Blemished, The (10 page)

“C
oncentrate on the pencil again, Mina,” Dad said, pacing the basement. “After we’ve done this I’ll teach you how to box.”

“What do you know about boxing?” I scorned.

“You’d be surprised,” he said with an infuriating smile. “I used to be rather good at it when I was your age. Your Grandfather put me forward for a few amateur fights.”

“Something else I didn’t know about you,” I mumbled into my tunic sleeve. I was sat cross legged on the floor of the basement with the pencil inches from my knees.

“What did you say?”

“Oh! Nothing,” I replied. Instead I let the anger of my dad’s lies take over. The pencil flew into the air, hovering a few feet above my head.

“That’s it! Good!” Dad exclaimed. “No, direct it. Make it float towards the wall. You have to concentrate hard now, imagine it moving. You need to visualise it.”

I concentrated hard on the pencil, imagining it moving towards the wall. I memorised the room and closed my eyes, focussing on the picture in my head, seeing the pencil fly through the air like a paper aeroplane.

“You’re doing it!” Dad clapped his hands together. “Mina, that is really quite incredible.”

I opened my eyes and the pencil dropped to the floor. “Didn’t quite make it to the wall,” I said.

“No, but you were focussed and you
directed
it. Do you know what that means?”

I shook my head.

“It means that you are beginning to control your gift. And that makes you even more powerful.”

I didn’t feel powerful. Not after standing back and watching Emily taken away. Not after collapsing in the Slums. Not after stupidly agreeing to meet a GEM when I shouldn’t even talk to him. I felt weak.

“I have to say,” he continued as he removed boxing gloves from a high shelf. He groaned slightly as he reached, reminding me of his age, “you are much more accomplished at this than I thought you were going to be. Have you been using your power?”

I didn’t answer and instead looked at the floor.

“I won’t be mad, Mina. As long as you are careful.”

“I used to practic
e in the woods,” I admitted. “But I was not very good and most of the time it didn’t even work.” It was all true, I just left out the parts from school and in the Slums – well if he could miss out vital bits of information I could too.

“Whatever you did has laid the groundwork for our training very well.” He tossed me the boxing gloves. “Now, let’s have a go at boxing. I think you will enjoy it very much.”

I pulled the gloves on unenthusiastically and made my way over to the punch bag. “What do I do?” I said with a sneer. “Just hit it? Doesn’t seem to need much skill.”

Dad raised his finger as though I had prompted an interesting point. I imagined him doing this to his students and wondered if they’d found it as tempting to test out a pair of boxing gloves on his chin.

“Punching a bag – maybe. But! Becoming a boxer does require skill. Going against an opponent takes up not just physical strength but mental strength too. Now, first we’re going to start with the punching. Bend your elbow, yes… that’s right. A little more… now move your arm away from your torso…”

I punched the bag as hard as I could, Dad, holding the bag from the other side, was almost knocked over. “How was that?” I asked cockily.

He sighed. “Is there something the matter, Mina?”

My cheeks reddened. I wasn’t ready to confront him yet. “No. Nothing.”

“You’ve been sullen ever since you came home from Angela’s. Did you have a falling out?” He looked at me with such concern that I felt my bravado slip.

“No,” I said. I sighed and relented. “Now, teach me how to be a boxer.”

*

I trained with my dad all weekend. Despite everything that happened in the Slums I really enjoyed boxing and I enjoyed his company even
more. It was for that reason I didn’t mention the Resistance meeting. Soon it was Sunday afternoon and all I could think about was Sebastian. I’d memorised the time and place and I told Dad I was meeting Angela – I no longer felt guilty about lying to him.

He’d told me the address of a small coffee shop in the centre of town and I approached cautiously.
The Blemished were not banned from the affluent areas of our small town centre but most of us stuck to the market to buy and sell from our own people where we were comfortable. We rarely went into GEM owned shops, like the Café Sebastian directed me to.

It sat between a butchers and a delicatessen. It was small and quaint and Sebastian sat in the window, smiling, which relaxed me. I opened the door tentatively and went inside. The teller behind the counter stared at me and I froze
, bracing myself for abuse, or derision and scorn, or all three, but instead he simply nodded in greeting.

He turned to Sebastian and raised his eyebrows. “Back room?”

“No, we’re fine here,” Sebastian answered firmly. Then he turned to me. “What would you like to drink? Do you want to sit down?”

“I don’t know, and yes,” I said. I smiled and tried to move nonchalantly over to a chair as though I went to Cafés all the time. Instead I tripped on my tunic and Sebastian stood to help me sit. I settled in the chair and glanced around, looking for people staring. The Café was empty. “You choose for me.”

