“If you are ever going to speak, let it be now, because I need you to explain yourself.”
Her eyes fixed on me, cool and dark. She waited. I swallowed from habit—and from fear. I had so much I wished I could say, so many questions I wanted to ask. But how could I waste my breath on something so petty? I didn’t understand it myself. I wanted to know where Beecher’s grandmother had been taken, and how Kel could live every day in a world she knew was so completely wrong. I wanted to explain about Saretha, and Carol Amanda Harving, and how the Cuff stood between my family and freedom.
I searched for some gesture I could make that would at least tell Kel I was sorry. My shame burned twice as hot knowing I still had to take Henri’s device, no matter what came next.
The room was perfectly still, perfectly silent. Kel waited, unmoving as stone.
“My Lord, this is uncomfortable,” Margot said. Henri looked at her, horrified. Kel still did not move.
What if I explained it all? What if I begged for their help? I wanted to so badly, it felt like I might burst. Kel could find a way. She could get Saretha to Carol Amanda Harving’s apartment. Maybe Henri could carry her. Margot could take Sam. It wouldn’t all be left up to me. But despite everything I wanted, I was not going to explain. No. I was sorry for it, but I would not speak. If I could control nothing else, I could control this.
Kel took out her Pad. She began furiously tapping at it. “I’m not going to make you promise this time. Vague gestures could mean anything. Instead, I’m going to make you a promise—if you steal from our sponsors or our targets, I won’t just end your employment. I will sue so badly you’ll wish Silas Rog was prosecuting.”
“Damn,” Henri said, breathless. Margot shushed him with a finger to her lips.
“If you can’t handle that, fine—when the door opens, leave and never come back. Don’t look for us, don’t contact us, together or individually.” She ran her hand over her head, like it would cool her down. “I’m not asking if you understand.”
She opened up her bag and started laying out bottles of moisturizing cream. Her lecture was over. Without looking at her Pad, she waved it and said, “I’ll clear you when we’re tethered again.”
I wiped my eyes. Some ugly part of myself picked her logic apart like a Lawyer, so I could promise to do as she asked. Did she choose her words carefully, or not carefully enough? I would never steal from a sponsor or a target again. That was exactly what she had asked. I would not repeat my mistake. Henri’s little blue device wouldn’t be plucked from a target’s home. It didn’t belong to a sponsor. It sat in a loophole between her words. I didn’t know if that would matter to her in the end, or if she would care to work out the difference. In my mute protest, I would not be able to explain, nor did it matter. Though she didn’t know it, she’d left me no choice but to stay. Whether I wanted to be part of the group or not, I needed Henri’s device to free Saretha.
I knelt down and began to help Kel plan our Placement. I felt her body ease its tension by a hair, and I felt rotten for it. But I was back in the group for as long as I could last.
SCORN: $36.99
Penepoli Graethe showed up at our door the next morning. Her eyes were wet with tears.
“You can’t come in,” Sam said, opening the door a crack. I couldn’t hear her response. She wasn’t speaking, but she was still making noise. I pulled a jacket on over my nightclothes and went out to her. Sam crossed his arms and followed me into the hall.
Penepoli looked from Sam to me and back again with wild eyes. Her face was twisted with confusion, lips mashed tight. She made a wide gesture, a ring with her hands, traced in the air, and then walked her fingers into the space it had defined.
Sam and I looked at each other. “I don’t know what that means,” he said with a sigh. “Do you want to just tell us?”
Penepoli bit her lip, then zippered it and looked pitifully sorrowful. It was hard to believe that not very long ago, Penepoli, Nancee and I would talk, carefree, about nothing at all. It felt stupid, and beautiful, and sad to think of it. My hand reached out for hers, but I had to stop myself and pull it back. I couldn’t get charged for a gesture now. I had no way to reach her.
“Mmmmhhm, mhhmm, mhmmm?” Penepoli tried, humming out what she wanted to say. Her brows wrenched up and she hunched down to my height, her lank hair falling forward.
“The fruit stripe garden?” Sam guessed, shaking his head.
Anguished, Penepoli spoke, but not fully. She whispered through clenched teeth, like a panicked ventriloquist.
“Mandett is rounding us up.”
“Who is us?” Sam asked.
“The Silents!” Penepoli squeaked.
Sam looked at me. I didn’t know anything about it. Had Mandett really gone silent? If he had, how was he getting people rounded up? Then I remembered that Mandett hadn’t had his Last Day yet.
“He says we have to do more than not speak,” Penepoli said, her lips straining to form all the words while keeping her mouth shut. “He wants us to show ourselves, prove we’re here. He is asking—”
The sound of the elevator arriving stopped Penepoli. Her hand clamped to her mouth.
“I’ve said too much!” she mumbled under her fingers.
Sam rolled his eyes. The elevator doors opened, and Mrs. Harris stepped out, looking both irritated and pleased.
Penepoli dropped her hands, like she had been caught doing something illegal, and said, “Good morning, Mrs. Harris.”
Mrs. Harris squinted at Penepoli, as if trying to recall her name. Then she addressed me, as if Penepoli were unimportant.
“Speth,” she said coolly, “I need to speak with you. I have news.”
Sam’s gaze burned at her. He hated her unannounced visits. We all did.
“Mrs. Harris,” Penepoli said with a nervous swallow. Mrs. Harris raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what happened to Nancee? You were her guardian, right?”
Mrs. Harris chewed on this question and sneered a little. “I was.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” Penepoli asked again, sort of through her teeth.
“I do,” she said, and then returned her gaze to me. “Does your friend understand I am not budgeted to speak with children who are not my charges?”
In lieu of answering, I glared at her and tried to match her coldness. Her sour face twisted with an ugly glee I had seen her wear only a few times before. She kept her eyes trained on me and answered Penepoli’s question.
“Nancee has been Indentured within the city to a woman who can put up with the girl’s insolent silence. It was challenging to place her. When someone selfishly refuses to speak, that puts all burden of speaking on the opposite party. My understanding is that Nancee is being trained to follow commands like you might teach a dog, which should solve most of the problem.”
My mouth tightened.