The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

She smiled up at me. “That’s why you’re my hero,” she said softly. “You and Owen both—you changed the laws, and now my family is together again. Mom got released after the bill you both wrote forgiving her and all those like her for their crimes. Y’know—the Broken Homes Act?”

I grinned at her. “I remember,” I said dryly, moving farther down the steps. “It took three months to write, another three to get ratified by both governments, and was a blinding migraine on both sides. That’s…” I paused and looked back up at her. “That’s why I’m your hero? Because I co-authored a law?”

To be honest, the only reason Owen and I had gotten roped into it was because of our experiences on both sides, and our connections to the leadership. Because it was going to be the first law to be enacted by both countries, Owen and I (and a team of lawmakers) had sat down and hammered it out as the first binational cooperative effort. It had been rough, and it wasn’t what we had originally wanted, but it was… better.

“Yes,” Josefine said, breaking me from my train of thought and reminding me I was in a conversation. “I mean, I read those comics, but I remember what happened at Merrymount, you know. I know a lot of the story is left out. I went to the library and checked out the transcripts from the investigation, as well as the oral history project you and the chancellor started. I accessed those and listened to what everyone on that side of the river went through. It was awful.”

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly going dry.

“That’s, uh, pretty impressive, actually. I don’t think I’ve listened to all of that.” And there had certainly been some content that would be heavy for a… I wracked my brains, trying to do math… an almost ten-year-old girl.

Josefine looked up at me, her gaze heavy, and I was reminded that she had always seemed more than your average child. Growing up in the orphanages did that to some of us. But even so, I was beginning to suspect that Josefine was a very special case.

“Probably because you were there,” she said. “It was easier for me because I wasn’t, and even then, it was still painful. What was… What was Ms. Dale’s secret that she hid from you?”

I felt myself start to break, and I looked away, fighting back the tears.

“I never asked,” I admitted, cursing myself for even including it in the recording. It had felt important enough to include… but now everyone wanted to know. “Viggo offered to tell me, but… I never wanted to know.”

“Why not?”

It was a simple question, but there wasn’t a simple answer. How could I explain that I didn’t care what wrong she had committed against me? That it ultimately didn’t matter, because she was dead and all this was over? What would the knowledge change, save potentially tainting a memory of her that I wanted pure and pristine and whole? It didn’t matter—she was gone, and all I had was a memory of a woman willing to sacrifice herself to save me and both our worlds. Surely that more than made up for any past transgressions.

“We should go,” I said after a moment. “Morgan’s going to kill me.”

“Oh. Of course.” We resumed walking, but now the silence between us was a bit strained. I wanted to assure Josefine that she hadn’t upset me, but I was upset. It wasn’t her fault—she had just been curious—but every time I thought of Ms. Dale, I felt more than my share of melancholy. I wished she were there so I could ask her how long it would hurt for, but she wasn’t. And I felt that.

“Violet!” I looked up as we came down the last part of the stairs and saw my brother moving toward me, pushing through several official-looking people to reach me.

“Tim? I thought you were in the atrium.”

“I got bored,” he said. “Besides, Jay wanted to come down early to see if any… if there were any pretty girls.”

“I was just telling Tim it looked like a bust,” announced Jay from behind him, and I looked up to see him wheeling himself across the mosaic floor in his wheelchair. “But then you walked in.” He grinned smarmily at me, and I gave him a dry look. “My name is Jay Bertrand,” he said, holding out his hand to Josefine.

“Of course! You’re Desmond’s so—” Josefine broke off, her eyes drifting back to the wheelchair he was seated in, awkwardly pausing as she recalled who had put him there.

“Son,” he finished for her, his smile never wavering. “And yes, her parting gift to me was less than pleasant. But the ladies really dig the wheelchair.”

“No, they dig all the muscles,” Tim said, slapping him lightly on a solid shoulder. It was true—Jay may have lost the use of his left leg all the way to the hip, and his right leg all the way to the knee, but he kept active, and his chest and arms had grown significantly during his convalescence. With his enhancement, he could do pretty much anything with his upper body alone. What was even more incredible was how well he had taken everything, all things considered. “I stand next to him, and I can’t even get a hello!”

“You’re Tim!” Josefine chirped excitedly, a wide smile on her face. “Your speech has gotten much better than in the comics. Oh. Wait… Should I say hello?” Tim flushed bright red, looking mortified.

“No!” he said, clearly uncomfortable with the young girl’s faux pas. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at his obvious embarrassment and subsequent backpedaling. “You’re too—I mean… What I mean to say is…”

“That he is looking for a girlfriend, but us injured guys get all the attention,” came Quinn’s voice, and I saw him turning around to face us, an eyepatch over one eye. His scars had faded significantly, but were still there, making his face resemble a patchwork quilt—and a messy one at that—but the impish smile remained. “Cry me a river, Bates. I’ll take whatever help I can get.” He squatted next to Josefine. “He might seem like boyfriend material, but trust me—you can do much better.”

“You’re a little old for her, grandpa,” I pointed out, though I couldn’t help but smile at the way they were all joking around just like ordinary boys… and how Josefine didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest.

“Oh my God, you’re Quinn!” she exclaimed. “You’re…”

“The genius behind creating a linked network between Matrus and Patrus?” he asked, anything but humble. “Yes, I know. I built an informational bridge between our two countries, and gave everyone free access to it.”

“Settle a bet for us, Violet,” said Jay, ignoring Quinn’s bragging. “What do ladies like better—charm, smarm, or farm?” As he spoke, he pointed to himself first, Quinn second, and Tim third, and I cocked my head at him.

“Why is my brother the farm?” I asked.

“Because he’s just got that good ol’ farmer thing down, all shy and nervous. Not to mention, all of those speech classes go right out the window when he sees a pretty face. Goes right back to how he was before.”

Tim rolled his eyes theatrically behind Jay’s back, and Josefine’s hand leapt to her mouth as she covered her smile.