“Don’t be upset,” Fayden said, after a few minutes of walking in charged silence.
“Discussions that start like that never lead anywhere good.” I shoved my hands into my pockets as we ducked around a gaggle of children carrying baskets of supplies. With the riots not far off, it was incredible their parents would let them out. Unless they had fathers like Fayden and I did, who didn’t care at all.
My brother hesitated. “I’ve been wondering why Mother chose you. For music, I mean. Why did you get to see that part of her, but not me? And did Father know? Was I the only one who didn’t?”
I pressed my mouth into a line and shrugged. “I don’t know. She never told me whether anyone else knew. Her mother did, obviously. But I don’t know if her friends knew. I’ve never been able to bring myself to ask, in case they didn’t. In case they decided that selling the instruments for parts was more important than preserving them.”
“Preserving them for what?”
“For everyone?” I kept my eyes on the ground. “I guess— I guess there’s always been a part of me that’s wanted to share music. When you and Stef started listening to my playing, that was amazing. And just think about the fact that there’s a concert hall in the city, where people used to come from all over to hear music performed. Our grandmother was a performer. Mother said music was Grandmother’s job.”
“I can’t even imagine what her world must have been like.” Fayden shook his head.
I could, a little. The music parts, anyway. “I guess,” I went on, “there’s a piece of me that’s always hoped to do the same. To be like her—that one day the Community wouldn’t be focused solely on survival. That one day the Community would be able to take in something more. Like music.”
“That’s not a bad dream.” My brother smiled a little.
“Mother had the same dream, she said once.” I hesitated. “When I told her I wanted to be like Grandmother, she said she wanted the same thing. For me. For her.”
Tense silence stretched between us as we rounded a corner.
“I don’t think she chose me,” I said at last. “I think she saw me roaming through the forest one day, mimicking birdsongs. Or I saw her doing it, and copied. I’m not sure. I only remember a little of that day. She actually did take me foraging then, because I was too young to leave alone.”
Fayden nodded.
I’d never told anyone this before, except Mother: “I remember hearing this overwhelming sound, and it just filled me up. Like my heart was too big for my chest. I asked about it, why the forest sounds made me feel like that.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘You have music in you.’”
Fayden lowered his eyes. “I was always jealous that she took you foraging, that she spent time with you and never seemed to care that you didn’t come home with much food. I didn’t realize what was actually happening, which makes me feel incredibly stupid.”
I released a weak chuckle. “I was always jealous that Father actually liked you, and that Mother didn’t have to make weekly appeals for your life.”
He scowled. “Was it that bad?”
“Seems like it.”
“And yet you want to make sure he comes with us?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think he should be left behind. He doesn’t deserve to die.” And I couldn’t stop thinking about what Fayden had said, that grim proclamation that everyone left here would die without the Community.
“All right.” He didn’t say whether he agreed, though I wished he would. His expression stayed thoughtful the remainder of the walk, and too soon, we stood before Father’s house.
Heart pounding, I knocked on the door.
It took several minutes before he answered, and he clutched the doorknob as though it was the only thing keeping him upright. He listed to one side, eyelids drooping, and his mouth pulled into a sneer when he recognized us.
“What are you doing here?” His words slurred, and his breath reeked of alcohol, enough to make me want to stagger back.
Fayden was a pillar of strength beside me, though when he spoke, his words were clipped and his eyes were hard. “We came to find out whether you’re going with the rest of the Community to find Janan.”
Father’s slowly shifting expression was the hush before a thunderstorm.
“And,” I added quickly, “whether we can help you pack or . . . or if you need anything.”
With a withering look, Father took a shaking step toward us. “What I’m going to do is no longer your business. You abandoned me here. First your mother left, and now you.” He turned on me. “And you! Why would I want your help with anything? You useless boy.”
I steeled myself and tried to keep my voice steady, but the edges cracked like glass. “Father, we need to know. Are you going with the rest of the Community?”
“No.” He spat a brown glob that landed at my feet. “No, I’m not going with the rest of the Community.”