One of Us (7 page)

And why is that?
I wonder.
Could it be because you blow people up?

The door of the main building is wedged open and now it's crowded with people coming through from the parking lot, so noisy with the rise and fall of voices that you can't hear the clock at all.

Serafina pulls me over to a table in the corner, covered in a gold brocade cloth embroidered with birds and flowers. A book is open on the table, with a pen lying on it. Serafina signs her name in round swirling handwriting. She passes me the pen.

But as I touch it to the creamy paper, my mind goes completely blank.
K Child.

“Just sign your name, Verity.”

I write it quickly then, because there's a line forming behind us.
Verity Nekton.
It doesn't look like a signature at all. I should have practiced.

“The Meeting Hall's upstairs,” says Serafina.

The banister is smooth from centuries of hands running up and down its oak curves. It would be perfect for sliding down. I look down at the crowded lobby below, now a sea of red Brotherhood check, and a wave of nausea washes over me. What am I doing here? Isn't it glaringly obvious that I don't belong?
Calm down, K, nobody will notice you in all this crowd.

I glance at our reflection in the stairwell windows as we go up the turn in the stairs. Serafina and Celestina wouldn't be seen dead in a skirt as shapeless as mine. Under my black hair, my face looks pale. My heart lurches. My hat! I'm the only girl I can see with an uncovered head. Serafina has tied her scarf over her head. I watched her do it and I still didn't remember the hat. But I think of what Oskar said:
Smile. You have to look friendly.
Like Serafina. How much will it matter, not having a hat?

The upstairs lobby is buzzing with people, and outside, the long drive is dotted by headlights as a line of cars creeps toward the parking lot. All Brotherhood. All
the women and girls in hats. Beside the door two little girls have sat down to take off their shoes before going into the hall. I almost jump when I see the boy from the station standing in one of the doorways into the hall. His hair is wet. As we get closer, I smell chlorine.

“That's Gregory,” says Serafina.

She squeezes my arm, and I stop myself from pulling it away.

“He's great.” She gestures over to the other door, where a boy with corkscrew curls and a friendly smile is handing out candles. “He lives here because his family is overseas. And that's his friend, Emanuel. He lives here too. But you'll meet them later.”

I think she likes Emanuel. I fake-smile at Serafina. “I already met him—Gregory.”

I follow Serafina's lead and put my shoes next to hers in the shoe rack beside the door. The boy called Emanuel is standing on one side of the doorway, and a ginger-haired boy on the other. I can't see Gregory. We file in with everyone else and Emanuel gives Serafina a candle, but the ginger-haired boy on my side of the doorway ignores my open hand. He looks me up and down, for too long.

I stare back at him. I don't think I look friendly. Sorry, Oskar.

“That's Jeremiah,” whispers Serafina. “He lives here as well.”

I follow her in. Under other circumstances, I would love this room. Although it's so old, it's very simple, with huge windows that go from floor to ceiling. Outside, I can see a row of fir trees. Inside, there
is nothing but carpet with a path through the middle that leads to a high table where their huge Book lies. Women and girls sit on the left side, men and boys on the right. Serafina clutches my arm as we sit down.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers. “I didn't notice your head's not covered. We don't have to wear hats indoors, but we do need something. That's why Jeremiah couldn't give you a candle. Now you won't be able to come up and receive the blessing.” Her face has gone pink under her red-checked scarf.

Sure enough, all the girls and women are wearing hats or scarves. I try to look like I care. “Hey, that's OK. I can just watch you get yours.”

But then I start to think what it's going to look like when they all go up to the front, leaving me alone in a carpet sea. Grandma would be pleased I wasn't taking part, at least. I feel a grim smile twist the corners of my mouth, not the sort of smile Oskar meant. And he said not to draw attention to myself. And soon I'll be sticking out, all on my own. I should have remembered the stupid hat. How could I have been so careless?

I jump as a red-checked shape leans over my shoulder. It's Gregory, the station boy. He's so close that his chlorine smell overwhelms Serafina's perfume. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then reaches over me to pass a scarf and a candle to Serafina instead. Does this mean he can't even speak to me if my head's not covered in the Meeting Hall? He stands up and hurries away.

Serafina turns to me, beaming. “Typical Gregory. So thoughtful,” she whispers. “Now you can go up
too!” She holds out a candle, and the scarf.

“What?” I want to push her hand away, but I stop myself. At least he's saved me from having to sit on my own.

Serafina's face clouds a little. “Come on,” she murmurs. “Look, he even got one that matches your blouse.”

I look down. The scarf is navy, with tiny pink flowers like the ones on my top. Serafina's gazing at me with puppy eyes.

“OK.” I take the scarf from her. “Thanks.”

I tie the headscarf in a knot under my chin, not prettily at the back like Serafina's.