Sebastian smiled and turned to leave but I stopped him by putting my hand on his arm – a bold move for a Blemished girl. I immediately regretted it and pulled away but Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. “Why did he ask if we wanted to go into the back?”

Sebastian hesitated. He seemed reluctant to explain. “There are GEMs who fall in love with Blemished girls. It is a safe place for them here.”

I gasped. “Did you think––?”

“No!” Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Of course not. I wouldn’t
. Don’t worry. You and I are not doing anything wrong, which is why we don’t need to hide. We’re just two friends getting to know each other.”

I suddenly felt cold and very small. “Yes. Friends.” I forced a smile.

Sebastian left for the counter, chatted amiably with the teller, and after a machine made hissing noises, came back with a large mug of something hot and steamy. He placed it down in front of me. All I could see was a caramel coloured creamy froth with something brown sprinkled on top.

“I brought you a Mocha,” he said triumphantly. “It’s coffee flavoured with chocolate.”

The only coffee I drank came out of a jar and left a bitter after taste. This was different. It was sweet, thick and the froth tickled my nose.

Sebastian broke into a fit of laughter and I frowned. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing… it’s just…” He laughed again. “Lean forward.”

I obeyed and he reached towards me, wiping something from my nose with his thumb. As he did so I happened to glance out of the window to see a red haired woman staring back. She had a face like thunder, eyes glaring with hatred. I knew her. It was my teacher – Mrs Murgatroyd – Murder-Troll. She looked straight at me, holding my gaze without blinking. Her lips sneered back. The hair on my arms stood on end. My heart quickened. I blinked away and she was gone.

“This is a mistake,” I said breathlessly. “I should not be here.” I went to stand up but Sebastian grabbed hold of my arm.

“Wait. What’s wrong?” He asked. “Is it because you saw your teacher? It doesn’t matter, you kn
ow. We’re not in school. We aren’t doing anything wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You don’t understand,” I pleaded. “It’s okay for you. You’re not the one who has to wear this.” I tore at my headscarf. “You’re not the one whose friend is taken away from you because she’s having a baby. You don’t live in ghettos and get treated like second class citizens… no, not even that. We aren’t even citizens, we’re
Blemished
.” My legs began to shake and I felt a tingle in my fingers, the table top bounced a fraction, spilling the mochas. “Don’t you see? We can never be friends. I can’t even look at you. We
are
doing something wrong. This… this is all wrong. I can’t be here.”

I fled from the café. Sebastian called after me but I didn’t stop.

I
couldn’t decide what I was the most upset about: Mrs Murgatroyd seeing us through the glass, embarrassing myself so completely, Sebastian calling me a
friend
or my own stupidity for agreeing to meet him in the first place.

Why did I even care? It wasn’t like there could be any future between us. No relationship between a Blemished and a GEM ended well. We weren’t supposed to mix. It was illegal for a start. I stomped through the town, ignoring the market sellers, the giggling GEM girls and the low murmur of electric cars. I was so blinkered to the world that I walked straight into Elena Darcey, knocking us both to the ground.

She picked herself up, dusting the dirt from her pretty denim dress, and I clambered to my feet with a lot less grace. I nodded as if to apologise and went to walk away but she stopped me.

“Wait, Mina,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said curtly without meeting her eyes.

She moved in front of me, blocking my path and for a moment I thought she was about to start bullying me again. But instead she reached into her handbag, a small pastel pink clutch bag, and pulled out a packet of tissues. “You’re crying.”

“I am?” Confused, I reached up and touched the skin beneath my eyes to find them damp. She was right. I took the tissues and dabbed my eyes. “I didn’t realise.”

“I do that too, sometimes,” she said. And then she smiled at me. It was a genuine smile, not the kind of sneer I was used too, and her eyes lit up.

“Thank you,” I said.

“No problem, Blem,” she said. The insult didn’t feel like an insult this time, more like a nickname. There was affection behind it. Her Plan-It bleeped and words flashed over her eyes. “Oh! Gotta go!”

I stared as she walked away, the tissue crumpled in my fingers. Just when I thought I understood the world and the way things worked, something changed my mind. Before Area 14 I understood that I was Blemished and the GEMs were more important. I understood that I was here to serve them and not to be their friends or their girl-friends. I’d been happy to resent them, even hate them. But now I liked two GEMs. I liked Sebastian and I wanted to know more about him. I even liked Elena and could see us as friends in another life. The lines were blurring. The world was confusing. I went home with thoughts buzzing through my mind.

