didn’t want to know. But his friends were so good at not moving, at not talking, that they sometimes seemed hidden even now.
“They need a chance to be kids,~ Luke had argued with Mr. Hendricks back at the beginning of the summer. “They need a time to run as fast as they can, to scream at the top of their lungs, to.. “ Luke hadn’t been able to finish his sentence. He’d been overcome with the memory of all the games he’d played with his brothers — his real brothers.
Football, baseball, kickball, spud. Dodgeball, volleyball, kick the can, tag…
“All right,” Mr. Hendricks had said. “You’re in charge.”
At first Luke’s idea had seemed like a disaster. Boys who had sat still all their lives had no idea how to run. They cowered at the sight of a ball rolling toward them, collapsed in fear to see a football spiraling their way. But Luke had been patient, throwing the balls so slowly they barely seemed to move, applauding anyone who managed even to walk fast And now, after three months, They had a pretty good pitching arm on him, and John was a master at dodgeball, and there was a little kid in the eight-year-old class who could run so fast, he could even beat some of the teachers who occasionally stayed for races.
Luke thought he had every right to be proud. They still mostly played in the dining hall, with all the tables and chairs cleared away, because the idea of going outside was too much for most of the boys. But Luke had hopes. By next summer, he thought, they’d all be outdoors climbing trees, maybe even making up games of their own.
That was what Luke dreamed of, when he wasn’t dreaming of the Population Law being changed.
But tonight, as he began folding up chairs and tables after dinner, Ms. Hawkins, the school secretary, stopped him.
“No games for you tonight, young man,” she said.
Luke gaped at her. Ms. Hawkins never stayed around school until dinnertime, let alone afterward. She was a shadowy figure herself — Luke couldn’t remember her saying two words to him even once since the first day he’d arrived at school.
Ms. Hawkins went on talking, as if she was used to boys not answering. She probably was.
“You’re to meet your brother in the front hallway instead,” she said. When Luke didn’t move, she snapped, “Now! Get on with you!”
Luke handed her the chair he was holding. She managed to grasp it but looked puzzled, as if she could no longer understand what it was just because it was folded up.
Except for lvft Hendricks, all the staff at the school were a little strange. If Luke hadn’t known better, he would have wondered if they’d all spent their childhood in hiding as well. But the Population Law had been in effect for only fourteen years; Luke was among the oldest kids to come out of hiding. IvW Hendricks had just hired odd people on purpose.
“If Ms. Hawkins ever tried to turn any of you in,” he’d told Luke once, “who would believe her?”
That was true of the teachers, too, and the school nurse. It was even true of the school janitor. Luke understood Mr. Hendricks’s reasoning, but sometimes he longed to be around normal adults. He wasn’t sure now what to believe of Ms. Hawkins’s instructions. What if she was just confused? Shouldn’t Smits be here playing games with the other boys, instead of pulling Luke away, too?
“Didn’t you hear me?” Ms. Hawkins said threateningly.
“Um, sure,” Luke said. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
“Trey, can you organize the games tonight?” he called to his friend on his way out.
“Wha — how do I do that?” They asked. He sounded as panicked as if Luke had asked him to attack Population Police headquarters.
“Get John to help. And Joel,” Luke said.
Joel and John glanced up from the table they were folding, They looked every bit as stricken as They
Luke had no confidence that they’d manage without him. But he pushed his way out the door anyhow.
The hall outside the dining room was quiet and dimly lit Luke rushed past dark classrooms and offices. He’d just tell Smits to get lost — that’s what he’d do. Smits had no right to order him around.
But when Luke got to the front hallway — an echoey place with ancient-looking portraits on the walls — his resolve vanished. Smits was standing there alone. He had his back to Luke, and for the first time Luke realized what a small boy Smits really was. From behind he looked like the kind of kid you’d pick last for a baseball team.
Then Smits turned around.
“Hey, bro,” he said heartily “I thought you might give me a tour of the school grounds. Let me see what this place is really like.”
“Okay,” Luke said hesitantly.
Smits was already pushing open the front door, as if he, not Luke, were the one who knew Hendricks School. They walked down the stairs in silence, then Smits turned around and regarded the building with narrowed eyes.
“Why aren’t there any windows?” he asked.
Luke wondered how much Smits had been told about Hendricks, about third children, about the needs of kids coming out of hiding. Surely Smits knew the truth. Surely he didn’t need to ask a question like that Luke opted for the safest answer possible anyhow.
“Some of the kids here have agoraphobia. Do you know what that is? It means they’re afraid of wide-open spaces. Not having windows is part of the way Mr. Hendricks is trying to cure them,” he said. “He thinks that if they can’t see the outdoors, they’ll start longing for it”
“But that’s pretty much torture for the rest of us, isn’t it?” Smits countered. “It’s like cruel and unusual punishment. And it’s a fire hazard.” He shook his head, flipping hair out of his eyes. “I’m going to have a window installed in my room. Maybe in every room I’d ever be in. It wouldn’t do to have the heir to the Grant fortune killed in a fire or something.”
Luke noticed he said “heir,” not “one of the heirs.” Was that a clue? Was that why Smits had come — to warn Luke away from the family money? Was this Luke’s cue to say “Hey I don’t want a dime of your fortune. I don’t want anything from your family Just an identity Just the right to exist”?
Luke didn’t say anything. It was true, he didn’t care about the Grants’ money But he couldn’t bring himself to speak sincerely to this strange, overconfident kid. It was easier to keep pretending the lie between them was reality They started strolling down the driveway In different company this would have been a pleasant walk Crickets sang in the bushes; the sunset glowed on the horizon. But Luke was too tense to enjoy any of it.
“That’s the headmaster’s house over there,” he said, pointing. He was just talking to break the silence. “It’s where Mr. Hendricks lives. You won’t see him around the school much. He kind of lets it run on its own.”
“I’ve already talked to him four times today” Smits said. “Oh,” Luke said. A few months ago he wouldn’t have had the nerve to say anything else. But now he ventured, “What about?”
“Important matters,” Smits said. They walked on. Luke could tell Smits wasn’t really paying attention to anything around them. Not the weeping willows draping gently toward the driveway not the sound of the brook gurgling just beyond the school grounds.
“I already saw all this, driving in,” Smits said impatiently “Isn’t there anything else?”
‘There’s the back of the school,” Luke said. “That’s where we have our garden. And the woods—”
“Show me,” Smits said.
They turned around. Luke struggled to hide his reluctance. If he was proud of the school’s nightly games, he was even prouder of the school garden. Under his direction the Hendricks students had planted it, weeded it, and coaxed it into its full glory all summer long. Luke could just imagine Smits barely glancing at it, then sniffing disdainfully “So?” And the woods — the woods were a special place, too.
Back in the spring, when Luke had first arrived at Hendricks, he’d found refuge in the woods. He’d made his first attempt at a garden in a clearing there. He’d dared to stand up to the impostor Jason there. He’d met girls from the neighboring Harlow School for Girls there — including his friend Nina, who, he was sure, would also someday help in ending the Population Law.
Luke knew he could never explain all of that to Smits. Smits had no right to hear any of it He probably wouldn’t even care. So the woods, to Smits, would just look like a scraggly collection of scrub brush and untended trees.
