Under the Stars (6 page)

Most of the people in the market have packed their goods and gone home for the night. None of the fresh produce would withstand the darkness, anyway.

I wander freely, hoping I don’t become stiff if I’m hit with icy air. A few lanterns are lit inside the homes on the hill, but the atmosphere, the leaky tents, the guards—all deathly still.

Back home, I explain to Mama what Malik said. She carries on about how she didn’t realize they have town meetings here, and wonders what will happen.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too major,” I say, trying to keep her calm. She seems to be worked up over nothing.

“But what if they tell us we have to pay? We don’t have a penny to our name.”

I almost giggle. I don’t know why this is amusing to me. Hands on hips, I say, “Mama, you can ask ‘what ifs’ until your jaw cracks, but they won’t get you anywhere. Tomorrow we’ll know.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.” She stares off.

I take a seat beside her on the dingy couch, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. With a firm squeeze, I tell her everything’s going to be all right. Somehow, I almost believe it.

14.

The next day, unvarying rumors are on the tips of tongues.
 

But in the meantime, Mattie and I are bored out of our freaking minds while Mama’s at work. There isn’t a school for the children to attend. I’m too old to play hop scotch and jump rope in the streets. Mattie doesn’t indicate that he wants to play with the other kids; he just clings to my side like we’re glued at the hip.
 

“I think they have her in a room making jewelry, so she can sell it later,” I tell him, which means I’m basically talking to myself.

“I wonder what Malik is doing,” I continue. “He’d keep us company.”

With the sun burning down on us, Mattie and I move to the shade. It’s cooler, but there’s a skeletal coat of sweat on my skin. In the distance, there are several new caravans arriving outside the city’s walls. Guards leisurely stroll up to the carts, checking for symbols.

“Look, Mattie, more neighbors,” I say, pointing toward the newcomers. “How many people can this town hold?” It’s already crowded as it is. How will they afford to let more people reside here?

I see the old man decorated in rags from head to toe ramble on with his usual lecture. Some of the citizens pay attention. Others go about like they can’t hear a word he says.

Climbing up the hill is Malik. He greets us with a bright smile. “I suppose you saw the new people.” It wasn’t really a question.

“I did notice them,” I answer.

I can feel his eyes gliding up and down my face. “You worried about that meeting tonight?”

I frown. “Not really. Mama is, though. She freaked out when I told her.”

Malik chuckles a little. “What for?”

“She has no idea what it’s about. I think that’s what scares her the most.” I tilt my head toward him. “What about you? Can you predict what’ll happen? Gypsies are known for their fortune telling.”

“Ah, they are. Too bad it’s not genetic for me.”

Like that wasn’t the crappiest thing I could’ve said. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Malik waves a hand at me, cutting me off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do your parents—do they have jobs now, too?”

He nods, staring off toward the new recruits. “Mother’s in tailoring. Father’s in pottery. I can see my mother creating clothes, but I’m not so sure my father can produce symmetrical pots.”

I laugh at that.

In the not so far distance, stars explode when they hit the ground. Malik spots where my eyes follow.

“Don’t worry about them. We’re safe now,” he says softly.

“How can you be sure?”

“You can’t see it, but there’s a protective barrier around Legora. Don’t know how they do it, but it’s there. Defends us against falling stars and creatures. The King and his government are the ones who invented it.”

I jerk my head in his direction. “The King?”

“The King of the New World is what they call him. They say he lives far away, and only the best transportation can get you there. They say his palace withstood the wars years ago, and there’s gold as far as the eye can see.”

I roll my eyes and cough. “Surely you don’t believe that.”

“One can dream, right?”

“Yes, I believe we can all dream.”

That night, the town meeting is held. We gather in a shop near the outskirts of Legora’s walls. Every family—including the new arrivals—is there. The building is crammed with people, all the way to the door. No seats are left. Mama, Mattie and I stand in the rear, leaning against the wall.

“When are they starting?” I ask.

“Probably when everyone gets here,” Mama says.

On cue, the guards signal to the creepy rag-man at the podium that all the citizens have attended.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Legora,” the aged man begins, “it seems we have one major issue to discuss tonight. After I make my speech, I am open to any questions you may have.

“To start, I’d like to welcome all new citizens.” He extends his hand toward the audience.

Clearing his throat in one rattling cough, he continues. “It has been brought to my attention that not enough business passes through Legora to gain the wages you all need. That includes supplies. With the new citizens hired, the rest of you suffer reduced wages. However, we are trying to work through our records so each and every one of you can provide for your families.”

I lean closer to Mama. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?”

Her eyes are wide. “Quiet, dear. I need to hear this.”

Biting my tongue is hard. I want to storm out. If he’s alluding to the fact that we don’t have enough money to support the community, then why the hell are we here?

