food, it’s hard for him to make enough money for us. We always had something to eat, but he worried about how to pay for everything else. When the test came to our town, it seemed like a good idea for me to sit it. It’s helped them, the money I’ve earned.”
“Do you know what’s happened to your family?”
She shook her head.
“Is it hard not to write home?”
She nodded. “They were going to—at least, I think they were going to—save up the money so that they could move somewhere safer, up north, farther from the border. If they do, I won’t even know where they are.”
Fredericka sounded so sad, I couldn’t help putting my hand on hers. Our hands were cold.
I looked away so she could feel like she had some privacy.
The Examiner was staring at me.
Again.
Because I wasn’t running and playing?
I couldn’t even play right.
The bell rang for the end of playtime. The Examiner rounded everyone up to march back inside and checked all the fresh scrapes and bruises.
As I walked closer, I realized that the Examiner wasn’t upset about the scrapes and bruises; she seemed to be admiring them.
—
Dinner was a potato-and-meat pie with a flaky crust. It was warm, delicious, and filling, though the gravy seemed to stick in my throat.
After dinner, I went to the art room.
I ran my fingers over the crayons, flipped through the stacks of colored paper. If only I could have packed a box to send to Kammi and Tye.
I got a large sheet of paper and a pencil, and sketched without thinking about what I was drawing. After a long while, I got some watercolors, mostly beiges and browns, only hints of color. I worked slowly, letting the layers dry.
The door opened and Miss Ibsen came in.
“It’s time to head up to bed.”
“Yes, Miss Ibsen.” I started to clean up the paints and water.
She looked at my painting.
Four people sat around a table: a man, a woman, two children. They didn’t have features, really. In front of each person was a heaping plate of food. A disgusting amount of food.
“Is it your family?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“The empty chair…that would have been…your chair?”
I rinsed my brushes out carefully.
Miss Ibsen got some pins and hung up my picture.
She put her arm around me at the door.
“WE’LL LOSE A DAY’S WORK!”
“The point precisely,” the Examiner said. “You’re forgetting to be children. You’ll go out for the day and have fun.” She beamed at everyone.
I looked to Gunnar, who shrugged. We would have to wait to know who’d been hit in last night’s bombings.
We got our coats and the Examiner counted us off, five kids to one proctor. I was glad to be with Caelyn and Miss Ibsen.
“Stay with your groups,” the Examiner said. “We wouldn’t want to lose anyone.”
“Because we know too much,” Caelyn whispered.
She nodded at me as the Examiner continued, “Don’t speak to anyone along the way or in the village.”
The Examiner watched us as we left through the south gates. Didn’t she want to go on the outing? What would she do instead?
The ground became soft as we plodded toward the village at the bottom of the hill. The stream was quick and swollen from snow melting above us on the mountain.
Annevi ran by, coat flying behind her, giving people a thwack here and there. “Tag!”
“What if she gets lost?” I asked Miss Ibsen.
“Hooting as she does? We couldn’t lose Annevi if we tried,” Miss Ibsen said. But she didn’t sound mean. She sounded as if Annevi was a delight to her.
I wasn’t loud. I could easily be lost.
“You’ll be all right, too,” Miss Ibsen said. “Go and be with Caelyn.”
I caught up with Caelyn. We walked silently for a while. Then I asked, “Where do you come from, Caelyn?”
“Up north, by the sea.”
“Do you miss your parents?”
“Yes,” she said, but it didn’t sound like an I’m-finished kind of yes. Her breath caught a little, as if she had been about to say more. I waited. “But not
“Do you know what’s happened to your family?”
She shook her head.
“Is it hard not to write home?”
She nodded. “They were going to—at least, I think they were going to—save up the money so that they could move somewhere safer, up north, farther from the border. If they do, I won’t even know where they are.”
Fredericka sounded so sad, I couldn’t help putting my hand on hers. Our hands were cold.
I looked away so she could feel like she had some privacy.
The Examiner was staring at me.
Again.
Because I wasn’t running and playing?
I couldn’t even play right.
The bell rang for the end of playtime. The Examiner rounded everyone up to march back inside and checked all the fresh scrapes and bruises.
As I walked closer, I realized that the Examiner wasn’t upset about the scrapes and bruises; she seemed to be admiring them.
—
Dinner was a potato-and-meat pie with a flaky crust. It was warm, delicious, and filling, though the gravy seemed to stick in my throat.
After dinner, I went to the art room.
I ran my fingers over the crayons, flipped through the stacks of colored paper. If only I could have packed a box to send to Kammi and Tye.
I got a large sheet of paper and a pencil, and sketched without thinking about what I was drawing. After a long while, I got some watercolors, mostly beiges and browns, only hints of color. I worked slowly, letting the layers dry.
The door opened and Miss Ibsen came in.
“It’s time to head up to bed.”
“Yes, Miss Ibsen.” I started to clean up the paints and water.
She looked at my painting.
Four people sat around a table: a man, a woman, two children. They didn’t have features, really. In front of each person was a heaping plate of food. A disgusting amount of food.
“Is it your family?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“The empty chair…that would have been…your chair?”
I rinsed my brushes out carefully.
Miss Ibsen got some pins and hung up my picture.
She put her arm around me at the door.
“WE’LL LOSE A DAY’S WORK!”
“The point precisely,” the Examiner said. “You’re forgetting to be children. You’ll go out for the day and have fun.” She beamed at everyone.
I looked to Gunnar, who shrugged. We would have to wait to know who’d been hit in last night’s bombings.
We got our coats and the Examiner counted us off, five kids to one proctor. I was glad to be with Caelyn and Miss Ibsen.
“Stay with your groups,” the Examiner said. “We wouldn’t want to lose anyone.”
“Because we know too much,” Caelyn whispered.
She nodded at me as the Examiner continued, “Don’t speak to anyone along the way or in the village.”
The Examiner watched us as we left through the south gates. Didn’t she want to go on the outing? What would she do instead?
The ground became soft as we plodded toward the village at the bottom of the hill. The stream was quick and swollen from snow melting above us on the mountain.
Annevi ran by, coat flying behind her, giving people a thwack here and there. “Tag!”
“What if she gets lost?” I asked Miss Ibsen.
“Hooting as she does? We couldn’t lose Annevi if we tried,” Miss Ibsen said. But she didn’t sound mean. She sounded as if Annevi was a delight to her.
I wasn’t loud. I could easily be lost.
“You’ll be all right, too,” Miss Ibsen said. “Go and be with Caelyn.”
I caught up with Caelyn. We walked silently for a while. Then I asked, “Where do you come from, Caelyn?”
“Up north, by the sea.”
“Do you miss your parents?”
“Yes,” she said, but it didn’t sound like an I’m-finished kind of yes. Her breath caught a little, as if she had been about to say more. I waited. “But not
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