My family hasn’t really talked about the money. Some families have it spent before their second-born is on the train. I had a very frank conversation with my parents about a year ago. I told them they could do anything with the money they wished, but I asked them to please ensure some of it goes toward Beverly and Abigail’s future. My parents agreed. My mother with tears and hugs. My father with a nod and a smack of his lips.
We eat our cake. We tell a few stories. Most of them embarrassing ones about me, which is fine, because it makes us laugh. It’s good to remember those things, one last time. Maybe that’ll help me hold onto those memories once I get where I’m going.
For now, I’ll sit at this table, eat my cake, and pretend the train isn’t coming. But I already heard the horn. I know everyone else did too.
Hopefully, I’ll keep it together long enough for them to remember me fondly.
CHAPTER 3
Clover
I’ve said my goodbyes, found my spot on the train, and now I’m watching Rose say goodbye to her family.
This train isn’t like the one that usually brings food and other deliveries for the merchants in Troona. That one is old, rickety, and runs on coal. This one runs on something a lot more powerful than coal.
The exterior is silver and so shiny it reflected my tears when I was walking away from my family. I hope Abigail didn’t see that. The interior is warm and luxurious. My seat is made out of some kind of plush material. It’s soft, like mattresses I’ve read about. Nothing like the straw one I’ve slept on my entire life. There’s a small screen in front of me, but it’s not currently on. I don’t see anything that allows me to turn it on, so I’m guessing it’s not for entertainment.
Rose finally pulls away from her family. Her father’s crying, and he didn’t even leave the bottle at home. He’s clutching it like he was clutching his daughter a few seconds ago. Her mother isin tears, too. So are her brother and sister. They didn’t protect them from the horrors like we did with Abigail. Her father rambles and blabs too much when he drinks for that to have even been an option.
“Rose!” I say, holding my hand up when she gets on board.
“Hey,” she mutters, staring at the floor as she hurries down the aisle. Like me, she brought nothing but the clothes on her back. “Your family didn’t wait to see you off?”
“I asked them not to,” I say, exhaling a long sigh. “For Abigail’s sake.”
“Bless that little girl,” Rose coos, wiping her eyes and sitting beside me. She looks around, studying everything just like I did earlier. “At least we’re not being shackled and carried away like prisoners, right?”
“Theyshouldbe taking good care of us,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest. “The government gets half of whatever we’re sold for.”
“Soon, we’ll get to see how they spend all that money,” she says, leaning back in her seat, and waving to her family. “Concord City. Built from the sales ofthousandsof second-borns.”
“Don’t say stuff like that too loudly,” I warn, patting her hand. “We’re not in the loft right now.”
“I know. Just having a shitty morning,” she sighs.
“We all are,” I mutter.
The horn sounds and the doors at the front of the train slam shut. There are four of us now. All facing the same fate. Everyone in Troona knows each other, but I wouldn’t say we’re all friends.True friendship is as rare as clean water in a place where the rain is too salty to drink. It’s been that way since The Salting, when the orcs and wolf shifters made sure our land would remember what humans did during The Great War.
Once the train starts moving, I watch Rose and the one other girl wave to their families. I’m not the only person who has nobody to wave to, but I wave to Rose’s parents, since I spent lots of time at their place growing up.
The girl a few seats ahead of us is named Jasmine. She has sun-kissed skin a shade darker than Rose and black hair that always seems shimmery enough to reflect the sun. The guy in the back of the train is named Cedar. He’s tall, rugged from working outdoors his entire life, and has sandy blonde hair that is messy, but looks normal around Troona. He always smiles when he says hello, like he’s happy to see you. He didn’t smile or say hello when I got on the train, though. He didn’t even look at me.
As Troona disappears behind us, the train moves so smoothly it feels like we’re just floating along, everything around us a dusty, brown blur.
Then the screens on every seat flicker to life, and I see a man who looks to be around my father’s age. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit with a red tie, and his tan doesn’t look natural. He’s too orange, like it’s been painted on. His hair is black and looks wet, but that seems to be intentional, based on how it’s combed back flawlessly. He’s also clean-shaven, which is something you rarely see around Troona.
“Hello and welcome! My name is Winston Highton, and I hope you’ve heard that name, because I’m the President of Concord City!” he says, some excitement in his voice. “Soon, you’ll seeme in person when you walk out on the stage at the Reparations Auction, but I wanted to go over a few things ahead of time.”
“Wow, President Highton,” I whisper, glancing over at Rose. “He’s like our mayor’s boss.”
“Yes, I know how the government works, Clover,” Rose grimaces. “I’m not Beverly, remember?”
“Sorry,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Like you said, shitty morning.”
“First and foremost, once you get to Concord City, you’ll be taken to The Grand Hotel. That is where the auction takes place, but until then, you’ll be honored guests,” he continues, his smile so wide it looks unnatural. “Everything you need will be provided, but as honored guests, you are to remain in your suite until it is time for the auction. We don’t like to lose track of our guests, and your safety is our top priority!”
“Nice way of saying we’re prisoners,” Rose mutters.
