Angela. She is joining our group. And what do you do now?’
She looks around and I groan internally, remembering my first day here. It was Tori who rolled her eyes and told everyone to introduce themselves, all sarcastic. Then Ben came late.
The memory catches inside. Jumps like a stone skipping on water. I can see him, dashing through the door. Shorts and a long T-shirt, clinging to him from running. Always running. I sigh.
‘Kyla?’
Penny walks over, concern in her eyes. ‘Are you all right, dear?’ she says.
‘Sorry, just faded out a moment.’ She checks my levels, raises an eyebrow when she sees they are fine at 5.8. She goes back to the front.
I give myself a shake inside. Neither smile too wide, nor sink into misery. Stay level is what I am really saying. What all Slateds must do, though it isn’t the same for me any more.
Penny is smiling at the new girl, whose grin is even wider. She looks so happy, she is in no danger of ever blacking out from low levels like I used to sometimes. The rest of them, too: they all look too happy. Happy the Lorders caught them, stopped them doing or saying whatever it was that wasn’t liked. I glance across the open, blissful faces. Were any of them real criminals like they were supposed to be? Murderers, or terrorists. Like me. They’re so happy, do they even care what they once were? If my Slating had worked like it was supposed to, I’d be smiling along with the rest of them.
I’d be happy, too.
I jump as a warm hand squeezes my shoulder. Penny. ‘Can you answer my question?’ she chides.
‘Ah…’
‘Why are we here?’
‘It’s our second chance?’
‘Exactly, Kyla.’
I do have a second chance – not the one she means. She doesn’t know I’ve come back, that the Lorders failed. My Slating failed. I hold the knowledge tight inside, a small knot of satisfaction deep in my guts.
Back to addressing the group, Penny tells us that today, we’re going to play some games. She opens a trunk, takes out draughts, cards and other board games. There is an odd number of us and she decides she and I will make a pair. Keeping an eye on me still?
‘Have you played any of these before?’ she asks, and I look in the trunk to see what else is there.
‘Most of them. I like chess. I used to play it, late at night at the hospital: a Watcher taught me.’
She takes the chess box out, hands it to me to set up while she checks on everyone else. The box is inlaid wood; it opens and the pieces are nested inside, one set in light wood, one in dark. I take them out, then line them up on the board. Rooks in corners, then knights, bishops, king and queen. The long row of pawns in front, lined up and expendable. Though with the right strategy, the right game, a pawn can make the difference.
Penny returns, and pulls a chair across so we can play.
My hand is drawn to one of my rooks: I pick it up. A castle , something says inside. You used to call it a castle.
No. I frown. The Watcher – bored, stuck babysitting me late at night when I was having nightmares – taught me to play. Taught me the correct names for each piece, their moves, and was surprised how quick I learned. By the time I left the hospital I even won sometimes.
‘Kyla?’ Penny looks at me curiously.
I give myself an internal shake, put the chess piece back into its square. We begin.
‘Good night?’ Mum asks.
‘All right.’ She looks at me still, wanting more. ‘We played chess, Penny and I.’
‘Who won?’
‘She did.’
I didn’t play at my best. I kept having this weird feeling as I touched the pieces. Something right in the way they felt in my hands. I kept wanting to pick them up, run my fingers over corners and rounded edges, to pick out the shapes of each by touch alone.
I fake a yawn. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to turn in.’
But up in my room my brain is jumping.
My second chance, but not as the Lorders mean. My second chance with Free UK. To strike at the Lorders.
Yet…what
She looks around and I groan internally, remembering my first day here. It was Tori who rolled her eyes and told everyone to introduce themselves, all sarcastic. Then Ben came late.
The memory catches inside. Jumps like a stone skipping on water. I can see him, dashing through the door. Shorts and a long T-shirt, clinging to him from running. Always running. I sigh.
‘Kyla?’
Penny walks over, concern in her eyes. ‘Are you all right, dear?’ she says.
‘Sorry, just faded out a moment.’ She checks my levels, raises an eyebrow when she sees they are fine at 5.8. She goes back to the front.
I give myself a shake inside. Neither smile too wide, nor sink into misery. Stay level is what I am really saying. What all Slateds must do, though it isn’t the same for me any more.
Penny is smiling at the new girl, whose grin is even wider. She looks so happy, she is in no danger of ever blacking out from low levels like I used to sometimes. The rest of them, too: they all look too happy. Happy the Lorders caught them, stopped them doing or saying whatever it was that wasn’t liked. I glance across the open, blissful faces. Were any of them real criminals like they were supposed to be? Murderers, or terrorists. Like me. They’re so happy, do they even care what they once were? If my Slating had worked like it was supposed to, I’d be smiling along with the rest of them.
I’d be happy, too.
I jump as a warm hand squeezes my shoulder. Penny. ‘Can you answer my question?’ she chides.
‘Ah…’
‘Why are we here?’
‘It’s our second chance?’
‘Exactly, Kyla.’
I do have a second chance – not the one she means. She doesn’t know I’ve come back, that the Lorders failed. My Slating failed. I hold the knowledge tight inside, a small knot of satisfaction deep in my guts.
Back to addressing the group, Penny tells us that today, we’re going to play some games. She opens a trunk, takes out draughts, cards and other board games. There is an odd number of us and she decides she and I will make a pair. Keeping an eye on me still?
‘Have you played any of these before?’ she asks, and I look in the trunk to see what else is there.
‘Most of them. I like chess. I used to play it, late at night at the hospital: a Watcher taught me.’
She takes the chess box out, hands it to me to set up while she checks on everyone else. The box is inlaid wood; it opens and the pieces are nested inside, one set in light wood, one in dark. I take them out, then line them up on the board. Rooks in corners, then knights, bishops, king and queen. The long row of pawns in front, lined up and expendable. Though with the right strategy, the right game, a pawn can make the difference.
Penny returns, and pulls a chair across so we can play.
My hand is drawn to one of my rooks: I pick it up. A castle , something says inside. You used to call it a castle.
No. I frown. The Watcher – bored, stuck babysitting me late at night when I was having nightmares – taught me to play. Taught me the correct names for each piece, their moves, and was surprised how quick I learned. By the time I left the hospital I even won sometimes.
‘Kyla?’ Penny looks at me curiously.
I give myself an internal shake, put the chess piece back into its square. We begin.
‘Good night?’ Mum asks.
‘All right.’ She looks at me still, wanting more. ‘We played chess, Penny and I.’
‘Who won?’
‘She did.’
I didn’t play at my best. I kept having this weird feeling as I touched the pieces. Something right in the way they felt in my hands. I kept wanting to pick them up, run my fingers over corners and rounded edges, to pick out the shapes of each by touch alone.
I fake a yawn. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to turn in.’
But up in my room my brain is jumping.
My second chance, but not as the Lorders mean. My second chance with Free UK. To strike at the Lorders.
Yet…what
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