The Shore of Women
don’t want to live where I’m not welcome. I have more pride than that. I wouldn’t live with you now if you begged me.”
    I turned and walked slowly toward the door. I was in front of it before I realized that I was waiting for Shayl to come after me, to ask forgiveness, to tell me that she hadn’t meant what she said.
    I stepped through the doorway, still waiting. Shayl did not speak. The door slid shut behind me.

    As a child, I had often gone to play in the shadow of the wall, but later I began to avoid the barrier that bounded our city.
    Now I was speeding toward it with Button, clutching his hand as I nursed my anger at my mother and at Shayl. I had lost Shayl; I was ashamed that I had loved her, that I had believed she loved me. I couldn’t mend the breach with her, but I had thought of a way I might protect myself against the worse consequences of Mother’s actions.
    The city outside the transparent tunnel whipped by us; the towers and then the smaller buildings surrounding the spires became a series of blurred vertical images as the current carried us forward. Button was gaping at the sight; he had never traveled so far from our tower before. The last building flashed past; the flat parkland around the city was a sea of green. Button leaned forward in his seat.
    The car in which we were riding floated to the left and slowed as it approached our destination. I stood up as it stopped behind a few empty cars, then opened the door, took Button’s hand, and led him outside.
    Five young girls were playing in the area between the tunnel exit and the entrance to the wall; as they caught sight of Button, they waved. “What’s your name?” one brown-haired girl shouted as she ran up to us.
    “Button.”
    “Button!” The little girl giggled.
    “Leave him alone,” I said.
    The girl stepped back. “It’s a boy!” She motioned to her friends. “They’re sending him out!”
    Her companions squealed. “So long,” one cried; it was soon a chorus. “So long, so long.”
    From where we stood, the gray, flat wall seemed to reach nearly to the sky. Button looked up, then began to pull at my arm as we came to the entrance. “Laissa,” he said.
    “Hush.”
    “Are you sending me away?”
    “Be quiet.”
    “You are. Laissa!” He dug in his heels; I had to drag him to the entrance. “Where’s Mother? I want Mother!”
    The door slid open. The wide hall, its white walls and silvery floor gleaming, stretched to my right and to my left, seeming to reach into infinity. Three women rode by in a cart and frowned at me as Button wailed.
    Two patrolwomen were approaching us on foot. Button tugged at my hand as he whimpered; one of the women pulled him away from me, shook her finger at him, and told him to be quiet.
    “What’s this all about?” the other said.
    “He’s my brother. He has to be sent outside.”
    “With which male?”
    I gave her the particulars, which I had learned after searching Mother’s records at home—his number, the room in the wall that held him. “He calls himself by the name of Tal,” I added, although that hardly mattered. “I’m supposed to give the boy to him.”
    “You, and not your mother? What’s your name?”
    “Laissa, daughter of Dorlei, Alta’s Clan.”
    Button suddenly threw himself at me; his screams echoed down the long hallway. I pried him from my legs. “Be quiet,” I said.
    “I hate you! I don’t want to go!” He screamed more loudly and began to cry. The taller patrolwoman gave him a piece of candy; he dashed it against the floor’s silver tiles.
    The short, stocky patrolwoman muttered a few words into her wrist-link, then looked up at me. “I don’t find any authorization for this. You mother is the one who should be here with him. Why isn’t she?”
    “She couldn’t come. She sent me instead.” I had to shout to be heard over Button’s loud weeping; I had expected the patrolwoman’s response. The two exchanged glances, and then the shorter one

Similar Books

Horse Tale

Bonnie Bryant

Ark

K.B. Kofoed

The apostate's tale

Margaret Frazer