realization weighs him down.
“It’s not enough,” I say, turning back to my work.
“No,” Vick agrees.
I’ve tried not to really see the other decoys but I have. One has a bruised face. Another has freckles who looks enough like the boy we put in the river that I wonder if they were brothers, but I never asked and I never will. All of them wear ill-fitting plainclothes and fancy coats to keep them warm while they wait to die.
“What’s your real name?” Vick asks me suddenly.
“Ky is my real name,” I tell him.
“But what’s your full name?”
I pause for a minute as it flashes across my mind for the first time in years. Ky Finnow. That was my name then.
“Roberts,” Vick says, impatient with my hesitation. “That’s my last name. Vick Roberts.”
“Markham,” I tell him. “Ky Markham.” Because that’s the name she knows me by. That’s my real name now.
Still, my other name sounded right, too, when I said it in my mind. Finnow . The name I shared with my father and mother.
I look over at the decoys gathering rocks. Part of me likes the sense of purpose in their movements and knowing that I helped them feel better for even a little while. But deep down I know that all I’ve done is throw them a scrap. They’re still going to starve.
CHAPTER 8
CASSIA
T he Society’s first order of business, as we all sit in the well-chilled air and shiver, is to promise us coats. “Before the Society, when the Warming happened, things changed in the Outer Provinces,” the Official tells us. “It gets cold, but not as cold as it once did. It’s still possible to freeze at night, but if you wear the coats, you’ll be fine.”
The Outer Provinces, then. It’s certain. The other girls, even Indie, look straight ahead; they don’t blink. Some of them shake more than others.
“This is no different from any other work camp assignment,” the Official says into our silence. “We need you to plant a crop. Cotton, actually. We want the Enemy to think that this part of the country is still occupied and viable. It’s a strategic action on the part of the Society.”
“It’s true then? There’s a war with the Enemy?” one of the girls asks.
The Official laughs. “Not much of one. The Society is solidly in power. But the Enemy is unpredictable. We need them to think the Outer Provinces are well-populated and thriving. And the Society doesn’t want any one group to bear the burden of living out there too long. So they’ve implemented a six-month rotation program. As soon as your time is up, you’ll come back, as Citizens.”
None of this is true, I think, even though it seems that you believe it is.
“Now,” he says, gesturing at the two Officers who aren’t piloting the ship. “They will take you behind that curtain, search you, and give you your standard-issue attire. Including the coats.”
They’re going to search us. Now.
I’m not the first girl called back. Frantic, I try to find a place to hide the tablets, but I can’t see a spot. The Society-made landscape of the air ship is all slick smooth surfaces, no nooks and crannies. Even our seats are hard and smooth, the belts strapping us in simple and tight. There’s nowhere to put the tablets.
“Something to hide?” Indie whispers to me.
“Yes,” I say. Why lie?
“Me too,” she whispers. “I’ll take yours. You take mine when it’s my turn.”
I open my bag and slide out the package of tablets. Before I can do anything more, Indie—quick even in her handlocks—palms it. What will she do next? What does she need to hide and how will she reach it with her hands cuffed like that?
I don’t have time to see. “Next,” the brown-haired Officer calls out, pointing to me.
Don’t look back at Indie, I tell myself. Don’t give anything away.
Back behind the curtain, I have to strip down to my underclothes, while the Officer searches the pockets of my old brown plainclothes. She hands me a new set of
“It’s not enough,” I say, turning back to my work.
“No,” Vick agrees.
I’ve tried not to really see the other decoys but I have. One has a bruised face. Another has freckles who looks enough like the boy we put in the river that I wonder if they were brothers, but I never asked and I never will. All of them wear ill-fitting plainclothes and fancy coats to keep them warm while they wait to die.
“What’s your real name?” Vick asks me suddenly.
“Ky is my real name,” I tell him.
“But what’s your full name?”
I pause for a minute as it flashes across my mind for the first time in years. Ky Finnow. That was my name then.
“Roberts,” Vick says, impatient with my hesitation. “That’s my last name. Vick Roberts.”
“Markham,” I tell him. “Ky Markham.” Because that’s the name she knows me by. That’s my real name now.
Still, my other name sounded right, too, when I said it in my mind. Finnow . The name I shared with my father and mother.
I look over at the decoys gathering rocks. Part of me likes the sense of purpose in their movements and knowing that I helped them feel better for even a little while. But deep down I know that all I’ve done is throw them a scrap. They’re still going to starve.
CHAPTER 8
CASSIA
T he Society’s first order of business, as we all sit in the well-chilled air and shiver, is to promise us coats. “Before the Society, when the Warming happened, things changed in the Outer Provinces,” the Official tells us. “It gets cold, but not as cold as it once did. It’s still possible to freeze at night, but if you wear the coats, you’ll be fine.”
The Outer Provinces, then. It’s certain. The other girls, even Indie, look straight ahead; they don’t blink. Some of them shake more than others.
“This is no different from any other work camp assignment,” the Official says into our silence. “We need you to plant a crop. Cotton, actually. We want the Enemy to think that this part of the country is still occupied and viable. It’s a strategic action on the part of the Society.”
“It’s true then? There’s a war with the Enemy?” one of the girls asks.
The Official laughs. “Not much of one. The Society is solidly in power. But the Enemy is unpredictable. We need them to think the Outer Provinces are well-populated and thriving. And the Society doesn’t want any one group to bear the burden of living out there too long. So they’ve implemented a six-month rotation program. As soon as your time is up, you’ll come back, as Citizens.”
None of this is true, I think, even though it seems that you believe it is.
“Now,” he says, gesturing at the two Officers who aren’t piloting the ship. “They will take you behind that curtain, search you, and give you your standard-issue attire. Including the coats.”
They’re going to search us. Now.
I’m not the first girl called back. Frantic, I try to find a place to hide the tablets, but I can’t see a spot. The Society-made landscape of the air ship is all slick smooth surfaces, no nooks and crannies. Even our seats are hard and smooth, the belts strapping us in simple and tight. There’s nowhere to put the tablets.
“Something to hide?” Indie whispers to me.
“Yes,” I say. Why lie?
“Me too,” she whispers. “I’ll take yours. You take mine when it’s my turn.”
I open my bag and slide out the package of tablets. Before I can do anything more, Indie—quick even in her handlocks—palms it. What will she do next? What does she need to hide and how will she reach it with her hands cuffed like that?
I don’t have time to see. “Next,” the brown-haired Officer calls out, pointing to me.
Don’t look back at Indie, I tell myself. Don’t give anything away.
Back behind the curtain, I have to strip down to my underclothes, while the Officer searches the pockets of my old brown plainclothes. She hands me a new set of
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