Drowning in Deception (8 page)

Rye was looking at her with a mix of
sadness and frustration. “Well, there is no other way. She will not get to hear
the stories in that book. It was a dumb idea, anyway. I never should have let
you talk me into it.” Clover wondered how he could be so cold about his own
child.

Arma's face turned red and she looked at
him with pure anger. “How can you say that? My little girl is dying. Dying,
Rye! She probably only has a week or two left. Maybe not even that long. I
would do anything to make her happy in the little time she has left. I thought
you felt the same.” She was crying now.

Rye rushed to embrace her, shushing quietly
in her ear.

Suddenly feeling awkward, but still wanting
to help, Clover quietly said, “Well, maybe there is another way...”

Both sets of eyes turned to her quizzically.

“I could teach you to read.”

“There isn't time for that,” Rye scoffed.

“Maybe not. But there are only three
stories in that book. What if I taught them to you? You know… You could
memorize them.”

Arma's hands flew to her face. “Yes! Oh,
Clover, that's a wonderful idea.”

Rye rolled his eyes as his shoulders
slumped forward.

“Oh, please, Rye. For Abilee...” she begged.

He took a large inhale of breath and let
it out slowly, exaggeratedly. “Fine,” he grumbled, and turned to continue
walking Clover back.

Much to her surprise, Arma grabbed her
and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you. I knew that some of you had to be good. I
just knew it.” She released her and hurried back toward the house.

Rye and Clover walked in silence for a
long time. He no longer held her hand as he walked in front of her, leading the
way back to the shiny, silver door in the bushes.

She wasn’t pleased with having been left
alone with this angry boy…or man. He was with her to protect her, but she
couldn’t help but wonder who would protect her from him. She felt the need to
be nice, and to keep him from getting angry at her. “Your daughter is sweet,” she
tried. “I'm sorry she's sick…that you all have to go through this…”

“She's not my daughter,” he half
snarled, half laughed, as if Clover had said the stupidest thing possible. It
seemed as though she could say nothing right to this person.

She ran a few steps to catch up to him
so they could walk side by side. “She isn't? But I thought you and Arma...”

He laughed fully this time. “No. Arma is
my older sister.”

Clover nodded. That would explain why they
both had referred to the woman as Mama.

“Oh. I just thought that... Well, the
two of you seem very close, holding hands and all.”

He gave her a sidelong glance.

“Well, it's just that I have a younger
brother, and I can't imagine holding hands with him all the time…except when he
was really small, of course.”

Rye smiled as he looked at her. This was
a first, and she had to admit that it suited him. It changed his scary eyes
into something almost warm and friendly, which in-turn affected his entire
face. She found herself shyly smiling back.

“I suppose we are close. But we were
holding hands because we were scared and nervous. Holding hands helps to keep
us calm, helps to keep the emotions from overwhelming us.”

“Oh.” That made sense...sort of.

There was a lengthy silence. It was
uncomfortable. Clover needed to talk.

“Um…so…where is Abilee’s dad?” she
asked, hoping to keep a conversation going.

“He’s dead.”

The words were said in such a flat,
final way, that there was no way for Clover to respond. So they continued on in
silence.

They walked on, along the outskirts of
the city, and Clover wished Arma was with them. Rye made her nervous to begin
with, and the lack of conversation only seemed to heighten the tension. But
what else could she talk about with this angry boy? Clearly they had nothing in
common.

She noticed a group of men digging in a
trench near one of the factories. She viewed this as something to discuss, so she
asked him what they were doing.

“Replacing some electrical wires that
run to the building.”

She stopped walking to stare at him. “Electrical
wires?”

He stopped too, and nodded, sighing as
if the last place he wanted to be right now was standing there with her.

“So, the factories have electricity?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. The smile from
earlier had long vanished as aggravation took over his face. She wondered now
if he really had smiled or if she had only imagined it. It seemed like
something very out of character for him.

“And running water,” he added.

She couldn’t believe it. This was an odd
place. “So, why don’t you have those things in your house?”

He gave her a strange look, like she was
an idiot, and then he continued walking. “The gods won’t allow us to have such
conveniences in our homes.”

