Dissidence (4 page)

“I know, but you of a
ll people should agree with me. Y
ou could have your pick of almost anyone if it were up to you.” I hated to stroke his ego, but it was the truth. Almost immediately I regretted it when he responded with a quirky grin. Why did I bother? “Forget it.”

“Well really, Leigh,” he sighed, “why do you always have to make yourself crazy about things that you can’t change anyway?”

“I’m not making myself crazy,” I shouted, sounding . . . okay, well maybe a little bit crazy.

“Clearly.”

“Shut up. I just hope you can tolerate whoever they pick for you.”

“After years of you?
I don’t think there’s anything I can’t tolerate.” He said it with a smile, but it was probably the truth. “It serves a purpose. The pairings unite the colonies. Everyone does their part to keep the peace . . . except maybe you,” he continued when he clearly should have stopped.

“Whatever.” I wanted to glare at him, but I just didn’t have the energy to sustain it.

Five jam-packed boxes later the house was still full of belongings. Where did all of that stuff come from? Peter finally left around eleven with a promise to come back the next day and help me finish up. I taped shut one last box and hoisted it over to the pile by the door before giving up for the night.

***

A black and white, plastic cat blaring out ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ on his tiny tin trumpet.
That was what I got to wake up to each and every glorious morning. The clock was a gift from my father and I just couldn’t bring myself to replace it, but that didn’t stop me from rooting for the confederate army just a little bit more each time I heard it.

I considered calling in sick to work to get more packing done. I mean, what were they going to do, fire me? But, in the end I didn’t want to miss out on my last day there
,
even if it was the equivalent of hell on earth. It would appear that I was quite the little masochist.

I let Marcus kno
w that it wa
s my last day and he finally sprang me from register duty. I spent the whole day in the kitchen listening to Sal spout off recipe after recipe for me to take to colony E. He even wrote one out that he swore would make everyone love me as soon as they
tasted it. Unless the ingredients included some kind of hallucinogenic drug, I seriously doubted it.

At closing time Sal seemed genuinely sad to see me go. Who knew he may have actually liked me all that time? Marcus even gave me a bonus check as a congratulation’s on my pairing. Birthdays didn’t rank high enough to get me off the stupid register, but me leaving? Now, there was something to celebrate.

Peter was once again a no-show for the walk home. I wondered idly if that was going to become a regular thing before remembe
ring
probably not
,
since that was the last time I’d be making that particular
walk
. About an hour and a half after I got home, Peter finally decide
d to grace me with his presence,
bursting through the front door without even bothering to knock.

“Come on in.”

“Leigh, there’s something I need to tell
you.” He was panting like he’
d run the whole way there.

“What is it?” His eyes
were serious,
scared even. I’
d never seen that look from him before
,
and it was freaking me out.

“Listen, I looked up Scott
Maylee
in the archives today . . .”

“Peter, your abuse of your access there is really starting to border on
stalkerish
,” I joked, but he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack his signature grin.

“Leigh, he doesn’t exist.”

Chapter 4

“What?”

“I looked, and there are
no files on him,
not one. No birth certificate or report cards or work assignment . . . nothing.”

“So, what does that . . .?”

“Leigh, would you just listen to me for one second?”

“Peter, you’re overreacting.” Now things were back to normal. “It was probably just a glitch or something, or maybe you weren’t looking in the right place. You’re hardly foolproof, you know.”

“I looked
everywhere
. What do you think I was doing there so late? He doesn’t exist.”

“Peter, slow down. Breathe, would you? If Scott
Maylee
doesn’t exist, then who is my mate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . I don’t think you should go tomorrow.”

Definitely hadn’t seen
that
coming. I was the one with authority issues. Peter was as straight-laced as they came. If he was
advocating rule breaking—

“Listen to yourself, you sound . . .” like me, “crazy.”
Hmm, probably not the best synonym.

“I’m not crazy, Leigh. Everyone has files. Everyone! It’s just not possible . . .”

“Stop.
Just stop it!” He was really starting to freak me out. “What are you saying, Peter?”

“I don’t know.” All the fight seemed to go right out of him as he dropped into a kitchen chair. “Leigh, you are one of the most opinionated loud mouths I’ve ever met. You have a problem with just about everything, and have
no
problem telling anyone who will listen.”

“Which
is
just you,” I pointed out.

When he looked up at me, I could see the strain in each of his features. “What if someone
else
was
listening? Someone who didn’t like what they heard.” He looked so distraught that I felt bad for the guy.

“Like who, Peter?” I took a seat beside him, so he knew he had my full attention.

“I don’t know, Leigh. Maybe someone like
the Head of S
ecurity
?” Okay, now he was just getting snippy.

What was his deal? Was he
trying
to scare me?
Because, if so, he was doing a pretty damn good job of it.

“Peter, I have to go. What else am I supposed to do? You said it yourself, that’s the way it is.”

For once, the look of defeat on his face didn’t bring me a sense of triumph. For once, I didn’t want to win.

“I don’t like it,” he reiterated, just in case I hadn’t already gotten the message loud and clear.

“Listen, I’ll write you when I get there, okay? Just because we can’t visit doesn’t mean we can’t keep in touch. Then you’ll know everything’s fine.”

