Children of Exile by Margaret Peterson Haddix

“That’s really to punish me. Because they said I had to stop asking questions, and I didn’t.”
    That didn’t surprise me. I watched Edwy pull his line closer.
    â€œSomething bad happened here,” Edwy said. “I can tell. And that’s what no one will talk about.”
    It was on the tip of my tongue to say, Well, duh! For twelve years they kept telling us it was too dangerous for us to livewith our own parents. Of course something bad happened!
    Instead I said, “The father—I mean, my real father—he’s blind and he’s missing one arm. And I know he wasn’t always like that, because the mother said so. And he thinks there’s something wrong with my nose.”
    I winced, because that was like asking Edwy to say, There is something wrong with your nose! It’s ugly! Your whole face is ugly!
    That was how Edwy talked back in Fredtown, before I started avoiding him. Sometimes the Freds heard him and had long, stern talks about what was and wasn’t appropriate to say about other people. But most of the time Edwy waited to say things like that when none of the Freds were listening.
    Edwy stared down into the water.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he whispered.
    Had Edwy really just said that? Edwy?
    Somehow that made it possible for me to inch toward the topics I really wanted to ask about.
    â€œI . . . I found an official decree on the floor of the airplane,” I said, carefully avoiding the issue of which row of seats I’d found it in. I really wanted to say, I know you stole it! I know what you’re like! But I struggled to keep my voice calm and neutral. “The bottom part was torn, so I don’t know what it said after the part about the men on the plane leaving right away so our parents have total control over . . . something.Did you see that paper, that decree? Did you read any more of it than I did?”
    I expected Edwy to protest, What are you accusing me of? You’re the one who saw the decree, not me! Did you steal it? Did goody-goody Rosi actually do something wrong?
    But he just shook his head and muttered, “No, it was torn when I saw it too. I didn’t see the rest of it. I wish I had. I wish I knew . . .”
    â€œEverything,” I whispered.
    Edwy nodded. Our eyes met, his only a shade darker than mine.
    I’d never noticed before how much our eyes were alike.
    â€œAlso . . . , I saw what you carved into your seat on that airplane,” I said.
    Edwy’s expression turned into a defensive glare.
    â€œNobody said that wasn’t allowed!” he protested. It was almost comforting how much he sounded like the Edwy I’d known back in Fredtown, the one who was so good at coming up with excuses.
    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
    â€œI’m not going to tattle ,” I said. “I just wanted to know . . . What did you mean? ‘Those people aren’t real either’? Did your Fred-parents tell you—”
    â€œYou know I wouldn’t trust anything a Fred told me,” Edwy said. “I hate them! They’re all frauds and liars and . . .”
    I felt my face harden into a glare to match his. It was unbearable to hear him say such awful things about the Freds when I missed them so much. Especially after the people back at my mother’s church had called the Freds evil. But Edwy’s criticism was worse, because he’d actually known the Freds. Even when he misbehaved, even when he was rude on purpose, they had never been anything but kind.
    â€œNever mind,” Edwy said, his voice softening. He gazed off toward the other side of the creek. “Even you have to admit there was something wrong with those men on the plane. You had to have hated them as much as I did.”
    â€œI don’t hate anyone,” I said automatically. This would have been the Fred-approved response—we were only supposed