes that about me.
“Let’s go now,” Zoey whispers in the dark. “This fight scene is going to last forever.”
Even though I don’t see a single person working in the lobby, our food waits for us. Where did it come from? Who put it there? Zoey takes a bite of popcorn, so I do the same. It doesn’t taste like any popcorn I’ve ever had before. It’s warm and thick with butter. At home, popcorn tastes like salted cardboard.
“Why is this so good?”
“I got it with real butter.” Zoey winks at me.
I shake my head in awe. Popcorn with real butter?
Back in the theater, several of Zoey’s friends have their arms wrapped around each other and not just boy-girl couples. Some are boy-boy and girl-girl. One couple kisses every time there’s a slow scene. Even a few rows away, I can hear them slobbering all over each other. No one else seems to notice. They all act like this is acceptable behavior. Like it’s normal.
Maybe Sister Laura was right.
This is all perfectly normal.
Maybe this is how normal teenagers act.
CHAPTER 94
We get back to Zoey’s house around eight. An unfamiliar vehicle is parked in the driveway.
Inside we find Zoey’s parents sitting with a woman who looks the same age they are.
“Stella!” The woman jumps up, crosses the room, and pulls me into her arms. “Oh my God, Stella, I am so happy to see you.”
I try not to cringe. When she lets go of me, I say, “Do I know you?”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
I shake my head.
“I figured you would’ve seen my picture.”
“Your picture?”
“From college. Your mother and I were roommates. At Baylor.”
I know Mom went to Baylor University, but she never said anything about a roommate, never mentioned college at all. She and Dad graduated before New America was founded, and they never talked about life before then.
“She didn’t tell you about me?”
I don’t know what to say. How do I tell this woman Mom never uttered a single word about her?
She nods. “I guess it makes sense. It’s not like your mom could tell you about our days living in a coed dorm and getting drunk at frat parties every weekend.”
My mouth drops, but the woman doesn’t seem to notice.
“The truth is, she probably can’t talk about me at all. But I did want to meet you, Stella.” She holds her hand out to shake. “My name is Rose. Rose Stallard.”
I ignore her hand. “I’m sorry I’ve never heard of anyone named Rose.”
“Your mom and I message each other all the time. I’m so sad she never told you.”
“You message each other? You mean, on the internet?”
“Yes, almost every day.”
“Wait…are you…are you RoseinReality?”
Rose smiles at the same time that my jaw clenches. “So your mom did mention me?”
“No, she didn’t.” Everyone is staring, waiting for me to explain. “But I saw what you said about Sister Helen.”
Rose’s hand drops back to her side. “What are you talking about?”
“The message you sent Mom.” Rose’s face doesn’t convey recognition, so I go on. “After Sister Helen died, you said you were glad there was one less chaperone in the world.”
Rose shakes her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. I saw it.”
Rose puts her hand on her head for a second like she has a headache. “Oh, no, Stella, you completely misunderstood. I didn’t say I was glad. I merely pointed out there was one less chaperone.”
“Exactly.”
“Meaning one less person indoctrinating young women into a life of subservience.”
Zoey and her parents look from Rose to me, waiting for my response. But Rose’s words don’t make any sense. Why would my mother care about that? She’s one of the most subservient people I know.
“What?”
“Stella?” Rose steps closer to me and grabs my arm. “Your mother is very worried about you. She messaged me as soon as you went missing. I posted about you right away, but it took me weeks to find you.” Rose smiles at Ms. Ervick and Mr. Koffi. They smile back, but I can tell they’re nervous. “Still, I promise I won’t tell her anything without your permission. I wouldn’t do that. It’s up to you.”
“Is she going to make me go back if you do?”
“Of course not, Stella.” Rose finally lets go of me. “Why would she do that?”
“Because escaping is against the law. I’m sure she’s furious.”
“Your mother is not angry, Stella.” Rose’s hand goes to her mouth. “Your mother wanted you to get out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She always dreamed you’d escape.”
“She did?”
“Of course. She doesn’t want her daughters growing up in that…that…” Rose’s words come out like spit. “That place. With those…those fascists.”
The equilibrium drops out of me.
Mom didn’t want me to stay in New America?
“I know a big part of her wanted to leave too.”
