“What happened?”
Puppy hesitated.
“If I’m asking, I want an answer,” she said, her smile a bit colder.
Once even thinking of such memories was outlawed. “A color guard carried the flag. Veterans would be allowed into the game at a discount price, or free.” He swallowed deeply. “We’d sing the Star Spangled Banner. Also God Bless America.”
Grandma grimaced slightly.
“Everyone would salute the flag. Then there’d be a moment of silence for the fallen in the wars.” He paused. “All of them, ma’am. Maybe a veteran would throw out the first ball.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It’s ceremonial. They’d go to the mound and toss the ball to the catcher. The pitch didn’t count, but it was just a way to start the game.”
“What do you think, Commissioner?”
He squirmed visibly. “I appreciate the extraordinary success of the Forgiveness campaign.”
“Cut the crap. You’re a Third Cousin.”
Puppy muffled a smile.
Kenuda cleared his throat. “If I could put together a night game in two days, I can do this. But with all due respect to Cousin Cheng, we must proceed carefully. There has still been a lot of anger since…” He caught himself.
“Since The Story, yes. Forgiveness only goes so far until you really do.” Grandma looked through Puppy, who felt as if she were shampooing his brain. “But you don’t like this idea at all, do you?”
He avoided Elias’s disapproving stare. “No, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want veterans trotted out like pugs in a midnight march.”
Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think I’d do?”
“Puppy’s not saying that…” Kenuda defended him.
“Yes, he is.” Grandma leaned forward.
Puppy shook away the water dribbling into his ear. “That’s how they’ve been treated before.”
Kenuda paled, but Grandma kept stirring her spoon. “Very true.”
“I grew up in the DV. I saw their lives. The bitterness of being forgotten.”
“Like your father.”
Must be the soap in his eardrums. “Excuse me?”
“Lt. Alvin Nedick, Second Marine Corps. He was wounded in one of the first battles in 2058 when the Allahs attacked Spain.” Grandma squinted and a video seemed to hop out of Puppy’s forehead; his father, lean, grim, hobbling onto a trooper carrier, handsome despite the grime-streaked face. His father, sober? Alvin half-turned toward Puppy, who pressed in terror against Kenuda; the Commissioner patted his shoulder, but he was also shaken. The vid faded away into a few still moments.
“Mine died, too,” Elias said softly. “In Denmark.”
“He got the Silver Star,” Grandma added quietly. “You shouldn’t have thrown it away, Elias.”
“I was twelve. And angry.”
“You still are. Perhaps this is a bad idea. Look at the two of you. I can imagine…” Grandma sighed and drifted a moment as if circling overhead. Kenuda and Puppy exchanged subdued stares; they couldn’t let Grandma down.
• • • •
SWEEP SWEEP SWEEP like Cinderella, Annette muttered, poking at the pile of dust near her tent. No, a cell. Zelda and Clary had a cabin down by whichever direction down was in this stupid place, while she was locked in this black tent. Knock knock guard, I have to piss. Last night she hooted like an owl for fifteen minutes until they let her out; she thought it was fifteen minutes because that’s all guesswork since they took her watch and engagement ring and necklace.
Annette glared at the large infants running past. Everywhere, large infants. Singing, racing, dancing, laughing, balls bouncing every which way; Annette ducked under a wayward volleyball so another part of her face wouldn’t be ruined.
Lots of large infants but few adults other than the skinny guards who were friendly to everyone except her. Wandering around, retrieving balls, joining in the games. It was like a giant camp or casual prison; she couldn’t decide.
Only that she had to escape. When they threw her into that horrid tent, she figured it’d be a matter of time before Kenuda ransomed her. But then it was morning and one of the skinny guards handed her a broom. Was she a prisoner or not? A prisoner had certain rights, they had toilets in their rooms like Zelda had at the Courthouse. They had mirrors so they could see disfiguring bruises.
She was Cinderella, sweep sweep sweep. That’s when she realized there would be no ransom. Dara was behind all this to get her out of the way so she could have Elias. Sure sure sure, there’d be the period of mourning, a month, where Kenuda would moan for her loss, but after that, into the arms of that tart. He’d never loved her. Why’d he bother with her then? She had no real money. Sure, she was pretty, but she wasn’t good in bed. She had a good body but her thighs were getting gooey. She really wasn’t very nice. Or smart. She was surprised Elias didn’t dump her a long time ago. Now she was going to be worked to death without even knowing where she’d be buried. Who’d visit her anyway other than Puppy?
Annette sniffled away self-pitying tears and dragged over a green garbage bag. She leaned on the broom and watched the wretched little things chanting around a few other wretched things playing baseball at the base of a hill, shielded by trees. Chanting in different languages, too. Probably all Miners.
There had to be a way out. If they came in they could go out. Annette went up on her toes, looking for a door or window; the bottom of the bag broke. She wanted to cry, but wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Yankees cap backwards over her thick hair, Clary reluctantly helped Annette shove dead leaves, apple cores and a thick bone, among other delicacies, back into the bag.
“Thank you.” Annette tried smiling, but failed.
Clary grunted. “Gracias. Vieja loca.”
“Gracias loca means thank you?”
Clary rolled her eyes.
“Can’t you speak English?”
The girl grinned impishly. “Depends.”
Clary suddenly let out a cry. Blood streamed down her thumb. She viciously kicked the offending plastic fork against a rock.
“Hold still.” Annette wrestled with Clary, tearing a strip from her handkerchief and wrapping
