Taken (A Dystopian Novel) (The Taken Trilogy), page 14
“He’s a real go-getter. He grew up with some of the others who are in Resistance and turned his back on all of them. I really think he goes further than even Richards expects. Too far. He and Russell used to be friends, but he betrayed Russell. He thought he could confide in Brian when he started to mobilize the Resistance again when they were in their teen years, but he told their secrets to move up in the ranks. Why do you ask? Is he giving you trouble?”
“No, but he wants to,” I say.
“Stay away from him. He’s not a good guy. I would even call him dangerous,” she warns. My stomach tightens just as a girl saunters onto the stage. Celia.
“How’s everyone doing? Welcome to another Community Day!”
The crowd cheers. Charlie removes her sunglasses and rolls her eyes. I snicker. She pretends to gag when Celia starts to sing. Celia rolls her hips to the beat from the band.
“Every Saturday this happens?” I ask, absently clapping to the music.
“It’s great though. Everyone in the safe houses leaves their doors unlocked and a box of food around. We have a big party at The Clave, too.” She grins.
“When do I get to visit you---The Clave?” I ask. She catches the slip, and her grin widens. I can’t look at her any longer and I look up at Celia. She twirls left and right on the stage, skips to one end and dances back to the other.
“I’m going to check on Aubrey. Will you be here when I get back?” I ask.
“Probably not. Jefferson and I are missing all the fun at The Clave,” she winks at me before I push through the flock. I hope she is just teasing, being around her dims everything that I hate about this place. I feel normal even in the strangeness.
Aubrey is standing at a table with her photos displayed on top. A few other kids her age are idling nearby. My sister, the social butterfly. She waves at me. My breath catches in my throat when I spy Sasha walking toward us, flanked by Brian and another officer. Sasha is dressed up for Community Day. She is wearing a blue skirt that swings as she walks and a pale pink tube top. My heart rate quickens with each step she takes. I try to act natural.
“How’s it going, Aubs?”
“My teacher said that I did a really good job. People seem to like them,” she says, referring to the photos.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” I say, all the while watching Sasha’s approach out of the corner of my eye. Brian’s presence heightens my anxiety further.
Sasha speaks to Aubrey and the other children first. The greeting is cordial and warm, but with me, her jaw hardens, and I’m on the receiving end of a slight, cold wave with barely any hand movement. It hurts a little more than I expect.
“Sasha can I talk to you in private?” I ask. Her face scrunches in reluctance, and she pulls at a section of her hair. Even though his eyes are behind those dark sunglasses, I know that Brian is watching with some bit of amusement.
“It’s not about what happened at the compound when we were hanging out,” I say, mostly for him. His jaw slackens and his mouth hangs open briefly. Her face softens just a little. She is looking at me thoughtfully like she is sorting through all her options on how she should proceed.
“Sasha, your father just arrived. We should head to the stage. Celia is wrapping up her performance right now,” Brian leans in and says.
“In a minute,” she says.
“Your father--”
“If you want to see him so badly, Brian, be my guest,” she interrupts, snapping her head in his direction. I smother my growing smile. “In fact, give me a few minutes. Don’t worry, I’ll try to stay in your line of sight.”
She crooks my arm and loops hers through it and leads me away from the mob of people. I know she only did it to spite him, but I don’t mind. I bet Brian’s eyes are boring holes through my back.
“You’re not out of the woods yet,” she says. Our arms are still linked. She hits one of the floating balloons with her free hand. “It’s just that Brian has been stressing me out all week.”
“About what?” I ask. I flick one of the balloons and it pops. She squeals and clutches my arm tightly.
“You,” she says. “He doesn’t trust you.”
“You don’t either,” I counter. Her eyes widen, but she does not respond.
“All he does is shadow me now. And it’s driving me crazy. I’m already on edge since…I told you what I told you.”
“I didn’t mean to dig up those memories,” I say apologetically. She waves it away.
“I’m not really angry at you, I just wanted to take it out on you, but I’ve known for a long time. I never said it out loud before. I’m angry because I can’t hate him,” she admits. “I look at him differently, but I don’t hate him. It’s confusing, and I know that if I ask, he’ll just lie to me again. I don’t really know what to do anymore,” she says with a few sighs.
“I wanted to ask you about a girl who may have ended up back at The Institute. Her name is Erin, she wears glasses. I just want to make sure she’s okay,” I plead.
“I can’t discuss the status of those at the Institute,” she says.
“I just want to know if she’s there,” I say. “No status.”
“No, she’s not.”
Before I can ask any more questions, the speakers emit a piercing screech, and we both wince. Governor Richards approaches the microphone. Brian is striding toward us. Before he reaches, Sasha walks past him and starts for the stage.
“Are you coming?” she turns back and asks. “I heard you are speaking today.”
*****
Of course I’m speaking. Marco and I. It was our idea to honor respectable Wicker Farm residents. I swallow hard. I’m terrible at public speaking. A trickle of sweat slides past my ear. I spot Marco and he beckons me from afar. He is wearing black slacks and a button down shirt. I’ll look like a slacker next to him.
