The Registry (2 page)

“That’s good for now. Sit.” The appraiser walked over to his black carpetbag and dropped the tape measure inside.

She watched him rifle through his bag. No doubt he was getting ready for the next part of her evaluation.

Mia’s mind wandered to Corinna. Mia was the youngest of the four Morrissey daughters. Each of her elder sisters had gone to finishing school, but Mia’s parents thought she was pretty enough that it would’ve been a waste of money. She remembered the excitement she’d felt when her sisters were home for breaks. Then she remembered the admiration she’d felt for them on their wedding days, the last days she saw any of them, except for Corinna. Her sister’s nighttime visit had started crumbling Mia’s world.

The appraiser produced a digital camera, snapping Mia back to reality.

“Over there.” He pointed toward the closed door. A gray backdrop already covered the wood.

Mia darted toward the door. She briefly considered opening it and running away from this mess but instead turned to face the little man. Her body shuddered as he ran his hands through her hair, slicking back any loose strands that had fallen from her bun. Next, he pulled out a napkin and spat on it. He ran the cloth over her cheek. Mia tried her best to show no emotion, but the spot on her face felt like fire.

He examined the napkin and seemed pleased. “Arms at your sides, chin up, look straight into the lens.”

A bright flash went off. Mia used the excuse to let her eyes water.

“Now turn to the right, then the left.”

The appraiser walked toward her and grabbed her hands. He took pictures of each of them individually, then together. Next it was her feet. More flashes. With each snap the camera stole more of her dignity.

“Turn around.”

Mia focused on her breathing as he took more photos. She wanted to wipe her cheek but didn’t dare do anything without being told.

“That’s good for now. Sit.” He went back to his bag.

Mia waited for what would come next, wishing this terrible day would end. Still, as awful and mortifying as this was—why had she always thought it would be otherwise?—it paled next to that horrible night a couple months ago.

After Corinna’s visit, Mia had convinced herself her sister must have done something to deserve William’s punishment, or if not, that Corinna was just unlucky, and Mia would get a more understanding husband. That rationalization soon faded away. Not even a week later a postcard came in the mail. It was from William, offering his condolences on Corinna’s passing. Her parents thought it was kind of him to let them know she had died. Mia didn’t see either of them cry; she was the only one who mourned her sister. Supposedly Corinna had gotten sick from traveling in the rain. Mia knew, and was the only one who cared, that William had murdered her sister.

After that news Mia stopped taking so much pleasure in staring in the mirror; she saw Corinna’s emaciated face looking back at her. Corinna’s death hadn’t just curbed Mia’s vanity. She had followed up on her sister’s last words and searched Corinna’s old closet; it didn’t take long to find the loose floorboard.

Mia had gone numb after her discovery, but now these images of her past were pushed away by her present.

The appraiser took a seat on the chair across from her. He had a clipboard and a pen.

The interview portion. Mia breathed deeply in anticipation of the first question.

“I am sure that your mother trained you in how to act and what to say,” he said. “But trust me when I tell you to forget all that. Honesty will get you a significantly higher listing.”

Mia knew he wouldn’t like her honest responses. She felt a rush of hatred toward the man and his suggestions, and could sense the rage shining in her face before quickly bottling it up again. Fortunately, the appraiser seemed too busy adjusting his tape recorder to pay attention.

“This is the interview of Amelia Morrissey of the Midwest Area,” he said.

The words “Midwest Area” rang through Mia’s mind. She wondered if the other fractions of the country lived the same way she did, if their girls were prepared for their appraisals the same way. After she was married, Corinna had lived in the Northwest Area. Mia’s eyes stung with tears as she imagined her sister’s body buried in a strange place.

“Amelia Morrissey, can you cook?”

“Yes,” Mia quickly responded. “My specialties are—”

“That won’t be necessary.” The appraiser gave Mia a disapproving look. “Only answer what you’ve been asked.”

The momentary thrill she had felt at discussing her culinary skills vanished. Mia reminded herself she would find no relief this afternoon.

“Can you clean?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sing?”

“Not well.”

“Can you sew?”

“Yes.”

“Can you draw?”

“Yes.”

“Care for a baby?”

“No. I mean, yes.” Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that one.

The appraiser didn’t seem interested in her struggle. “Can you drive?”

“No.”

“Can you perform any maintenance on a vehicle?”

“No.”

“Can you read?”

“Yes.”

“Can you write?”

“Yes.”

The appraiser stopped the recording and scribbled his last notes. That meant only one step of her evaluation was left. A lump grew in her throat.

“You have one hour to answer as many questions as you can.” He threw a packet in front of Mia. “You may start whenever you wish.”

The appraiser glanced at his watch before walking back over to his bag. He rifled through it again. Mia tried to focus on the test. She ripped open the packet and pulled out the booklet. She flipped to the first question.

1. What is 80% of $20.00?

Math? Mia had never studied math, so she had no clue how to answer this. She thought about how she had teased Corinna for going to finishing school. She had never even asked her what they learned there. She wondered if it was math. She flipped to the last question.

50. What element does the symbol O represent?

She looked up at the appraiser. He was going through the photos and didn’t seem interested in her test at all. Her mother always told her excess knowledge was unnecessary for a female. The test might as well have been in another language.

Not wanting to admit defeat, Mia put her pencil to the paper and tried to work the first problem. The appraiser still paid her no attention. She rubbed her face where his spit had been and fantasized about using the pencil to stab him through his cheek.

When he called time on the test, Mia wasn’t finished with problem ten. But he didn’t seem interested in her progress, dropping the packet in his bag without checking.

Apparently, that was it.

Her appraisal was over. She focused on the man’s small carpetbag. Everything in there would determine her worth as a person. It would bring her one step closer to Corinna’s fate. Mia let her mind wander back to her discovery.

Under her sister’s floorboards had been a piece of glossy paper showing a mix of pictures and words. In small print at the top of the page were the words
Unique Girl—UK Edition Volume 47, Fall Issue.
The photograph was of a man in a tuxedo, with a woman lying at his feet in a big white dress. In big print below it read
MODERN-DAY SLAVERY: AMERICAN BRIDES
.

Mia felt a sharp prick on her arm. She swatted at it.

“Quick blood sample.” The appraiser grabbed her hand. “We have to make sure you are disease free and compatible with your husband. Now we are finished.”

The appraiser picked up his satchel and walked toward the door, letting himself out of the house. Now that she was alone, she let the tears stream down her cheeks.

“Sweetie?” Mia’s mother stuck her head in the room. “I heard the door close. Is the appraiser gone?”

“Yes,” Mia said.

Mia’s mother walked over and hugged her. She was a beautiful woman, with the same long dirty-blond hair as Mia. “Don’t cry. I’m sure you did great. Looks matter the most anyway.”

“That’s not it.” Mia pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I don’t think I want a husband.”

“It’s okay that you’re nervous, but this is a happy day! I was thrilled during my appraisal and your sisters were too, even Corinna. Now it’s over and you just have to wait a little longer.” Her mother seemed sincere. “All marriages have their ups and downs, and it is our duty to please our husbands.”

“Did you even care about her?” Mia asked, persisting.

“Of course I did, but it’s part of life. She needed to be independent of us and start her own family. Just like you will soon. Any struggle or hardship you go through will be worth it once you have a baby girl.”

Mia knew she was lying. She didn’t care about Corinna and in a short time she wouldn’t care about Mia either.

“I don’t want to get married,” Mia repeated.

Without hesitation, her mother raised her hand and slapped her. Mia put her hand to her throbbing cheek. Immediately, her mother pulled her back into a tight hug.

“I am tired of this. Marriage is your most patriotic duty. There will be no more of this conversation.” She rocked back and forth. “And don’t let your father hear talk like that. You are a woman now. Be happy, you’ll be the head of your own household soon.”