Mom wanted me to leave? I put my hand on the back of the leather chair in front of me.
Zoey turns to me. “Are you okay, Stella?”
“I’m okay.” I look directly in Rose’s eyes. “When did she say she wanted to leave?”
“Back when New America started. When women were leaving in droves. But she was in love with your father. I’ll admit he’s quite a force. And honestly he worships her. She was always so beautiful. He put her on a pedestal, which is not always the best foundation for a healthy relationship. So she stayed. And then it was too late for her to get out. But she would’ve done anything she could to help you, Stella. She told me about the money—”
“What money?”
“Didn’t you find the money? Isn’t that how you got out? She said she left money for you to find.”
I flash back to the first time I saw Mom putting a roll of money in the flour sifter. And the time I saw her carelessly drop the stamps, one-hundred-dollar bills falling to the floor like leaves. I caught her doing things like that all the time. Had I really caught her? Or did she want me to see it? “She did?”
“Of course, Stella. It’s sad that’s all she felt like she could do for you. She certainly couldn’t talk to you about leaving. Not with your father around.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, your dad, Stella…” Rose looks away from me for the first time since I walked into the room. Her gaze moves from Ms. Ervick to Mr. Koffi to Zoey and then back to me. “You do know about him, don’t you?”
“No.” I look at Zoey and her parents to see if they know what she’s talking about. But all three of them have blank looks on their faces. “I don’t.”
Rose takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around her torso. She looks out the window, as if someone might be out there listening. “He’s one of them, Stella. He’s a Minuteman.”
CHAPTER 95
I can’t fall asleep.
It’s a problem I’ve had every night I’ve been here. Except for the first night when I fell into bed like a zombie and slept for sixteen hours straight. My room at the Ervick-Koffis’ is nice enough even though it’s less than half the size of my room at home. I have a comfortable bed with a soft mattress and organic bedding, a beautiful antique desk, and my own smart screen with access to the internet whenever I want it.
But I’m still not comfortable here.
I feel like an imposter. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say I feel like a visitor. A visitor to another planet. An alien among kind strangers.
Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. No one here knows that. I’m not sure how to bring it up. I’m not even sure I want to. What would happen if I did? Zoey and Alex would plan a party of some kind. Ms. Ervick would bake a cake. Actually she wouldn’t bake it. She’d buy it. Ms. Ervick doesn’t cook at all. Most nights dinner is delivered to the front door. And if she knew about my birthday, she’d order an expensive cake from a bakery online, and, like everything else I eat now, it would be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life because it would be made with real ingredients. Real sugar. Real butter. Real calories. And then they’d all get together and sing “Happy Birthday” to me, which would just make me want to cry.
How can I be so happy and so sad at the same time?
I stare at the ceiling and listen to the noise machine. Ms. Ervick bought it for me when I mentioned I was having trouble sleeping. Everyone here has them. Its constant hum reminds me of the humidifier Mom used to put in my room whenever I got sick.
Every night I lie in bed and wonder what’s going on at home. Is anyone worried about me? Are Bonita and Liv freaking out? Did Mateo figure out what I was trying to tell him? Do any of them know I escaped? Or do they all believe I’ve been kidnapped? Have I become a cautionary tale? Are the Minutemen using me to scare girls into submission?
But every time I long for home, I remind myself how much more I know now.
Dad is one of them.
A Minuteman.
Like Joseph. Like the men who raped Sister Laura’s sister. Like whoever killed Sister Helen. Does he know what they’re capable of?
That’s why the constables were always coming to see him. That’s why it seemed like he was the one giving them orders. That’s why he wanted me to marry Joseph. Why he didn’t like Sister Laura standing up to him. And if he’s one of them, he has power. They all have power. Even the constables. And Dad is no constable. He’s head of one of the biggest companies in New America. He probably gives them money. He’s probably one of the biggest donors in the country. That’s why Mom said we’d never be shunned. She knows. Of course she does.
Dr. Fineberg said teaching me to think for myself had been one of Sister Helen’s roles with the resistance. Was the other spying on Dad? Is that why she was killed?
And if he really is one of them, does he know I wasn’t kidnapped? Does he know I escaped? I always knew Dad would be angry when he got up in the morning and found me gone, but if he’s really a member of the Minuteman Party, I can’t imagine how enraged he must be. Or how hard that must be for Mom. I’m sure he’s taking it out on her.
