wanted to be certain that the name Quillen didn’t show up on any lists. There was probably a file on them floating around somewhere. She wondered how long it took before something like that was marked inactive. She wondered if she was in it.
Her mom was always saying how important it was to stand up for what you believe, how injustice must be fought, but today, when injustice was right in front of her, she ran. Rachel didn’t see what good all the talk about justice was if nobody tried to help when things got risky. Maybe they couldn’t have done anything today, but she felt like they should have at least tried . It was hard to believe her mother had once been a collaborator. She didn’t seem . . . brave enough.
One thing Rachel knew for sure was that she would never go to college if the only way she could get in was to buy a secured admission. After hearing about her father’s friend Alex, she would never be able to live with herself if she thought she might be the cause of that happening to someone else. She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell Vivian, but she would figure it out.
Rachel didn’t know what she would do instead of a Profession. That was a problem. Because Vivian was right about one thing: It was not a good idea to be without a job. She thought about the Labor Pool crew she had seen today, and about those she had seen on other visits to Bensen. They all looked the same. Not just because they wore the gray jumpsuits. Because they all had the same look in their eyes—a blend of fear and numbness. The boy today had seemed a bit more lively than most, but he would get that look soon enough. Rachel never wanted to see that in the mirror staring back at her.
She squinted out at the Line. There was no sign of anything out there. Maybe she should just give up and go in. A part of her really wanted to; she had to admit she was a little scared. Who was it out there? What was she getting herself into? Vivian would definitely be mad if she knew about this.
But Dad. What would Dad have done? Whoever that was on the corder, he was in trouble. Her dad would have tried to help, she was sure of it. He might have been afraid, but he would have tried. She knew her mom wanted her to stay safe, but she couldn’t pretend she never found the corder. She couldn’t pretend that someone out there didn’t need her help.
Rachel had brought the minibeam from the kitchen in case she had to wait past dark; she figured she could use it to signal to whoever might be out there.
It was definitely dark now. She decided to try it—two flashes—and see if anything happened. If not, she would go back to the guesthouse.
CHAPTER 12
I T HAD BEEN five nights of waiting. Pathik had been careful to track the time on his trekker, a length of twine with beads on it, knotted at either end. Each night at sunset he had trapped another bead on the “over” side of the string. He remembered when his grandfather, Indigo, had given him his first trekker, on the eve of his first trek alone.
“THIS IS A day, let us say it is this day, the day before your first trek,” his grandfather had said, holding one of the beads between his fingers. “Until night this day is open, it is free.” Grandfather had slithered the bead back and forth on the twine of the trekker, smiling his sly smile. “Anything can happen.” Then he slid the bead all the way over to the end of the twine, snug against the end knot. “But soon it is evening, like now. The sun is setting on the day. Each night when this happens, you take a bead, a day, and trap it, like so.” He tied a knot on the other side of the bead, so it was held in place on the twine. “And now that day is over. It is frozen, Pathik, finished. It is unchangeable.”
Malgam, Pathik’s father, had rolled his eyes. “It’s a way to track your time, Pathik, to remind you how long you’ve been out. Not a philosophical lesson.” He shook his head at Indigo, but his expression was
Her mom was always saying how important it was to stand up for what you believe, how injustice must be fought, but today, when injustice was right in front of her, she ran. Rachel didn’t see what good all the talk about justice was if nobody tried to help when things got risky. Maybe they couldn’t have done anything today, but she felt like they should have at least tried . It was hard to believe her mother had once been a collaborator. She didn’t seem . . . brave enough.
One thing Rachel knew for sure was that she would never go to college if the only way she could get in was to buy a secured admission. After hearing about her father’s friend Alex, she would never be able to live with herself if she thought she might be the cause of that happening to someone else. She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell Vivian, but she would figure it out.
Rachel didn’t know what she would do instead of a Profession. That was a problem. Because Vivian was right about one thing: It was not a good idea to be without a job. She thought about the Labor Pool crew she had seen today, and about those she had seen on other visits to Bensen. They all looked the same. Not just because they wore the gray jumpsuits. Because they all had the same look in their eyes—a blend of fear and numbness. The boy today had seemed a bit more lively than most, but he would get that look soon enough. Rachel never wanted to see that in the mirror staring back at her.
She squinted out at the Line. There was no sign of anything out there. Maybe she should just give up and go in. A part of her really wanted to; she had to admit she was a little scared. Who was it out there? What was she getting herself into? Vivian would definitely be mad if she knew about this.
But Dad. What would Dad have done? Whoever that was on the corder, he was in trouble. Her dad would have tried to help, she was sure of it. He might have been afraid, but he would have tried. She knew her mom wanted her to stay safe, but she couldn’t pretend she never found the corder. She couldn’t pretend that someone out there didn’t need her help.
Rachel had brought the minibeam from the kitchen in case she had to wait past dark; she figured she could use it to signal to whoever might be out there.
It was definitely dark now. She decided to try it—two flashes—and see if anything happened. If not, she would go back to the guesthouse.
CHAPTER 12
I T HAD BEEN five nights of waiting. Pathik had been careful to track the time on his trekker, a length of twine with beads on it, knotted at either end. Each night at sunset he had trapped another bead on the “over” side of the string. He remembered when his grandfather, Indigo, had given him his first trekker, on the eve of his first trek alone.
“THIS IS A day, let us say it is this day, the day before your first trek,” his grandfather had said, holding one of the beads between his fingers. “Until night this day is open, it is free.” Grandfather had slithered the bead back and forth on the twine of the trekker, smiling his sly smile. “Anything can happen.” Then he slid the bead all the way over to the end of the twine, snug against the end knot. “But soon it is evening, like now. The sun is setting on the day. Each night when this happens, you take a bead, a day, and trap it, like so.” He tied a knot on the other side of the bead, so it was held in place on the twine. “And now that day is over. It is frozen, Pathik, finished. It is unchangeable.”
Malgam, Pathik’s father, had rolled his eyes. “It’s a way to track your time, Pathik, to remind you how long you’ve been out. Not a philosophical lesson.” He shook his head at Indigo, but his expression was
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