The Registry (3 page)

“I wouldn’t try Canada, either.” Whitney started polishing again. “They deport all girls right back home.”

“How do you know that?”

“My father’s not as strict as yours. He didn’t have to worry about wasting an investment, so he taught me some practical things,” Whitney said. “Sometimes I think he
wants
me to run.”

Mia looked away. Whitney was always so negative about herself. After her mother died her father had moved them here. He clearly had no plans to make any money off of her. Mia thought he was the reason for Whitney’s intelligence. She was pretty but had never really learned how to present herself. She would have been a prime candidate for finishing school, but her father wouldn’t hear of it. Still, Mia was surprised Whitney had appraised so low; it didn’t seem right.

Mia’s thoughts returned to her escape and she felt her world crushing down on her. Canada seemed like the safest option. There was no Registry up there. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

“Now, Mexico, that’s a possibility,” Whitney said, not looking up from her work. “Of course the trip is longer and more dangerous.”

Mia whipped her head back. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I might have more knowledge about the world than you, but I’m not exactly worldly.”

Mia took a long, deep breath and tried to think about how she could make it to Mexico. She knew she needed help. “Come with me.”

“Sure, but your mother will be mad if we don’t finish in here first,” Whitney said. “Your father’s won too many farming awards. I didn’t even know they had this many.”

“No.” Mia reached out and grabbed Whitney’s arm. “Come with me to Mexico.”

Whitney burst out laughing but started to slow down when she realized Mia was not joining her. The two girls stared at each other in awkward silence till Mia spoke.

“I can’t live this life. I don’t want to marry a stranger. I’ve seen it with my sisters. The last time I saw or heard from any of them was the day they got married.”

Mia’s parents had sworn her to secrecy. It killed her that she couldn’t share Corinna’s fate with Whitney, but Mia wasn’t sure she could even convey the poor shape Corinna had been in, let alone show Whitney the anti-American words hidden in her room.

“Well, when they got married they became the property of their husbands. And it’s not like you were close with your sisters before they wed.”

“What about you and me? We’re close. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Maybe you’ll get a nicer husband who will let you keep in contact . . .”

“I’m not anyone’s property!” Mia said. “You realize that my getting married means we will never see each other again either. You’re my best friend. Please, I need to get away from this, and I need your help to do it.”

“No, no way. We’ve always known we would part once you got married. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with
your
world.”

“We’ll disguise ourselves as boys! Nobody will notice,” Mia said. “And if we get caught it’s not like anything will have changed for you. I’ve heard you say a thousand times you think you’re destined for a life as government property. What if there is some sweet boy down in Mexico waiting to meet you? If you leave with me, you can have the life you want.”

Mia knew this was a good argument.

But Whitney’s pensive expression went flat—and then she shook her head.

“You know what the
Registry Guide
says. The success rate of RAG agents? It’s over ninety-nine percent. I think that’s why most girls aren’t stupid enough to run away.”

“The success rate is so high because nobody tries!” Mia said.
Girls are programmed so young that none of them attempt to escape; they think they are living the only life possible.
She had more faith in that one piece of paper from
Unique Girl
than the whole
Registry Guide
. “Please! I can’t do this alone. I’m not clever or smart enough. I need you.”

Waves of emotion crossed Whitney’s face. Mia reached out and grabbed her hand.

“What’s gotten into you?” Whitney asked. “A few months ago you would’ve been bragging nonstop about your price tag, and now you want to run from a dream life?”

Mia just stared at Whitney, refusing to answer. The dream no longer existed. After several minutes of silence Whitney let out a sigh and nodded her head. Mia leaned over and hugged her friend.

“I’m not doing this for you. I think you’re crazy and making a mistake, but I’ve been in the Registry for over six months now; in six more months I’ll be married to the government. I haven’t had a single prospect, and I want to get married. If we are going to do this, we need a plan. We need to do this right.” Whitney sounded stern. “When would we leave?”

“All I know is what you know,” Mia said.

“We need to plan. We need a map and a method of transportation. We need to start storing food, figure out the distance, and get ready to pose as men.” Whitney was taking charge. “Use every chance you can to learn about travel and Mexico. The more information we have, the better we can do. That means trying to get access to a computer, or at least a newspaper or a book.”

“But that will draw my parents’ attention, and I’ve never touched the computer in my life,” Mia said.

“I know you’re scared of your parents, but they will spit fire when you cost them half a million dollars. So suck it up and ask for a book or computer privileges.”

Mia had never had any interest in computers; she thought they held too much information and were only necessary for men. But since Corinna’s visit she had tried desperately to get hold of one. Unfortunately her father kept his in a locked desk drawer in his locked office. She didn’t want to disappoint Whitney, so she nodded her head, promising herself she would find a way. Mia started to dream about a free life. She tuned Whitney out as she continued to babble more instructions. Mia could feel her plan growing. Now there were two.

Chapter 3

There is nothing wrong with a girl admiring her own beauty. It is a pleasant and acceptable way to pass the time. Focusing on positive attributes increases her ability to highlight them.

—The Registry Guide for Girls

C
an I please see my page?”

Mia’s father, David, looked up from his papers and over at his daughter. It was rare for her to come into his office uninvited.

“Now? It’s the middle of the day. I still have to get some orders out.”

“It’s been up for over a week now and I haven’t seen it yet,” Mia said.

The plump old man gave his daughter a disapproving look. His gray hair went in all directions. He ran his hand over his wiry mustache before continuing.

“All right, you win.”

He began typing at his screen while Mia rushed behind him, hoping to learn something about the computer. She glanced at the keyboard and was surprised the letters weren’t placed alphabetically. She was trying to study their order when her father drew her attention to the screen.