Mom.
I can’t get over what Rose told me about her. Is that why Mom never said anything? Is that why she kept her mouth shut when Dad went on his rants about Old America? Was she afraid of him? As Rose hugged me goodbye, she said she couldn’t wait to tell Mom I was okay.
Mom always kept Shea close. She was always holding Shea’s hand or patting her back. As if they were attached. Mom was like that when I was little too. But she erected a wall between us once Sister Helen arrived. She was never cruel, but she kept her distance. When I picture the two of us, I always imagine space between us. As if touching each other would be painful. Was it painful for Mom to be near me? Or was she pushing me away for a reason?
Was she pushing me away so I would leave?
CHAPTER 96
When I return to the Jacobs Center Monday morning, I come face-to-face with Sister Helen.
Or a photo of her anyway.
Someone must have hung it over the weekend. There are hundreds of photos on this wall. Everyone who’s died fighting the Minutemen. Only it doesn’t say Sister Helen under her photo. It says, HELEN SIMPSON, SLEEPER CHAPERONE.
I put my finger on the pendant at the base of my neck.
She died exactly three months ago today. How long will it be until they hang Angel’s picture?
Next to Helen—it’s hard not to think of her as Sister Helen—is a photo of a girl who looks to be my age. There aren’t many pictures of teenage girls on this wall. Under the photo, it reads GINGER REEVE. We learned about her yesterday. She tried to escape but got caught in a current and drowned. I could’ve ended up like Ginger.
At least she’ll be remembered.
At least no one will forget she tried to get out.
* * *
Our team leader, Ms. Norrod, tells us about the chaperone program. How it came to be, how it works, what they don’t want us to know about it. It’s weird how much I love training here. Every day brings a new revelation. I can’t wait to get here each morning.
“It’s not as hard as you might think to flip chaperones and recruit them to our side.”
I’m surprised to hear Ms. Norrod say this, but the indifferent looks on the other girls’ faces tell me nothing would surprise them.
I’m completely astonished by her behavior, but I don’t dare tell her. Instead I follow her and wonder how long it will be until any of this makes sense.
CHAPTER 92
During lunch the next day, Willow drags me to a table at the edge of the cafeteria.
“So what happened, Sequins?” she asks. “How did you get out?”
I look over my shoulder before I answer, a habit I can’t seem to break. “I asked my chaperone—”
“Wait.” Willow drops her fork. “You asked your chaperone for help? Like you could trust her? Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“How is that even possible?”
I search the room again.
“What is it? Tell me.” She sounds insistent, but I don’t want to betray Sister Laura.
“I guess it doesn’t matter what I say. No one is listening, right?”
Willow shakes her head. “I seriously doubt it.”
“Dr. Fineberg told me Sister Laura…well, she’s…”
“Out with it, Sequins.”
“I guess she’s a sleeper chaperone.”
Willow leans back in her chair. Admiration oozes out of her. “Oh, that is so badass.”
I work hard not to flinch. “You know about sleeper chaperones?”
“Sure, everyone here does. They’re amazing. There’s not much braver than going undercover with all those creepy Minutemen, is there?”
“Probably not.”
Willow lifts her chin to the ceiling. “Jesus.” This time I do flinch, but at least she doesn’t notice. “I would never even consider doing that myself.”
“Me neither.”
“So what did she say when you asked?”
“She couldn’t help me herself. It’s too dangerous. She introduced me to someone who could. A woman named Angel.”
“Angel? That’s who got me out too!”
“I think she did it for a lot of girls.”
“I’m sure.”
“So I wonder who’s helping them now.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
I try to swallow the food in my mouth, but a piece of meat gets stuck in my throat. I choke the words out. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
I can’t say it. I can’t say out loud that Angel is dead because of me.
Willow puts both hands on the table and leans forward. “Tell me, Stella.”
It’s the first time she’s ever called me Stella.
How can I tell her the truth? She’ll hate me.
“Are you crying?” Willow offers me her crumpled napkin, studying me while I dab my eyes. Then she puts it together. “Oh my God.” She looks away, her gaze roaming frantically across the cafeteria. She’s clearly trying to hold it together, but when she looks back to me, her eyes brim with tears. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Angel’s dead.”
