Master Hayes continued, finishing the list of girls and moving on to the boys. Reading the names of students and places, futures blossoming, talent and Industry spreading across the land, transforming the world.
Gertrude said nothing. But this time, she reached for my hand—and she didn’t let go.
We rode to the train station six to a carriage, crammed so close together that I could smell the onions on Tabitha Flint’s breath from the tarts she’d snuck from the kitchen. Our bags rattled on the roof, covered by a tarp as rain fell in gray sheets.
“You should have had your skirt tailored to trousers,” Tabitha said, twisting on the bench to try to show me hers, which mostly resulted in her sitting on Grace’s lap.
Grace shoved her, somehow managing to be forceful and delicate all at once. “Quit that. There’s no sense in giving her grief about her skirts. They’re lovely skirts, Josephine, really. You can always get them fixed up when you get to Frostland.”
“Frostbrook,” Tabitha corrected. She’d gotten top marks in every class thanks to encyclopedic knowledge of everything she’d ever heard or read and perhaps even dreamed. And she was not shy about imparting her knowledge on others whether they wanted to hear it or not.
A quality I’d taken advantage of on more than one occasion to better prepare for an exam after letting my mind drift in class. Now her deep, musical voice only made the tightness in my chest worse. I’d tried so hard not to care, but each one of the girls felt like a splinter in my palm. I wasn’t ready to dig them out from under my skin.
“You know,” she was saying, “it’s right at the base of the mountains where the last of the Animators ran off to. No one knows how many bodies are up there in the snow. They had to have died of exposure. Anyone would.”
“We get it, you aced the House’s legacy,” Gertrude said with a sigh that heaved her chest. She carried a fan and fluttered it toward Tabitha, likely on account of the onions. “We don’t need a history lesson now.”
I might as well have been one of the Animators who’d tried to break from the House of Industry to practice their wild magic without regulation. Once they’d showed the House how dangerous they were, they’d been hunted down and exterminated. That had been nearly two decades ago, with a few stragglers rumored to have made it to the treacherous mountain range that served as a nearly impassable border between the plains and the far sea. Frostbrook was nearly as far as those mountains—snowcapped peaks I’d seen only in paintings and drawings. A desolate place that was likely years behind anything reasonably close to modern life.
Suddenly claustrophobic in the crowded carriage, I opened the waxed curtain beside me and let the rain mist my face. I sucked in great gulps of Sterling City air, tasting the grease and smoke and piss and occasional wafts of rot that characterized the metropolis I’d spent most of my life in.
“She’s lost it,” Grace announced mournfully.
I drew the curtain shut and directed my gaze toward her until she flinched. Abruptly, I felt heavy and tired. Something must have crossed my face, because her expression softened and she leaned forward, our knees knocking together.
“I’ll miss this place, too,” Grace said. “I’m off to Quinley Mission, you know. It’s not even half the size of Sterling City. They don’t even have a proper symphony orchestra.”
Tabitha cringed. “Frostbrook lacksrunning water,Grace.”
“All the more chance for me to make a tremendous name for myself,” I snapped, hearing the childish tone to my voice—but unable to stop it. “Think of the way they’ll admire me and my Senior. We’ll be changing lives, you know. Changing the whole world.”
Grace patted my hand. “Of course you will, dear.”
My hands, uncommonly clean, were as pale as bone against her tan skin. I’d scrubbed with lemon and rough salt and a sharp boar-bristle brush until my nails shone and my cuticles bled. I felt naked without grease in the folds of my knuckles. This cleanliness was nothing but absurd pageantry. It wouldn’t take long for my black dress to smell like machine grease and the comforting cling of ozone.
“It’s a shame we won’t be here for the Continental Exposition,” Grace said, straightening her scarf. “The House’s exhibit will be the grandest of all.”
“The Hall of Radiance is nothing but a replica of the House of Industry,” I said irritably. “It’s not even to scale.”
In truth, I felt sick over missing it. The House had been constructing the Hall of Radiance for nearly a year in anticipation of the exposition. The people of Sterling City would gather to learn about our great work, and we wouldn’t be there.
“It’s not about the exhibit,” Grace said, scoffing. “It’s about being seen and admired. Every notable figure in Sterling City will be there celebrating Progress.”
“I suppose you’ll have to settle for beingseenandadmiredat the Quinley Mission,” I told her, taking satisfaction in her offended huff.
Tabitha spoke up with an anxious waver. “Do you imagine we’ll encounter resistors at the station?”
Gertrude met my gaze, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. The notion of encountering a resistor made my pulse quicken. It was a Transistor’s duty to fight those who sought to harm Children of Industry and halt the march of Progress. But if I had no other choice, surely I would not be faulted for defending myself and my classmates.
“I doubt it,” I said, unable to mask my disappointment. I would never be called on to fight. The station was likely crawling with Transistors in plain clothes tasked with making sure each of us made it into our trains safely.
“Incredible,” Gertrude muttered, shaking her head.
How did she manage to know me so keenly?
Who would I be without her?
A train whistle screeched in the distance, and I tilted my head back with an impotent snarl, wishing I could be that loud—that unbridled. One of those trains was going to take me away from here. From Gertrude. From everything we’d ever known.
