Dark Parties (28 page)

“Sure.” Mom fusses around me, picking up the clothes that litter the floor. She strokes my hair when I pass her. She never
takes her eyes off me. We are bumping into each other as she shadows me. “You must be hungry,” she says when we collide again.
“I’ll get you some food to take with you.” I couldn’t eat a thing, but I know she wants to keep busy. I can’t take her sad
eyes watching me. It’s hard enough without seeing the hurt I’m causing. She scurries out of the room.

First I strip out of Braydon’s clothes. I find scissors in my desk and rip his shirt in half and half again. I want to shred
his clothes until they are only a pile of thread. Then I want to burn the thread and flush the ashes. My anger is building
on itself. I want to scream. I stare at myself in the mirror. My body is battered and bruised, but it’s nothing compared the
wounds I can’t see. The wounds that will never heal. For a fleeting moment, I think maybe I could stay, but I can’t. Braydon
has orders to turn me in. The government wants to make an example of me and Sanna. The police are probably looking for us.
If I want to survive, I have to leave Homeland forever.

I’ve got to make it to the Capitol Complex by midnight.

I dress quickly. I dig out my journal from the mattress. I kneel by my bed as if reciting my bedtime prayers. God bless Grandma
and Mommy and Daddy and Sanna. That was my order of things. I think it bothered Dad that Grandma got top billing, but she
was the one who helped me memorize that awful prayer: Now I lay me down to
sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

One night I told Grandma I didn’t want to say the prayer anymore.

“Why not?” she asked; we both stared at our hands, which were clasped together in prayer.

I pressed my lips against the edge of my hands and mumbled, “ ’Cause I don’t like the death part.”

“I don’t like the death part either,” she said, looking heavenward. “Let’s see.” Her eyes seemed to search the ceiling for
something and then the edges of her lips twitched in a wicked smile.

“Now I lay me down to snore,” she started. “Make tomorrow not a bore. Give me laughter, song, and smile. And keep me safe
all the while.”

I press my forehead into the journal’s rough cover and repeat that prayer.

I flip through the pages, stroking each one, until I come to the end of The Missing. I flatten the next blank page. I write
my name and Sanna’s in bold, black capital letters. I retrace each line. I write today’s date and in the final column I write:
“I love you, Mom!” I pause and try to think of something more. I want to tell her I’m sorry and that I hope I don’t get her
in trouble. She has been living a second life for some time, not the recycled kind like her mother did, but a fresh new path
she’s created for herself.

“Nev?”

I gasp at the sound of my name, even though it’s barely spoken. Sanna is standing in the doorway. Her fuzzy hair
creates a ragged halo around her face. She’s staring at me with blank eyes. I close my journal and tuck it under my shirt.

“I woke up and you were gone.” Her tone is flat and her face registers no emotion. She blinks once, twice.

“I’m just picking up a few things.” I go to her side. “Why don’t you meet me back in the van?” I cradle her elbow and try
to steer her out of the room, but it’s as if Sanna’s body is here, but she’s somewhere else.

Jane makes a soft sucking sound and stirs in her crib. The noise seems to draw Sanna back. “What’s that?” She walks over to
the crib.

“That’s Jane,” I say.

She leans over the crib and gently strokes Jane’s back. She’s transfixed by the baby.

I’m almost annoyed at the interruption. “Stay here for a second. I’ll be right back.”

I slip into my parents’ room. I head straight for Mom’s dresser. It’s solid oak, a hand-me-down from her mother. The scratches
from decades of use blend with the wood’s grain to make it somehow appear more solid. I open the top drawer and slip the journal
underneath my mom’s beige cotton panties. At the bottom of the drawer I see a hint of color—something red and pink that reminds
me of fingernail polish. As I cover the journal in a pile of beige cotton, I can’t help but expose the two colorful items—lacy
underwear. My mom has two pairs of lacy panties, and not the old-lady style with lace over a cotton brief. These are see-through
lace, cut high to expose the curve of the hip. I’m
not sure I want to think of my mother wearing sexy underwear. How did she ever get her hands on these anyway? Another mystery
about my mother I will not get to solve. I put them back where I found them. I thought she was beige cotton underwear and
now I know underneath that frumpy mom camouflage, she’s lacy pink bikinis.

When I get back to my room, Sanna’s cuddling Jane in her arms. She’s swaying the same way my mother did and humming a tuneless
lullaby. Her eyes are fixed on something far, far away.

“I know what they did to me,” she says, not looking at me, not looking at anything. “They examined me. They said I was ready.”
She half laughs. “Just my luck, huh, Nev? Captured in perfect time.” She’s still swaying. “They strapped me on one of those
butterfly tables.”

I know what she means. I shiver at the thought of that examination table, which held my legs open, like butterfly wings.

“I knew what they were doing and I couldn’t stop them.” She kisses Jane and gently lays the sleeping baby back in her crib.
“I can feel it there, growing.” She presses her hand into her abdomen.

I take a step toward her. “I’m going to get you out of here.” I move closer. “We’re leaving Homeland forever.”

She looks directly at me as if she’s trying to take it all in. “What about Braydon?”

“Braydon’s not coming.” I swallow with the effort it takes to say his name. She’s got to know the truth. “Braydon is working
for the government.”

She nods, unphased, as if she’s known it all along.

“Sanna, Braydon’s got orders to turn us in. The government wants to make examples of us.”

She squints and studies my face but doesn’t say anything.

“We’ve got to leave tonight.” I reach to put my arm around her, but she moves away.

“I can’t go.” She wraps her arms protectively around her stomach.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? The police are looking for us. We can’t stay here.”

“She’s right,” Mom says, stepping into the room and handing me a brown paper bag. “For later.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She hooks one arm around me and one around Sanna. “You both need to go.”

