Memory Girl (24 page)

She takes a step back, frowning. “You're in pain?”

“No, not the way I'd feel if your needles jab me.” I glance uneasily at the stitching pins. “It's like when you eat too much and keep eating even though there's no more room. My head is exploding with thoughts.”

“I can't wait to explode with Flavia thoughts,” she says with a huge smile.

“You say that now, but wait till it happens.” I rub my head.

“I will rejoice when that day comes. Once my head is full of knowledge, my braggy daughter won't roll her eyes at me like my head is full of cotton. I'm going to ask my Family to schedule my mem soon. You didn't have to wait, so why should I?”

“Don't rush …. You don't want to ….”

My thoughts jerk me to a summer evening without a breeze. I'm sweating as I chase after Naomi. “You're it!” she taunts as she runs down the street with other kids from our neighborhood. I know all their names and where they live, who I hate and who I like. They're heading for Dead Man's Dump, a deserted house surrounded by an orchard of tangled trees and thorny bushes, where a man died alone and wasn't found for months. When I reach the orchard, it's as creepy as a graveyard. Weeds climb to my knees and the bushes grow thick. Tree branches grab at my hair and mosquitoes sting my skin. Sounds fade away too, as if I'm lost in a nightmare. I don't know which way to go, and no one is here to help me. I'm swallowed by darkness and bushes. I start to cry ….

“Aren't you listening? I said turn around.”

Lorelei's impatient voice snatches me back from a distant century to a lit room where I'm not alone. I'm so glad to be here with Lorelei, I don't complain when she orders me to stand on a pedestal and hold my arms out so she can hem a covering.

We only have one more covering to pin when her daughter comes into the room. “Flavia, I need your assistance in
my styling station.” She turns to me apologetically. “I'm sorry, but this won't take long. Do you mind waiting or would you rather reschedule?”

I sink on a chair, tired from standing so still. “I'll wait.”

“She'll be back shortly,” the daughter promises. “If it wasn't urgent, I wouldn't interrupt. Leader Hale will be here soon to pick up the executioner's uniform. I worked most of the night, but it's not finished yet and still needs to be sized before tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Every nerve in my body flames.

“I won't be long,” Lorelei says, hurrying away.

I wait long minutes until I'm sure I'm alone. I couldn't have arranged this better if I'd planned it. I open the door slightly and peek into the other room, where Rosemarie has dozed off in a chair and Arthur stares out the front window. They'll never know I'm gone if I sneak out the rear door and go to the jail. I touch the packet in my pocket, but I don't get up from my chair.

Move, Jennza!
I urge myself. I don't understand why my heart pounds and I'm so reluctant to leave. The rear door isn't locked. No one is watching me.

Don't go outside
, a voice in my head warns.

Milly's voice, I realize. She'd never break a rule or disobey her sister.

But I must help Nate before it's too late. So I shut out her voice and push through the rear door. Outside, the sky is cloudy with gusty winds. Chill bumps shiver up my arms. I sneak around the building to the paveway, nervously looking around. I hurry past the sweetery shop, then suck in a sharp breath when the jail looms tall, dark, and scarifying.

No, I'm not scared. It's Milly who trembles inside my
thoughts.

Leave me alone
, I think as I keep moving forward. I go around the corner of the jail, where trees offer dark shadows and thick bushes cluster like a squadron of uniformed guards.

My hand is deep in my pocket, clutching the packet. I'm so close now. I only need to crawl through the trail I took yesterday. Nate will probably be at the window, staring up at the sky. He'll be so glad to see me, especially when I throw him the packet. He'll know how to use what's inside to escape.

But my feet won't move. Time is slipping away.

Go!
I tell myself.
Hurry!

The nightmare orchard of trees and darkness surrounds me, closing in, stealing my courage.

Dangerous
.
Don't go outside alone.

Not my thoughts. I fight to think clearly, breathing hard like I've been running for centuries. Bushes clench together into thorny fists, and I draw back. Milly's fears pummel me from the inside, storms of screams hailing to be heard. I clutch my chest, gasping. I must to go through the bushes. Must help Nate ….

But I stop. My legs turn to stone, refusing to go into the tangled trees.

When my body finally moves, it's with a will that's no longer my own.

Tears fall down my cheeks as I turn from the jail.

Milly is going to let Nate die.

“He'll walk up thirteen steps, his unlucky number.” Leader Cross chuckles, ripping off a chunk of the buttermilk bread I placed on the table moments ago.

He's speaking of Nate, and I forget how to breathe. It's been hours since I left the jail. I can't bear to think or feel anymore. Yet I crack open the door between the kitchen and dining room and listen to Leader Cross, Jarod, and Rosemarie's sons calmly discussing Nate's death.

Arthur glances up from his potato broccoli soup. “Have they chosen a death mode?”

“Beheading would suit the compost scum,” says Rosemarie's son Titus.

His brother Tyler snorts. “Electrocution would be more ripping to watch.”

Leader Cross nods. “True, but too damaging for the scientists. They want the corpse whole for clinical study. They should leave ShareHaven decisions to Leaders.” I'm shocked by his disrespect to our scientists.

“So how will the Noc die?” Arthur wipes his mouth with a napkin.

I go rigid with this question, my fingers clamped to the partly open door.

“Venom,” Leader Cross says cheerfully. “From a rattfin snake—the deadliest. He'll die writhing in pain, which is
fitting for the subhuman monster. We'll need to arrive early to secure good observing seats.”

I want to shout that Leader Cross is the monster, not Nate. But when I think of raising my voice against my Leader, I envision Milly breaking a glass, milk dripping down into her lap. The Daddy yells at her, his face angry red and his voice so loud she cringes in her chair, soaking in shame.

