Held (Gone #2) (11 page)

"It's all right. I'm not going to get you in trouble for informal speech. I want to help you adjust to living here in the community. It's a lot to take in after living out there."

She reached over and brushed some hair out of Macy's face. Something on her arm caught her attention. "What's that?" Macy asked.

Rebekah pulled her sleeve down closer to her wrist. "It's a mark of shame from my old life."

"A mark of shame?"

"Let me speak plainly for a moment. I was in a pretty successful indie band. We lived the wild, dream life most kids in the world aspire to. Our songs had thousands of downloads, our videos had even more views, and our shows were always packed. My tattoo was a mark of pride, and is now my shame. I keep it hidden and now only your dad knows about it."

Macy's eyes grew wide. Rebekah was not only beautiful, but cool. "Can I see it?"

The corners of Rebekah's lips twitched as she obviously tried to hide a smile. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Yeah. I would pinky swear, but I'm sure you don't do that."

"This one time won't hurt anything." Rebekah held out her pinky. She smiled.

Macy couldn't believe it. Maybe she'd actually have a friend. In her house, even. Sure, Ingrid and George had been nice, but they were like grandparents, not a friend. Her eyes lit up and she slipped her pinky around Rebekah's.

Rebekah's eyes twinkled. "Remember, a pinky promise is for keeps."

"Of course. I can't wait to see it."

Rebekah pulled up her white sleeve, exposing a black and white sun with several symbols in the middle.

"What is it?"

"It was the logo for our band."

"That's awesome. I wonder why I've never seen it if you guys were so popular."

"We were mostly known on the east coast, where I'm from."

"Why did you quit?"

"To join the community."

Macy's mouth dropped. "For real? Why?"

"I was chosen."

"How? Why did you—?"

Rebekah pulled her sleeve back down. "I'll tell you everything, but later. We have to get ready for school. You'll need to get dressed and pull your hair back. I can help you with that if you need me to."

"No bath?"

"Sorry. We usually only bathe once a week unless we need to be cleansed."

"Feeling gross isn't enough?"

She put her hand on Macy's. "Your body will adjust and you'll stop feeling that way soon. All of the shampoos and soaps from the world strip away our body's oils, making us produce unnaturally high amounts. In a way, this is another way of purifying ourselves from our time out there."

Macy sighed. "I'll be out in a minute."

Rebekah squeezed her hand and then left without a word. Macy got up, excited about Rebekah. Not only was she nice, but she was cool too. A successful indie rock band and a tattoo. She was basically the best stepmom ever.

Fake stepmom. Macy rolled her eyes at herself. Now wasn't the time to start thinking about herself as part of this family. It was all a hoax and her goal was still to get back home.

She put on the stiff clothes and grabbed her—Heather's—brush. Her hair felt horrible after not washing it. At least it would be in a bun. She looked around for a mirror, not seeing one. There wasn't even a mirror in the bathroom, which was literally a bath-room. It only had a tub and a small sink.

Did the community think mirrors were evil too?

Macy brushed her hair back as best as she could, sure that it sucked. She could feel lumps on the top of her head. Maybe she would take Rebekah up on her offer to help.

Her stomach jumped around as she thought about starting a new school, even one that was full of kids dressed in white. Maybe that made it worse. Were they going to be nicer or worse than the kids at her real school? Maybe the fact that she was the "daughter" of the future prophet would give her an edge. Maybe she even stood a chance at popularity, whatever that meant in a place like this.

Macy tidied up the room and then went out to the living room, where Rebekah was cooking something on the stove.

"Do you mind if I help you with your hair?" Rebekah asked.

"Please."

Rebekah checked whatever she was cooking and then pulled Macy's bun out. "Where's your brush? Still in your room?" They went back to Macy's room and before long, her hair was done and they were eating breakfast.

Chester spoke excitedly about meeting with Jonah, Abraham, and Isaac that day. Macy couldn't stop thinking about what school would be like, so she could barely pay attention to him. She knew she needed to listen at least a little in case he asked her about it, which he often did, always wanting to make sure she was paying attention to his ramblings. She had learned to listen for key points when he talked without having to actually listen to every word.

"Are you excited about school?" He stared at her.

"I…I guess. I mean, I don't know what to expect."

He looked annoyed.

"I promise to use formal language there. I won't embarrass you."

"That's good to hear."

"You needn't worry too much about it," Rebekah said. "Don't use worldly slang and you should be fine. Everyone has leniency for new members. Also, I've heard your teacher is nice."

Chester and Rebekah exchanged a look.

What did that mean? Macy wasn't going to ask.

"One more thing," Chester said, "remember you don't speak to a male puritan unless spoken to."

Rebekah nodded. "That's one of the most important rules, and also one of the hardest to remember after leaving the world. There are many things that will receive leniency, but that is often not one of them."

"Even kids my own age?"

Chester set his fork down. "Even boys younger than you. Not even a toddler."

Macy's eyes widened, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Guys in the community must have huge heads. Where did they draw the line? Were moms allowed to speak to their sons before spoken to? If not, that was the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes." She probably answered too fast, but she didn't want angry Chester to return.

He smiled. "Good. It really shouldn't be that hard. It's just a matter of respect and understanding where you are in the big scheme of things."

Rebekah gave her a reassuring look. "I'll do my best to help you."

Macy looked at her, confused.

