Dark Parties (12 page)

When I arrive at work the next day, Effie’s chair is empty. “Where’s Effie?” I ask Dad.

He looks as baffled as I do. “I’m sure she’ll be here in a minute.” He moves through to his office, leaving me alone to fill
Effie’s space.

Other employees start arriving. No one even looks my way. Effie has trained them well. After thirty-three minutes of sitting
with my hands folded, staring at the red numbers on Effie’s digital clock, I decide to take a break. While making a cup of
tea, I think I hear Effie’s name mentioned in
hushed conversations, but I’m never close enough to make out the context. When I move closer people stop talking. I hope Effie’s
not sick. I didn’t really mean it when I said I wanted to poison her. Effie is always here before Dad and I arrive and still
here when we leave each night. I’m not sure what Effie would do without her work or what Dad would do without Effie.

After another half hour passes, I knock on Dad’s office door. “Come in,” he bellows. I push the door open. Dad is hunched
over his desk. His lab coat isn’t buttoned and the collar stands up on one side. His hair juts out in all directions as if
he’s separated his locks in fistfuls.

“Dad, Effie’s still not here,” I say, and glance in the direction of Dad’s secret hiding place. All my questions resurface.

“Yes, I know.” He leans back in his chair. “She won’t be coming in.”

“Is she okay? I know she’s been sick and…”

“Effie has been fired.”

“Fired?” I rest against the door, it opens, and I stumble farther into the room. I have never heard anything so preposterous
in my life. “But why?” Being too efficient. Caring too much about her job. I can’t imagine Effie stealing a paper clip.

“She misused GovNet,” he says as if it’s a question.

My stomach drops as if I’ve been hoisted up and it’s been weighted down. I used Effie’s computer yesterday. Effie is missing
and it’s all my fault. “What… w-what does that mean?”

“She had been sharing government information with a group that is suspected of unpatriotic behavior.” He’s saying the words,
but he doesn’t seem to believe it.

“Effie? Are you sure?”

He nods and stares off into space. “I trusted her.”

My guilt subsides. This was not my fault. “What will happen to her?” Effie a rebel? I can’t believe it.

Dad clears his throat and that faraway look is gone. He is tense and in control again. “She will be replaced as soon as possible.
Until then, you will be responsible for all of Effie’s nonconfidential duties. We’ll have to forget this happened and get
back to work.”

He means forget Effie. He must be good at erasing people from his life; he’s had enough practice.

I sit at Effie’s desk. They come and take her computer. They empty her desk. There is not one single personal touch in or
on her desk, not even a scrap of paper with a doodle or partial grocery list. It’s as if she were never here. They plug in
a new computer for me. When I turn it on, the only icon on my screen is for the history book. That’s it. There’s no GovNet,
no nothing. My search is over. I could scream.

Strange, but I miss Effie. Her efficiency and unwavering belief in her job and Homeland were the backbone of the office—and
it was all an act. Dad walks aimlessly between his office and Effie’s desk, my desk now. He comes out of his office or looks
up from the book or papers he’s reading when I come in his office and it’s as if he realizes Effie is gone all over again.
His face softens and then creases in a frown.

It’s lonely without her exasperated sighs and steely looks of disapproval. I’m getting requests for information from all over
the government. The Minister of Exchange’s office wants an inventory of all stories related to recycling programs. Someone
from the Minister of Health’s office calls to remind Dad about some doctor’s appointment. I organize the requests and work
up the courage to ask Dad what to do.

I tap on Dad’s office door and hope he doesn’t answer, even though I know he’s in there. “Come!” he shouts.

I step one foot across the threshold but keep most of my body on my side of the door. He’s slumped behind his desk so that
I am talking to his bald spot. Papers and folders are stacked haphazardly around him and threaten an avalanche. He’s poised
over a thick report with a highlighter in one hand and a pencil in the other. His wild, wiry hair vibrates as he scribbles
on the paper and then makes broad yellow strokes with his highlighter. “Um, Dad, I was wondering, if, well—”

“What is it, Neva?” he barks, looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. He’s done an even worse shaving job than
usual. He’s got stubble on his chin and his sideburns are uneven.

