You'll Like It Here (Everybody Does) (12 page)

“Yeah, sure, fascinating,” David says without much enthusiasm. “Which reminds me, we haven't seen any animals in Fashion City—like dogs or cats.”

“There was a time when the people were allowed pets.” Jennifer speaks up. “But as you must know, animals are filthy and carry disease.”

“I think I've heard that,” I say.

“Yes, they spread germs and attract fleas and ticks,” Jennifer goes on. “That's why they were banned.”

I almost roll my eyes but manage to control myself.

“I noticed that the stuffed animals at the mall are green and red and purple—all bright colors. Why is that?” I ask. “I mean, everything else in Fashion City is so … you know?”

“Right,” Jennifer says. “As you can imagine, when the people of Fashion City had to give up their pets, they were very upset. To some of them, it was like losing a family member. We didn't have a pet because Mom was allergic, but I'll never forget that day when they brought around the trucks to carry away the animals.”

“They took them all at once?” I say. “No way.”

“Yeah, it was sad, especially for kids. Anyway, I think the Fathers felt bad,” Jennifer explains. “They do love the people, you know.”

“Sure they do,” David mumbles, reminding me of Gramps.

“I mean, everything they do is for our own good,” Jennifer says.

“Of course,” I say.

“So, as a concession to those who were in mourning, they sent out all these stuffed animals in really bright colors. It cheered people up.”

David and I don't know what to say. That's the most pitiful story ever. I don't even want to think about it.

“I still find animals very interesting,” Colin says, “and I like to read about them, so please don't tell on me for the book. You see, this is one of the banned books from many years ago. We're not allowed to have them.”

“Not allowed to have books?”

“Not like this one. The only approved books are instructional picture books for little kids, teaching them how to get along in our society.”

“So how did you get this book about wolves?” I ask.

“A friend of mine purchased it for me. I didn't ask where he got it, probably from the black market.”

“
We
certainly would never squeal on you,” David says, “but do you go around telling just anybody?”

“Not just anybody,” Colin replies. “There are informers among us, but after a while you learn to spot them. Besides, it's common knowledge that practically every family owns at least one banned book, some even more.”

“Yeah,” Jennifer says. “The police have almost given up trying to keep them out of our hands.”

I am reminded of the sale of illegal drugs on the Earth we came from. Many people bought them in back alleys. I suppose that's something like the black market. But we're talking about
books
here, not drugs!

“Was that you guys we heard singing last night?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Yes!” Colin says. “We were singing ‘Wild Hearts.' Did you like it?”

He looks at me with brilliant blue eyes, and my breath gets lost somewhere down there in my chest. It's the same feeling I had when Elvis was singing to me. Sure, I know Colin's nearly sixteen and I'm not even twelve yet, but a girl can dream.

“Yeah, I liked your song a lot,” I tell him. “It was about wolves too, wasn't it?”

“Yeah. I wrote the lyrics and Dad wrote the music. We know all the approved songs—‘You Are My Sunshine,' ‘Tea for Two,' ‘When I Fall in Love,' ‘Some Enchanted Evening,' ‘Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing'—but we get tired of them, so we write our own songs.”

“Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing”? David and I used to gag a maggot over that one. We thought a song couldn't get any sappier. But, hey, if Colin sings it, maybe it's not
that
sappy.

“The Fathers encourage love songs because they want everybody to fall in love,” Jennifer says.

I watch David's face go red. Yeah, he's a goner too.

“We practice together after lights-out,” Colin says.
“Inside in cold weather, and on the balcony in warm weather.”

“And is that allowed?” David asks.

“It's tolerated,” Colin says. “A lot of people do it. After all, we're seven floors above the ground—six for you. I guess you've noticed that the apartments on the first floor don't have balconies. We're lucky.”

“Most of the time we are quiet enough that we don't disturb anybody,” Jennifer says.

“We'd love to hear you sing some more,” David says. “Too bad we can't join you.”