“Fine.”
I knew he would relent, but I hated to hear him do it. “Just be caref
ul, all right?” Shifting toward
me, he grabbed my arm and his eyes met mine with such determination that they held me captive. “If
anything
seems off when you get there, just get yourself back here, and we’ll figure it out. If this Scott guy isn’t . . . Remember what you said, how if your mate was awful, you’d refuse
to
marry him? Don’t forget that, Leigh.”

“All right, Peter.”

“Promise me.” His voice was stern as his fingers pressed into my arm.

“I promise, okay?”

“No,
but I guess it’ll have to do.”

Despite his adamancy that he didn’t want me to go, he still helped me pack. Once again, the entire night was spent going through every last thing I owned, but this time around it was much more subdued.
The laughter and horseplay from the night before long forgotten in light of more serious circumstances.
Peter’s words echoed in my head like a relentless taunt. Don’t go? How could I possibly pull that off? They would be coming for me . . . soon. A train would be here tomorrow to take me away to colony E. What would happen if I wasn’t
t
here? Would they look for me? Most likely, and there were only so many places to hide within the colony. Besides, even if I did manage to elude them, what would I do? After tomorrow
,
my home and apprenticeship would be reassigned. There really was no other option, only wishful thinking.

I wished like hell Pe
ter had never opened his big mouth. That we could just pretend everything was fine, and I could spend a little more time having fun with my friend, instead of watching him sulk around my living room. It was almost three in the morning before the last of my belongings were safely tucked away in boxes and piled by the door. Neither of us was ready to say goodbye, so Peter opted to crash on my couch rather than go home. 

***

The clang of pots and pans coming from downstairs roused me first thing in the morning, and the enticing scent of cinnamon lured me into the kitchen where I found Peter standing over the stove, attempting to make French toast.

“I thought you should have a good breakfast on your big day.” He reached into the overhead cabinet for something, and knocked out no less than three bottles of seasoning.

“I think you missed your calling as a chef,” I teased, watching him splatter batter across the counter in an attempt to wrangle the wayward bottles.

“Let’s just hope my mate can cook, or we’re both going to starve.” A grin lit up his face as he shoved the bottles back in the cabinet and turned to me over the pan spitting butter at the both of us.

Almost all traces of the previous day’s apprehension were gone. He’d buried it deep where I wouldn’t have to face it, but he couldn’t quite disguise the anxiety in his eyes. I chose to ignore it. If he could play this game, so could I.

Regardless of our jokes, he actually made a pretty mean French toast, and I indulged in one of the best meals I’d had in a while. The company didn’t hurt either. We lingered around the table, taking small bites and talking, but no matter how slowly we ate, we couldn’t hold off reality forever.

At precisely nine-thirty, our little world of make believe came crashing down when four men arrived to collect my belongings. Apparently they were going to be taken to the train station for me. Peter helped them load the boxes into the back of an old blue pickup truck. I’d only seen a car twice in my life, so I couldn’t help but stare at it. They were used primarily for official business, so it was kind of rare to have one sitting outside your house. The men offered me a ride, but I opted to walk with Peter instead. As intriguing as the vehicle looked, something about the idea of moving at forty miles an hour was terrifying.

“You’d better get a move on then,” one of the men told me as he climbed up into the back of the truck, surrounded by my boxes. “You wouldn’t want your belongings making the trip without you.”

That would actually have been perfectly fine with me, but I just nodded. The house looked sad and lonely with nothing left in it but the furniture. Peter waited patiently for me by the door as I took one last look around. It had been a good home, but there was no use dwelling on it. It was time to move on. Pulling the door shut behind us, I said goodbye to the only home I’d ever known.

The closer we got to the station, the harder my heart beat. I was absolutely terrified and it had very little to do with anything Peter had said. I just couldn’t believe I was about to leave behind everything I knew. Besides Peter, there wasn’t much I would specifically miss, just the comfort of the known, I guess. Going alone to some place where I wasn’t sure what or who was waiting for me was one of the scarie
st things I could imagine. I did
n’t
notice
I was wringing my hands together until Peter pried them apart and wrapped them in his.

“Don’t go, Leigh.” His eyes pleaded with me to stay.

“Peter . . .”

“I know . . . you have to, but I had to ask one more time. Don’t forget, anything goes wrong you get back to me, all right?”

“I’ll write you.” I had to force the words out over the lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to miss you,
Kaleigh
Maylee
.”

A pained smile crossed his face, and I forced myself to return it. Without meaning to, I started laughing, and then we were both giggling like school girls. Sometimes you just have to laugh or cry, and I’ve never been big on tears.

“I’ll miss you too, Peter.”

He pulled me into a tight hug
,
something I rarely tolerated, but then I allowed it. I even returned the embrace. He didn’t release me until an irritated looking man stepped out onto the platform and conspicuously cleared his throat. Every step I took hurt just a little bit more until I was inside the train and waving to Peter from the window as we pulled out of the station. I kept standing there, staring out the window, unable to move, until both he and colony D were long out
of sight.

“I’ll show you to your compartment now.” A man in an all-black guards’ uniform was standing beside me.

Now that I thought about it, the men at the house who took my belongings wer
e also in uniform. Not what I’
d expected, but no one was acting like it was anything out of the ordinary for them, so I brushed it off.