Under the Stars (8 page)

“It’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to work out.” Malik says.

I give him this look—one that screams,
Are you freaking kidding me?
He doesn’t say anything else until he sees Mama walking up the hill.

With Mattie in hand.

“Oh, Mama. I’m so sorry. He was asleep when I left and—”

“It’s okay, Andy. He’s fine. He told me what happened.”

“You mean—you’re not going to exile me or anything?” It takes several seconds before I register what she said. “Wait. He
told
you? As in, he spoke?” I screech out the words.

Mama bobs her head up and down enthusiastically. But it’s warranted.

I drop to my knees in front of Mattie. “Say something to me, buddy. Say my name. Say anything.”

He just stares at me with one of his blank expressions. Mama squeezes his hand, swinging his arm a little.

“You don’t want to say hi to your big sister?” she asks him.

Again with the glare. What’s up with that? He’s not upset because I ran to the market while he was busy snoring, is he? The noises escaping that boy’s throat when he sleeps are enough to wake the dead.

“Maybe next time, huh?” I pat him once on the shoulder.
 

Mama smiles at me, a smile that means I should give him time.

Malik stands and says, “I need to go home and eat. I’ll catch ya later.” He hugs me before he leaves.

Mama winks at me.

“I told you—we’re just friends. That’s it.”

“Okay,” she says, but the air behind her words means differently.

19.

The next morning, while I’m lounging on the couch completely bored, Mattie takes his time down the stairs.

I pull myself into a sitting position and ask, “Did you sleep well last night?”

His expression is blank, but if I could guess what it means, then I’d say he’s still mad at me for leaving him.

“Look, Mattie, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Still, he doesn’t speak. He’s frozen in place at the base of the stairs. His brows knit together, and his tiny mouth forms an upside down smile.

“How do you want me to make it up to you? Do you want to go see Mama at lunchtime?”

No response from him. He’s kind of freaking me out.

“Okaaay,” I mumble, falling back. The cushion is so worn out that I don’t even bounce. He’ll come around. I’m sure of it. Whenever he gets over this stupid grudge.

20.

“I don’t understand what his problem is,” I say to Malik the following day. “I mean, I get that he’s mad about me leaving him. Alone. But does he have to drag it out?”

“Children can be mad for several reasons, but the child’s mind is observant. They can have their feelings crushed without us ever knowing.”

“Are we so different?”

“We know how to control our emotions. They haven’t learned that yet.”

“I hope he learns how to forgive. That’s an ability everyone should learn,” I say.

“Agreed.”

We both squint at the sun sitting in the middle of the sky. I can’t help but wonder: if there is vegetation, will it burn up? I don’t even know how we can produce crops. Which is why I have Malik. I think he knows just about everything.

“You look lost,” he says.

“I was just thinking. If the sun is so hot, how can we grow food?”

He says, “We have controlled-temperature buildings here.”

“Where?”

He points to the building where our town meeting was held. “Supposedly, there are underground buildings. I think the entrance is located somewhere in that space.”

“It’s all so secretive.”

“Not really. I mean, our parents were given a tour of the town before they were assigned duties. Mine told me about it.”

Something tweaks in my gut. Why didn’t Mama tell me about something like this? I would’ve found it interesting. I would’ve listened.

“That’s nice,” is all I manage to say.

“Did I crush your emotions now?” Malik teases, bumping me with his leg.

I can’t help but grin. “No.”

“Tell me she at least told you about the new meeting in a couple of days. This one is mandatory for everyone older than sixteen years.”

I know my face tightens, wrinkling in certain spots. “Why the age?”

He shrugs. “Nobody knows. Old Man Tatters does, though. You could always ask him.”
 

“The crazy man who greeted us when we got here?”

“That’d be the one.”

I sort of laugh. “Did you make up that name?”

“Nah. Some of the kids around here came up with it. He is crazy, isn’t he?”

“A little more so than usual, yeah.”

Our shadows lay in different places now, since the sun has dropped in the sky. Before long, our parents will be home from a long day in the market. Will the new meeting be about how the funds are low, how we aren’t making ends meet? Too many mouths to feed? Or can it be something else?

Malik says his usual quick goodbye, leaving me to wait until dinner for something exciting to happen. Other than when I’m with him, supper’s the only time I enjoy myself.

21.

I fall asleep to the sound of crickets chirping and ten thousand insects ramming the barrier’s wall. And when I dream, it involves clothes with no holes, beds lined in purple silk, and a heart unable to contain its love.

22.

My day passes agonizingly slow. The only good thing that comes of this date is Mama telling us about the meeting at dinner.

“—and Xara said she suspects some of us will be transported to Halgan,” Mama explains.

“Where is that?” I ask, stabbing the shredded mystery meat on my plate.

“About forty miles north of here. But if they are providing transportation, that means we won’t have to suffer in the desert again.”

I can’t believe she acts
happy
about this, like it’s going to be okay. We just moved here. I don’t want to pack and travel again.

“And the meeting’s tonight?” I ask.

She nods. “Same building.”

“Great. We’ll have to pack in there like sardines.”

“Andy,” Mama scorns. “Whatever happens tonight, at least we have each other. That’s all that matters.”

I stand from the table, not really sure where I’m doing or what I’m going to say. All I know is that I don’t like that Mama would easily agree to hand us over to Legora’s council, and then move us somewhere that we’ve never heard of until today.

“Here, Mattie. You can have my dinner. I’ve lost my appetite,” I say, scooting the plate across the table. He looks at Mama like he needs to ask her if it’s okay to eat my food. Mama’s lips are so tightly pressed together they’re white.

