Drowning in Deception (10 page)

A fresh, cold
glass of milk had been left on the little table beside her bed. Her mother
loved her and wanted to help her feel better. She knew this, so it came as a
shock to Clover that the gesture left her feeling angry. What if she didn't
want milk? What if she wanted orange juice instead? Why was it always assumed
that she would be happy with whatever she was given? She grabbed the glass and stalked
out of her room to the bathroom, where she emptied it down the sink. She was in
a foul mood, something completely out of character for her. She decided that
Rye's snarly attitude must be starting to rub off on her, so she hopped into
the shower with the hope of scrubbing it all away.

“Oh, Clover, are
you feeling better?” her mother asked when she finally emerged downstairs, hair
and make-up picture perfect.

She wasn't in
the mood for her mother's bright grins and sing-song voice. “Yes.”

“Well you don’t
look better,” Sprigg piped up from the couch.

Clover stuck her
tongue out at him.

“Can I get you
something to eat?”

“I'm not hungry.”

It wasn't so
long ago that she and Zander had spent most of their days together. And if they
hadn’t been together the entire day, they would see each other for a few hours,
at the very least. She rarely saw him anymore. This bothered her more than she
was accustomed to. Normally she would have shrugged and been content with the
knowledge that they loved each other, and that he was simply keeping busy. But
she wasn't content today. The bad mood had not been washed down the shower
drain. She couldn't remember ever having been in a really bad mood before.
Sure, there had been times when she was upset or angry, but she was always able
to easily wave it away, to reason it out, to make it all seem okay. She
suddenly needed, more than anything, to find Zander and find out what was going
on with him and Sera.

“Has Zander been
around?” Her words came out clipped and her mother narrowed her eyes
suspiciously.

“No, I haven't
seen Zander. Are you sure you're feeling okay?”

She reached up
to press a hand to Clover's forehead, but Clover dodged her touch. “I'm fine,
Mom.” She grabbed her bag and a sweater and dashed out the door.

A few minutes
later she was standing on the front steps of the house down the street. She had
just knocked and was waiting for someone to answer.

The door opened.

“Hello, Clover.
How are you?” Zander's mother stood there with a bright grin similar to the one
her own mother had been wearing. She wondered if it was normal to be sickened
by other people's cheerfulness when you were in a bad mood.

“Hi. I’m fine,
thanks. Is Zander home?”

“Oh. I assumed
he would have told you.” She pressed her palms together.

“Told me what?”

“Well. He has
moved. He has his own house now.”

Clover was
horrified. The plan had been for the two of them to get a house together one
day, when the time was right. But he'd gone ahead and done it without her.

***

As Clover marched her way toward the
address on Abraham Lane that Zander’s mother had given her, she didn’t feel the
sudden drop of temperature in the air. She didn’t notice the tiny dots of white
that had started lazily drifting from the sky. What she did notice was that something
was rising inside of her, something completely unfamiliar. It started in the
depths of her stomach and bubbled upward like a boiling pot of water. When it
made its way to her chest, it was as if someone was squeezing, and every part
of her began to rumble and burn. She felt heavy all over and although this new
sensation made her uneasy, she did her best to ignore it as she tromped along
with a single purpose: confronting Zander.

She easily found the address, a
good twenty minute’s brisk walk from his parents’ home, and stopped on the
sidewalk in front of the house to take a few breaths. She saw in front of her a
tiny structure, a single storey. It was painted pale yellow with a brown door.
Window boxes decorated the two windows she could see from her vantage point,
both of which were devoid of flowers or foliage of any kind. She acknowledged
that it was a cute house, but much too small for their needs. If they were to
have children, they would definitely need something larger. What was he
thinking doing this without her?

Perhaps doing this without her
was the point. She wasn’t like Sera. She was a milk-drinker - at least she had
been up until two days ago. Sera… The burning, bubbling sensation in her chest heaved
her up the walkway and to the front door.

The door popped part-way open
almost immediately after her knock, but it wasn't Zander who stood there to
welcome her. Part of her had been wondering if perhaps Zander had taken the
house as a surprise for her, that maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe he was
planning on proposing to her soon. But when her eyes met the cold stare of
Sera, her body went rigid and the strange hot feeling inside of her seared her
insides.

“Zander, Clover is here,” Sera
shouted over her shoulder, making a point to keep the door only partially open.

 This was ridiculous. Who did she
think she was? This wasn't her house. It was Zander's. And until Zander said otherwise,
Clover was still his girlfriend. Heat filled her face and her head, as she
realized that she, Clover Swelton, was glowering at Sera. She didn’t think
she’d ever looked at anyone like that before in her entire life, or ever had
such intensely negative feelings for another human being.

In a move completely out of
character for Clover, she placed her palm onto the door and pushed hard. She
shoved her way past Sera and took a few steps into the house. She immediately
found herself at the edge of the living room. It was sparsely decorated, with
only an ugly brown sofa and matching loveseat. A square coffee table stood in
the center of the room on top of a dingy brown and green area rug. The first
thing that entered her mind was that they would have to redecorate immediately,
but then she registered the fact that there were people sitting in the room
staring at her.

Every person who had been in
Zander's parents' basement that night was there, watching her with frozen
expressions and unblinking eyes. Zander quickly made his way to her and grabbed
her arm. “Clove...”

 “Another one of your little
meetings, I see,” she sneered.

 Zander's eyes bulged. “Clove?”

She turned on him, yanking her
arm from his grip. She put her hands on her hips. “You've got a lot of
explaining to do.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I
had my name on the list to have a house built, but the old guy that lived here
passed away, so I took it and… You look different, seem different. What's
wrong? Are you sick?”

