But Heather was going to find out eventually, whether Becca told her or not. And she deserved to know the truth.
There had to be some way to make this easier. To make Heather less likely to do something stupid once she found out.
She had a thought.
It probably wouldn’t work—but if there was any chance at all, it was worth a try.
“Do you have any of your parents’ things?” she asked.
Heather folded her arms across her chest. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I have an idea. For—” Another lie. What was she supposed to do, when she choked on both the truth and the lies? “For proving your parents weren’t dissidents. If you have papers of theirs, journals, anything like that… maybe there’s something that can prove Internal wrong.”
Her voice had dropped to a whisper. She glanced around, out of habit, to make sure nobody had heard. Despite her real motives, talking about proving two executed dissidents’ innocence made her skin crawl. That was
But if that disturbed Heather, she didn’t show it. “Internal had my aunt get my stuff from the apartment after they searched the place. She said she got a few of my parents’ things for me when she did. I don’t know what she took. It’s probably not much. I haven’t… I haven’t looked through that box yet.” She swallowed. “But there might be something useful in there.”
“I’ll come over tomorrow after school. We can look through it then.” Becca reconsidered. “No, bring the box over to my place. Just in case your aunt’s house is bugged. No one would dare bug my mom’s apartment.”
Becca didn’t want to find something that proved their innocence. That would be nearly impossible, anyway. Internal would always argue that they had simply covered their tracks well.
What Becca wanted was something that would prove their guilt.
If she tried to tell Heather that her parents had been dissidents, Heather wouldn’t believe her. But if there was proof…
If Heather knew her parents had been guilty, the news of their execution wouldn’t hurt any less. But Heather wouldn’t think Internal had killed her parents by mistake… and so she wouldn’t accuse Internal where Jake could hear. Or worse, storm down to 117.
“Thanks for helping me with this.” Heather didn’t sound quite so panicked now. “Sorry for yelling. It just sounded for a minute like you didn’t believe me anymore.”
“We’ll find the truth together,” Becca promised. She felt dirty.
Heather dropped the cardboard box onto Becca’s bed.
One box, not much bigger than Becca’s pillow. “Is that everything?”
Heather nodded. “She probably didn’t want to save anything of theirs. But she thought I might want a couple of things.”
How likely was it that Internal had left something incriminating, which Heather’s aunt had then packed up for Heather? Not very. But no matter how small the chance, this was worth it. Becca didn’t know how else she could convince Heather that her parents had been guilty.
“It’s weird being back here.” Heather looked around with longing in her eyes. Becca knew she wasn’t seeing the tidy space around her with its pale blue walls, but the mirror-image room on the other side of the wall, the one with clothes strewn everywhere and posters covering every inch of available space. The room that was probably empty by now, its walls slathered with enough layers of white paint to erase all traces of Heather, waiting for somebody new to move in.
Heather brought her gaze back down to the box. “You really think there’s something in here that could prove they aren’t dissidents?”
Becca shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe. It’s worth a try, anyway.”
She sat cross-legged on her bed, facing the box. Her fluffy bedspread crinkled under her legs. Heather joined her.
Neither of them opened the box.
Heather glanced around the room again and pulled her arms into her lap. “You’re sure no one’s watching us in here?”
Becca felt kind of paranoid herself. They were here to prove two dissidents’ innocence. Even if that wasn’t Becca’s real purpose, it was what she had said they were doing. This could get them both arrested, and here they were talking about it in broad daylight. In Internal housing, no less. This was still safer than doing it at Heather’s aunt’s house, but it didn’t feel that way.
But Becca was willing to bet that wasn’t what was really bothering Heather right now. However certain Heather was of her parents’ innocence, she had to be afraid of looking through that box, just in case she was wrong.
And if things went Becca’s way, Heather’s worst fears would come true.
“I’m sure.” Becca took a deep breath and opened the box.
Although she had known it was unlikely, she had still hoped the box would be stuffed full of mysterious- looking papers. Or that Internal had left a laptop or something behind—although Becca doubted any dissident would store incriminating information on something so easily monitored. Instead, the box was almost completely empty. Down at the bottom, a miniature photo album lay in one corner, next to a jewelry box and a small notebook. That was it.
Heather slumped. “I guess my aunt thought this was all I would want. Or maybe Internal took everything else.” She picked up the notebook. “This looks like it could be a journal. There might be something in here.” She started to open it, but stopped the motion halfway through.
Becca slid the notebook from her hands. “I’ll look through it for you, if you want.”
“I know they weren’t dissidents,” Heather said hastily, as though Becca had accused her of doubting them. “I just don’t think I could handle seeing their handwriting right now.”
Becca opened the notebook.
She tried to banish her disappointment. Maybe the first page was meant as camouflage. She turned the page. She didn’t know what she was hoping to find—a signed confession, maybe. Whatever she was hoping for, it wasn’t what she actually found: a page that was blank except for a date from about a year ago and the names of two birds.
She flipped through the pages. More dates, more birds.
“Was your mom into birdwatching?” Becca asked, hoping the answer was no.
Heather nodded. “She put a feeder outside the window and tried to identify all the birds she saw. She got really excited when she spotted one she’d never seen before.” Her voice was soft with memory. “Why?”
Frustration built to a pounding point between Becca’s temples. “That’s what this is. A birdwatching notebook.” She set it back into the box, only resisting the urge to hurl it across the room because it probably meant something to Heather.
Beside her on the bed, Heather was paging through the photo album, slowly tracing each picture with her finger.
Becca pulled out the last item, the jewelry box, without much hope. She examined each edge carefully, hoping for a secret compartment, but found nothing more mysterious than an earring without a mate.
They weren’t going to find anything.
She hadn’t really expected this to work. Still, the failure tasted bitter in her mouth. After they finished their search and came up empty-handed, Becca would have two choices: tell Heather that her parents were dead and watch her self-destruct, or wait for her to find out some other way and put off the explosion a little longer.
A soft sniff drew her attention. She turned to see Heather wiping away tears as she brushed her finger against the edge of one of the pictures. It showed her parents together, younger, probably before Heather was born. The tears fell faster, and Heather whimpered, like she had forgotten Becca was there.
There was no point in doing any more searching. Dragging this out would only hurt Heather more.