“I should send officers to search your house right now for those shoes,” Brian says, startling me. I didn’t even realize he is walking behind me.
“Doesn’t seem like you learned much from Elias,” he says. Is it some kind of implied confession? My stomach twists. I turn without stopping. A smirk curves his mouth, and his nostrils flare the way a bull’s does before it charges at a matador. It’s the challenge. He’s either trying to scare or provoke me. I decide that I won’t give him the satisfaction of either.
I walk faster, almost shifting to a jog, and nearly collide with Marco who starts walking toward me too. He smiles and blows out a breath. He pushes papers into my hands.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says.
“Did you know we were speaking today?” I ask.
“No!” he says. “Completely blindsided. Governor decided last minute that it would be great if New Rezzies participated. He thinks that it will inspire others to support him. Do you think you can do the opening? We’ll handle the other parts. I started writing one for you.”
I look down at the two nearly illegible sentences on the paper. “Started being the operative word,” I tease.
“I didn’t know what to say,” he defends. I have never given a speech before, and all the words start to run together in my mind tumultuously.
“Sasha is throwing my little sister a birthday party at her house later today. You should stop by. It would be nice to not be the only guy there,” I say with a laugh.
“Yeah, man, sure,” he says. We step up on the stage, and we’re on the opposite side from where Sasha is. She is seated, legs crossed at the ankles, staring out at the crowd. I follow her eyes into the mass and immediately regret it. Charlie is still standing there with an unsettling expression on her face. She’s trying to figure out why I’m up there.
The crowd claps and I realize that Governor Richards’ speech is over. He pivots and looks at me.
“And now one of our New Residents who continues to excel, Jackson Smith.” He prompts me with a stare, and I urge my legs to move forward. I instinctively clear my throat when I reach the microphone. My eyes fall to Charlie.
“Today, we’re honoring some residents who have shown dedication, exemplary dedication to the values of Wicker Farm. They work hard and they understand the importance of being good citizens as we continue to help Governor Richards turn….” I cast my eyes on one of the exhibited poster boards. “Bourgeoning Wicker Farm into the community it once was and also do something…” I dart my gaze to another poster. “Revolutionary and turn it into a place for other cities to aspire to be. They are people who we can all learn from.” I stop. It’s all I have. Someone behind me initiates clapping and the others follow suit.
I exhale, feeling like I have been holding my breath for a long time, and Marco gives me a thumbs-up as we pass each other on his way to the mic. Sasha smiles at me encouragingly. She summons me to the chair next to her, but I decline, knowing that Charlie is watching. Marco presents the first award, and I clap as I walk off the stage. Then, I sweep through the crowd searching for Charlie again. She finds me first.
“Mississippi, Wicker Farm’s new golden boy,” she says, rounding me from the left. There is unrestrained bitterness in her tone.
“It’s not like that. Having to speak just came up literally right before I went up on stage. I didn’t plan on---” I explain, but she cuts me off.
“Well you must’ve done something to earn being up there,” she says. “With them. They’re the reason we’re all in this situation, remember?”
“I thought that this was what Russell wanted? I’m doing what I was asked to do. I’m in survival mode, just like you,” I say, my impatience growing.
“It is way too early for you to be getting wrapped up in this,” she growls through clenched teeth.
“I’m not wrapped up in anything!” I say angrily, my voice rising. A few people turn their heads to observe. When I speak again, I make sure to keep my tone even. “Where is all of this coming from?”
On the stage, one of our cubicle mates presents more awards, and mechanical applause follows again.
“It’s coming from…” After a drop of silence, she groans and rolls her eyes. “I was getting food earlier this week, and I saw a car pulling into your complex. It’s silly, but I thought it was Sasha coming to see you,” she confesses.
“You happen to be getting food from a safe house right across from where I live?” I ask.
“Okay, Russell asked me to check on you,” she says.
“You guys are spying on me?” I say, feeling somewhat betrayed. I think back to my private meeting with Russell. I feel stupid for believing that he would trust me that easily. “Russell wants to make sure that I’m a good little follower?”
“Mississippi…” she says imploringly.
“It’s Jackson. They’re probably watching me really closely right now. I don’t want to do anything to give them a reason to bother Nora or Aubrey, and the last time I sneaked out, a camera got a photo of me,” I say. The crowd cheers. I look at the stage. Another Wicker Farm resident is shaking hands with Governor Richards.
“Dammit! Now they know how we get out! That’s going to make it harder for other members who live there. If you climb over the back side, you have to watch for the camera flash. It functions on a timer,” she explains.
“Now, you tell me.” I remember the light I saw in the woods that night.
“Don’t blame me. You were the anxious one,” she protests. “I bet they’ve already replaced the camera anyway with something more high-tech.”
“Who are the Resistance members who live in our community? It would help to know I have support close by,” I say. She bites her nails, thinking of what to say next. There is a reluctant look on her face. The crowd starts to disperse, slowly drifting to the other end of the field.