“Well,” she begins. I can tell some sarcastic comment will stem from this. “That just takes the icing on the cake, doesn’t it?” And I was right. She’s pretty much speaking to dead air, since Mattie hasn’t spoken in a few days, and I obviously have nothing to say to her.

I battle with angry tears. My bottom lip and chin quiver on their own accord.

Mama throws her towel down on the table, stands, and then breezes past me toward the kitchen. Mattie stares at his plate like it’s going to magically produce more food.

It’s not like I can go to bed and sleep this off, either. I have to go to that moronic town meeting.

“Mattie, finish your plate and wash up,” Mama says. He looks up at her and back to his plate, lifting it off the table. Walking over to the kitchen, he hands it to her. She holds the dish in her hand for a second. Weighing it, almost. Then she dumps the contents in the trash—something we have yet to use.

Mattie returns from the bathroom, and he and Mama leave. I’m left standing there, looking like a lost puppy. I have no choice on whether I should attend the meeting, though. And that sucks. I’m sure if it wasn’t mandatory, nobody would show up.

At the town hall, we’re handed tickets at the door, and Old Man Tatters greets the citizens on his way to the podium. Cheerful smiles and friendly handshakes all the way. But as soon as his foot reaches the first step leading up to the stage, my heart balloons.

“Citizens,” he begins, trying to calm the audience, “please, have a seat. All of you were able to attend the last meeting, so you know what this is in regards to.

“I have asked only the people who are between the ages of sixteen and fifty to come today. The reason is: the task which I’m about to assign is not an easy one.”

I understand now why we have a seat this time. With the age limitation, all the oldies get to sit at home, and all the children stay with them. Mama just didn’t want to leave Mattie by himself, I think.

“Our resources are dwindling, unfortunately. And it seems there’s nothing we can do to prevent this. With more weary travelers arriving each week, we’re running out of places to house them and jobs to provide an income. From now onward, I’m afraid I’ll have to send any newcomers to Halgan. It’s a ways up the road, but we’re providing transportation.”

The crowd is so quiet that I can hear a fly buzzing around one of the side windows.

“With respect to how we’re going to solve our little supplies problem, we’re holding a raffle. Whoever holds the ticket number I draw will have to pack their bags immediately and board the train to Valyad, the King’s realm.”

Giggles from two girls, maybe a year or so older than me, break the soundless air first. Following them are several men huddled together, speculating what the King will say about all of this. I have to admit, I don’t think he’ll agree. Don’t kings have more problems to worry about than some town outside of their territory?

“Bon,” Old Man Tatters says, motioning to an older woman in the front pew, “will you do the honor of bringing me the ticket wheel?”

She hobbles toward the back area of the stage, fumbling with something I can’t see. Then she pulls out a wiry wheel that looks like something a hamster would play in. Beside the podium, there’s a table, where she sets the inflexible circle.

“Are we ready to begin?” he asks, looking out over the audience. Nobody objects. “Good. Bon, whenever you’re ready.” He motions for her to turn the wheel. It spins and spins and spins, until my head feels like it’s full of helium. I’m glad I am sitting; I might be in the floor if I wasn’t.

When Bon finishes, she pulls out a red paper square and hands it to Old Man Tatters. He steps closer to the microphone, and says, “Ticket number 211-142.”

I do a glance-over of my ticket, look up, and then stare at it. Holding it in front of my nose doesn’t help, either. Damn it. How did I get to be so
un
lucky?

Mama gawks at me. She leans over and whispers, “If you have it, you had better stand up or they’ll probably search everyone.”

I do
not
want to do this. I care nothing for an old geezer who lives in Far Away Land and makes himself sick on grapes and wine and cheese.

I stand, holding my ticket for all to see. “I have it.”

“Well, come forth, dear,” goads the oldie.

Though hesitating at first, I realize there’s no way to bypass this. As much as I hate Old Man Tatters and the rest of Legora for not making enough money, we all need help. My biggest fear? The King won’t offer us his mercy.

I hand my ticket over so they can analyze whether I’m telling the truth or not. I can see why; some people may use this as a free pass to checking out the plush lifestyle.

“She has the true ticket!” he announces, as if I had lied about it. “What is your name, child?” He places a hand on my shoulder.

“Uh… An-Andrina,” I stammer. Crowds do that to me. “But most people call me Andy,” I’m quick to correct. One glance at the wrinkled hand resting on my shoulder and it’s removed.
 

“Well, you know what must be done. You have to sway the King in our favor. He
must
grant us these provisions. Take a look at the faces of these people, Andy.” He’s cheek to cheek with me now, gazing out at the audience. “These people need you. Their families need you. Without these supplies, everyone here must forget about Legora and move on. What kind of life is that?”

“No life at all, I guess,” I mumble.

“That’s right. No life. None. So you see how important this venture is?”

What am I now, a twelve-year-old? “I do.”

He chuckles, outwardly elated by my response. “Good!” he bellows, patting my back. “The train will leave before the sun rises tomorrow. Have your bags packed and meet my guards at the gate. They will transport you safely to the station—one of the only working stations from the Old World, mind you.”

I nod. Scanning the crowd, I discern Mama’s face. I can’t tell if her expression is a mixture of glee or panic.

When I reach her, I say everything’s going to be okay. “I just have to figure out a way to persuade him.”

She tears up, her arms swinging around my neck. Apparently she forgot about our little tiff. “Honey, I’m so proud of you. No matter what happens, you’ll do great things for this town.”