Blemished, The (11 page)

Mrs Murgatroyd placed a pair of dark glasses over her eyes to protect them from the mid-morning sun. Next to me she was intimidatingly tall in her heeled shoes and I wiped my sweaty palms against my tunic. My short
er legs struggled to match her long stride, but I forced them to quicken, determined to keep up.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about, Mrs Murgatroyd?” I asked boldly. The silence and anticipation was killing me.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Miss Hart, which seems to attract trouble. Trouble of the opposite sex, it would seem.” She pushed the dark glasses further up her nose, closer to her taut skin. “You must listen to what I am about to say. I won’t repeat it.” She paused for dramatic effect. “I reiterate, Miss Hart, this is of the upmost importance.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, trying to keep the tremble from my voice.

“The game you are playing with the boys in this Area… I see it in you like I saw it in Emily Green.” She frowned. “What happened on Friday was… unfortunate. Contrary to popular opinion I take no pleasure from that kind of situation. I pity the Green family. They are now tarnished for life. Thanks to that little incident––”

“––little incident!” I interrupted.

She laughed. “You have a temper – something else that will no doubt cause more trouble. You bring it all on yourself, Mina, you really do. You aren’t the kind of girl to sit back and take it and you seem to think that makes you special. You’re always watching, noticing, wanting to learn, and I have to tell you that that kind of attitude is just not tolerated at St. Jude’s.” She shook out her mane like a lion. “This is your first warning.”

“But what have I done?” I demanded.

She stopped and turned to me. “What have you done? Is that what you are asking? You met That GEM boy in a café. You let him touch you. You parade around with the Blemished boy from the carpenters. You remove your headscarf and run through the fields. You talk back––”

“You’ve been following me?” I asked.

She laughed, throatily. “Don’t flatter yourself, my dear. I do have eyes though, I have eyes throughout the Area, and they tell me things. They tell me who I need to watch.” She stopped walking and faced me. “You have been identified as one of those people.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I snapped.

“Like I said, Miss Hart, I don’t like incidents. They are bad for everyone involved, including the school. That is why I like to stop these incidents before they have even happened.”

“You think
I
would get pregnant like that?” I had trouble even saying the word pregnant. “You’re a dinosaur. Don’t you see that the world is changing around you? I don’t go out of my way to make friends with GEMs, they come to
me.
Your stupid little perfect world is false. No one wants to live in it, not even the clones––”

“Don’t call them that!”

“That’s what they are,” I replied. “And what you don’t understand is that they are bored with who they are. Why else would they be so fascinated with us? You think you have the future figured out but it doesn’t belong to you,
old woman
.” I stopped talking and stepped back, shocked and surprised at my own outburst. I put my hands to my face. My cheeks burned.

Mrs Murgatroyd yanked her glasses from her face. She leaned forward and scowled at me. “Listen to me you little bitch. You may think this is all some sort of a joke but I have standards to meet in my school. Now you do as I say or your Operation will be scheduled early and I’ll make it a living hell for you and your father. Do you understand?”

I nodded, struck dumb.

The teacher smoothed her suit, replaced her glasses and re-fixed her hair. She smiled sweetly. “I’m so glad we managed to clear up that little misunderstanding.”

*

“So… are you going to tell me what happened with Murder-Troll?” Angela looked at me expectantly.

It was later in the day, during gardening duties. I sighed and wiped soil from my cheek.

“She saw me talking to Sebastian,” I said.

“When were you talking to him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said miserably. “I can’t see him now anyway.”

“Why not? She doesn’t know what you get up to after school,” Angela said. “Can’t you just meet in secret? Oh that would be so romantic!” She clutched at her bosom, imitating the over-dramatic love scenes in GEM soap operas. “Oh Sebastian, I’ve missed you.” She put on a deep voice. “Oh, Mina! Kiss me!”

“This isn’t funny,” I snapped. “She threatened me. She threatened my dad. She said that she has ‘eyes’ who tell her things outside school. She said she’d move my Operation forward. This is bad, Angela.”

“Woah, that’s heavy. You think she follows you?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I saw her yesterday in town.”

“You went to town without me?”

I glared at her. “This is serious.”

Angela pouted. “I’m just trying to cheer you up.” She glanced guiltily over to Billie. “Things are so miserable today.”

“What do you expect?” I said, a little too harshly. I lowered my voice. “A girl was taken away in
labour
on Friday. It takes more than a weekend for most people to get over something like that.”

Angela fell silent. “I’m not over it. I just don’t want to think about it.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out.”

