The only noticeable difference is the speed at which she works, but I don’t know if her slowness is ’cause of the Fire or ’cause she, like me, don’t want this moment to end.
But we both know it hasta.
It hasta.
I try to pull our time together out, stretch it, lengthen it, using the only thing I got. A request. “Tell me more ’bout Brev,” I say.
My mother doesn’t say nothing for a long moment, and I know I surprised her, ’cause her fingers stop working. “What do you want to know?” she asks.
“Everything,” I say and she laughs.
“Now that’ll take more time’n we have,” she says.
“Is that a promise?”
She laughs again and I’m glad. Glad ’cause the Fire ain’t taken her laugh away. Not yet. “I’ll tell you this,” she says, and I lean back against her bed, closing my eyes, trying to picture her at my age. Try as I might, I can’t do it. “We were inseparable. We went everywhere and did everything together.”
Like me and Circ, I think. “What happened?” I ask.
“The Call,” she says and I open my eyes to my future, sitting out in the center of the village, eyes like fire, staring, just staring. I close them again. “We couldn’t be together after that. Sun goddess knows we wanted to, but it wasn’t right—not by the Law anyway. Your father…he was a good man for a good long while.”
But I don’t wanna talk ’bout my father—after all, I was there when he started changing—so I ask another question. “Where’s Brev now?”
I can’t see it, but I can feel my mother’s smile, in her fingers, which seem to quicken, working over my strands of hair a beat or two faster. “Somewhere,” she says, but that ain’t no answer.
“Where’s somewhere?”
“He couldn’t stand it. Neither of us could. I didn’t have any choice really, but to stay with your father. Skye was on the way already. I was making a family out of nothing. Brev left.”
Left? “But there’s nowhere to go,” I say, feeling around with my words, trying to work it out. Ice country? The Icers’d never take a Heater on. The Wildes? Far as I know, they’re all women and they were only started a few years back. That leaves…
“He started the Marked and I never saw him again,” my mother says and I blink, stunned for a moment.
She finishes with my hair, and I absently feel ’round with my hands. Even without gazing into the reflections of the watering hole I know she’s done a beautiful job. Several short braids curl delicately ’round my head like a crown, woven so tightly they’re like rope. A longer braid falls down the center of my back. Even without the memory that graces my mind at that moment, I’d know it’s the same hairstyle she created for my sister just ’fore the Wilds took her.
But I can’t think about any of that. ’Cause her true love created the Marked.
There’s a knock at the door. The Call. Will I answer?
“Go,” my mother says. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”
I squeeze her hand ’fore I go, saying And you can tell me ’bout Brev and the Marked.
~~~
My feet are heavier’n tug. The march to my Call is full of blazing torchlight marking the way, casting dancing and wriggling shadows along the pathway.
Sari refused to escort me which is fine by me. My father can’t ’cause he’s overseeing the proceedings and is already there. That means I have no family willing or able to walk with me. It’s so different’n my sister’s Call, where me and my mother walked with her the whole way—or at least until the point where the Wilds found a way to grab her.
So that leaves Veeva. Sun goddess, bless Veeva. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
She’s gripping my hand and talking a mile a moment ’bout how proud she is of me and how whoever ends up with me is a lucky baggard. I smile and thank her, but inside I’m quaking like I’m staring down the throat of a hungry Killer. And all that keeps thrumming through my head is:
I’m not ready, I’m not ready, not ready, not ready.
In my heart I know the truth: I’ll never really be ready. Maybe once upon a time I coulda been ready, back when things were simpler, when Circ was alive, when my father wasn’t Head Greynote, when my mother wasn’t dying…
But not now. Now things are so messed up I wanna shake off Veeva’s hand, break through the line of Greynotes that are supervising the Call, and run, run, run until my feet fail me and I can’t run any more. I could run to Confinement, break the prisoners out, tell everyone what’s really happening up there. That’s what I’d do if I was brave-Siena, the girl who tried to save Circ. But she died along with him, leaving just me.
We reach the Call so much faster’n I expected we would. My stomach drops ’bout to my feet, like I jumped off something high.
Not ready.
At least half the village is gathered in the center of town, where the bonfire’s been churned up to a roaring inferno. Extra seats’ve been rolled in—shaved tree trunks and boulders mostly—to accommodate all the Greynotes. My father’s atop the largest boulder, presiding over the whole thing. His eyes meet mine and a rare smile plays on his lips. This is all he’s ever wanted. A daughter of his to make him proud. To Bear. Fulfill a duty, replenish the tribe and all of that blaze. I look away from him.
The rest of the spectators are either family and friends of those participating in the Call, or nosy onlookers who just wanna know all the latest Call news so they’re not behind tomorrow when the gossip starts. At the moment, I hate them all.
The eligible men are seated in a cluster on one side of the fire. They’re shirtless, as if they wanna be ready to carry their Calls back to their tents as soon as it’s over. Grunt’s there and Veeva waves to him, making a lewd gesture that draws a grin from her Call. Sorry Veevs, but please, please, please, don’t let me get him.
The rest of the Calls, like me, are entering the area from all different directions with their escorts. Some of them wear wide smiles, like they’ve waited their whole lives for this moment. Maybe they have. Others look as scared as I feel, their faces blank and their eyebrows darting ’round like they might be grabbed and carried off by a man at any moment. Some of the shiltier girls are tossing their hair and wearing dresses so small and tight they leave nothing to imagination. Most of the guys are staring at them, their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths. In a way, I sorta admire those girls’ confidence. Least they know who they are and what they want.
Me, I’m a confused mess, all jitters and nerves.
Veeva guides me to a wide, white blanket where several girls are already sitting. She gives me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, but I’m so numb I hardly feel it. “Try to enjoy it,” she reminds. I blush ’cause I know exactly what she’s talking ’bout. And then she’s gone and I’m alone.
Lara is off somewhere, maybe being whipped into submission by the Wild Ones, but I know she’ll be laughing, too. Laughing that she’s not a part of this, like she planned the whole time. I desperately wish she was by my side now.
The remaining girls take their position on the blanket, whispering and giggling. I say nothing, just wait.
It starts. My father stands on his boulder, arms out to keep his balance. “Friends,” he says, starting slowly. “It’s with a mixture of sadness and gladness that I begin the first Call as Head Greynote. We all wish Shiva could be here, but alas, the Fire has claimed another honorable victim.” He pauses, letting everyone take in his words. “He will be missed.”
To the villagers, his words probably sound heartfelt. They’re probably tearing up, saying silent prayers to the sun goddess. But I know better. Behind his words and tone is the truth. He wanted Shiva to die—couldn’t wait for it—so he could take over. For over a year he’s been carrying on his own plans and secret trade agreements with the Icies, framing innocent men like Raja to do the grunt work.