Heat blows behind me as Rosemarie opens the oven. She sets a steaming pan of baked chicken on the counter, then comes over and slips her arm around my shoulders.

“The memories hurting?” She strokes my hair. “My poor Milly. I shouldn't have let you work today. You've been so brave, and I'm proud of you.”

Don't be proud
, I want to tell her. I'm a coward—running away when I could have saved Nate. I hate myself. I hate Milly.

“Would you like a pain tonic?”

I deserve worse than pain.

Rosemarie is looking at me with such concern that something inside me cracks. “I don't want a tonic … I want it all to go away … it's too much at once.”

“Take deep breaths and relax your mind,” she tells me.

I try, but the images are striking lightning-fast with no warning. I'm afraid to wade in the sea, yet I feel joy when I dive into the Lavender Pool. My first kiss was with a guy named Paul who has pickle breath. Yet that's wrong because my first kiss was with Marcus. A confused voice questions,
Marcus who
?

“You'll feel better after a good night's sleep. You'll wake knowing all about Milly. It's overwhelming at first; that's why it's split into three parts. You won't go through this again for several months, and it'll be easier next time.”

I rub the tender spot at the back of my neck. It's not physically painful, but pressure rises inside like a balloon ready to pop.
Balloon.
An object Jennza has never seen, but Milly had bunches of them every year at her birthday parties. Decorated cakes, wrapped gifts, and youths singing “Happy Birthday.” Memories push and pull against me.

Rosemarie insists I sit while she finishes serving dinner. I don't join the others but stay in the kitchen. Rosemarie brings me a steaming bowl of soup, buttered bread, and baked chicken. When I finish, she takes me up to our room and tells me to rest. It's too early for sleep, but the war in my body is exhausting. It's much easier to nod and agree.

Lying on my bed, my eyes are closed, but my mind keeps whirling with Milly thoughts: school, friends, arguments, laughter, fears. Her world seems so much bigger than my island, with cities and traffic and elevators whooshing high into sky-touching buildings. It's more than I imagined from viewing the history museum. Smells, sounds, and sights suffocate me. My brain can't breathe.

From a faraway place, I hear someone shout for Milly to go away. My Jennza voice. She's … I'm still … here. But I can't reach her through the darkness, as if I've plunged deep into a sinkhole and can't climb out.
Leave me alone, Milly.
A surge of anger rises like a ladder with rungs I can grasp. Each rung is a knowing of my real self. Jennza. I start with my name and move to images of people who belong to me. Marcus, holding a swizard in his dirty hand; Lorelei, wearing a tunic décored with shell buttons as she bosses me around; Instructor Penny, hugging me when the other Instructors aren't looking; Nate, catching the shell I've tossed up to him, grateful for a small token from a sea
he'll never see again.

I left him to die.

Gasping, I sit up in bed. Sweat drips from my forehead, and I wipe it away. My room is silent, dimmed in darkness. I don't know how long I've slept, but many hours have passed because Rosemarie is snuggled under her covers, softly snoring. She curls toward the wall, her back to me.

I need my sister. So I leave my bed to crawl into hers. Warm covers—warm memories are comforting. So natural—something I've done since I was a little girl.

“Have a bad dream, Milly?” She draws me into her warm arms.

“Dreams are easy. Reality hurts.”

“I told you the memories will be easier with time.”

“It's not the memories … it's what I've done … or haven't done.”

“What are you talking about?”

I purse my lips. I've said too much already.

“Come on, Milly. You know you can tell your big sister anything.”

The word
sister
flashes so many scenes in my mind: sharing an umbrella on a rainy day, somersaulting on freshly mowed grass, and her arm around me as we huddle together on a rocking boat heading for a remote island.

I can't tell her about Nate, but there's something she can tell me. My memory flies down a flight of stairs to a private meeting in the dark of night. “Do you know why Leader Cross and others meet in secret?”

Her arms around me stiffen. “It doesn't concern you.”

“But I heard them speaking … and they mentioned Na—the killer. They knew he was going to kill Leader Sarwald.”

“Our Leader would never be involved in something so terrible.”

“He wasn't the only one. Daisy and Arthur were in the underground room too. And people from other Families. The room was strange, with candles and pictures of winged people … angels.” In a whirl of images, I see a huge building with a temple, statues, and stained-glass windows. And I see myself … no, the other me … Milly. Kneeling before an altar, hands clasped in prayer, giving thanks … not to scientists.

“Church,” I whisper hoarsely. “That's why they were meeting in secret … they were worshipping ….”

“Do not speak of this!” Rosemarie's expression darkens like she wants to slap me. “Our faith is based on science. Remember that.”

“But I've seen you do it too,” I remember suddenly. “That's what you were doing when you thought I was asleep.”

“What I do is no business of yours,” she says with such anger I know I've struck the truth.

A timid voice inside me warns me not to argue. Don't do anything to cause trouble; it can only turn out badly. But it's going to turn out worse for Nate—unless I can help him.

“It's not just curiosity. It's not right for the … the Nocturne to take all the blame if others were involved.”

“Your interest in him must end now.” Rosemarie grasps my arms and looks into my face. “And stay away from the secret meetings.”

I bite my lip, not sure I want to know the answer to my next question. “Are you … part of the secret meetings?”

“I'm not in the group, but my husband was.” She lowers her voice, clutching at her covers. “They trust me to keep quiet. But they won't trust you until all three memdenities.
If they find out you know about them, I won't be able to protect you. So much is at stake. It's taken over a century to achieve our perfect life.”