I nod the tiniest bit.
“You were there?”
I nod again, too horrified to speak.
The two of us sit there. Not talking. Not eating. Just crying and remembering the brave woman who saved us.
CHAPTER 93
At the mall that weekend, Zoey leads me to the food court, where she says a bunch of her friends are dying to meet me. Is this what it’s like to be free? You decide you want to go somewhere or do something, and then you just do it. You don’t have to ask permission, you don’t have to drag your chaperone along, you don’t have to plan weeks in advance.
You just do it.
Five tables in the food court are pushed together. I expect to meet a couple of girls. Maybe three or four. But there are dozens of people. Girls and boys and people I can tell are what Zoey and Alex call nonbinary. I’ve never had a friend who isn’t a girl in my entire life, much less someone who isn’t defined by gender.
The chairs are askew. Two boys sit cross-legged on top of a table gazing into each other’s eyes. One girl has her feet propped up. Another girl sits in someone’s lap. Zoey introduces them all to me. Her best friend, Sara Ann, says, “You are so amazing, Stella. I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”
“I guess.” I shrug because how can you say no to a hug?
Sara Ann’s hug leads to more. Soon everyone is hugging me. I haven’t touched this many people in years. Since kindergarten when you couldn’t go a day without another kid running up and embracing you for no reason.
The result is electric.
Their acceptance ricochets through my body like lightning. Is this connection? Is this what other people experience their whole lives?
Is this what they’ve stolen from us?
* * *
We see an R-rated movie about a gorgeous female superhero who makes really sarcastic comments while saving the world. She reminds me of Zoey. There’s a ton of sex and violence, and I can’t believe we’re all sitting in the theater watching this together, laughing and screaming the whole time. Like it’s perfectly acceptable behavior.
Zoey orders extra-large popcorn and slushies for both of us on her phone, and it sends her a message when they’re ready. I’ve never seen anyone pay with a phone before. Mom always used cash, which Zoey calls “super old school.” I don’t tell her sometimes Mom ran out of money and had the bill sent home to Dad. Or that I wasn’t allowed to buy anything at all until I turned eighteen. She already thinks I’m the weirdest person she’s ever met. Though she also says she likes that about me.
“Let’s go now,” Zoey whispers in the dark. “This fight scene is going to last forever.”
Even though I don’t see a single person working in the lobby, our food waits for us. Where did it come from? Who put it there? Zoey takes a bite of popcorn, so I do the same. It doesn’t taste like any popcorn I’ve ever had before. It’s warm and thick with butter. At home, popcorn tastes like salted cardboard.
“Why is this so good?”
“I got it with real butter.” Zoey winks at me.
I shake my head in awe. Popcorn with real butter?
Back in the theater, several of Zoey’s friends have their arms wrapped around each other and not just boy-girl couples. Some are boy-boy and girl-girl. One couple kisses every time there’s a slow scene. Even a few rows away, I can hear them slobbering all over each other. No one else seems to notice. They all act like this is acceptable behavior. Like it’s normal.
Maybe Sister Laura was right.
This is all perfectly normal.
Maybe this is how normal teenagers act.
CHAPTER 94
We get back to Zoey’s house around eight. An unfamiliar vehicle is parked in the driveway.
Inside we find Zoey’s parents sitting with a woman who looks the same age they are.
“Stella!” The woman jumps up, crosses the room, and pulls me into her arms. “Oh my God, Stella, I am so happy to see you.”
I try not to cringe. When she lets go of me, I say, “Do I know you?”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
I shake my head.
“I figured you would’ve seen my picture.”
“Your picture?”
“From college. Your mother and I were roommates. At Baylor.”
I know Mom went to Baylor University, but she never said anything about a roommate, never mentioned college at all. She and Dad graduated before New America was founded, and they never talked about life before then.
“She didn’t tell you about me?”
I don’t know what to say. How do I tell this woman Mom never uttered a single word about her?
She nods. “I guess it makes sense. It’s not like your mom could tell you about our days living in a coed dorm and getting drunk at frat parties every weekend.”
My mouth drops, but the woman doesn’t seem to notice.
“The truth is, she probably can’t talk about me at all. But I did want to meet you, Stella.” She holds her hand out to shake. “My name is Rose. Rose Stallard.”
