In the After

promise.”

My mother’s face flashes in my mind. I want to see her and Baby. Why am I here and not with them? “Maybe you should talk to my mother,” I say loudly. “She’s the director, you know. She can help you get me home,” I tell him excitedly. The boy looks horrified and backs away.

“What’s going on here?” A nurse comes over to check on us.

The boy’s expression turns cool. “It’s okay. Ms. Harris was just a bit agitated,” he tells the nurse calmly. He takes off his glasses and cleans the lenses with his lab coat. “She was asking for her mother.”

“Should I inform Dr. Thorpe?” the nurse asks, uncertain.

“No, I’ll let Dr. Reynolds know,” the boy tells her with finality. After she leaves, the boy leans in again. I think he is going to kiss me on the cheek but instead when his lips brush my skin, he whispers so low I almost do not hear him. “Watch for Kay.” He pulls back and looks in my eyes. There is kindness in his.

Kay. The name is so familiar. There is a glimmer of recollection before it slips away. He squeezes my hand as I stare out the window and watch the trees tremble in the breeze. As the boy starts to leave, I yell after him, “You should definitely talk to my mother. She would want to help me.”

But something is nagging at the back of my mind and I’m not so sure. A wave of fear washes over me. Why hasn’t my mother come for me? Where is she?

* * *

“I came as soon as I heard,” my mother said the minute she walked in. “Are you okay?” She sat next to me on the couch, hugging me, then Baby.

“I’m fine. Baby dropped a glass and freaked out because of the noisy cafeteria.” I patted Baby’s shoulder. “Then I super freaked out,” I admitted.

“You’re still getting used to things here. It’s only been a day.” She twirled her fingers through my short hair. “I shouldn’t have left you alone so soon.”

“It’s okay.” I didn’t mention that we’d gotten along fine the past few years without her. “Rice is really nice. He was a good tour guide.”

“Tonight it will be just us girls.” She smiled at us. There was a knock at the door and she corrected herself. “I mean, just us girls and Adam.”

My mother went to the door and collected a toddler from a woman wearing purple. “Thank you, Stephanie,” she said, shutting the door and carrying the little boy into the living room. “Come meet your brother, Amy.” She carefully placed Adam on the floor and watched me expectantly, waiting.

“Oh, okay.” I sat on the floor and smiled faintly at my mother. I took a deep breath.

“Adam, say hello,” my mother prompted.

“Hello, Amy,” he said loudly, his voice surprisingly husky for a child.

“Hello, Adam.” I watched as his chubby hands grabbed a teddy bear and then ran it over with the toy truck. “I’m your sister.”

“I know. Mommy shows me your picture.” He looked up at me. “You’re pretty.”

I relaxed a little and smiled, amused. “Thank you.”

He stood jerkily and fell toward me. He landed against my chest and I could feel his breath on my cheek. He put his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulder.

I couldn’t help it. In one clumsy motion, the little boy had inserted himself into my heart.

That evening we talked and watched old movies and ate homemade snacks. It almost felt like Before, except my mother never did any of those things with me Before. She was always working. I half expected her to head back to the lab. She did whip out her computer during one of the movies and occasionally took calls on her earpiece, but mostly she was all mine. Baby loved “girls’ night,” and played trucks with Adam happily.

Rice stopped by at one point to drop off the shoes that Baby left in the cafeteria. She took them and beamed at him happily. Thank you.

“What about for Amy?” my mother asked him. “She told me the shoes I picked out for her were too small.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for some normal clothes.” I tugged at my red jumpsuit. “Rice explained the color-coded thing was only for kids younger than seventeen.”

“Honey, what are you talking about? Your birthday isn’t until August.”

I paused. Could I be wrong? I never really kept careful track of time in the After; I was only vaguely aware of the passage of seasons.

“What month is it?” I was afraid to ask.

“It’s May,” Rice informed me, his voice kind.

“So, that means . . .”

“You’re sixteen.” My mother said gently. “You have four more months before you class out. Then you’ll be assigned a job.”

“Oh.” I paused. Everything in New Hope was wrong. “Can I study whatever I want?” I blurted, sounding desperate. I wanted to go back to the subjects I loved. I wanted to feel normal again.

“Not exactly. I know you were always good at English and you love literature. You can study those subjects, but you’ll still have to take basic medicine and everyday science, unless you qualify for advanced study.” She smiled. “I know it’s confusing, but we have a whole system worked out. If you’re put in advanced study you’re exempt, which means you don’t have to take a part-time job.”

“And if I don’t qualify?” I asked.

“Then you’re nonexempt and you’ll have to go on work rotation,” my mother explained. “An assignment will be made for you, but you can request something you’d prefer, like working at the library or maybe helping with the small children.”

I could live with that. I liked to learn and I wasn’t afraid of work. “Maybe I can help with the new post-aps that you all bring in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know I didn’t have a very good experience. I mean, you stick some crazy survivors in a room and throw someone young like Rice into the mix. Did you think that was a good idea?” I was still traumatized from yesterday, from everything. I turned to Rice. “No offense.”

“That isn’t common practice, Amy.” My mother smiled tightly. I knew that smile. It was her “things are not going according to plan” smile. I often got that smile Before. “It would be good to get your input about your experience, though. It’s not a bad idea to change procedures that aren’t working.”

She looked at Rice and continued, “Maybe Amy can have a special orientation sometime. That way she can understand the social system we’ve worked out for New Hope.”

Rice nodded.

She turned back to me. “Richard can take you one day. I wish I had the time.”

I felt my heart surge a little, the old resentment setting in: my mother the workaholic. “I know you’re busy, Mom. I get how it is. Dad always . . .” I stopped myself. My mother’s pose shifted, suddenly stiff. I knew it was hard for her to hear me talk about my father. She retreated to the kitchen quietly.

Rice turned back to the front door and I thanked him before he went. “Baby really enjoyed our tour earlier.” I paused. “So did I.”

He looked at me, his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. “I’m glad I could help,” he said. “It was nice to meet you, again. You know, without the weapon.”

Suddenly I didn’t want him to leave. He was a friend—a comfort—in an unfamiliar place. Instead of shaking his hand, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.

“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. When I released him, he was beet red. He mumbled something incoherent and stumbled out the door.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN