World-Mart (12 page)
“Hello?” Virginia knocked again. “It’s me!”
The door cracked open across the way, and Judith peeked out. Virginia turned, and Judith quickly shut the door as she noticed Virginia’s deviant eyes. Virginia stood in the center of the hallway, unsure what to do. She decided to knock on the Rockwell’s door just as William opened it, Judith huddling behind him.
“I don’t have my key,” Virginia said.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” William said. He couldn’t stop looking at her eyes.
“They lied!” Virginia began to sob.
Judith remained behind the safety of her husband, eyeing Virginia suspiciously. “I think we should call for a security associate!”
“It looks like Virginia,” William said.
“Where is my family?” Virginia cried. “I just want to see my family!”
“They’ve been gone for a couple of days,” William said.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Judith slapped William on the shoulder, and she slammed the door shut.
Her gut telling her that security associates would soon be on their way to clear the floor, Virginia hurried to the stairwell. She passed a young woman slowly helping her young daughter up the stairs.
The little girl looked over Virginia and smiled. “Mommy! Look at her pretty eyes!”
The woman scowled at Virginia, yanking the girl up into her arms. “We don’t talk to deviants, Angie,” the woman scolded, and then the two disappeared through the door to the second floor.
Virginia hurried out of the building, running down the halls toward the shuttle garage. She dug out Anne’s directions from her pocket. The shuttle changes led to an area where Virginia had never been before, but she wasn’t sure if she really had anywhere else to go. Using Anne’s pass, Virginia boarded the Line 270 Shuttle, sat down, and closed her eyes.
IF CORPORATE
had any idea where George’s file had been misplaced, its managers had taken their time tracking it down. By the time George had his release process work ready to sign, he found himself cheated out of another entire day. That the managers rushed to get his processing finished now was of little meaning. He had been forced to miss two days of work, but he would have to wait until Monday to find out if he still had a job.
He now owed Police-Corp close to twenty thousand in fines, on top of what he owed Housing for the Rockwells
’
broken window. If he defaulted on his payments, even once, there would be a warrant for his arrest and he would ultimately end up owing the system even more. George had a difficult time covering the family’s expenses as it was, and there was no question that either Shelley or Kurt would have to be moved back into the Mart Education System on their current budget. The knowledge that he had to make this choice, and immediately, made him feel like hope truly had left
his
world for good. One of his children would be doomed to a life of impoverished monotony, and there was nothing he could do about it.
H
e weighed the potential in each of them as he took the stairs down to the Safe House. They both had the intelligence to work middle
m
anagement,
h
e assessed, knowing that they both brought home exceptional grades. He had already invested in Shelley for several years, Kurt having been in the Corp Education System for only three. Shelley’s status as a woman would limit her positions, however, given Corporate America’s views on family values. Young women were encouraged to marry early into their adulthood, and only to take part-time jobs if they planned to have children. Kurt could take any job, no matter when he started his family. Moreover, unlike Shelley, he had dark brown eyes. The boy had more options.
George found the office he had been directed to, a dim room packed with rows of chairs and distraught, displaced people. He went up to the secretary associate. “I’m here for my two kids,” he said through the Plexiglas security window.
The secretary associate pointed through the window, to a small computer anchored to the wall. “Fill out the form and have a seat.”
George filled out the short form, identifying himself and his two children. He signed his name in the signature box, and then found an empty chair as far away as he could possibly get from the rest of the sorry people in there.
From the looks of the room and all the people in it, George expected to wait at least an hour or so, and he was pleasantly surprised when Shelley and Kurt emerged from a back room only a few minutes later.
Kurt ran to George, coughing and sobbing between tearful fits, while Shelly sauntered over to him slowly and angrily. George picked up Kurt and offered Shelley a refused hug, and then the three left together and caught the shuttle back to Housing. The rain picked up and the shuttle moved slowly, threatening to stall every few yards. The three remained silent despite the ridiculously long ride, waiting to get home before discussing their confinement.
“How could you get arrested like that? Do you have any idea how boring the Safe House was?” Shelley began as they entered their cold, dark apartment. “It was hellish!”
“Try a jail cell for two days,” George replied, turning on the kitchen light.
“It was like we were in kid-jail!” Kurt said, needing to be a part of the conversation.
