Petra K and the Blackhearts by M. Henderson Ellis Page B

causes an instant and deep sleep. As we strolled, we passed uniformed generals, ministers, and their families, and troops of gardeners who tried to make themselves invisible whenever anybody important approached.
    “My heavens,” Mother exclaimed, grabbing me by the shoulder.
    “Ouch!” I exclaimed back.
    “There he is, stand aside. Curtsy. Do anything, just don’t misbehave!”
    I saw at once whom she was talking about. A short person was walking toward us, his nose held high in the air. As he approached, we tried to flatten ourselves against the side of the path. It was Archibald the Precious himself, two Boot minders walking behind him. Every now and again one of the Boot guards would point out a particularly spectacular flower and bend it toward Archibald to smell, at which point Archibald would pluck the flower from its stem and hand it back to a guard, whose job it was to carry the bouquet. It was funny to see such huge men taking care over such a small delicate thing as a flower.
    Soon, though, Archibald was right in front of us. I could see my mother shrinking from his gaze, trying to figure out if she should move left or right. But Archibald just stepped between my mother and me, parting us without a word. You see, behind us was a uniquely huge lavender orchid, with a blossom so big and inviting you could stick your whole face into its cupped petals. And that is just what Archibald did. I could have extended my hand and pet him on the top of his head as he bent toward the flower. He picked the flower himself, then after straightening up he held the orchid out to me, his face brightening as though in recognition. He was about to speak, then something surprising happened: he keeled over and fell flat onto the dirt. For a moment I saw him not as a dictator or enemy, but rather as a classmate who was playacting.
    “Oh get up,” I said. I could see him taking deep breaths. But Archibald did not get up, and in a split second the Boot were pushing us out of the way. One bent over and lifted Archibald from the ground, then rushed off with the limp body. The other looked around, as though trying to pinpoint a perpetrator.
    “You two,” he said to us. “Stay right here. Under order of the Boot, do not move from this spot,” he commanded, and then rushed after the other Boot guard. My mother looked petrified.
    “Come on, Mother,” I said, taking her hand. “Let’s go!”
    “He said to stay here,” she responded meekly.
    “Yes, but we should really leave,” I said.
    “You need to learn to do what you are told, Petra K. Who put the idea in your head that you can defy a Boot officer?”
    I didn’t know how, but I had to get myself and my mother out of there. From where I was standing I could see a commotion at the entrance of the gardens. Boot officers were gathering, and I could see them pulling people from the crowd and leading them away.
    “This way,” a voice bellowed from behind us. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to say something, to make anyexcuse I could think of, but there in front of me was Abel, dressed in a Youth Guard uniform. He winked at me, and told us to follow him. I was so surprised that I could not move for a moment.
    “This way,” he commanded again, though I could see he was also trying to keep from laughing.
    “Come, Petra K,” my mother instructed, grabbing my hand. We both followed Abel out of the gardens, right under the eye of the Boot. Nobody even looked at us twice.
    At once I felt relieved and worried. Why would my mother go with somebody, just because they wore a uniform? Abel was smaller than me, and not terribly convincing as a Youth Guard member. Was it a kind of subtle magic that people want to be deceived by, this complacence in the face of a uniform?
    “OK, you are free to go!” Abel said with mock authority, once he had led us to the head of Karlow Bridge.
    “But don’t you want to question us?” asked my mother.
    “Yes,” said Abel, a mischievous