Sanna curls into my mom. “I’m not going.”

Mom and I glance at each other and then at Sanna. Sanna straightens herself and steps free. “I said I’m not going.” With her
tear-stained cheeks, she looks as innocent as Jane. “Let them make an example of me.” She tugs at the tail of her shirt. “Let
everyone see what they’ve done to me.”

“But—” I stammer. I can see a flicker of the old Sanna glowing in her eyes. “Then I’m staying too.”

“No,” Sanna and Mom say almost in unison.

“But—” I try again. Sanna stops me.

“Nev, don’t end up like me. Go find out what’s out there.” She lifts her gaze skyward.

“I can’t leave you. Not like this.” I shrug off Mom’s embrace.

“You’ve got to, my precious girl,” Mom says, and strokes my hair. “I’ll take care of Sanna.”

“We’ll be a team again,” Sanna adds. “You on the outside and us on the inside.”

I wrap my arms around them both. I have no intention of going. Not now. I cling to them and sob uncontrollably in my mom’s
shoulder. If they can stay and fight, so can I.

“Neva.” My mom’s voice is cold. “Neva, you must listen to me.” She holds me at arms length. “You have to go. If Sanna is pregnant,
the government won’t hurt her. But if you stay you will endure much worse than Sanna.”

My reality dissolves. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay, and I can’t leave.

“Nev,” Sanna says softly. “Do this for us? You aren’t leaving us. You’re giving us hope.”

My vision is blurred with tears. A new plan begins to take shape. If I can make it out alive, then I can save them too. I’ll
find a way to come back. This isn’t good-bye.

After I leave my house, I drive into the City. I’m not sure I can do this. But it’s not just for me. I have to be strong for
Mom and Sanna. I ditch the van on an abandoned, dead-end street and zigzag through the City. My reality has shifted, and I’m
amazed that life is playing out around me as usual. Even though I try to act casual and blend in, I’m surprised people can’t
see the change in me.

I never stop moving, not for one second. I play hide-and-seek with a few policemen, but it’s approaching midnight and the
capitol seems empty. Thomas said most of the police
and Border Patrol would be guarding the border during the renovation.

The bells of the clock tower begin their out-of-tune melody. It’s midnight and I’m hidden among the wreckage of the Capitol
Complex. I wander out from my hiding place and take a look around. Even though I don’t see anyone, I feel as if I’m being
watched. The shadows seem to move and form new shapes. The last time I was here was when Ethan was arrested. I can still see
him smiling down at me from the top of the rubble. Everything has changed since then. If he wasn’t arrested. If we never had
a Dark Party. But all those what-ifs led to this moment and the truth.

I turn in a slow circle, searching for a signal or a sign. Suddenly a dark figure emerges from the wreckage. The person is
wearing a baseball cap pulled down to shadow his face. I have to look hard to see the outline of a body. It almost blends
in with the surroundings. He waves me over. I walk forward, stopping a few times to look over my shoulder.

“Are you Thomas’s friend?” the person asks when I am within arm’s reach.

I nod.

“Identity mark.”

“It’s a snowflake tattoo. Here.” I press my hand into the valley between my stomach and hip.

“I must have visual confirmation.” He looks around and draws me deeper into the rubble.

Now I wish I’d made my mark easy to see. I step in closer and pull the waistband on my jeans low. I lean back so the moonlight
hits the spot on my skin.

“That’s fine.” He turns toward the heart of the collapsed building. “Follow me.” He’s weaving his way between the twisted
metal. He’s heading farther into the collapsed building. This could be a trap. “Come on,” he says when he notices I haven’t
moved.

I’ve come this far. What choice do I have? I can’t go back home, so I blindly follow this stranger. There’s no way out. I
don’t understand where he’s taking me. He slips through a gap between an old window frame and a steel beam. He raps three
times on the beam and the rubble behind the window slides aside. “Your guide will lead you though the tunnel.” The stranger
in the baseball cap steps aside and then walks away.

The only light sources are well behind me. My eyes adjust to the hazy gray as panic burrows down to my bones. I hear someone
coming toward me. “Say something so I can find you.” The voice is closer and deeper, definitely male.

“I’m right here,” I say. I wave my arms in front of me and am surprised when my fingertips brush a body.

“Okay. Follow me.” He finds my hand and places it on his shoulder. He takes off, accidentally kicking my shin. “Sorry.”

We take a few steps and I tread on his heels.

“Too close,” he says.

The space is pitch-black. I take a deep breath, keeping my fear at bay. I will not let the darkness rob me of my freedom and
Sanna’s hope.

We eventually get the hang of walking together. The walls are close. If I move an inch to the left or right, I’m scratched
by stone or metal. The darkness constricts. My skin is damp with sweat. I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the
other, but my breath comes faster and faster.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, shuffling behind him.

“Out the other side.” He half laughs.

“But how—”

“Do I see?” He finishes my sentence. “This is my domain. I know these tunnels better than I know the City streets.”

“I never knew there were tunnels in here,” I say breathlessly. My head swims as panic grabs hold.

“They’ve been here for years,” the guide says, his businesslike tone softening.

Don’t think about the dark. “Where do they lead?” I ask, and try to steady my breath.

“They tie into the old underground train systems so you can walk out of the City underground.”

“What?” Not only is there a tunnel through the ruins of the Capitol Complex, there were once underground trains.

“I forget they don’t teach you about that anymore.” His hair brushes across my hand. I think he’s shaking his head. “The government
erases so much of our real history.”

I know who erases it. There’s so much more my dad never told me, never told anyone. He’s not the Minister of Ancient History.
He’s the Minister of Invented History.

“How much farther?” I trip and let go of his shoulder for a minute. He grabs my hand and keeps me from falling.