She remembered the horrid
headache she'd suffered through over the past day and a half. It was still
there, nagging slightly in the center of her head. She thought about the odd
feeling in the pit of her stomach, and the embers that seemed to be burning
hotter in her chest. Maybe she was sick. Or maybe she was mad. Yes, anger
seemed to be a good description for what was happening to her. She'd never been
angry before, not really, not like this.

“I'm fine,” she snapped at him.

The door clicked shut and Sera
snickered as she passed Clover on her way to the coffee table, where she
plunked herself down. She crossed her arms and watched Clover carefully with a
teasing, cocky smile.

“Zander. I demand that you tell
me what the hell is going on.”

 “This isn't a good time,” he
said quietly. He seemed to shrink slightly right before her eyes. Clover felt
as if she was looking at a boy she hardly knew, even though they had been best
friends for years. In that moment, Clover suddenly lost some respect for him.
He no longer looked handsome and charming, but plain and boring, and even a
little pitiful.

What was wrong with her? The fire
in her belly was gone as quickly as if someone had thrown a bucket of water
inside of her. But it was replaced by something much worse - a hollow, painful
throbbing, accompanied by light-headedness and the inability to swallow
properly. Fear, she realized. Fear that something horrible was happening inside
of her, something she didn’t understand.

Zander was about to say more, but
Sera's words stopped him. “What's the matter, Clover? Aren't you content
anymore?”

“Leave her alone, Sera.” Reminiscent
of what had happened in his parents’ basement, Zander gripped her arm again,
attempted to turn her around and lead her toward the door.

“You actually took my dare.” Sera
got up from the coffee table and sauntered toward her. “Didn't you?”

 Clover pulled herself free of
Zander's grip again and leered at Sera.

“You stopped drinking milk,
didn't you?”

Zander looked nervously back and
forth between the two girls. All other eyes in the room watched them quietly
too.

 Sera continued, “It's amazing
how quickly it gets out of your system, isn't it? First you get the withdrawal
- the horrible, throbbing headache. The need to sleep, the unquenchable thirst
for water. But it doesn't last too long, and then it happens. You start to feel
real, raw emotions for the first time in your life. Anger, fear…” She chuckled
wickedly, “Maybe even hatred.”

 Clover remained speechless. She
folded her arms and narrowed her eyes viciously at Sera. Not only was this girl
mean and rude, but she was a complete bitch too. How could Zander stand to hang
around with her? And yet, what she was saying was right. Sera was describing
perfectly what Clover was going through.

“How does it feel, Clover? How
does it feel to be a real human being instead of some unnaturally content,
pathetic zombie?”

Zander's face was sickeningly
pale. “Is it true, Clove? Did you stop drinking milk?”

She flung her hands out to the
sides. “What the hell is with everyone and milk? Yes! I stopped drinking it,
okay? But what does milk have to do with anything? Is your club some sort of weird
milk protest or something?”

It was the skinny boy with the
mop of dark hair who spoke up and all eyes flipped to him. His voice was deeper
than Clover thought it should be for his skinny build, but it was calm and
serious. “They drug the milk, and then they drill into our heads that people
who don't drink lots of it will become criminals.”

 Clover took a few steps toward
him, her head cocked to the side and her eyebrows low on her forehead. “Drugs? What
kind of drugs? Who? Why?”

“I don't know the clinical name
of the drug, but it's some sort of mood enhancer or mood suppressant - probably
a mix of both. Kind of like a really strong antidepressant, I guess. It's
designed to keep everyone on an even keel. You know - to keep everyone calm,
laid-back...”

“Content!” Sera shot as she came
up behind Clover, edging around her to look her in the eye. “Haven't you ever
noticed that people don't get angry here? Maybe a little upset, but not 'want
to punch someone in the face' kinda angry. And how do you think it's possible
that our society seems so perfect, so clean, and so cordial? People are
encouraged to do whatever they want, to do whatever it is that makes them
content. That wouldn't work without the happy drugs, because people wouldn’t be
so compliant. They’d be more likely to stand up and say no. In a nut-shell, it
controls the emotions.”

Clover scratched the back of her
head, trying to take it all in, to understand. Her initial response was to not
believe what she was being told. But she’d felt it for herself. She hadn’t had
any milk for forty-eight hours, and she had just experienced intense anger for
the first time in her life. “But who puts the drugs in it?”

The boy on the sofa spoke up
again. “It's added to the milk on one of the floors at the Watch Tower before
being taken to the market below for distribution.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because my sister works there.
It’s her job to add the drug.”

“Where do the drugs come from?”

The boy answered again. “It’s
manufactured on one of the upper levels of the Watch Tower.”

Clover looked around the room,
suddenly wondering if this was some elaborate joke. But she found only serious
eyes and grim faces. “This doesn't make sense, though. Why doesn't anyone know
about this? How is it possible to keep something like this a secret? And
anyway, nobody is forced to drink milk - not really. What happens to people who
don't drink it?”

The boy shrugged. “Those who know,
keep it to themselves. The ones who disagree with the practice don’t say
anything because they don’t want to be punished. And all the others,
well...they drink it. They don’t question it. They are content with knowing
that it’s necessary for the good of all our people.”

 “But your sister told you...”

“She did. But she told only me. And
I stopped drinking milk right away. And then the world looked like a very
different place to me. I decided I didn't want to ever be trapped inside my own
head again. Everything is clearer now. I know that what I feel is real.”