I
T
'
S NOT WHAT
I expected. Nobody sings, and nobody speaks, and in the deep hush I watch the sky turn from indigo to black. Who are all these people? I wonder. Who here is in the cell? Which of these quiet people could be a bomber? Then Brer Magnus comes in, a red cloak swinging behind him. He strides down the corridor between the men and boys and the women and girls and there's a rush of movement as everyone scrambles to their feet. He stands behind the table with the Book, staring around the room with fierce blue eyes beneath the gray wing of his comb-over. The room is stilled into an expectant hush. Brer Magnus doesn't speak as his eyes scan the room, searching every face.
Oskar has told me all about you
. I remember what he'd said:
Who knows how many pupils he has radicalized?

Just thinking this seems to draw his eyes to mine. I stare back. I'm not looking away first. What would
happen if he guessed I wasn't really Brotherhood? If I was here to “infiltrate a cell.” A tap on the shoulder followed by an “accident”? How easily I could just disappear. After all, I'm Verity Nekton now, an imaginary person. How would Oskar even know? It's hot in this crowded room so I slide my borrowed cardigan off, letting it slip to the floor.

Brer Magnus raises his hands and we all sit down again. “Brothers and Sisters, welcome to the Spring Meeting,” he says. “We are here to hold fast in these days of change! To protect our Brotherhood heritage even as our very existence is threatened by those who want us to sit at table with nonbelievers.” He raises his voice. “To force our children into mixed schools. To compromise our Brotherhood heritage.” His eyes sweep the room. “Brothers and Sisters, we must do everything in our power to preserve our separateness.”

Everything in our power?
A wave of panic floods me, but I make myself breathe calmly, staring out at the fir trees feathered against the sunset. We could be on top of a forested mountain instead of in a school. I let his voice roll over me like background music while I fix my eyes on the silhouette of a black crow until I forget where I am.

Brer Magnus talks and talks, and nobody else says anything at all. At last his voice changes, becoming lighter. “And now we will light our candles of purity,” he says, “before we eat together. I hope that everyone will join with us in this time of fellowship.”

A grateful ripple waves through the room and we all clamber stiffly to our feet, taking the candles up
to the table. Brer Magnus still stands behind it, his hands spread wide on the gold cloth beneath the Book, the red check of his cloak glowing. He fixes his piercing gaze on each person as they approach. He makes my flesh crawl. I stand next to Serafina, clutching my candle, panic beating in my chest. I look over the top of his head as he lights my candle. But when I put it down in front of the Book with the others and see all the little lights glimmering together, the memory of the vigil strikes me. I wish I was wearing the floppy hat, so that I could hide my face. Instead I lower my head.

A
FTERWARD I LOSE
Serafina. There are so many people thronging around Brer Magnus in the lobby below the Meeting Hall that I can't see her. Maybe Brer Magnus is standing by the door to make sure that nobody leaves early. That boy Jeremiah seems to have his whole family here. They all look like each other and they're all hanging on to Brer Magnus's words with glowing faces. Have they come just to hear him speak? I edge closer in the crowd.

“I wish I could go too,” Jeremiah is saying. He indicates the boy standing next to him. “This is my cousin.”

Brer Magnus smiles, puts one hand on Jeremiah's shoulder. “You're nearly old enough.” He turns and nods at Jeremiah's cousin, who steps eagerly forward.

“You'll meet interesting people there when you come,” says the cousin. “People who will make them sit up and take note.”

Them? Does he mean “us”? Citizens?
My heart starts beating faster. I dig my fingernails into the palms of
my hands, pretending to look around for Serafina.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Jeremiah eagerly nodding.

“They live like animals, without rules,” he continues. “But they need to know we haven't forgotten.”

I try to look as if I'm in the line to sign the visitors' book, still on the little table in the corner, rather than listening in. I'm glad for the scarf now. It seems to make me almost invisible. Maybe that's its purpose.

“I want to do more,” says Jeremiah.

The other boy steps even closer to Brer Magnus. “Talk to them in the language they understand, if you get what I mean.” He turns to Jeremiah. “You should join.”

Brer Magnus laughs and pats Jeremiah's shoulder. “It's wonderful to see the passion you young men have.” His voice takes on a note of warning. “Just don't get carried away.” Then he turns to someone at his elbow.

I can't believe what I've just heard. They weren't even talking quietly! I look over to the stairs and my eyes meet Gregory's. I wonder if he noticed me listening. I look away, cursing myself. I'm no good at this—why would Oskar think I could do it? Why would anyone?

People are beginning to disperse now, across the grass toward the canteen block. As I reach the cold air in the doorway, I remember Serafina's cardigan. I run upstairs to fetch it. It's empty up here now. I slip off my shoes again, just in case, and kick them to the side of the door. In the Meeting Hall, only one lamp still shines, above the closed Book and the snuffed-out candles, and suddenly I need to see
it for myself. What does it say in their Book that makes them want to kill strangers?

I can see the cardigan lying on the carpet. After I've picked it up, I glance over my shoulder, but nobody is there. I pad over to the table. I can hear my own breath, loud and quick. I am going to look at the Book. I turn it around and open it, letting the heavy pages fall back. I think of all the times I tried to peer through the Brotherhood Meeting Hall doorway in Yoremouth while Grandma dragged me quickly past. And here I am actually leafing through their famous Book for myself. I'd better be quick, though.