She smiled. “It’s okay, I get it. I’d be stressed out if a gorgeous GEM boy fancied me.”

“Shhh!” I said, but I laughed along with it.

Billie appeared by my side. “What are you laughing at?”

I felt myself blush with embarrassment. “Billie, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” She stared at a spot by the trestle table. “That’s where they took her.”

I thought back to how we had been forced to clean up the mess from the upturned trestle table just moments after Emily was snatched.

“I’m sorry, Billie,” I said.

We fell silent. It was a time for reflection, not a time to try and forget. Even Angela got back to work, her head down. I saw her sniff. She mourned too, in her own way.

“Billie, tell me about her,” I said eventually, breaking the silence,

“What?” Billie said.

“Tell me about Emily. I never got to know her.”

Billie froze, but then her expression softened and she even smiled. “Once, she got a penny stuck up her nose.” She laughed. “She cried and cried.”

“How old was she?” I said. The other Blemished girls all stopped and watched, listening and smiling.

“I dunno, maybe eight or nine.” Billie’s eyes were lost in memory now. “She loved strawberries. On her tenth birthday I saved my pocket money up and bought a huge punnet from the market. Her birthday was in May. The sun always shone. Last year we went for a picnic.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “That was just before…” She wiped away another tear. Then she looked up at me, more life in her face. “She loved him. She was so happy. I think for a while she really thought she could keep the baby, that we would all be a happy family. She was so
stupid
.” Billie covered her face in her hands and sobbed.

I put my arms around her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” she said bitterly. She pulled away from me. “I’ll never know if she is alive or dead. We’ll never be able to put her body to rest.”

I glanced across at the fresh soil waiting for bedding plants. “Billie,” I said. “I have an idea.”

I took her hand. I grabbed a few packets of Daffodil bulbs and pulled her over to the flower bed in the corner.

“We’re going to plant flowers for Emily,” I said. I turned to the rest of the group. “All of us. We’re going to plant these Daffodils and watch them grow and flourish and all the time think of her. Okay?”

Billie squeezed my hand and nodded. The class gathered around us and together we turned the soil, pressed in the bulbs and watered the ground. I imagined the pretty yellow trumpets that would flower in their place and smiled. 

T
he following weeks came and went with Mrs Murgatroyd’s warning never far from my mind. I no longer went to Angela’s after school. I no longer found myself at the field. I kept my headscarf firmly wrapped around my hair, covering my modesty. I worked hard to stay out of trouble. I worked hard to stay safe; to keep my dad safe.

We worked on my gift and I learned how to aim. I lifted heavy objects. Once I even lifted my dad a few feet from the ground which terrified him and set me off in a fit of giggles. One day, Dad received a parcel of our old things from the house in Area 10. With a smile he told me to open it.

“Our books!” I gasped. I removed a paperback and ran my fingers over the spine. “I thought we would never get them back. Shall I put them in the basement?”

“Yes, but be careful in front of the screen,” he said in his Professor voice.

I nodded. The Blemished were not permitted to read any texts other than those approved by the school board. My dad did not agree with the Ministry and he decided to improvise with my education. He had managed to keep many of the books he used as a Professor, books about the history of our Country before the GEM project, about the history of the world. He even had fiction books and books of poetry about love and sex and everything we were not supposed to know about. I handled them with care, as though they would break from my touch.

As I was moving the books there was a knock at the door. I panicked. “Shall I hide them?” We still had the half empty box on the kitchen table.

Dad pulled the cardboard flaps, blocking the bounty from immediate view. “Let me see who it is first.” He opened the door a crack and then pulled it wide. “Daniel! What a lovely surprise, come in!”

I bristled. I had been avoiding Daniel since my “chat” with Mrs Murgatroyd. There was no point in us being friends any more – not with her watching me. I couldn’t afford to be seen with him.

He stepped nervously into the kitchen, wearing simple black trousers and top. My eyes were attracted to the Symbol of the Blemished, white and stark against his clothes. It just reminded me of the threat. It reminded me of who I am – of my place in society. I dropped my eyes.

“Hi, Daniel,” I said quietly.

“Hello, Mina.” He finally looked at me, his eyes searching my face. His hair poked out at all angles. He had lost weight and looked tired. 

“What can we do you for?” Dad said breezily. My dad was rarely still and he began shifting more books out of the box.

“Are they…” Daniel mumbled.

“What? Books? Yes,” said my dad with a small laugh. “Have you never seen a book before?”

