Under the Stars, Page 6

  “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 unlucky?

  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.”

  I pull back. “How are you so sure?”

  “I just know. Mother’s instinct, I guess. You were always born to be a leader. And a better person couldn’t have been picked to represent this town.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter. My cheeks grow hot.

  “C’mon,” Mama says, corralling Mattie and me, “let’s go home.”

  23.

  I can’t sleep. This time, it’s not the psycho insects buzzing around the invisible protective wall or Mattie’s snoring. It’s the fact that I have no idea what will happen to me in a few hours. For once, I’ll be on a journey by myself. No Mama. No Mattie. Just me.

  And I have no inkling as to how things will turn out.

  Will the King reject my plea? Will he hear me out? Will he make a fool of me in front of his court? I may be the next jester.

  I don’t know how chilly it is outside, but I want see the sky. I’m tired of looking at a wooden ceiling. Wrapping a blanket around my body, I take careful steps in the dark. It’s the usual bleak weather outside, but at least I have a cover. I’m almost positive the unseen barrier keeps most of the destructive cold out.

  Something moves to my left; I notice it in my peripheral view.

  “Is that you, Andy?” Malik whispers.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I reply. I won’t move off the front steps because I’m barefoot.

  “What are you doing out here so late?”

  “I should ask you the same question,” I retort.

  Even though it’s dark, I know he’s smiling. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “That’s my excuse, too.” I sigh. “I don’t know what’ll happen in a few hours.”

  “Sure you do. You’ll meet the guards at the gate, they’ll escort you to the station, and you’ll be whisked off to a land filled with young men eager to meet you.” Somehow, deep in my heart, I know I wouldn’t want guys fighting for my attention. That’s not the purpose of my visit, anyway.

  He adds, “Oh, and you get to meet the King, of course.”

  “Yeah. Just the King. No big deal, right?”

  “Listen, whatever happens out there, I know you’ll convince him. However long that may take.”

  “Thanks.” My gratitude for him trying to cheer me up is only half-hearted. “I guess we’re about to find out, huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  We sit there, underneath the stars, for a long period of time. Long enough that we’re able to greet the sun, instead of it greeting him and me. Malik wraps his arm around my shoulders, my body pressed against his, keeping the warmth between us. He begins to hum a soft melody.

  “You sing?” I ask, rising up.

  He snorts. “No, not by a long shot. But I do write an occasional piece of poetry.”

  “Read me some,” I insist.

  “I don’t have any with me.”

  “You don’t remember it by heart?”

  “Just one. But that’s because I think about this place all the time,” he says. I raise my eyebrows. “Okay, fine. Here it is: Past the desert is a Palace of Dreams, Only reached in sleep, Beyond the sun-touched rise, Bury me there, Let no man take me elsewhere, I see it when I close my eyes.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I say, wishing I could dream of it. “Is that where you believe people go when they die, to the Palace of Dreams?”

  He surprises me by saying, “I do, because I’ve seen it.”

  “So you’ve died and come back?” I almost smile, but stop myself.

  “No, it’s just something my mind made up. I’d like to think there’s a place more beautiful than this world, waiting for us when we leave this life and enter the next.”

  That makes sense, I guess. “I’d like to think so, too. What’s it like, then, this Palace of Dreams?”

  “Pink blossoms and vibrant trees glow colors we’ve never seen in this existence, spreading across an endless landscape, tangled with a mist that sparkles in the never-ending sunlight. Not harsh sunlight like we’re used to,” he’s quick to add, “but sunlight that tenderly caresses your skin and warms you slowly.”

  I close my eyes, letting his words replay in my head. Oh, how I wish this place existed here, on earth. How I wish things were that peaceful.

  “Well, not much longer,” he says, clearing his throat and bringing me out of my reverie. “Are your bags ready?”

  I exhale louder than normal. “I don’t have anything to pack, except for an extra set of clothes. But there is a small bag I’m taking. Mama bought me some perfume at the market. She gave it to me last night, saying I have to smell like I am fit for a king.”

  “I think she’s right.”

  I sit up and gape at him. “You do?”

  “Why not? If you want to make a good impression, you can’t wear ragged clothing and smell like you hiked there.”

  “I just don’t want him to think I’m trying too hard.”

  “He won’t.” Malik squeezes me against his chest and presses his lips to my hair. “I have to get home. I don’t want my parents to wake and see I’m not there. They’ll worry about me.”

  I nod, slightly dizzy. “I need to tell Mama and Mattie that I’m leaving.”

  He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Cheer up. It’s only for a little while.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” I say weakly.

  I don’t know when or if I’ll see Malik again. What if something happens and I have to stay longer than expected? Will the King delay his verdict just to make Legora suffer?

  Mama’s on the couch when I stroll through the front door.

  “Make sure you wash your clothes—no matter if they provide amenities or
not. You stay clean. Are you taking that fragrance I bought you?” Though she looks calm on the outside, I can tell by the edge of her words that she’s worried.

  I ease down beside her on the couch. “Yes, I’m taking it, just as you suggested. Don’t worry about my clothing or what I’m going to eat or how they’ll treat me. I’ll be fine, Mama. I swear.”

  She shakes her head sympathetically. “And keep your focus on the King. The sooner you convince him, the sooner you can return home to us. I know Mattie will miss you.”

  “Mama…”

  “Don’t forget to write if you can. I want to know your progress. It’ll be something Mattie and I can do at night, together, while you are away. It’ll comfort him and me.”

  I take her hand in mine and squeeze.

  “I have to go,” I say. “The guards are probably waiting for me now.” I stand, slowly taking my time up the stairs to gather my few belongings. I stuff them in the brown sack that held our potatoes the other night.

  “I’ll see you off,” Mama says below.

  I don’t argue with her.

  We trek to the front gate of the city. There, as I had been told, are four guards waiting for my arrival. Armored black horses are tethered to a stake just outside the entrance.

  “I’m ready,” I say. I turn back to Mama and give her a hug. She clutches me so tightly I can’t breathe. And then I’m helped onto the back of a horse, my pathetic bag dangling from a notch on the saddle.

  The guards mount their horses—one in front, one behind, and one on either side of me. We began at a slow canter, dust kicking up from hooves. I wave goodbye.

  “Andy, don’t go! Pleeeeease.” I hear the gut-wrenching cry from behind me.

  I tug at the horse’s reigns, ordering it to stop and turn around.

  It’s Mattie. He’s at Mama’s side. He gives me this sorrowful look, like he’s going to fall apart.

  While I dismount the horse, he runs over to me, throwing his miniature arms around my neck.

  “It’s okay. I’ll only be gone for a few weeks,” I reassure him, rubbing his back.

  But his tears won’t stop. “I-I’ll dooo anything,” he strangles out. His breath catches several times. He sucks in another one and manages to say, “Pleeease don’t leeeave.” More unyielding, pitiful tears.