Shelley went to the wall heater and turned it on, and the three huddled as close to the grill as they could without being burned.
“Are we having chicken nuggets for dinner tonight?” Kurt asked.
Shelley nodded, although her face looked tired and bitter. “Just let me warm up a minute.”
The news about Shelley’s education ate at George more and more the longer he sat with it. Telling Shelley would not be easy. He practiced in his mind what he would say to her, finding no way to buffer the actual blow. He turned to her, deciding that further procrastination would get him nowhere.
“I owe a lot of money because of what I did.” He looked down, unwilling to see her face when he told her: “I can’t afford to put you through school any longer.”
Shelley took a deep breath and moved to reply, but then sealed her lips and stormed across the kitchen. She pulled a package of pre-breaded chicken nuggets from the icebox and arranged them in a glass baking dish, unable to hide that she had begun to cry.
“I’m really sorry, sweetie,” George said.
“So I’m supposed to go to Mart school?” she asked, not turning around. She put the chicken nuggets in the microwave and set the timer.
“Would you rather I move Kurt instead?”
“Move where?” Kurt asked, surprise and terror in his voice.
“Nowhere,” George reassured him.
They all knew
about the gang problems, the drugs, and the violence that occurred in the Mart Education System. Still,
there was heavy tension over the unspoken question:
W
hy
had George
chosen
Kurt over her?
“When do I start?” she asked.
“I have to work out the change in payment arrangements tomorrow, so I’m assuming the switch will be immediate,” George said with a sigh.
Shelley pulled a can of corn from the cupboard and emptied it into a shallow saucepan. She turned on the stove, placing the saucepan over the lone burner.
“I have to say, you’re taking this really well,” George said, feeling a little relieved.
“How did you expect me to take it?” Shelley asked, keeping her voice level and calm.
George shrugged. “I wasn’t really sure, but I’m relieved that you understand.”
“Dinner will be ready in just a minute,” Shelley said ignoring George’s last comment. “Serve yourself.” She hurried out of the kitchen in a dramatic display.
George served Kurt, wondering if he should follow Shelley. They had all already lost so much within the past few days, and he knew that this latest blow had to be devastating. George lost both of his parents to the tuberculosis epidemic in the sixties. He had been working for Law-Corp for just a few years, and he had only just met Virginia. Because he was forced to move across the quadroplex, to District 89150, he never saw his parents after he moved, and he heard of their illness by telephone. When he got the news that they died, he held onto his sanity by losing himself in his job.
What did Shelley have left?
The bathroom door slammed shut.
“Daddy, why’s Shelley so mad?”
“She’s just sad, buddy.”
Kurt nodded.
George gave Kurt a kiss on the forehead, then went down the hall. He tried the bathroom door, finding it locked. “Shelley?”
“Go away!”
“Come on, now! I’m doing my best here! What am I supposed to do?”
“
Not
get drunk and ruin my life!” she cried.
He took a deep breath, then sat down beside the door and waited for her to say something more. She met him with only continued silence.
Finally, he decided to try again. “Shelley? I’m really sorry.”
“Ha!”
“It was inevitable, anyway! We’re living off a single income now. We’ve all got to make our sacrifices if we’re going to get through this,” he said. Another sad sigh escaped him as she refrained from any further response. He turned as Kurt met him in the hall.
“Why are you fighting?” Kurt asked.
George sat forward and put a reassuring hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go
in your room and
play? Everything’s fine.”
Kurt crossed his arms, a subtle scowl giving him an angry, pouty face.
“Go play, buddy.”
Kurt turned to the door. “Shelley, what’s wrong?”
“I just need to cool off,” Shelley said.
George got to his feet. “Okay. I’ve had enough of this.” He reached over the door’s upper threshold, pulling a key from atop the paneling. He nudged Kurt aside as he unlocked the door and threw it open.
Shelley scrambled to gather the pens and short stack of papers that lay before her.
George stormed in. “What is this? Where did you get these?”
“Please—just let me have this!” Shelley cried, holding her writing supplies close.
“Do you know what would happen if—”
“I don’t care!” she cried. “I don’t have any future, anyway, so why not do what I
want
to do?”
“Because you know that’s not how it works, sweetie.”
She turned away defensively. “I don’t care how it works!”
Kurt began to cry. “Please stop fighting!”
Both turned to Kurt, falling silent.
