“I don’t pretend to remember everything,” he says. “But I know we are weak. In this time of need, we need religion to see us through.”
Religion…the word bounces around the edges of my knowledge, teasing me with its importance. Religion was a part of school, part of my life with my parents. I know this, I feel it, but can’t recall any details of what our religion was or why it mattered.
I do remember an emotion though: hatred. I hate religion. I don’t know why, I just know that I do. Right now, that is all I need to know.
“We’re not going to pray,” I say. “We’re going to rest up and then we’re going to get out of here.”
Aramovsky shakes his head at me sadly. The way he does it makes me feel like he’s an adult and I’m still twelve.
“The gods are angry at us,” he says. “You need to listen to me before someone else dies.”
“Is that why you brought me to Latu’s grave? So you could tell me this nonsense?”
His eyes narrow. I bet he’d like to squash me, but he can’t because I have the spear. And, maybe, because he is afraid of me. Afraid because of what I did to Yong.
“Be careful, Em,” he says. “Be very careful calling the gods nonsense.”
“Or what, Aramovsky?” I take a step closer to him.
He instantly takes a step back. His fear feeds me in a way that is different from how food feeds me, and yet it seems equally as important, equally as necessary. I know feeling this way is a bad thing, but I can’t stop myself.
“If I’m not careful, Aramovsky, what are you going to do about it?”
The fear flutters across his face, then he seems to get control of it. The smug smile returns.
“It’s not my actions you have to worry about.” He glances at the mound of dirt. “Let’s hope the gods understand. Let’s hope they are more forgiving of you than they were of Latu.”
My thirst for his fear turns sour in my chest, then changes to dread.
What if he’s right?
What if we really should be praying?
No. He was wrong about monsters, and he’s wrong about this. He’s trying to control me, and he wants to use his religion to do that. Religion isn’t just a power word—the word is power itself.
Something pinches in my stomach. At first I think it’s caused by this conversation, but it’s not…my belly feels bloated, odd.
“We’re done talking about this,” I say. “And don’t let me catch you using Latu’s death to spread lies about your gods to the others.”
“Or what, Savage?” he asks, mimicking my words. “Do you think the gods are going to strike me down for talking about them?”
Now it is my turn to give the smug smile, my turn to mimic him.
“It’s not the gods you have to worry about, Aramovsky.”
His face goes blank. That lovely fear is on him again.
I leave him standing at Latu’s grave.
TWENTY-SIX
Oh, all that fruit I ate…my belly is not happy with me. I feel a strange pressure on my insides. When I realize what it is, I cover my mouth and laugh—I have to pee.
I find Bello nearby, sitting by the reeds and the spring of bubbling water. She’s sitting on something…a low wall? Yes, a stone wall that divides the reeds from the grass. The grass is tall enough that I didn’t see it before.
She’s laughing with two other circles: D’souza, a brown girl with black hair, and Ingolfsson, the muscular blond boy who looks as wide as he is tall.
The three of them smile at me. The ceiling’s light plays off their cleaned shirts. Their ties are even knotted and proper.
My tie is gone. I didn’t realize that till now. I wonder when I lost it.
They look at me like I have something important to say. This is so embarrassing. I lean in close to Bello and whisper.
“I have to go.”
Her eyebrows rise, and she laughs.
“Oh, right, of course. Sorry, Em, I should have thought of that.”
She stands and brushes off her skirt.
“I’m going to show Em around,” she says to D’souza and Ingolfsson. “You guys keep washing the fruit, okay?”
They nod, go back to gently wiping fruits until the skins shine. I thought the fruit looked clean enough when it was still on the trees. We’ll have to figure out how to take a bunch with us when we leave.
Bello slides her arm into mine and leads me away through the knee-high grass.
She leans in and whispers as we walk.
“I have to go, too,” she says. “I can’t get enough of those purple fruits. I should have told you, they give you the poops.”
She leads me away from the thicket where most of our people are. The tall reeds are on my right. That stone wall Bello was sitting on, it continues here, divides the reeds from the grass. Now I understand why the reeds have a rectangular shape: they are on one side of the stones, the grass on the other.
I point at the wall. “What is that for?”
Bello shrugs. “Spingate thinks it used to be the edge of a pond or something. The wall held the water in. But no one’s been taking care of it, so the pond filled in with plants or something.”