Diamond’s class was built on its busy formalities. There were friends and the friendly-enough others, plus Master Nissim loomed at the front of the room, and the boy liked much of it. But the great joy of his spectacular new life was wearing the school’s deep brown uniform and a pair of leather boots designed specifically for his odd feet.
After the last baby loaf, Diamond cleaned his white teeth and washed the most important pieces of his body, and then he went to his room to dress.
New guards were on station. A tall man stood beside the window, dressed as any office worker, golden trousers pressed and the black dress shirt tied around the waist with two purple cords. His name was Tar`ro, and he looked rather sleepy, which was normal enough. But he spotted the boy immediately, and after offering a little nod, he pointed his half-open gaze forwards again, studying the mists and falling waters as they were polished by the day’s new sunshine.
Tar`ro was perhaps Diamond’s favorite. He had a strong, memorable voice, and he seemed to notice everything, and unlike most of his colleagues, the man would bend rules, chatting amiably with his client.
Diamond tapped at the heavy glass.
Without turning around, Tar`ro said, “Bits and Sophia.”
Bits was a stocky little man, and Sophia was one of the few women guards. They were on morning duty too.
Yesterday’s school uniform was dirty, but three others hung in the cupboard, waiting their turn. They were cut for his body; nobody else in the world could happily wear these clothes. Diamond put on the trousers and shirt and then tied both belts with the official knots, and then he set his boots by the door before propping the stepladder next to a wall covered with shelves. Soldiers stood at attention, waiting for orders. “Do nothing,” he said, reaching past them. A big book begged to be read, and he brought it down and sat on the edge of his bed, smelling the slow rot of ancient bindings and tired paper as he pulled open the plain gray cover.
The papio book sat the wrong way in his lap, no letter or little mark resembling anything found in a schoolbook.
Diamond read carefully, and every word was remembered. There were drawings in the book, and every drawing lived inside his head afterwards. Remembering where he stopped was easy. Understanding the familiar words was usually easy, although meanings could shift in odd, misleading ways. There was an entry about what humans called “woeful-vines”—poisonous plants that grew only at the edges of the creation. Their sap blistered skin, and their black leaves were full of acidic chemicals, and despite living only in deep shadow, they grew quickly, spreading by runners and sometimes producing toxic orange fruits that had never once displayed any interest in sprouting. Diamond was looking at a colored picture of the fruits when Father came into the room, and without looking up, the boy asked about a strange word.
“It means, ‘Liar.’ ”
Diamond looked up. His father was dressed for his work. “I’m reading about woeful vines.”
“ ‘Lying mock-snakes’ is the rough translation.”
The book was an encyclopedia meant for papio children. Diamond could remember quite a lot, but he struggled making his voice match what was written down. Several more words had tested him, and Father asked to see. Pages were turned and two of those odd words made sense, but the other three remained mysteries to both of them.
Father was wearing a green suit, still new and very elegant.
“Are you teaching?” his son asked.
“No, my day is nothing but meetings.”
Merit didn’t like meetings, but he preferred sitting in a room with anybody over hunting coronas with harpoons and explosives.
“In fact, I should be leaving,” Father said. “So I’ll see you tonight or maybe sooner, if I can slip away early.”
Diamond closed the encyclopedia.
“Your mother is going out too,” Father said.
The boy slid off his bed and followed him out of the room. In the hallway, just short of the front door, Merit bent to kiss his son’s head, burying his lips into the thick and twisted brown hair, and Diamond kissed the last part of his father to leave, which was the back of one hand.
Mother was in his parent’s bedroom. The small woman was sitting on a tall stool, working with her reflection in a mirror. Diamond had seen her wear those clothes twice before, always on special days. The tunic was gold with white flowers that weren’t quite like any of the world’s flowers. Her slacks were the kind of black that looked purple in a strong light. Haddi saw him watching, and guessing what question would come next, she said, “I’m going shopping with my cousins. You handle your next meal and get to school on time.”
“Tar`ro will make sure I do,” he said.
She looked at him. Old women usually weren’t as pretty as she was. Her hair was still long and thick, white as sun-washed mist and now carefully combed and braided. Haddi’s trousers had thick legs and the tunic reached down near her knees. Powder painted her face and jeweled clips rode the tops of her ears, one pink and the other pinker, and she was smiling even when she told her son, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“These men are here for a purpose, and it’s not to be servants, much less act like extra fathers.”
“Sophia is here too.”
Mother looked at the pale coral rings on her fingers. Again she said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t want?”
“Deflect my very good point.”
Was he doing that? Maybe, and he felt a little bit clever.
She said, “Darling,” and looked at him. “You have your own responsibilities. And your father and I expect you to carry them out like any boy of your age.”
“How old am I?”
For a third time, she said, “Don’t.”
Diamond remained silent.
“Normal lives. That’s what we want. For the three of us, we want some existence that can be confused for ordinary.”
She stood and worked on a single wrinkle on the blouse that refused to obey the sweep of her long hands.
He studied her wardrobe and face, as always.
“Do I look all right?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at him.
“You look spectacular,” he said, mimicking what Father offered at moments not unlike this.
Then she laughed softly and kissed him on the tiny, tiny nose. “Have a good day at school, son.”
“I will.”
She left the room, left their home.
Except of course Mother was still standing inside his mind, and for as long as he lived, there she would be.
No new day wanted to repeat the rhythms of its ancestors. Each morning found its pace and its perfect length, and the most unremarkable child was expert in reading signs, knowing when one thing had to end and another begin. But not Diamond: left alone, he arrived early to most events and ridiculously late for everything else. Metronomes counted recitations, but they only helped find rough answers. That’s why the boy relied on friends and the endlessly competent guards, and that’s why he was busily setting up a wooden army when he should have been leaving for school.
Tar`ro kicked the window with the heel of his boot, warning him that this morning was growing shabby.
Diamond gave his soldiers one last study and then ran for the front door.
The tall guard looked as if he had just been roused from an unhappy nap. But his voice was alert and pleasant. “Your monkey and I just had a nice chat. Did you know? I’m very stupid and he is very smart, and he has ten girlfriends for my ugly one, and that’s why he pities me.”
“Is that what Good said?”
Tar`ro grinned. “The message was implied.”
No other guard talked this way, and Diamond was always interested in their game and how his own face tingled and grew warm.