I ignored them as I always did, though it hurt, each word like a stone hurled at my back. When I opened the front door, Momma Oaks murmured about me catching cold. Then she asked me to lay the table, and I did so without complaint. I found it fascinating how many different tools people used to eat a meal Topside. Food was scarce enough down below that we raked it off our plates as fast as we got it, and nobody carried extra weight, as people sometimes did in Salvation. That seemed marvelous, that people could pack on enough flesh to withstand a hard winter.
Edmund joined us and Momma Oaks took my hand, as she did each night. “Creator, bless and keep us. Guide us to live according to your laws and to appreciate your blessings.”
The first time she did that, I wondered aloud who she was talking to, and she explained that she was addressing a being who lived up in the sky and watched over us. Though I didn’t like to insult her, I thought her god had done a terrible job keeping his people safe. Given the current state of the world, it seemed far more likely the Freaks were his favored creatures.
My foster mother served us all. As I ate, I made polite conversation over roast meat, fresh bread, and vegetables. “How come your son never comes to see you?”
Edmund and Momma Oaks froze. Their expressions said my idea of courteous didn’t match theirs. Pain flashed across her features, echoed in a spark in her eyes, and then she dropped her gaze to her plate, apparently unable to respond.
But I didn’t understand why it was wrong for me to be curious. I’d been living in their home for over a month; it seemed unkind that he hadn’t come to check on his sire and dam. For all he knew, I was a dangerous maniac who might murder them in their sleep.
Then Edmund cleared his throat. “Rex has his own affairs to tend. He’s busy.”
“Oh.” That sounded like an excuse. It was more likely they’d argued, but as I wasn’t part of the family, I didn’t push for the truth.
Silence reigned for a while. I had made them sad without meaning to, and so I feared asking another painful question. Eventually, once I cleared my plate, there was a sweet, which tasted as good as the canned cherries Fade had shared with me in the ruins. The dessert jolted my memory.
“What is it?”
“Taste it.” Fade dipped his finger into the tin and offered it to me.
I couldn’t resist, though I knew better than to let him feed me like a brat. Sweetness exploded on my tongue, contrasting with the warmth of his skin. Shocked and pleased, I pulled back and dipped two of my fingers into the tin in a little scoop. This time I caught more than the sauce. A round little red thing sat in the curve of my fingertips. I ate it without hesitation, two, three more scoops until I was sure I had red all around my mouth, and I didn’t care. He watched me with amusement.
“How did you know it would be so good?” I asked.
His smile slipped. “I had some with my dad, once.”
These days, Fade wasn’t around enough to share anything with me; an ache curled through me like a metal hook. There had to be some way to fix things between us. A question from Momma Oaks drew me before I could decide what to do about Fade. After dinner, I cleaned up while my foster parents talked quietly in the other room. Fractured words reached me in fits and starts.
“—maybe we should tell her. She feels left out,” Momma Oaks whispered.
“… no point. It doesn’t pertain to her.”
With determination, I closed my ears and stacked the clean dishes in the cupboard, then strode into the doorway. “May I take a light upstairs?”
“Do you have homework?” Edmund asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then by all means.” Momma Oaks got the lamp from the far table and offered it to me. “Careful. Don’t knock it over and don’t burn yourself.”
“We had torches,” I told her, in case she thought fire was new to me. If they protected their young like this all over in Salvation, it was a wonder the brats could find the schoolhouse on their own. “I’ll be fine.”
Edmund nodded. “Good night, Deuce.”
I ran up the stairs, the lamp casting crazy shadows along the walls. In my room, I buckled down and copied the passage that Mrs. James had assigned. Then I was supposed to write a page about what I’d just read. That took far longer, so I skipped to sums, which I found easier than reading. This was a useful skill, since it could be applied to inventorying supplies. That finished, I went back to my stupid essay and rambled about what the words meant. The teacher wouldn’t like it, and she’d probably read my paper aloud to point out all the mistakes.
I’d survived worse. The brats could mock me. Women could whisper. There would be bad memories, more nightmares, and the threat of Freaks outside the walls. I’d endure, no matter what.
Once I felt sure my foster parents were asleep, I dressed in dark clothes and slipped out the window. No bells tonight, but I needed to talk to Longshot. He’d be guarding the wall in his usual spot. I clung to the shadows, pausing twice to avoid detection, and then I clambered up the ladder. The moon shone on his white hair, so I recognized him straightaway. He cradled Old Girl in his arms; on my arrival, he didn’t shift from his study of the darkness.
“Don’t you ever sleep, girl?” His gruff tone concealed gentle humor.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“Aren’t you bored of plaguing me yet?” He leaned down to rub his knee in an absent way, as if he’d long since gotten used to the ache.
“I have some questions.”
“No end to ’em, apparently.”
“Don’t you have anybody at home to miss you?” That wasn’t what I meant to ask. It just slipped out. But he was always, always, on this wall, guarding Salvation.
“Not anymore,” he said quietly. “What is it you want, Deuce?”
I squared my shoulders. “I want to be included in the summer patrols. I’ll fight to prove myself in front of the other guards, but I wouldn’t embarrass you by bringing it up with no warning. If you’re dead set against it, I won’t—”
Longshot held up a hand to silence me. “It’s good of you to consider my pride, but if you win their respect, I’ll take you on. But you better put on a good show, girl.”
“I will,” I promised. “When should I make my request official?”
“We’ll be planting in a couple of weeks. Come then.”