"Rebekah is a teacher," Chester said.

"You are?"

"Yes. There are two of us and we sometimes split up the younger kids and the older. If we do that today, I'll be sure to go with your class. My ranking is higher than the other teacher, so it won't be a problem."

"How does the ranking work?"

"You'll learn all about it in school."

Why hadn't she figured that out herself? Had she really expected to study American History and Algebra?

"Are you ready?"

"I just have to go the bathroom—I mean the outhouse."

Chester gave her a serious look. "Hurry. You don't want to make your teacher late, Heather."

Macy got up and went out to the outhouse, hit by the cold. Why didn't they allow coats? There was a thick covering of frost on the ground and she could see her breath. Any sane person would want a thick, warm coat.

When she got back inside, Rebekah was cleaning the last dish. "Are you ready now?"

"I guess."

"You needn't worry. Everyone will like you, Heather."

Macy shrugged.

Rebekah wiped her hands on a towel and then squeezed Macy's shoulders. "You'll do great. No need to be nervous. Let's go."

When they got into the living room, Chester gave Rebekah a big hug and a kiss. Then he turned to Macy. "I wish I could go with you on your first day, Heather, but I need to spend the day with the high prophets. Give me a hug." He opened his arms wide.

Macy walked to him and wrapped her arms around him. He smelled of that awful soap, but then again, she probably did too. He put his arms around her and squeezed tight. "You have a good day, and don't worry. We'll all be back together tonight."

Don't worry? The only part of school she was looking forward to was being away from him.

Finally, he let go and they all went outside and he went the opposite direction as Macy and Rebekah. A lot of people were out, walking around.

"Don't make eye contact with males you don't know. It's considered rude, and if you look at the wrong one, you could end up with a letter on your first day. I'll insist on everyone at school having grace with you, but I have no control over anyone outside of school."

Macy gulped. "What's it like?"

"School, you mean?"

Macy nodded, keeping her eyes low. How was she ever going to remember all of the rules? Just avoid guys altogether?

"It's somewhat like school as you're used to. Desks and books, but instead of learning useless facts which have all been twisted by the world's government, we teach what is actually useful. You'll learn about the community rules, the prophecies, and the professions needed here inside the walls."

At least it was better than being stuck with Chester and his ranting all day. "So, do you celebrate holidays?"

Rebekah shook her head no. "All days are equal. Holidays were dreamed up by the world to meet their evil desires. True happiness comes from appreciating that every day is special. Finding joy in that is something the world will never understand."

"Are there days off? Don't a lot of religions have days to rest?"

"This isn't a religion. It's the truth. Jonah and the other prophets receive messages from up above, teaching us the truisms about this life and the one to come. As for the days off, we do take one day a week to listen to a special message from Jonah and the others, but as you know, we have meetings every evening. We're almost at the school."

Macy looked up, seeing what looked like an old fashioned school house. She held her breath.

School

"Good morning, everyone," Rebekah said, closing the door behind her and Macy.

"Good morning, Teacher," all of the students replied.

Macy looked around, careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

"This is Heather," Rebekah continued. "You remember her from the unveiling ceremony the other night. Many of you know what it's like to be new here, so please be extra helpful. She is not used to our ways yet, although she's been doing very well at home. We are going to start with our copy work this morning, so find the appropriate book of prophecies and begin copying."

Rebekah led Macy to a desk with a cute guy who was busy reading. She told Macy that would be her permanent seat. As Macy sat, Rebekah gathered some books, which were really just stacks of paper held together by string weaved into a binding.

"Start with this one. It's the rules of the community. I'm sure Eve went over the basic ones with you, but to really learn them, you must copy them over and over again."

Macy took the book and ignored the boy next to her. Pretended to ignore him. He was really cute and found herself wanting to stare. He looked to be about her age, and she tried to imagine what he would look like in regular clothes. She couldn't tell which clique he would have been in, but he was adorable with his bright blue eyes and thoughtful expression. And that was saying something since it was hard for anyone to look good in the ugly, white clothes. Maybe that was the point.

"You'll get that copy work done a lot faster if you start," he said.

Macy jumped. She hadn't realized he had been paying any attention to her. "I—uh, yes. You're right." He had spoken to her, so it was okay for her to talk to him, right? But he hadn't given her
permission.
She picked up the large, awkward-shaped pencil sitting in front of her.

"Don't be nervous. It's not so bad here—once you get used to it." He smiled.

Macy could feel her cheeks warm up. "Are you…?"

"From the world? Yes. I've been here a few years, and I have to say that for the most part, the people are a lot nicer. They—uh oh, Teacher is looking our way. Better start writing."

Macy looked up to see Rebekah looking their way. She had a stern look on her face, but she didn't look angry.

Macy looked at the rules and copied them. Most of it she already knew from Eve quizzing her the other day.

After a while, she had to put the pencil down because her hand cramped up. She rubbed it as it protested by hurting even more.

The boy next to her looked up at her, his eyes twinkling. "Used to typing, aren't you?" he whispered.

She nodded.

"It's tough. Don't mention any kind of technology to the adults, but I get it."

"Right. We don't talk about the ways of the world."

He raised his hand.

Rebekah nodded at him.

"Teacher, Heather's hand is cramping. I don't think she's used to so much writing. May I take her outside to walk around and stretch her legs?"