Mia nodded, but she did not agree. She knew this was not the life for her and wondered why nobody else saw that. Focusing on her swollen face, Mia made a promise to herself. She would not be a part of this vicious cycle. She knew what Corinna was trying to tell her. She was going to escape.

Chapter 2

Girls must hone their skills, such as cleaning, cooking, and sewing. These are traits that every man will find admirable and help ensure placement into a strong marriage.

—The Registry Guide for Girls

I
knew you were going to appraise high, I just didn’t think
that
high,” Whitney said.

“I hate polishing day,” Mia said as she scrubbed her father’s trophies and awards with the toothbrush, ignoring her friend.

“I mean, five hundred thousand dollars? I’m only valued at five thousand. You are literally worth one hundred of me.” Whitney shook her head as she reached for another 4-H plaque to shine. “I’m priced so low no man will ever bother to look at my page. You’re going to end up married to some rich man and I’m going to end up a government servant.”

Truthfully Mia was surprised she had appraised that high, particularly after having bombed the test portion. She wanted to drop the subject.

Whitney went on. “Your father must be thrilled. He’ll make three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars from your wedding, and the government will be pleased with their cut, a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“How do you figure out the percentages so fast? Or at all?” Mia was impressed.

Whitney shrugged; now she wanted to drop the subject. It was strange how much the girls stood in contrast with one another. Mia was blond and lanky, with a dimpled smile and delicate features. Whitney, on the other hand, was dark and sturdy, with a gruff persona. But Whitney was the only other girl on the property, so they were friends. Neither had gone to finishing school, and they had both studied under Mia’s mother, yet Whitney always seemed to have excess knowledge.

Mia was growing tired of Whitney’s obsession with her appraisal amount. She didn’t feel glamorous or special just because of some piece of paper. The whole thing made her nauseous. She decided that now was a good time to change the subject. “You used to live farther north, right?”

“Yeah, but still in the Midwest Area. We left when I was six, after my mother died.” Whitney continued polishing. “I don’t remember much.”

Mia felt a pang of guilt. She knew Whitney hated bringing up her mother. It was not Mia’s intention to upset her friend; she did have a reason for her questions.

“Did your father ever take you into Canada?” Mia tried to ask in a casual manner.

“Why?” Whitney stopped polishing.

“No reason, I was just curious about a foreign husband,” Mia lied. “I heard there is a chance a non-American can get access to the Registry. I wonder what it’s like in Canada.”

Mia hadn’t known other countries were so close to America until last month. She’d thought of them as on the other side of the world, where the soldiers went nobly to battle. Every day Mia felt her belief in the American way slipping. Finally she had asked Whitney about other countries and found out about their two bordering neighbors: Mexico and Canada. It was then that the idea to leave had taken hold.

Mia starting polishing faster, but Whitney didn’t appear to buy her explanation. Mia should have known Whitney would figure her out; she was too smart and too observant to fool.

“Are you thinking about running?” Whitney nearly shouted.

Mia leaped to put her hand over Whitney’s lips.

“No! Of course not.”

“Good; that would be stupid. You’d get yourself killed or worse.”

“I was just curious about Canadian husbands.”

“Women aren’t allowed to travel alone. You’d get picked up right away and who knows what the hooligan who found you would do. Maybe you’d be lucky enough for a RAG agent to recover you, but then your father would kill you. The government would reappraise you and mark you as a runaway, and no husband would want you. It would be me and you as government servants right off the bat, working in some factory or cleaning up buildings. Maybe even the government wouldn’t want you.”

“I’m not running to Canada; just drop it.” Mia shook her head.

She thought of Corinna. Her husband had done more damage to her than any hooligan would, and RAG agents didn’t scare Mia, not since she’d seen Corinna’s article.
Young women are trained to think their captors are protectors, and the pseudonym for the government agency that hunts them, Recovery of Abducted Girls, tricks the people into thinking agents are heroes when they are nothing but Registry gofers.