“Well, it so happens,” Jennifer whispers excitedly, “Dad built a trapdoor in our balcony floor!”

“Jennifer!” Colin rebukes her. “Watch your mouth.”

“Well, you told about your dumb old book!” Jennifer retorts hotly.

The two of them glare at each other for a moment, and it's obvious they don't always jell, just like David and me.

“Besides,” Jennifer goes on, “Meggie and David are okay. I can tell.”

“Actually,” Colin says, turning back to me and David, “what we do in our own homes is private. The Fathers would never allow a search of our apartment without suspicion of serious crimes.”

“Anyway,” Jennifer goes on, “we used to slip down through the trapdoor in the dark after lights-out, to visit the family who lived here before you.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had more children, and were given nicer
quarters in Sector D. Those apartments are much roomier. The Fathers are pleased with large families.”

“And did you sing with that family?”

“No, they didn't care much for singing, but we still had fun together.”

“Well, we care a lot for singing,” David says. “I'll ask Mom if you can come down to our balcony after lights-out.”

“Do you know some songs you could teach us?” Colin asks.

“Hundreds!” David says. “Gramps says that American music is one of the wonders of the universe.”

David bites his lip. Colin and Jennifer are obviously puzzled.

“What kind of music is that?” Colin asks.

David doesn't know what to say, so I speak up. “That's Gramps for you. He has his own name for everything. Sometimes it's like listening to a foreign language.”

“What's a foreign language?” Colin asks.

Again David and I glance at each other. It's clear we're going to have to think before saying anything, and measure and weigh every word.

“Never mind,” David says, and changes the subject again. “Where's your mom?”

Now it's Colin and Jennifer who glance at each other.

“She … she's not with us anymore,” Colin says.

At this moment we hear Tom down the hall. “Eight-thirty lockdown!”

As we join the adults in the living room, Gil is already on his feet.

“It's been a pleasure,” he says. “Curfew, kids. Let's go.”

In the next moment the Gilmores are gone, and the four of us are left standing there staring at each other with more questions than we'll ever have answers for.

“Are they robots or what?” Gramps says.

“Programmed to the nth,” Mom says, then adds, “We'll be leaving here ASAP.”

“Yeah,” Gramps agrees. “I think we can find a more suitable place to live in this great big universe.”

Tom comes ringing at our door, and after his check,
The Family Hour
screeches in our ears like fingernails on a chalkboard, but tonight I don't let it bother me because all I can see is Colin's face, and all I can hear is his voice.

Robot or not, he's totally hot.

The next day I set aside thoughts of the Carriage computer and I rush through my schoolwork so that David and I can go for a walk with Colin and Jennifer. At the end of the period, we meet in the lobby of Building 9 and head toward the business area of town. It's a really pretty day, and lots of people are out walking. They speak to us as we pass them on the street, and I can almost imagine that we're back in our friendly North Carolina town. We stop for a soft drink, which Colin pays for, at a sidewalk café. He gives me a breathtaking smile as he hands my drink to me. I think he
likes
likes me.

A few minutes later we come to a long black granite wall, on which names are chiseled in fine white print.

“It's the Wall of the Fallen,” Colin explains in a solemn voice as he places one hand against the granite.
“It shows the names of those brave ones from Fashion City who have died for the Fathers.”

“In the wars, you mean?” I ask.

Colin nods. He stands very still, and I wonder if he's imagining
Colin Gilmore
added to this long list. Even though I was warm a moment ago, now I find myself shivering.

I glance through the list, and find common, ordinary names of all nationalities. I wonder if there's a Germany and an England and an Australia on this Earth. What about China? India? Did natives of other countries emigrate to the Land of the Fathers as they did to America on our Earth? Were black people brought here from Africa as slaves? Are we even on a continent that's shaped like North America?

David interrupts my thoughts suddenly by crying out, “George Herman Ruth!”

