Dark Parties (27 page)

I think she might have fallen asleep. I don’t want to disturb her. I want her to forget everything that has happened to her
for the past few days. I hope she’s forgotten our fight.

“Nev,” Sanna whispers. Her voice surprises me.

“Yeah,” I murmur, trying to act as if I’ve been asleep.

“I forgive you,” she says.

It’s more than I could have hoped for. A sob collects in
my throat. I swallow it back. The center of my chest aches. She grips and nearly crushes my hand.

I’ve got to get out of here. Death would be better than lying here, holding my best friend’s hand but wanting her boyfriend.
I only have to live in this shell with these lies until midnight.

I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. The light is ebbing from the house as day turns to dusk. Sanna is still holding my hand,
but she’s softly snoring. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back at the Empowerment Center. I can feel the doctor examining
me. I can see Nicoline’s trusting face. My eyes pop open. I slowly withdraw my hand from Sanna’s. Her grip tightens as she
rolls over to face me, but her eyes are still shut. I try again. This time I move only a fraction and then count to twenty
before I move my hand a little again. My mind is focused on getting free. Her breathing has a slow and steady
rhythm. I count, using her breaths, and decide to move only on her exhale. The process is painstaking. When I’m finally free,
she rolls away from me. I wait a few minutes before I sit up and another before I shift my feet off the side of the bed.

My first thought is to sneak away. No one can know I’m leaving. How do I say a final good-bye, especially to Sanna? After
everything she’s been through, everyone she’s lost, how can I desert her? Seeing Braydon will only make me want to stay. I
see my Missing in a different light. I’m not the one filling the hole they leave behind. I’m the one escaping, and I feel
a rush at the thought of simply fading to black. But I want one more moment with Braydon.

He’s not in the other bedroom. I tiptoe down the stairs. As I reach the entryway, there’s a faint knock on the door. I panic
and search for a place to hide. I duck into the coat closet. I keep the door open a crack to let a little light seep in. I
position myself so I can see the front door. The house is quiet. Maybe I imagined it. As I prepare to slide the door open,
I hear it again. This time the taps are insistent.

Braydon appears in my limited field of vision. I should stop him. He hesitates at the front door and glances up the stairs
as if he’s checking to make sure Sanna and I are still tucked in his bed. What is he doing?

He opens the door halfway, his body a barrier between me and whoever is outside.

“Braydon, where have you been?” A rough male voice slices through the silence.

The door is being forced open, but Braydon stands his
ground. He struggles to close the door a little farther. “I’ve got the situation under control.”

“I doubt that.” The door is thrust open and in strolls a man in a police uniform. I bury myself farther into the musty coats
behind me.

Braydon steps in front of the officer and blocks my view. “I said I would handle it.”

“You’ve made a mess of things so far, Braydon.” He laughs.

I can’t process what’s happening. I don’t understand.

“Just back off and let me do my job.” Braydon shoves the officer, pushing him into the doorframe.

The officer pokes a black-gloved finger at Braydon’s chest. “You need to watch it. We’ve tried it your way. Now we do it mine.”

“I can still turn them. I’m so close.” What is Braydon saying?

“We want to make an example of them—”

“And you will,” Braydon interrupts.

Time stops. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’ve been dropped into a black hole, my senses muted. I hear Braydon say the
word
complicated
. I listen hard for the officer’s response.

“I expect them delivered to the Central Police Station by midnight tonight.” The officer’s words rise through the rubble in
my brain.

Braydon’s nodding and edging the man out the door. He glances up at where I should be sleeping, then follows the officer outside
and shuts the door behind them.

The truth resonates to my core. I should have trusted my first instinct. I can’t believe it, yet all the puzzle pieces fall
into place. That’s how he lives here. How he has new clothes and other things none of the rest of us can get. That’s why he
singled out Sanna. That’s how the police have tracked me down. That’s why he kissed me in the dark.

The only piece that doesn’t fit is why he saved us. He could have left us at the Empowerment Center. I don’t understand, but
I know I can’t trust him anymore. I befriended a snake and shouldn’t be surprised when it bites. I block out everything except
my need to survive. I race up the stairs and, as quietly as I can, I wake Sanna. She’s confused, but I tell her we have to
go. Now. I think of the only lie that will get her moving. “Braydon’s in trouble.”

She’s on her feet. We communicate wordlessly, the way two people whose lives are as intertwined as ours have always been.
Sanna follows my lead and helps arrange the pillows to make it look like we’re asleep. I open the doors that lead onto the
balcony, which overlooks the back garden. I see the garage and know the van is our only means of escape.

I climb over the balcony railing. Sanna follows my lead. I bend down and grip the lower ledge as I cautiously dangle my legs
over the side. I’m about five feet from the ground. I let go and fall with a thud. I spring to my feet and raise my arms to
help break her fall. A strange thought flashes in my mind: I’ve got to protect her because she’s pregnant. Maybe they didn’t
do that to her. Maybe we got to her in time.

I catch Sanna, and we run toward the garage. A car engine
starts. I pull her to the ground and clumsily drape myself on top of her. I try to decipher which direction the car is moving.
There’s a crunch of gravel and then the roar of the engine fades. I hope this means that the police officer has left. I search
for a back way out, but I can’t risk getting trapped. I lead Sanna to the garage. We climb into the van. I start the engine
and fumble with the gearshift. I squint to see when the D for drive lights up. I’ve only watched my parents drive; I’ve never
been behind the wheel. I tap the accelerator and the van lurches forward and stops. I ease it down and carefully steer down
the dirt alley that leads to the house’s front drive.