I ignore her hand. “I’m sorry I’ve never heard of anyone named Rose.”
“Your mom and I message each other all the time. I’m so sad she never told you.”
“You message each other? You mean, on the internet?”
“Yes, almost every day.”
“Wait…are you…are you RoseinReality?”
Rose smiles at the same time that my jaw clenches. “So your mom did mention me?”
“No, she didn’t.” Everyone is staring, waiting for me to explain. “But I saw what you said about Sister Helen.”
Rose’s hand drops back to her side. “What are you talking about?”
“The message you sent Mom.” Rose’s face doesn’t convey recognition, so I go on. “After Sister Helen died, you said you were glad there was one less chaperone in the world.”
Rose shakes her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. I saw it.”
Rose puts her hand on her head for a second like she has a headache. “Oh, no, Stella, you completely misunderstood. I didn’t say I was glad. I merely pointed out there was one less chaperone.”
“Exactly.”
“Meaning one less person indoctrinating young women into a life of subservience.”
Zoey and her parents look from Rose to me, waiting for my response. But Rose’s words don’t make any sense. Why would my mother care about that? She’s one of the most subservient people I know.
“What?”
“Stella?” Rose steps closer to me and grabs my arm. “Your mother is very worried about you. She messaged me as soon as you went missing. I posted about you right away, but it took me weeks to find you.” Rose smiles at Ms. Ervick and Mr. Koffi. They smile back, but I can tell they’re nervous. “Still, I promise I won’t tell her anything without your permission. I wouldn’t do that. It’s up to you.”
“Is she going to make me go back if you do?”
“Of course not, Stella.” Rose finally lets go of me. “Why would she do that?”
“Because escaping is against the law. I’m sure she’s furious.”
“Your mother is not angry, Stella.” Rose’s hand goes to her mouth. “Your mother wanted you to get out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She always dreamed you’d escape.”
“She did?”
“Of course. She doesn’t want her daughters growing up in that…that…” Rose’s words come out like spit. “That place. With those…those fascists.”
The equilibrium drops out of me.
Mom didn’t want me to stay in New America?
“I know a big part of her wanted to leave too.”
Mom wanted me to leave? I put my hand on the back of the leather chair in front of me.
Zoey turns to me. “Are you okay, Stella?”
“I’m okay.” I look directly in Rose’s eyes. “When did she say she wanted to leave?”
“Back when New America started. When women were leaving in droves. But she was in love with your father. I’ll admit he’s quite a force. And honestly he worships her. She was always so beautiful. He put her on a pedestal, which is not always the best foundation for a healthy relationship. So she stayed. And then it was too late for her to get out. But she would’ve done anything she could to help you, Stella. She told me about the money—”
“What money?”
“Didn’t you find the money? Isn’t that how you got out? She said she left money for you to find.”
I flash back to the first time I saw Mom putting a roll of money in the flour sifter. And the time I saw her carelessly drop the stamps, one-hundred-dollar bills falling to the floor like leaves. I caught her doing things like that all the time. Had I really caught her? Or did she want me to see it? “She did?”
“Of course, Stella. It’s sad that’s all she felt like she could do for you. She certainly couldn’t talk to you about leaving. Not with your father around.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, your dad, Stella…” Rose looks away from me for the first time since I walked into the room. Her gaze moves from Ms. Ervick to Mr. Koffi to Zoey and then back to me. “You do know about him, don’t you?”
“No.” I look at Zoey and her parents to see if they know what she’s talking about. But all three of them have blank looks on their faces. “I don’t.”
Rose takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around her torso. She looks out the window, as if someone might be out there listening. “He’s one of them, Stella. He’s a Minuteman.”
CHAPTER 95
I can’t fall asleep.
It’s a problem I’ve had every night I’ve been here. Except for the first night when I fell into bed like a zombie and slept for sixteen hours straight. My room at the Ervick-Koffis’ is nice enough even though it’s less than half the size of my room at home. I have a comfortable bed with a soft mattress and organic bedding, a beautiful antique desk, and my own smart screen with access to the internet whenever I want it.
But I’m still not comfortable here.
I feel like an imposter. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say I feel like a visitor. A visitor to another planet. An alien among kind strangers.
Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. No one here knows that. I’m not sure how to bring it up. I’m not even sure I want to. What would happen if I did? Zoey and Alex would plan a party of some kind. Ms. Ervick would bake a cake. Actually she wouldn’t bake it. She’d buy it. Ms. Ervick doesn’t cook at all. Most nights dinner is delivered to the front door. And if she knew about my birthday, she’d order an expensive cake from a bakery online, and, like everything else I eat now, it would be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life because it would be made with real ingredients. Real sugar. Real butter. Real calories. And then they’d all get together and sing “Happy Birthday” to me, which would just make me want to cry.
How can I be so happy and so sad at the same time?
I stare at the ceiling and listen to the noise machine. Ms. Ervick bought it for me when I mentioned I was having trouble sleeping. Everyone here has them. Its constant hum reminds me of the humidifier Mom used to put in my room whenever I got sick.
Every night I lie in bed and wonder what’s going on at home. Is anyone worried about me? Are Bonita and Liv freaking out? Did Mateo figure out what I was trying to tell him? Do any of them know I escaped? Or do they all believe I’ve been kidnapped? Have I become a cautionary tale? Are the Minutemen using me to scare girls into submission?
But every time I long for home, I remind myself how much more I know now.
Dad is one of them.
A Minuteman.
Like Joseph. Like the men who raped Sister Laura’s sister. Like whoever killed Sister Helen. Does he know what they’re capable of?
That’s why the constables were always coming to see him. That’s why it seemed like he was the one giving them orders. That’s why he wanted me to marry Joseph. Why he didn’t like Sister Laura standing up to him. And if he’s one of them, he has power. They all have power. Even the constables. And Dad is no constable. He’s head of one of the biggest companies in New America. He probably gives them money. He’s probably one of the biggest donors in the country. That’s why Mom said we’d never be shunned. She knows. Of course she does.
Dr. Fineberg said teaching me to think for myself had been one of Sister Helen’s roles with the resistance. Was the other spying on Dad? Is that why she was killed?
And if he really is one of them, does he know I wasn’t kidnapped? Does he know I escaped? I always knew Dad would be angry when he got up in the morning and found me gone, but if he’s really a member of the Minuteman Party, I can’t imagine how enraged he must be. Or how hard that must be for Mom. I’m sure he’s taking it out on her.
Mom.
I can’t get over what Rose told me about her. Is that why Mom never said anything? Is that why she kept her mouth shut when Dad went on his rants about Old America? Was she afraid of him? As Rose hugged me goodbye, she said she couldn’t wait to tell Mom I was okay.
Mom always kept Shea close. She was always holding Shea’s hand or patting her back. As if they were attached. Mom was like that when I was little too. But she erected a wall between us once Sister Helen arrived. She was never cruel, but she kept her distance. When I picture the two of us, I always imagine space between us. As if touching each other would be painful. Was it painful for Mom to be near me? Or was she pushing me away for a reason?
Was she pushing me away so I would leave?
CHAPTER 96
When I return to the Jacobs Center Monday morning, I come face-to-face with Sister Helen.
Or a photo of her anyway.
Someone must have hung it over the weekend. There are hundreds of photos on this wall. Everyone who’s died fighting the Minutemen. Only it doesn’t say Sister Helen under her photo. It says, HELEN SIMPSON, SLEEPER CHAPERONE.
I put my finger on the pendant at the base of my neck.
She died exactly three months ago today. How long will it be until they hang Angel’s picture?
Next to Helen—it’s hard not to think of her as Sister Helen—is a photo of a girl who looks to be my age. There aren’t many pictures of teenage girls on this wall. Under the photo, it reads GINGER REEVE. We learned about her yesterday. She tried to escape but got caught in a current and drowned. I could’ve ended up like Ginger.
At least she’ll be remembered.
At least no one will forget she tried to get out.
* * *
Our team leader, Ms. Norrod, tells us about the chaperone program. How it came to be, how it works, what they don’t want us to know about it. It’s weird how much I love training here. Every day brings a new revelation. I can’t wait to get here each morning.
“It’s not as hard as you might think to flip chaperones and recruit them to our side.”
I’m surprised to hear Ms. Norrod say this, but the indifferent looks on the other girls’ faces tell me nothing would surprise them.
