Page 11 of Amber: Deja Brew

“It’s good that you still talk,” I tell her.

“If you call a ten second phone call talking...”

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart.” I hug her tighter.

How could her mother put such unrealistic expectations on her and then get rid of her when she didn’t meet them? And how could any parent not want to see their own child? I think of my own family and shake my head. I’m one to talk.

“It’s not all bad,” Amber says softly. “The academy is where I met Juli. Yeah, I lost my mother and my sister, but I gained Juli and his family. Which is why...” she swallows audibly. “Which is why I can’t bear the thought of him losing them because of me.”

“He’s not going to lose his family because of you or anyone else! And if he does, he’s better off without them.”

“How can you say that?” Amber gasps in obvious outrage.

“Because parents are supposed to love you no matter what. Siblings, too. I know ours didn’t, but that doesn’t mean Julian’s won’t... and if they’d rather see him unhappy and alone than here with us, he’s better off without them.”

Amber gapes at me, and for a second, I think I said the wrong thing. My gut clenches at the thought of us having our first fight, but then it soars as she breaks into a smile. “You’re right, Chase. Julian’s family just wants what’s best for him.”

“And that’s us, sweetheart.” I grin. But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie. Yes, Amber’s what’s best for Julian. He’s loved her since they were kids, and now they own Jewels Cafe together. And Wes fits right in—taking charge, making breakfast. They’re what’s best for Julian, not me. Where do I even begin to fit in?

“What happened with your family?” Amber asks just as I’m starting to panic. “I know you mentioned you left home because they banned computers and books and stuff, but why don’t you visit?”

“Because it’s more than just banning computers and books. My community fears knowledge.”

“Fears knowledge?” Amber frowns. Her eyes are filled with interest and curiosity, but I can’t help it when my gaze drifts down to her lips. “What do you mean, Chase?”

Oh, right. I’m supposed to be telling her about my family.

“When I was little, I used to ask a lot of questions. Normal stuff kids ask. ‘Why is the sky blue?’ ‘Why do you see lightning before you hear thunder?’ And my family always had the same answer for me. ‘Because it is as it’s always been.’

Even as I say those words, a ball of frustration forms in the pit of my stomach. Because it wasn’t just my parents who said those words, it was my brothers and sisters and friends and their families, and all the elders. Everyone! None of them ever questioned things or even seemed to care.

“When I got older, instead of having fewer questions, I kept asking more. See, the answer wasn’t always the same. Sometimes, they’d tell me things, like why my sister would separate the whites and colors when washing clothes, or why Grandpa always had to have his food mashed. So I just kept hoping each new question would have an answer... until they’d all had enough.”

“Did they send you away to an academy, too?”

“I wish! Sending me to an academy would have meant I’d finally find my answers, and my parents didn’t want that.”

“So, what did they do?”

“They pulled me aside and told me that if I didn’t stop asking questions, the community might banish me.”

“Just for being curious?” Amber sounds horrified. But then, the ways of the community don’t often make sense to outsiders.

“Back home, we’re not supposed to think for ourselves. To them, I was in the wrong, and the threat made me stop. I started pretending to be like other kids. Playing sports. Climbing trees. Exploring our lands. Basically, doing anything that didn’t involve thinking.”

“How old were you?”

“Six.”

“Six?” She gapes up at me.

“It is what it is.” I shrug. “I couldn’t stop asking questions in my head, though, so I started looking for answers myself. And one day I decided to go past our fence. I think I was seven or eight then. I knew I wasn’t allowed to leave the community, but I wanted to know what was out there.”

“What did you find?”

“People. A town. They didn’t pay me any attention, so I kept going back. Walking down their streets, exploring their modern buildings. They had electricity. Air conditioning. It was all so fascinating. And one day, I discovered the library. That’s where I found my answers. Learned how to survive in the outside world. So when I turned eighteen, I left.”

“And you haven’t been back?”

“I’m not welcome there. Not unless I renounce the outside world, and even then I risk imprisonment or worse.”

“For leaving?”

“For breaking the law. For rejecting our ways.”

“I’m so sorry, Chase.” Amber wraps her arms around my waist, and I bury my face in her hair. The spicy scent of her shampoo teases my senses as memories I’ve tried my best to suppress burst forth, like water breaking through a dam.

My mother’s waist-long, flowing black hair. Her soft smile as she ruffled my hair. My father’s thick beard, always littered with food crumbs or leaves and twigs. My oldest sister, Julie, smiling at me with that huge gap between her front teeth. Married with three kids by the time I left, even though she was only twenty. All my other siblings, ten kids ranging in age from sixteen to two... older now, since I’ve been gone six years. A few with kids of their own, I’m sure. Nieces and nephews I’ll never meet.

“I miss them so much, but I don’t regret leaving. I belong out here.” I want to belong out here! Because the truth is, I know I was meant to live among books and computers and answers... but that doesn’t mean Amber will want me to stay. She belongs with Julian and Wes, but where do I fit in? Where have I ever truly fit in?

Even in this world, filled with all the answers I could possibly want, I’m an outsider. Always staring at the world around me in wonder, always discovering something new, always feeling like I’m a step behind everyone else. There are so many things that other people seem to know that I just don’t... what quiche is, whether or not witches can magically create furniture, what will happen if my rent payment is a week overdue, and whether or not I’ll ever truly belong.