Mia was shocked by what he pulled up. Her picture took up most of the page. It was from the day of her appraisal: No makeup, hair slicked back tight, and that black bodysuit. No smile or emotion displayed on her face at all. She thought she’d never looked worse.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Mia made a disgusted face. Truthfully she was relieved at how unattractive she looked, thinking it would deter a husband. “That is a hideous picture of me! Who in their right mind would want that as a wife?”

Her father chuckled and clicked a button. Other pictures of Mia popped up. These displayed her made up like a doll or wearing next to nothing. She found these even more disturbing, especially because she had taken those months ago, long before Corinna’s visit. Mia was repulsed by her former self.

“All the girls in the Registry have the same picture,” said her father. “That’s because men started complaining about parents using false photos. This way, the men can see their natural beauty.
Your
natural beauty.”

“Can I see someone else’s profile?” Mia just wanted to watch how her father operated the machine.

“Sorry, all I have access to is your page. It is expensive to use the Registry. That way only men who are serious about finding a wife can log in.”

Mia tried to focus on the computer, to see if there was any way she could use it, but she knew it was a lost cause. It was unlikely she could even figure out how to turn it on. She shook her head and walked toward the door.

“Don’t you want to know if anyone has offered for you?” Her father raised his eyebrows. “Hear about any of your possibilities?”

Mia paused and turned back toward him.

“I figure you will let me know what I need to about who and when.”

“Well, I was going to wait for your mother to tell you, but I am meeting with a prospective husband this week.” He smiled ear to ear.

Mia knew he expected her to jump for joy at this bit of information, but all she cared about was the timing of this potential match.

“Isn’t that too soon?”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s for me to take care of. I’m sure you are ready and will charm this gentleman, and land yourself a nice life and comfort for your mother and me.”

Yes, comfort indeed.
Mia nearly snorted. With four attractive daughters, her parents were already wealthier than most. Growing up, she had always thought her parents loved her, and she had loved them in return, wanting nothing more than to make them proud, and the best way to do that was to land an expensive price tag. After she saw them return her older sister, she knew it wasn’t love that motivated them. It was greed. She forced a smile and excused herself.

Mia walked into the kitchen and slid open the glass back door. She started to make her way toward Whitney’s apartment, her head spinning.

Breaking into a run, Mia turned a corner, picking up speed, and barreled straight into a wall, smacking her forehead and landing on her rear.

Dazed, Mia watched the wall move, only to realize it was a person.

Mia’s heart jumped as she sat up. Andrew, her father’s head farmhand, towered over her. The long cords of his neck stood out as he clenched his jaw, and thick, wavy black hair fell in front of his piercing brown eyes. Mia’s mouth hung open slightly; she had never been so close to one of the male workers before. She knew she was staring but couldn’t look away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” Her voice was meek.

Andrew instinctively reached out to her to help her up, his eyes never leaving hers. Mia leaned forward and offered her hand, but he suddenly jerked back as if burned. As if he’d only then realized who she was, that she was a girl. As if he was scared. Of her?

His attention quickly turned to the reason for his carelessness. Close to the barn, a group of five teenage farmhands were picking on a littler one. The victim looked just about thirteen. He was on the ground crying. Mia couldn’t make out what the other boys were saying, but they were taunting him.

She watched as Andrew made his way toward the group, shoving one of the bullies to the ground and punching another in the face. He hoisted the young boy up. His voice was loud and clear.

“This is not how we do things here,” Andrew said. “If you have problems with someone, come to me. If you think that it’s play, that it’s fun to beat up little kids, leave this farm today. If any of you ever lays a finger on him, or anyone else, I will see to it myself that you lose that finger.”

Andrew put his arm around the kid’s shoulders and walked him away. The mob disbanded. All the young men apparently took Andrew at his word.

Mia was impressed. She was forbidden to associate with any of the farmhands, but she knew they were a rough group. She was fascinated by the way Andrew had stood up for the victim and the respect he commanded from his peers. She pulled herself up, continued toward Whitney, and hoped her friend had some good advice.

Chapter 4

Your country comes first. You come second, for without your country you would not be.

—The Boy’s Guide to Service

A
re you sure you’re all right?” Andrew asked the new kid.

“I’ll be fine.” He wiped his eyes.

“You’re fresh out of school? Probably released two months ago? This is your first job?” Andrew didn’t know why he asked these questions; he knew the answers were yes. “Mr. Morrissey is a good employer. I traveled for about two years before I ended up here, and there are worse places to be.”

The young charge just nodded his head.

“Stay here till your service date, if you can. Stand up for yourself, though, or the other guys will feed on your weakness.”

Again the new farmhand just nodded his head. Andrew signaled for him to take off and he gladly ran toward the barn the young men called home. Andrew assumed he needed to check on his belongings and make sure none of his tormentors had touched them. Andrew knew they wouldn’t, not after he’d told them to stay clear.

His shoulder was sore and he put his hand up to rub it, remembering his run-in with Mr. Morrissey’s daughter. She was probably going to see the other girl, the manager’s daughter. But why was she in such a rush? He usually tried to avoid both the girls at all costs. He knew the dangers of being seen with an unmarried girl, had heard stories about unserved boys who were stupid enough to get caught up in a pretty face—someone they didn’t deserve to have. He wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t taking any chances. It was almost his time to serve, and once he was discharged he would be ready for and deserving of female companionship. For now, the only love in his life was for his country.

Andrew knew that his time in service would be hard. It was his initiation into manhood; he would face any enemy knowing he might not leave with his life, and it was up to him to survive whatever war he faced. But he was not scared. His country would prepare him, make him the best soldier, impossible to take down. He was lucky he lived in the greatest country in the world and honored that it was his duty to serve.