Candor (28 page)

“If he let you decide, would you like your job?” I ask one of them.

He looks at the floor, where he shoved my face into it.

Dad holds out his hand. I take it. Our hands fit together. I remember my first day of school. Winston’s funeral. Times when I trusted him to lead me.

One more time.

The night air feels warmer than it should. No breeze. Just heat and moist air covering my nostrils. It’s hard to breathe.

I straighten my spine and let him lead me inside. I know I won’t remember much when I leave. No Winston. No mother, maybe. Even the shed will be erased.

But Nia will be out there. Getting stronger every day. Becoming real again. Whatever happens, she won’t forget.

As long as she remembers us, I’ll still exist.

“I HAVE A special treat.” Dad is smiling at me. He’s hiding his hands behind his back.

There are only ten pages left in my chemistry chapter. I want to finish, but I mark the page and look up at him. Always strive to please your parents.

“When receiving a gift, it’s the thought that counts,” I tell him.

His smile is wide. “You make me proud, son.”

It makes me feel like a sunny day. “Always strive to be your very best.”

Then he shows me what he’s holding. It’s a clear glass vase filled with purple flowers. “They’re lilacs,” he says. “Smell them.”

The flowers are made up of lots of tiny buds. I touch one with my fingertip before I inhale.

Have I done something wrong? He’s staring at me. I pull back, but then he smiles. I feel better.

He sets them on my desk. “You talked in your sleep last night. You asked for these.”

“I don’t remember.” I take another deep breath. My room usually smells like peaches and cucumbers. Now it smells like perfume.

Dad pulls a small notepad from his back pocket. He flips to a fresh page and writes something in it.

“The fever made me forget things,” I tell him. Dad brought me here, to the hospital, when I got sick. It’s been a few weeks, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t know how to tell how long it’s been.

“You might not ever remember everything,” he says.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You’ll tell me what I need to know.” Parents always know what’s best for their children.

He folds his arms and looks at me. “Do you like the flowers?”

“They’re nice. Thank you for the present.” I know that’s what I’m supposed to say. But I wish he’d take them away. I like it better when my room smells like summer.

“You don’t have to be polite, Oscar. Tell me if you really like the flowers.”

Pain streaks across my forehead. It’s the start of another headache. I get them all the time. Every single one surprises me.

Dad’s face changes to his worried look. “Do you need your medicine?”

My hands are shaking again. I nod.

The fever damaged my nerves. I will always get headaches. But maybe they’ll be better someday.

The pills taste bitter on my tongue. I swallow quickly, but the burning taste stays. “Will you please take the flowers away?” I ask. “They make my head hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Of course.” Dad doesn’t look offended. He’s even smiling.

Dad picks up the vase in both hands and looks up at the ceiling. My door opens with a hissing sound.

I don’t follow him. When it’s time to go outside, they’ll tell me. Usually I go in the morning. I like to sit in the sun and watch the lizards race across the courtyard. Sometimes I bring my homework outside, too.

Spring midterms are coming up. I have to catch up with my classmates. When I was very sick, I couldn’t study. Now I’m doing better. I want to get straight As. Academics are the key to success.

The door hisses again. Dad is back. He’s holding a clipboard. “Let’s do your daily questions.”

“I’ll do better today.” When I get all the questions right, it means my brain has healed from the fever. Then I can go home.

Dad sits in the cushy white chair that’s opposite the bed. “Ice cream is …”

“A special treat. One must be careful to maintain a balanced diet.” I always get that one right.

He nods and asks the next question without looking at the clipboard. “When you go on a date, should you hold a girl’s hand?”

I shake my head. “Respectful space in every place.”

“Good job. Let’s skip to a new one.” He runs his finger down the clipboard and stops near the bottom. Then he takes a deep breath. “What would you tell someone who wants to leave Candor?”

“Is there a field trip?”

“This is different. They want to leave for a long time, maybe even forever.”

I can tell he’s rooting for me. Dad wants me to give him the right answer. Parents always work to make their children succeed. I wish I knew what I’m supposed to say. “People don’t leave Candor,” I tell him. “But what if someone wanted to?”

“I guess …” I look around my room. Everything is so clean and soft. Usually it’s easy to think here, but my brain isn’t working right now. “I guess I’d buy them a good-bye present?”

Dad lets out a soft sigh. He writes something on the board.

I know what that means. I’ve failed again. I hate being wrong. “Give me another one, please? I want to try again.”

“You’re not ready.” Dad stands up and tucks the clipboard under his arm.

“Tell me how to study. I want to get better.”

Dad shakes his head. “Just listen to the music, Oscar. Let your body heal. You’re getting better every day.”

“I want to be better now.” I shouldn’t sulk, but sometimes I hate being broken.

“Soon you’ll be back at school. You’ll finish the year and then you’ll go to college. All of this will seem far away.”

“I’ll study hard. I’m going to Yale.”

“Or maybe somewhere closer. We’ll see.” Dad pushes the hair off my forehead with his thumb, his fingers cupping my cheek. I close my eyes. It makes me remember being little. It’s always been just the two of us, since the day he adopted me.

“I’ll make you proud,” I promise.

“We’ll make sure of that, won’t we?” Dad smiles like he’s very proud of me. “See you at bedtime.”

After he leaves, I pull out my notepad. I write down the questions he asked me, with the answers. I’ll study them every two hours. I’ll stare at them until I know every single answer.

Eventually I will get everything right.

Then they will let me leave here. I can go back to being a normal Candor kid. I will make my father proud. I will be a model citizen.

I will make sure everything is perfect.

Acknowledgments

MOM AND DAD, thank you for boosting my every endeavor and buying the TRS-80 that I wrote my first (blessedly lost) novel on. Pattyri, first fan and dearest friend, thanks for the tough reads and good questions—and for never letting me quit.

JASON, I’D TELL you your days of dishwashing are over, but you’d know I was lying. There are lots of books left in me. Thank you for giving me the time and space I need to put them on paper. And then you are there, waiting, when I need commiseration and love.

AS FOR THOSE friends and family who ask about my writing—thank you. Such a simple gesture fuels me for days. I am so blessed that I cannot possibly list everyone’s names.

I AM GRATEFUL for the myriad teachers and librarians who fostered my love of books and writing, especially: Betty Chew, the staff of Ballston Spa Public Library, Pat Hodsoll, Ann Ellis, Dave Smith, the relentless and incomparable Emily Adams, and Norman Moyes.

I HAVE BEEN fortunate enough to be encouraged, critiqued, and prodded by many gifted writers, particularly Vivian Fernandez and Rebecca Rector. Thanks also to my supportive online family of writers. I never feel alone.

THANK YOU TO the SCBWI and its talented regional advisors for creating a community that taught me how to be a professional. My SCBWI colleagues show me anything is possible, so long as you keep going.

FINALLY, THANK YOU to Elana Roth, Regina Griffin, and the talented Egmont USA team. You believed in me, taught me, and elevated this book to reality.

EGMONT
We bring stories to life

First published by Egmont USA, 2009
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © Pam Bachorz, 2009
All rights reserved

www.egmontusa.com
www.pambachorz.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bachorz, Pam.
Candor / Pam Bachorz.
p. cm.
Summary: For a fee, “model teen” Oscar Banks has been secretly—and selectively—sabotaging the subliminal messages that program the behavior of the residents of Candor, Florida, until his attraction to a rebellious new girl threatens to expose his subterfuge.
[1. Brainwashing—Fiction. 2. Memory—Fiction. 3. Identity—Fiction. 4. Science fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.B132163Can 2009
[Fic]—dc22
2009016243
eISBN: 978-1-60684-116-7

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

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