“I don’t know what to do.” That was the wrong thing to say. His jaw immediately clenches and his eyes narrow.

“What I meant was… I’ve made all the edits you’ve approved to the history. Effie didn’t tell me anything about the rest of
her job. I’m getting requests from all over and I don’t know how to respond to them.”

His face relaxes a smidge. “Give them to me, and I’ll deal with them.”

I hand him a series of folders. “I’ve organized them by deadline and importance—anything from one of the other Council members
is in the first file.”

He looks almost pleased.

“The Minister of Health’s office called to remind you about some doctor’s appointment.”

His expression darkens.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Neva. It’s just…”—he pauses—“routine.”

“Dad, I want to help.” I approach his desk. “I could arrange this for you,” I say, gesturing to the mess of papers scattered
in front of him. I pick up a thick folder with Women’s Empowerment Center scribbled in my dad’s cramped handwriting. WEC.
That’s one of the acronyms in Nicoline’s file.

“Don’t touch that!” He snatches it from me. His voice is unnecessarily loud. I stumble back to put distance between us.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to…” I want to get out of here.

His creased brow smoothes. “I’m sorry, Neva. I’m a bit lost without…” He tucks the Women’s Empowerment Center folder into
his desk drawer. “I deal with confidential information, and you do not have a security clearance.”

“What do I need to do to get clearance?” I’d love to know what’s in that file and the other secrets my dad is keeping.

“That’s not possible.” He straightens the piles of papers and folders around him. His touch causes one tower to top
ple. I rush forward and shuffle papers into folders as best I can.

“What is a Women’s Empowerment Center?” I ask as if I’m reading it off one of the files.

He scoops the files from my arms before I even register his movement. “None of your business.”

“I could get security clearance. I could be an even bigger help to you.” I could find The Missing.

He studies me. “Not with your
history
. The only reason you were allowed here in the first place was because I promised Effie”—he pauses at her name and clears
his throat as if to erase the very thought of her—“I promised we would keep a close eye on you. I had to call in a lot of
favors to get you sent here rather than…” He clears his throat again.

I would love to know the end of that sentence. The graffiti and my interrogation seem so long ago. I feel helpless.

“That’s all, Neva.”

Dad locks himself in his office for the rest of the afternoon. I leave at five o’clock on the dot without Dad. I call Sanna
from a phone booth. I tell her to get everyone together. I am coming right over. We’ve got to do something.

What’s happened to Nicoline and Effie? Why does Dad have a secret hiding place? I am a guppy swimming round and round in a
glass fish bowl. Sanna wants to meet at “our place.” That’s code for where we first met. She’s right. Of course, she’s right.
We can’t meet at her house, not with her patriotic guardians listening at doorways.

The playground feels empty, but Sanna’s already here. I
can hear the squeak of the merry-go-round as it slowly turns. A trio of swings hang perfectly parallel. The slide stands like
an outstretched tongue. The first time I saw Sanna she was playing on this merry-go-round. She held on to one of the bars
and ran as fast as she could, then dived on. As her spin slowly dwindled, she’d jump off and race around again. She’d scared
all the other kids away with her mad dashes. I watched her for a while until I knew the rhythm. Then as the merry-go-round
slowed, I hopped on. “Whatcha doin’?” I’d asked when she looked at me as if I were the one with the dirty bare feet, the mud-streaked
face, the ripped skirt, and hair barely restrained in four ponytails. I scooted into the center of the merry-go-round where
the pull of the spin was less fierce.

“Spinning,” she replied.

“Why?” I braced myself as she started to run.

“It feels a-maz-ing.” She jumped onto the merry-go-round and held on for dear life. She let the force pull her away.

“It makes me dizzy.” I only felt the tight rotation at the center.

“Yeah,” she said, hopping off. “I love it.” She fell to the grass laughing. I waited until the merry-go-round stopped and
slowly walked over to her.