She took a few sprints to catch up to
him. “Gods? Who are they?” She remembered hearing once that people long ago
believed there were gods, something like all-powerful beings who dictated how
they should live. It seemed to her like such an incredible, archaic idea.
Especially since she lived in a world where people did whatever pleased them. They
only had to follow the laws.

Rye only mumbled something she couldn’t
make out and increased his pace. She had to jog to keep up with him. He sure
wasn’t the friendliest person she’d met.

When they reached the tall bush that hid
the door on this side of the Wall, he stopped.

Clover bent over slightly and worked at
catching her breath. It had been hard, keeping up with his steady, fast-paced
walking.

Her breathing evened out after a minute
or two, so she straightened up and asked him, “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll meet you right here, at the door, just
after dusk tonight.” He didn’t even wait to see if that was a convenient time
for her. He spoke the words and then immediately turned and hurriedly walked
away without even a glance over his shoulder.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself as she
ducked through the door. “No need to thank me. I do this kind of thing every
day. You know, break the law and go to the other side of the Wall where the
monsters live, all so that I can help ungrateful people like you.”

She closed the door and started removing
the dress that Arma had loaned her. “That’s right,” she uttered under her
breath, “I’m going to meet you at dusk, when it’s getting dark…” And that’s
when it hit her - Arma had said the monsters come out at night. What had she
gotten herself into?

The weather did not show any signs of
improving. The dark clouds continued to loom above, but as she left the woods of
Eadin and entered the city streets, she marveled at how bright and pretty her home
was. Even the gloom couldn’t take away from the beauty of the colorful houses
and brilliant grass. Quell was drab, perfectly matching the way the people in
it dressed. Her parents were right; they were lucky to live where they did.

She’d been gone all morning and into the
early afternoon and, as she smiled with pride at her perfect city, Clover’s
stomach reminded her she hadn’t had lunch, so she walked quickly toward home. 

She was approaching the house when a quick
glance up the street showed her somebody sitting on the front step at Zander’s
house. He’d been acting so strange lately, and she really wanted to talk to him,
to spend time with him. Ignoring the rumbling of her stomach, she passed by her
house and headed in the direction of his. As she neared it, she realized her
assumption had been right. Zander was sitting on the step. What she hadn’t
realized, though, was that there was someone else with him. It was Sera. They
were sitting very close together with Zander’s hand on Sera’s thigh.

She got as far as the end of the walkway
that led to the front step when they stopped looking at each other and noticed her.
Zander quickly removed his hand from Sera’s leg and scooted over to put some
distance between their bodies.

“Hey Clove,” he said, the corners of his
lips twitching as they rose to an unnatural height.

Sera only glared at her.

Clover walked up to them and set her
eyes solidly on Zander’s. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re just talking. That’s all.”

She got the impression that whatever
they were talking about was something they didn’t want to share with her. It
must have been something about their secret club. The idea that they had been
sitting so close together put a small fire in her belly. Did he have feelings
for Sera? She didn’t want to talk to Zander about it with Sera around. Being
confrontational was not her style, so she said, “Okay,” and turned to leave,
deciding she would come back and talk to him later.

As she was walking away, she heard Sera
snicker, so she turned back to see what was so funny. Zander looked stone-cold
serious, but Sera looked amused. Clover scrunched her brows together as she
looked back and forth between the two of them. She was trying very hard to be
nice, to be respectful, but Sera certainly had no intention of making it easy.

“Clover.” Sera’s voice held a taunting
edge. “Are you really that naïve? Are you really that uncurious? Really that
content
?”

Clover could only look at her with her
mouth hanging slightly open. She didn’t understand this girl at all.

Zander looked at Sera with a warning and
whispered, “Sera, don’t.”

Sera didn’t even pretend to hear him. “You
don’t like to question things, do you?” she asked Clover. “You think everything
is just fine.” She had a large mocking smile planted across her face. “You’re
just happy to know that we’re all safe, and because it’s always been assumed,
one day you will be Zander’s wife and live contentedly ever after.”

“Sera, please,” Zander begged.