“Furthermore,” he continues, “if anyone has thoughts or ideas as to how we can fix this minute problem, then I am open to suggestions.” He scans the crowd. “Anyone?”

Mama raises her hand.

“Yes?” He motions toward her.

“What—” she starts, but has to speak up. “What if we can’t figure out a solution? What then?”

Whispers hang heavily in the air, erupting across the building.

“All right. Quiet.
Quiet.
”

The room stills.

“If we cannot raise enough money to afford everyone the comfort of living here, then we will have to seek relief elsewhere.”

“Where?” someone yells, though I can’t tell which part of the room the voice came from.

“The King.”

More stifled conversations.

A middle-aged man close to the front stands from his bench and asks, “What will the King do? He’s never cared about us. How many times have we tried this with him?”

A chorus of “yeahs” rises to the rafters.

“And each time it’s the same,” the man continues. “Each time he says he can’t help us, and we’re left to fend for ourselves.”

The old man on the stage grins like he doesn’t believe a word the younger man says. Is it true? Does this King not give a damn about the rest of us?

Once the citizens settle down, the weathered man speaks again.

“We will only ask for the King’s favors as a last resort. I want to encourage all of you to keep up the good work. Until then, we’ll survive like we always have. Thank you for coming out tonight.”

He steps away from the podium and strolls down the aisle like he didn’t just drop a bomb the size of a falling star.

When he’s out of the building, the crowd explodes into an uproar. People stand and argue with one another. Some sit quietly, as if they’re thinking only to themselves.

“You heard the man,” Mama says, pushing Mattie and me toward the exit. “We’ll have to make do until something is figured out.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? Do you realize how hard this is going to be? If we can’t raise enough money and sell enough goods, then we’ll run out of money. They might kick people—families—out of Legora. Then where will we go?” I rant.

“Hush, Andy. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Mama continues ushering Mattie toward the housing area. I’m frozen in place. My feet won’t move. I was once excited at the prospect of living in a town where all the amenities were available, within our reach. Presently? I’m not so sure Legora is all it’s cracked up to be.

15.

Buzzing swarms collide with the protective barrier around Legora. I listen to the constant humming of large, angry insects, eventually lulling myself to sleep.

16.

Mama wakes bright and early; the sun hasn’t yet peeked at the world. I grumble, pulling the thin blanket closer to my chin, and roll over. The door creaks closed behind her when she exits.

Mattie’s even breathing should be a rhythm to fall asleep to. Instead, it’s
grating
.

They’re not even quiet inhales and exhales. They sound like a bug is lodged in his throat.

Hmmm. Bvvvv.

I bury my head under my pillow. This is
not
happening. I need rest. I need to dream serenely, without interruptions. How am I supposed to listen to wild insects slamming against our defenses at night, and then listen to Mattie almost snoring? Nope. This won’t work.

I yank the pillow and sheet from my bed. Downstairs, the tattered couch will have to be converted to a makeshift bed. If that doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will.

Just as I situate myself into a comfortable position and am drifting into the territory between what’s real and what’s imaginary, a
knock, knock, knock
sounds at the door.

Besides practically jumping out of my skin, I want to scream at whoever stands behind that entry. I almost trip over the ugly coffee table.

I answer with a “What?” before realizing who’s there.

Malik.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Not a morning person?”

I redirect my eyes toward the floor. “S-Sorry. No. Not really.”

“That’s okay. I’m not either.” There’s a snippet of laughter behind his words.

“Come in,” I say, motioning for him to make himself at home. “I haven’t been able to sleep much. Mattie snores, and Mama rises early for work.”

He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “I have the same problem. Well, minus the little brother. But my parents have to get up before the sun is even awake.”

I smile. “Sucks, huh?”

He shrugs. “I can’t complain. It’s a better life.”

I tug at the blanket and pillow so he has somewhere to sit.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if we pressed forward to another city?” I ask.

“I haven’t thought much about it. So, I guess not.” He pauses, the edge of his lips curling up. “Why? Do you?”

“I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I feel like I don’t belong here. Like I’m destined to be somewhere else.” Oh no, why am I spilling about my girlish childhood fantasies? It’s not like he wants to hear that right now when his parents are barely getting by. And not when my family is facing the same problems.

“Maybe you are,” he says.

His answer reassures me that visions of a new world and a new life aren’t completely out of reach.

“It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“No, we can always dream. Dreaming is good for the soul. And, anyway, what else would we do with our time until we’re old enough to land a job in the market?”

“Sleep the days away,” I tell him. He barely nods.

Standing from the couch, he says, “Well, I just wanted to come over and say hi. I need to go home and clean the place up a bit. It’s one less thing my parents have to worry about when they get home from a long day.”

I smile despite myself. Looking around our house, I’m hit with the idea that I should be doing the same.

“It was good to see you. Thanks for checking on us, but I’m sure we’ll be all right.” I notice Mattie’s still making weird breathing noises upstairs.