“Lie down and close your eyes.” She patted the grass next to her. She didn’t know who my dad was and didn’t care that the
rest of the kids kept their distance. “You can still feel it.”

I laid down and closed my eyes. I felt wild and dizzy, but it wasn’t from the merry-go-round. That was from Sanna.

Sanna is slowly spinning on the merry-go-round, smoking a cigarette, creating a halo of smoke. This is the only way I ever
know Sanna is anxious. She’s a stress smoker. One foot is tucked under her and the other bare foot lazily pushes the ground
away.

“So,” I say as she circles by. My feelings for Braydon have changed everything. Even if she doesn’t understand it, she feels
it.

“So,” she repeats when she comes around again. She flicks her cigarette to the ground.

“Where is everyone?” I say, and check my watch.

She digs her heel in the dirt and the spinning stops. She’s facing away from me. I sit down on the opposite side of the merry-go-round
facing away from her. The wood and the metal feel less solid than when I was a kid. The wooden plank seems to sag under my
weight.

“Nev.” I hear the click of her lighter and her deep inhale and exhale. “It’s over.”

My heart stops. Did she break up with Braydon?

“Our rebellion,” she whispers the words.

“What?”

“Everyone’s heard about your interrogation. They know you are working for the government. And… Nicoline’s… you know… no one’s
seen her since you and she…”

I slowly sidestep, stretching one leg wide and bringing my legs together. We turn slowly. I can hear Sanna’s feet
responding, sliding in the dirt and gravel beneath our feet. My face cuts through her cloud of smoke. “I know. That’s what
I was going to tell you. She’s gone. They’ve taken her somewhere. She’s missing. Missing just like your dad and my grandma
and… when everyone gets here… I’ll tell them. We’ll think of something…. We can…” My thoughts are coming faster and faster.
I can’t speak quickly enough to get everything out. I’ve got to make her understand. We are spinning faster.

“Nev.” She digs her heels in and stops the merry-go-round. “You’re not listening to me. Everyone thinks… well… Nic’s gone
and you’re here…”

I can’t believe what she’s implying. They think I’m the enemy. “I didn’t have anything to do with Nicoline’s disappearance.”
I kick at the dirt. “No more than you did.”

“I know that, but they’re scared,” she says softly, defeated. I hear her grind her cigarette out. “I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too, but we’ve got to do something.” Even though the merry-go-round has stopped, I still feel as if I’m spinning.
“Did you tell them it’s more important than ever that we fight back? Any one of us could be next. Have you heard of something
called a Women’s Empowerment Center? What does that mean? My dad has a secret room—I haven’t told you that yet. There’s got
to be something in there…” I ramble on and on and on because my secrets are eating away at me. “Maybe we should try to find
Nicoline, but I don’t know how.” I put my head in my hands. “And not just Nicoline. Effie’s missing too. They say she was
working to undermine the government. Effie! Maybe she
knows something. If Effie’s working against the government—straitlaced, by-the-book Effie—then certainly we…” I grind my palms
into my eyes, trying to make everything stop. “I can’t stand by until everyone I love is missing, can I? ’Cause that’s what
it feels like.”

Sanna stands and my side of the merry-go-round sinks even lower. Someone is tugging at the merry-go-round, trying to make
it spin. I lift my feet but keep my eyes shut tight. I rotate toward Sanna.

“Nev,” she says softly. When I open my eyes, Sanna is now flanked by Braydon and Ethan. I close my eyes. This can’t be happening.

They know. They all know. That’s all I can think when I see the three of them lined up in front of me. My boyfriend who wants
to be my husband. My best friend who has finally found love. And the love of her life, Braydon, who I can’t stop thinking
about. The three of them stare down at me. My eyes flick to Braydon. He’s wearing a pressed white shirt and tight black jeans.
His long hair is smoothed away from his face. I lower my gaze and focus on their feet—Ethan’s dingy tennis shoes, Sanna’s
bare feet, and Braydon’s red pointy-toed boots.