Daniel’s face fell and he looked down at his shoes. My dad picked up on his embarrassment and floundered, opening and closing his mouth as though trying to think of something apologetic to say. He’d completely forgotten that Blemished boys don’t go to school.

“Actually, Professor,” Daniel said in his usual quiet and measured way whilst at the same time tapping the table-top nervously, “that’s kind of the reason why I came. You see, you know that only Blemished girls go to school, and you know they learn their letters and… well it’s kind of a coincidence, but I came here to see if you would help me learn.”

Dad placed the books down on the table and adjusted his glasses. “Of course, Daniel. I would be honoured. I would love to teach you how to read.”

My heart soared and fell in equal measure. Whilst I hadn’t wanted to admit it, I’d missed Daniel. But I was afraid. There was something a
bout him which attracted danger: the Slums, the Resistance, trouble from my teacher. I was afraid for my dad and the threat of the Operation but most of all I was afraid that I was drawn to that world too.

*

From that moment my plan to stay away from boys failed. Whenever Daniel had a break from the carpenters he was at our house, in our basement, being taught to read and write by Dad. Of course my dad was in his element with a willing and hard-working, earnest student like Daniel. He loved a project and there was no more rewarding project.

I trained in the corner of the basement by rearranging the books with my mind. On the other side of the room Daniel traced the lines of letters with Dad and stumbled over his words. Every now and then he would look up at me self-consciously and red-faced.

Sometimes, as we worked, I thought about that night in the Slums. I thought about it because I hated being in the same room with my dad when I knew that Daniel and I shared a secret. I hated that knowledge. I hated that we shared something together that my dad could never know.

It pulled us closer, somehow, like there was a piece of string attaching us together. Every day that string tightened, as though we were being reeled towards each other, both caught by hooks on opposite ends of the line. The more I tried not to think about that night, the more I saw Daniel, a broken bottle in his hand, or imagined us pressed against the cold bricks, hearts racing. The more I tried not to think about Daniel and his visions and the intricate drawings in his notebook
, the more I wanted to be around him. I remembered his fingers in mine as I comforted him about his mum. The vulnerability of him as he slept after his vision.

I hated him being there as a reminder of all the things we shared. I especially hated the way I would look up and find him watching me curiously, almost tenderly.

And then Angela started to show up after school – wanting to read. I was glad for her presence but Daniel seemed annoyed. The two of them bickered like a real brother and sister, which I couldn’t help but be amused by. It was a welcome distraction from my thoughts.

“Is your mum okay with you being here?” I said one day.

Angela looked up from her book,
Great Expectations
, which she was a few chapters in and apparently very much enjoying although I caught her frowning over many of the words. But, being Angela, she was too proud to ask my dad for the meanings. “She’s fine.”

“Okay,” I replied with a smile and went back to my training. I had just about learned to alphabetise the bookcase by removing the books one by one and rearranging them.

Angela sighed. “She’s not fine. Yesterday, she thought she was still a child and I was her sister.”

I stopped what I was doing and turned to my friend. “Angela, I’m sorry, but should you be here when she’s like that?”

“Don’t,” she said. I could see tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t make me feel worse than I already do. I leave here and make her food and I put her to bed and I… I just can’t be there alone with her
all the time
.”

“Of course you can’t,” I said. “But… this is too much.” I hesitated not wanting to offend her. “Can we help? Dad and me?”

She shook her head. “Anyone different in our house just confuses her even more. Even Daniel upsets her now. She keeps thinking he’s my dad.” She sniffed. I fetched her some tissues.

“I could ask––”

“No,” she interrupted. “Please don’t. I just can’t bear for anyone to get involved.”

“But you can’t do this alone, Angela.”

“No!” she repeated. “I just want to do things my way.”

I nodded. “All right. But you know where I am if you need me.”

The three of us were alone in the basement. Upstairs my dad fussed around in the kitchen making a cup of tea. Daniel silently mouthed the words from an old comic-book. Angela returned to frowning over Dickens and I focussed on practising my ability. The room reverted to its usual tranquillity. My muscles relaxed and for the first time in weeks I felt a sense of contentment. All of which was shattered when Daniel screamed out in pain.

Angela was first over to him. “He’s having a vision,” she said to me. “Get a piece of paper and a pen.”

She took him in her arms and held him close as he squirmed in pain. He pulled on his hair as though trying to pull the image out of his head and his face turned to a violent shade of purple I only saw in the murals of the ghettos. For a moment I stood there frozen until Angela turned back to me and yelled at me until I snapped out of it.