“Really, Charlie?” I say incredulously. “Either you guys trust me or you don’t. If you don’t trust me…”
“Fine I’ll tell you, but just one member, and you can’t tell Russell. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just keeps his hand close to the vest,” she says. “If you’re facing away from the guard gate, there’s a set of houses on the left. All the doors face South. It’s a blue house with potted plants on the stoop. Give me a few days before you visit so I can warn him. He has a family, and they’ve been on edge since Elias’ death.”
“There you are! Ready to party?” Sasha approaches the two of us with Brian trailing in her wake, of course. I try to block Charlie with my body, and I hear her utter an expletive. I put my hands behind my back and gesture for her to go.
“Yeah,” I say with exaggerated cheerfulness. I hope Charlie is gone. “I invited Marco. I hope that’s okay.”
“Definitely, I’ll add his name to the list,” she says. “I need to finish up some last minute arrangements for the party so please keep Aubrey busy for about twenty minutes.”
I nod and she leaves with her security in tow. When I spin around, Charlie is gone, much to my relief, but her red baseball cap is in the place she stood. Several people have tracked footprints on it. I pick it up and shake the dirt off. Then I go to find Aubrey. We spot Nora and she says that it is fine to leave without her.
The walk back to our car is excruciatingly slow thanks to my inability to figure out how to kill twenty minutes. At first, I make Aubrey take pictures of things, but she groans the entire time, and she simply speeds up her pace and leaves me behind. When we reach the car, I fiddle with many things outside of it before we get in: I kick all four tires to make sure that they are inflated property, check how straight the antenna is and examine some old scratches. I smile when I see the left side of the back bumper where an area of the paint has chipped away. It is from when I first got my license. Instead of putting the car in “Drive” I put it in “Reverse” and rolled into our mom’s car. The thought stirs a beat of sadness. Our poor mom. We have been gone so long now. I suddenly want to know so badly how she’s doing. How the baby is doing. If Sam passed the Bar Exam. I imagine that she has gone through so many lipsticks.
“Aubs, do you miss mom?” I ask as I stand. I join her on the trunk, where she is sitting. Her expression speaks for her. At first she seems surprised by my question. It interrupts her task of reviewing the pictures on her camera. Then, her face shifts to indifference, which gives me a chill. She actually has to think about her answer.
“Is she coming here?” There isn’t excitement in her tone, but there’s no disgust or disappointment in it either.
“Can’t answer a question with a question,” I say. I’m eager to know what she is thinking. “Do you miss her?”
“Sometimes, but I don’t really think about it because this place is kind of fun.”
“Do you want to go back home?”
“Real home or Wynn?”
“Either one,” I say. She shrugs.
“Maybe real home, but not right now. We don’t have to leave until it’s time for me to go to camp. I’m still going to camp, right?”
“Yeah, kid. That’s the plan.” I rustle her hair and she swats my hand away. We get into the car, and she gets suspicious when I drive past the townhouse complex.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
She gasps when we pull up to the compound. After an ID check, we enter, and there are pink balloons tied to every guide post bouncing in the breeze. It’s gotten hotter since earlier, but a warm wind, which doesn’t alleviate the heat at all, courses through the air.
“We’re going to a party? Whose?”
“Yours,” I say. Her eyes grow wider as she processes what I’m saying.
“But my birthday was forever ago,” she says sounding confused.
“Sasha wanted to do something nice for you,” I explain. Aubrey smiles. For a second, I suppress the notion that our life in Wynn is slipping away from her.
After we park, we walk up to the house. The house is even more massive when we reach it. It casts a wide shade over us, and there’s a slight temperature difference when we stand in its shadow. It is a white, two-story house and the front is almost all windows. It looks like a more modern version of something out of Gone With The Wind. A pink banner hangs above the front door with “Happy Birthday Aubrey” displayed on it in glitter. More pink balloons, restricted by pink streamers, wave from the banister. Music spills out of the windows. I smile because it isn’t Celia. And I’m actually surprised because it sounds like stuff my parents used to listen to when I was younger. I think it’s Frank Sinatra.
“How come we’re not going in? It’s not a surprise party because you told me about it and there are balloons everywhere…” a puzzled Aubrey says. An officer stands at the entrance of the house presumably to search us, which means that I will have a hard time getting my phone past the threshold. I hope that bringing the birthday girl means that we will be able to just walk in. Even he seems bewildered by why we’re standing out there.
“Uh, um…” I falter. Then I look at the security officer. Maybe I can charm our way in. I recognize him as the guy who patrols the building I work in.
“You work in Building 1,” I say, and a flicker of recognition brightens his face.
“Yeah, and I saw you on stage today at Community Day. The name’s Roger.”
“This is Aubrey. It’s her party. She’s the star of the show,” I say to him.
“Happy birthday,” he says kindly and pats her on the head. “Come on in, but we have to search everyone who walks through the door. Even birthday girls.”
My shoulders droop. So much for charm. “Sasha is expecting us. I don’t want to keep her waiting,” I say.
“I’ll be quick,” he says. “I just need to call Magda so that she can assist me with the birthday girl.”
