Exodia by Debra Chapoton Page B

door
somewhere. It’s not my door, but if there was someone at my door,
which sister would I hope to see? Not the rude twin or the quiet
one. Not Katie–too bossy. Lovely, tall Kassandra, the oldest one,
that’s the girl that makes the most sense though her gemfry ability
is a bit scary.
    I think of her pretty face, and then I
hear another sound, a lamb’s bleating. My eyes pop open and I catch
a glimpse of candle glow as someone passes by my door. I realize I
want that someone to be Lydia.
    I immediately feel bad. Do I have any
say in this marriage thing? Mr. Luna’s predictions can’t be a
hundred percent true. He wasn’t even sure which daughter I would
marry.
    There’s a soft knock and this time it’s
at my door.
    “ May I come in?”
    “ Sure.”
    I sit up and start to rise as Kassandra
enters holding a candle that flickers gold onto her skin and makes
her eyes look like sparks. She’s wearing a short gown of flimsy
cloth. I see that she’s barefoot and I notice something else too–a
sign that she’s cold.
    I can’t help but think of
sex.

 
     

 
     

 

 

 

 
     

 

 
     

 
     
     
     
    Part II 2095
     
    Chapter 8 Taken
     
    From the fourth page of the
Ledger:
    He held her and would not
let her go until he had brought her to his mother’s
house.
     
    YET ANOTHER CUSTOM to learn, abide by,
accept, and pass onto my son. Kassandra watches me. She presses her
lips together to fight a smile, but her eyes are
laughing.
    My son. I want to laugh, too. Every
time I think of this absurdity, this awesome change in my life, I
have to let it overwhelm me. It almost covers the guilt I still
carry.
    Her parents walk several yards ahead of
us, leading the way to the first spring TM of the year at our
unnamed Mid-land village. Unnamed, all the better to stay under the
radar of Exodia’s imprecise authority. Her sisters spread out
behind us as if to herd us there. I carry my son in a wool-lined
sling Kassandra made. He’s two weeks old. We’ll present him to the
town in a small ceremony, but there will be no tattooing of his
tiny arm. I believe there should be even though we live in this
neutral zone where life is primitive yet tranquil. I’ve talked to
Kassandra several times about this small fact. My own elbow is
undeniably red. I haven’t dyed it in the nearly two years I’ve been
here; I haven’t needed to even when strangers pass
through.
    “ What are you thinking?”
Kassandra says. “Nervous?”
    I shake my head. A memory pops into my
mind of my first month on the ranch when two men had shown up. They
said they were government inspectors, but when one had eyed the
lambs that Sana and Araceli were holding, he said, “Cute woolen
bastards” and Araceli told me later that Sana’s eyes got wide. She
came running to me with her hand over her mouth. I was behind the
new windmill I was helping Mr. Luna construct and she pushed me
into the room at the base, unclamped her hand, and let her words
spill out: “Beware Dalton scouts!” The men snooped a bit, but I
stayed out of sight. We never found out if they really were looking
for me. I confessed my crime to my new family and they still
accepted me. We asked Deandra to make a guess and she thought they
weren’t from the government at all, but were Ronel’s people. A week
later the news was shared at a TM that my grandfather was dead and
a new election was planned. I didn’t grieve for Bryer Battista.
After that news I didn’t see a need to find Ronel. I liked my new
life here. Our wedding was a simple party.
    It’s still hard for me to express
myself in words. I should share this memory with Kassandra as we
walk the path to town, but I answer her question in a few words.
“Not nervous,” I say. I’ll talk more when we’re alone.
    We reach the edge of town and join
another family to continue to the center. More people appear until
I’m sure that not a single person has stayed home from this TM.
There’s a crisp freshness to the air