*

Walking into school on Monday morning I tried to focus on Sebastian’s words. I repeated over and over in my mind – I didn’t do anything wrong. We were not in school. We were just two friends talking. We hadn’t broken any laws. We were just friends. It kept my feet walking.

But then I thought of
her
at the glass and it made me want to turn back and run for my bed. I closed my eyes and saw the sneer and all my reassurance disappeared. I took a deep breath as I entered the school gates, dreading the day ahead. 

“Hey, Mina.” Angela greeted me at the lockers.

I forced a smile. “Hey.”

Monday mornings meant Sex Education
, which was the only class we needed textbooks for. Angela and I opened our lockers side by side in the long hallway and pulled out books on genetics.

“It seems quiet today,” Angela said, slamming her locker shut. She cringed at the noise.

“I guess it’s the first day back since Emily was… taken,” I replied. “Poor Billie. She must have had the weekend from hell.”

We made our way down the hallway and a heavy nausea grew in my stomach. I tried to ignore it and think about Emily instead. My suffering was nothing in comparison.

“Are you okay?” Angela said as we made our way into the classroom. “You had quite a weekend yourself.”

Angela didn’t know about my meeting with Sebastian yet so I presumed she was talking about my dad. “I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it later in gardening, I promise.”

I was shocked to see Billie in class. She didn’t say a word to any of the students, or Mrs Murgatroyd. Her eyes were ringed with angry red skin and she looked smaller somehow, thinner already. I wanted to console her, but I didn’t know how.

Once everyone was seated the lesson began. Mrs Murgatroyd’s eyes lingered on me before she addressed the rest of the
class. She wore a tight suit ensemble with a grey jacket and pencil skirt. The bland colour contrasted starkly with her red curls.

“What hell has Murder-Troll got in store for us today?” Angela mumbled next to me. I didn’t laugh.

“Open your books to page 150, please,” the teacher instructed. She stalked the classroom like a hunter stalks the jungle.

I opened my book and tried to shake away the bad feeling in my stomach. At the top of the book, underlined, was the heading
Faulty Genes
. I suppressed a laugh and thought how typical of the Ministry not just to remind us we were Blemished but to underline it and put it in bold.

“Obesity. Diabetes. Deformities. Mental illness.” Mrs Murgatroyd listed the ailments slowly and deliberately – taking pleasure from them. “All human afflictions that can be cured through cloning. All of these are human afflictions in
your
genes.” Her high-heels clicked towards me. She ran her finger along the edge of my desk, so close to my arm that I shivered. “This is why it is illegal for any of you to pass on your genes.”

She moved to the front of the classroom and turned toward
s us all. I hesitantly glanced at Billie, in disbelief that Mrs Murgatroyd was broaching this subject just days after Emily’s ordeal.

“Let me tell you all a story,” she continued, “a story about a world where everyone is beautiful and healthy. There are enough resources for everyone. The world is no longer crowded. Every single person in this story has the right to exist, to be happy and share their happiness with children.”

Billie’s face was a mask of anguish. She sat up straight and stared through Mrs Murgatroyd at the whiteboard behind her. She had not even opened her textbook.

“This is why your sacrifice is so important,” Mrs Murgatroyd continued her story. “When you take the Operation you stop the world being full of people like you – Blemished by your genes. Your very existence stops the story becoming true. You see…
when you die, so do all the nasty things in the world. People won’t get sick anymore. They will live long lives together. They will have an appropriate number of offspring. Everything will be
perfect
.” She almost breathed the last word.

Mrs Murgatroyd clapped her hands together. “Now girls – I want you to learn how you behave around other boys,
especially
,” this time she looked straight at me and I quivered, “GEM boys.”

She wrenched her eyes away from me and turned to the whiteboard. With a black marker pen and in large, capital letters, Mrs Murgatroyd wrote:

NO EYE CONTACT

DO NOT TALK

DO NOT TOUCH

DO NOT REVEAL YOUR HAIR

“Say them aloud,” she demanded.

All together we repeated the words on the whiteboard as though they were a prayer or a mantra. When we finished Mrs Murgatroyd made us say them again. I looked across at Billie and saw she had her head in her hands.

“None of you are special,” she said bitterly. “You need to stop believing that you are.” She flipped her hand dismissively. “Take a break before canteen duty. Miss Hart, I want to see you.”

Angela turned to me with wide eyes. “What did you do?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said hurriedly.

I handed her my textbook, she offered a sympathetic smile and disappeared from the classroom along with the rest of the girls. I was alone with Mrs Murgatroyd. I walked hesitantly to the front desk, feeling like a criminal about to be sentenced.

“Miss Hart,” she said as though I were an old friend. “Shall we take a walk in the grounds?”