“You’re right. It’s not.” I wish I had words of wisdom to give her, but I’m starting to wonder if she’s right. I don’t know how to relate to this experience. Astolia had its problems, but friends weren’t one of them, at least for me. Beth-Anne was the most popular girl in the whole colony, and since I had her on my side, no one messed with me.
Beth-Anne.
“Maybe if you can make one good friend at school?” I say. “Someone you could team up with, so it’s harder for them to pick on you? You don’t have to get along with everyone, but one person—”
She snorts. “That’s what Sid said. But not everyone gets a Silas.”
She buries her face in her pillow. I wonder why she picked Silas as an example instead of Beth-Anne. Then it hits me: I’ve never mentioned her. We both have so much to grieve already, I never wanted to afflict her with more loss. I rarely talk about what we left behind when we escaped Astolia, Beth-Anne included.
As I look around the sparse but safe walls of our apartment, the thought makes me uneasy. What happened to Beth-Anne after I left?
***
ONCE MY PARENTSfound out that my teachers had asked us to lie about the reproductive fitness tests, they began planning. What was to stop the Grand Astrologue from dragging me behind a shed one day and handing me over to some man without telling my father? It had long been obvious he didn’t respect my mother’s opinions, but we’d convinced ourselves Dad was our shield. Now that the illusion was gone, my parents started squirrelling away haunches of goat meat and bags of turnips.
Some of our neighbours agreed to come with us, including Curtis. That was when I first took notice of him. Up until then, he’d just been another boy in the year below me at school. Now, he was someone brave enough to run away. Resistance popped up around us all at once—an awareness that life had never been what it should be in Astolia, and we had been wrong to excuse it. It seemed everyone had been following the Grand Astrologue out of fear, rather than conviction, and would gladly leave if given the chance.
So I told the one person I couldn’t bear to leave behind. I told Beth-Anne.
At first, she hesitated. Astolia was all she’d ever known, the world beyond the hills where we pastured the goats a foreboding mystery. But there were plenty of tantalizing things in the future I painted for her. She wouldn’t have to marry Alan. She wouldn’t have to hide picture books from sight, to be read only in secret.
“If enough of us go,” I whispered as we milked our goats, “maybe we could start our own colony. Do it the right way, with my mom as a teacher and everything.”
“That would be perfect.” Her hands, usually so nimble, slowed. “But how would we defend ourselves against TNS? Do your parents have guns?”
“Probably not.” They were harder to sneak off with than goat meat.
Beth-Anne began milking furiously again “My dad’s a guard. He could get us guns. He could protect us.”
For about an hour, I was sure we’d solved the problem. If there was one thing that scared me about leaving Astolia, it was running afoul of TNS without any means of defence. After we finished the chores, I raced home, so proud of our solution. I told Dad what Beth-Anne had said and how we would have guns thanks to her father, and… well, looking back, it’s obvious what went wrong.Everyone was a rebel waiting for a reason to fight in my childhood mind. It never occurred to me that the Grand Astrologue chose his guards carefully.
I’ll never know if Beth-Anne told her father. We didn’t risk it. The minute my parents knew the plan had leaked, they grabbed what little we had stockpiled and made a break for it.
If Dad had made it out alive, would the rest of my story be different? Mom tried to assure me it wasn’t my fault.Never blame yourself for the terrible things someone else does.And even if he had survived Astolia, our camp was discovered by another hostile group three years later. I’ve always assumed it was TNS, but I’m not actually sure, because April and I weren’t there for the attack. Dumb luck is all that saved us. There’s no guarantee Dad would have fared any better.
Even with my mother’s reassurances, I still feel guilty. No, worse: some part of me blames Beth-Anne. Why else would I never mention her to April?
Sitting in the quiet of Sid’s home, it seems obvious that it wasn’t her fault either. She never asked for a father she couldn’t trust to protect her.
I pick up April’s empty plate and leave her to sulk alone in our room. The dish still smells of glazed carrots. An image creeps into my mind of Beth-Anne, ten years older than I last saw her, eating the same mushy turnip stew, living in a hut with Alan and his goats. For years, I’ve thought of her as one of my dead, because it’s easier than admitting the truth.
Odds are, she’s still trapped there.
EVENTUALLY, SID COMESupstairs. It’s a relief to be free from my own mind, so I rush toward him, which he takes as a sign that I need a hug.
“You okay?”
“I’mfine. I just…” The scent of him hits me as I wrap my arms around him, struggling for words. “We came here for her.Idon’t have to like it, but if April doesn’t…”
“School is hard. She’ll get through it.” He pats my shoulder. I take that as a hint I should let go before I make it weird. “We should talk to the principal, though.”
“We?”I assumed I would have to go in, but Sid’s participation never crossed my mind. “You don’t have to do that.”
“We’re both her legal guardians.”
“In name only.”
“Do you not want me there? I could help. Dom got into a lot of fights growing up, and his sanctuary hosts hated dealing with it, so I’ve had practice.”