“What about Braydon?” Sanna says, pressing her palm against the windshield when we both spot him staring wide-eyed at us from
the front door.

“We’re meeting up with him later,” I lie. “Get down and stay out of sight.” I shove her onto the floor with my free hand so
she can’t see Braydon chasing after the van. I press the accelerator until it makes contact with the floor. I consider for
a second if I should run him over. But I can’t waste time. Grinding his body into the gravel won’t make a damn bit of difference.
Braydon’s already dead to me.

Night is closing in, and the chill is inside me, emanating from me. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. From the first moment
I met Braydon, my gut told me not to trust him. Then we kissed. That horrible, treacherous kiss. I wipe my mouth on my shirtsleeve
at the thought of it. His shirtsleeve. I want to rip off his clothes and tear out the part of me that he touched.

I glance in the rearview mirror. Sanna’s asleep in the back of the van. She can never know of Braydon’s betrayal. It would
kill her. The thing I keep trying to focus on is that
I’m leaving tonight. I will take Sanna with me, and we will put Homeland and all its death and corruption behind us. I will
make myself forget about Braydon and the last few days. I will be reborn when I emerge from the Protectosphere. That thought
gives me a little comfort.

I have one final stop to make. I park the van in the alley behind my house. I leave Sanna sleeping. I cover her with one of
the blankets Senga gave us so she’s partially camouflaged. If Braydon has contacted the police, then nowhere is safe. But
I’ve got to risk it. I’ve got to warn my mom, tell her what the government is doing. I watch the house until I’m sure Mom
is alone. I crawl under the ramshackle fence that borders our backyard. For once I’m pleased nothing gets repaired. I open
the back door soundlessly. I’m startled when I hear a baby cry. I follow the noise to my bedroom. I peek inside.

“It’s okay,” my mom coos as the baby’s cries subside. She’s pacing across the room, bouncing as she walks. Her ponytail is
loose and hangs to one side. Her face has the bleached look of someone who has been crying. She cradles a baby close to her
chest. “That’s my girl. It’s nighty-night time.” She used to say that to me. She starts to hum a lullaby. I haven’t heard
that melody in years, but I recognize it instantly. She presses her cheek to the baby’s. She sways and hums as if in a trance.

“Mom,” I whisper, breaking the spell between mother and baby. She doesn’t hear me. “Mom,” I say a little louder.

She screams. The baby starts crying again. Her whole
body starts shaking, and I think she’s going to drop the baby. I rush to her and scoop the baby into my arms. Mom throws her
arms around me and sobs into my neck. “They told me you were dead.”

I wriggle free to give the crying baby some air. She’s so tiny and fragile. Her face is red and blotchy and her cheeks are
damp with tears. All I want to do is stop her flood of tears and see her pouty lips smile. Her sadness I can remedy. I bounce,
and the baby’s cries turn to a whimper.

“She likes it if you walk,” Mom says, wiping the baby’s tears.

I pace the floor. All my furniture is crammed into one corner. There’s a crib where my bed used to be. My clothes are still
scattered on the floor. When I stop moving, the baby starts to cry, so I keep moving, even though I’m weary.

“I wouldn’t let anyone take anything,” she says, closing the curtains.

I tell Mom everything about the Women’s Empowerment Center, what they’ve done to Sanna, what Braydon has done to me, and my
grandma’s invitation. Mom’s gaze follows me, but her body is still. Her arms hang limply at her sides.

“I’ve heard rumors,” she says when I’ve finished. “They are taking young girls, but I never thought they would go this far.
I tried to protect you, but you’re too much like your grandma.”

“I’m a lot like you too.” I wish I’d known sooner what a rebel my mom was in her own quiet way. I wish we’d trusted each other
with our secrets. I want her to make it all right
like she used to. She could kiss a scraped knee and make it all better. She could sing me a lullaby and chase the monsters
away. But I know she can’t make this okay.

“Neva, you have to leave. Go be with your grandma.” Her eyes sparkle with tears.

“Come with me,” I say, and realize that this is why I’m here. She’s the only thing keeping me here.

She doesn’t hesitate. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I ask, but I know her answer already.

“I could never leave your father… or Jane.” She nods at the baby.

She’s got to stay and fight alongside the Sengas and Carsons of Homeland. Part of me wants to stay and fight too.

Tears stream in tandem down our cheeks.

She wipes her eyes and coughs back the emotion. “You better go.”

Jane is finally asleep. I pull her close. I smell that sweet combination of milk and baby lotion. I kiss her on the cheek
and hand her back to Mom.

“She’s got your nose,” Mom says, touching the top of Jane’s nose.

“Everyone’s got my nose.” I study Jane’s tiny features.

“She’s got your sparkle. She’s really smart. I can already tell.” Mom lays Jane in her crib. She tucks the tattered blanket
around Jane’s tiny frame. She already loves her. Even though Jane’s been manufactured to keep Homeland alive, Mom sees her
unique beauty, just like she always saw mine.

I feel a slight sting of jealousy. Jane gets to keep my mother.

“Is it okay if I take a few things?” I ask.