Clover tilted her head and thought about
Sera’s words. She was right. Sera had just described exactly how she felt. She
rarely questioned anything. She knew everything would be okay. Even if there
was some bad stuff, it would all work out. And yes, she did assume that she and
Zander would live contentedly ever after. The thing that was confusing to her
was why Sera seemed to care so much about Clover’s life.

Her verbal assault continued. “Do you
know what your problem is?” Sera rose from the step and strutted down to put
herself face-to-face with Clover. “Your problem is that you drink way too much
milk.”

Clover shook her head and giggled. This
girl was completely loopy.

But Sera remained somber, glaring at her.
“You think I’m joking? I’m dead serious. I dare you,” she shot at her. “I dare
you to stop drinking milk and then you’ll be able to see things as they really
are.”

“That’s enough,” Zander growled. He got
up and grabbed Sera’s arm, turning her to face him. “Stop it, Sera. Leave her
alone.” He was angry. But mad or not, there was something else there. It was
the way he was looking at Sera. Clover was shocked with the realization that it
was the way he usually looked at Clover when they were alone together.

“What?” Sera muttered innocently. “It’s
not like she’ll actually do it. She’ll never stop drinking milk. She can’t. She’s
a pretty girl, a good girl.” She shot Clover a nasty leer.

Zander turned to Clover. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I’ll talk to
you later. After your friend has gone home.” She turned and walked slowly toward
her house.

As she walked home, the truth started
slapping her in the face. Zander did have feelings for Sera. She had seen it in
his face just now. But where did that leave her? He still loved Clover. She
knew this too.  She silently scolded herself for thinking the worst. Everything
would work out. It always did.

Her mother and Sprigg were nowhere to be
found, so she made herself a sandwich and took it to the table with a large
glass of milk.

As she ate, she thought about Arma and
Abilee. She was such a young mother, devastated that her daughter was sick and
possibly dying. Clover felt so bad for her. They lived in poverty, yet they had
large factories with electricity and running water. It made no sense to her.
And they had gods that dictated how they lived. But really, who was she to
question their ways? She shouldn't expect that everyone lived like the people of
Eadin did. Too many questions started swimming around, giving her a headache.
She quickly forced an end to the curiosity. It was too unnatural.

She finished her sandwich and was about
to tip her milk back when Sera's words echoed in her head. 'You drink way too
much milk.' She pulled her lips from the glass and set it down on the table in
front of her, staring at it. What had she meant by that? She drank at least
three glasses of milk per day. Her parents - heck, everyone's parents -
constantly preached about how important it was to drink lots of milk. It was
what kept them all healthy and happy. And she was healthy and happy, which
meant that her parents were right.

But still, it bothered her. It was
almost as if Sera had been implying that she was stupid for being a milk-drinker.
She thought about Sera, who she decided must not drink much milk. She seemed
healthy, but she didn't seem overly happy. She always seemed to have an angry
line between her eyebrows, and she certainly wasn't very nice.

And why was Zander hanging around with
her so much lately? Surely there could be no comparison between Clover and
Sera. Sera obviously didn’t care much for her appearance, or about maintaining
a genial attitude. Clover had her beat without question in those departments.
As strange is it seemed, maybe Zander was attracted to Sera because she didn’t
drink milk. It made no sense to her, but she decided then and there that if
that’s what Zander wanted, then she could just as easily be that person for
him.

She would stop drinking milk, Zander
would be happy with her, and hopefully Sera would be history. It all seemed so
simple, as did most things.

She got up and dumped the whole glass of
milk into the sink. So there, she thought, and in her mind she stuck her tongue
out at Sera’s crinkled eyebrows.

***

It wasn't as easy at supper time, with
both her mother and father watching over her. She ate quickly and then jumped
up to get her bag. “Meeting friends,” she announced. “See ya later.”

“Wait a minute, Clover,” said her
mother. “You haven't touched your milk.”

She noticed her father had stopped
chewing and turned his head toward her, waiting for her response.

“Oh, you're right,” she giggled. “I'll
take it with me.”

She grabbed an empty drink-to-go
container from the cupboard and transferred the contents of her glass into it,
tightly screwing on the lid. For good effect, she popped open the little drink
hole in the top and took a pretend sip. No more milk for her. She was going to
do this for Zander, even if it seemed silly.