On our Earth we knew him as Babe Ruth. He's one of David's heroes. According to the wall, he died at the age of eighteen fighting for the Fathers. In this place he never had a chance, never set a home run record, probably never even learned to play baseball.

“Walter Elias Disney!” David gasps. “Age nineteen!”

No Walt Disney? No Mickey Mouse. No Disneyland.

“Laura Elizabeth Ingalls!” It's my turn to gasp. “Age seventeen!”

On this planet she never married Almanzo Wilder, and the Little House books were never written.

Colin and Jennifer are obviously mystified.

“You know these people?” Colin asks.

David and I can't speak. I think both of us are momentarily in shock, or mourning. We leave the Wall of the Fallen quickly. I never want to see it again. I don't want to know the names of any more people who never had a chance to fulfill their dreams and live out their lives the way they wanted to.

After lights-out, my family and the Gilmores meet on our balcony as planned. David has the nerve to sit right down beside Jennifer on a blanket with her dad and Colin, while I sit on another blanket with Mom and Gramps. Still, we're all pretty close together in this small space. In fact, I could reach right out and touch Colin—that is, if I wanted to make a big fool of myself.

We can hear people chatting on the other balconies near us, but we can't tell who it is or what they're saying. I'm glad we're six floors up from the ground.

As soon as Gil begins playing his guitar and singing solo on the first verse of “Wild Hearts,” I can sense the Gilmores' tensions melting away. The music lifts them right out of themselves, out of this screwy world and into a happier place, at least in their minds. Now they seem like regular people.

Gramps and Mom begin to hum along with them, while David and I clap our hands in time. It's not a fast, happy song, but it does have a steady beat. Of course, they're amateurs, but I imagine that on our Earth this family could make a career with their music, maybe even become famous.

When the song ends, Mom, Gramps, David, and I applaud enthusiastically. The Gilmores are beaming with
pride. The next thing I know we are talking and joking around like we've been friends for years. Although we're in the dark, I can hear Colin's laughter and imagine his face. Tonight he's not thinking of war.

“Okay, Blues,” he says. “We want to learn new songs. What can you teach us?”

“ ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight,' ” I say. “It's the best one.”

“Let's hear it,” Gil says, and strums his guitar.

“That's a hard one, Meggie,” Mom says. “Remember how many wacky sounds are mixed into it?”

“It's okay,” Jennifer tells us. “Dad's good. He can pick out the chords and play anything you can sing.”

So, between us, David and I are able to recall all the lyrics to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” but we find out that Mom is right. This is a hard one. Still, we try. We get Gramps to sing the lead while David and I do some of the background parts, and hand out others to Mom and the Gilmores. Pretty soon we are all laughing so hard, we can't even hit the right notes, and Gil has to tell us to hold it down so the night watchman won't order us to bed.

“They don't ever say anything to us for being out here,” he explains, “but that doesn't mean they won't.”

“Okay,” Mom says in an exaggerated whisper. “Let's do a nice, quiet one.”

“ ‘Bridge over Troubled Water,' ” Gramps says. “It's my favorite. I like to call it the secular Twenty-third Psalm.”

“What does that mean?” Gil asks.

But Gramps jumps right into the song so that he doesn't have to answer Gil. Mom, David, and I help him with the words, but Gramps has a pretty strong voice, and
manages to carry the melody, while Gil picks up the chords.

When the song is over, Gil says, “Those are the most moving lyrics I've ever heard.”

“Okay,” David says brightly, trying to raise the mood. “And now for something a little different. Help me, Meggie.”

He wants to do Justin Bieber's “Baby.” So together we try to sing, but we have a hard time remembering all the words, and even the tune in some places. To make matters worse, David's voice cracks twice and I can feel how mortified he is. Still, this seems to be the turning point for Jennifer and David. It's obvious he has impressed her.

“That was sooo marvelous, Daavid.” She stretches his name out like it has three syllables, and her voice is very girly-girly. I imagine David's heart is thundering like a timpani. “And you too, Meggie,” she goes on. “Please teach me that song.”