This seemed to satisfy everyone, so she
tossed the container of milk into her bag and left.

By the time Clover reached the boundary
line, the sun was only half visible on the western horizon, and the chill of
the night air was coming alive around her. She shivered and gave herself a
silent reprimand for not having grabbed a jacket or sweater on her way out the
door.

She tentatively stepped across the line
of white stones, reminding herself again why she was doing this. It certainly
wasn't because she enjoyed her now seemingly frequent criminal acts, and it
certainly wasn't because she was looking forward to spending time alone with
Rye. She didn't like how he looked at her, as if she was the root of all his
problems in life. Plus, he had been nothing but rude to her, even after her
efforts to help. No, she told herself as she gritted her teeth and lifted her
chin. She wasn’t doing this for him. She was doing this for a little girl, a frail
child who was about to die before her life had even begun.

It was dark in the thick woods, but
there was no fear this time. Perhaps it was because she had now walked this
route twice, or perhaps it was because her fear was reserving itself for when
she was on the other side of the Wall, where the monsters were.

Clover pushed the thought from her mind
and took Arma's spare dress from its stashed place under the bush where she had
left it earlier. It was a dreadfully ugly thing, but she pulled it over her head
anyway, hoping that it, along with the shawl, would help warm her goose-bumped
arms.

Rye was already there, waiting with the
door open, and he closed it behind them after Clover walked through to the
other side of the Wall. He led her to a great cluster of bushes only a short
distance away, pulled apart some of the greenery and gestured for her to walk
through the opening he had made. It was like a cozy cave of bushes inside,
completely surrounded on the sides and top by thick leaves and twigs. Rye had
spread a wool blanket out on the cold earth floor. An old-fashioned lantern sat
in the center, casting soft yellow light all around the interior.

She sat on the blanket and opened her
bag, making a point of not looking at him. She had no desire to make small talk.
There was one purpose for her being here, so she would hurry and get it done
and be on her way. She pulled out the jug of milk and set it off to the side. Next
she took out her book, opened it to the first page, and set it down in front of
her.

She watched silently as Rye took a place
opposite her so the book lay between them. He sighed heavily, crossed his arms,
and tilted his head to the side. His bored expression said it all. He obviously
wanted her to begin so they could be done with it.

Her heart picked up speed at the sight
of him and she realized her hands were trembling slightly. She looked down at
the book and mumbled, “I wish Arma could be here.”

“Well, she can't,” he scoffed. “She has
to take care of Abilee. You'll just have to make do with me.” His eyes were
hard and frosty on hers.

Clover licked her lips and reached out
to the book, trying to still her shaking hands. She wasn't sure if the jitters
were caused by fear of the monsters, anger at Rye’s attitude, or the fact that
the mid-evening air had dipped a few degrees colder than before. All she wanted
was to get on with things, so she surprised herself when instead she spoke what
was on her mind. “Why do you hate me? I'm doing you a favor. I don't have to,
you know.”

Rye considered her words and tilted his
head to the other side. The glow of the lantern on his face deepened the ugly
scar, and she hoped she would never find out what had caused it. “I don't like
your kind,” was all he said.  

This made no sense to her. They were
both human, after all. And what made even less sense was that she cared to
understand. Normally if someone didn't like her, she would shrug it off and be
content with the knowledge that it was impossible to please everyone. “You keep
saying that. What is my kind?”

“You and your
people are our gods, or so we've been taught to believe.”

Clover laughed.
It was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard. “There are no gods, and even
if there were, they're supposedly these all-powerful beings that you're
supposed to worship and bow down to.”

He didn't share
her amusement. There was no humor in his face and his next words came out loud
and abrasive. “The ones we have been taught to call gods live on the other side
of the Wall. The same side of the Wall you live on. They like to think they are
all-powerful, with their guns and their laws and their orders. But they are
cruel and heartless.”

The wild look in
his eyes was scaring her. “You're wrong,” she tried, though her voice sounded
weak. “There are no guns. We're peaceful. We're content.” How could he think
such horrible things about the people of Eadin, and why would they think her
people were gods? These people were clearly poor and uneducated. Perhaps they
were this way because they lived on the same side of the Wall as the monsters.
Or maybe they were completely crazy.