Gabi didn’t recognize the bite in her voice, and she wasn’t sure she liked it, but it worked. Marian rolled toward her, mascara smeared from the corner of her right eye to her hairline.
“You think I would even be here unless the council forced us transfer kids to show up? Oh, sorry, I mean ‘encouraged.’ Your old man and his buddies encouraged me to come. Wasn’t that nice?”
At the mention of Sam, the bravado that had emboldened Gabi to cross swords with Marian deserted her. She couldn’t defend Sam when Marian’s accusation was the least of his possible crimes. Marian pounced on Gabi’s troubled look. “What, did your daddy ‘encourage’ you too? Is he embarrassed that one of his offspring isn’t a shoo-in for a council seat because she didn’t get called early? But it doesn’t really matter if you get called, does it? You’re set no matter what. You could pull all the crap I do and no one would hold your rations over your head and tell you that you can serve or freaking starve like they do in Willow. So why are you here?”
Was Marian actually suggesting Gabi had it easy? That being born sick, shriveling in her brother’s shadow, losing Gram, and being betrayed by the man she thought was her father gave her some kind of advantage? It was too much.
“Because I don’t belong here, either!” Gabi snarled. “I need to be a Witness. I need to get out!”
One of the female counselors standing by the door rang a large brass bell. “Time to go, ladies! The rest of your teams are waiting in the main hall!”
Shaking, Gabi rose and turned to join the flood of girls exiting the room, but Marian’s long fingers latched on to her wrist and wouldn’t let go. Why had Gabi told this awful person her most secret desire? Why had she said it aloud so she could hear how absurd the idea sounded, even to her own ears? Gabi yanked and twisted, but Marian held fast as the dorm emptied.
“My name isn’t Marian,” Marian said quietly once they were alone. “It’s Marnie.” It was a different voice, more pliable and tentative. Hoping she wasn’t mistaking the opening, Gabi stopped resisting.
“Where are your parents?”
“They were missionaries.”
“You mean Witnesses?” Witness work was based on the old missionary model of outreach, education, and aid employed before the Gathering In. Afterward, the council concluded that that its main flaw had been a lack of emphasis on conversion. This oversight left people free to practice their own religions, creating divisions deeper and more charged than race, class, or politics. According to doctrine, this division was what tore the old world apart and brought the entire human race to the brink of collapse.
“No,” Marnie snapped, all softness evaporating. “I mean missionaries. My parents helped people no matter what god they worshipped, because they believed that’s what it meant to have faith. They didn’t beat, brainwash, or starve people in the name of God.”
Gabi tried to process what Marnie was saying, but it was like hearing that the sky was under her feet. When Marnie talked about beating and brainwashing, she clearly meant the Witnesses. No, Gabi corrected herself. Beating, brainwashing, and starving. An image of Marcus and Nicolas’s wasted bodies flashed through her mind. Could the Witness teams be involved in what was going on at the Care Center? But joining a team was her only way out of Alder. She had to stay focused on getting out, and getting help.
“Where are they now?” Gabi asked, bracing for more venom, but Marnie was somewhere else as she spoke.
“According to the fellowship, they were both killed when Tribal bandits attacked them while they were on their way to a training in another branch.”
“But that’s not what happened?” Gabi prompted.
Marnie looked at her for a few silent beats, then stood and nudged her toward the exit.
“No. It wasn’t. Come on, we’ll be late.”
JORDAN AND Peter stood on the fringes of the swarm in the hall. As she and Marnie entered, Gabi spotted Jordan with his ungainly bulk and Peter working some invisible puzzle with his hands.
“Man, we’re just going to crush this thing, aren’t we?” Marnie snorted. “The outcast, the invalid, the dough boy, and the spaz. A winning combination.” The two girls had forged an uneasy truce when Marnie revealed her real name back in the dorm, but it hadn’t improved her disposition. Talking about her parents and relating how all newcomer orphans were “encouraged” to take biblical names to make blending into their new branches easier had been enough to harden her again. Marnie didn’t say so, but Gabi could tell this was yet another injustice for which the sullen girl blamed Sam.
“I’m not an invalid, and you don’t even know them.” The best way to get anywhere with Marnie was to stand her ground.
Peter pushed himself away from the wall as the girls approached, lifting his chin as if daring one of them to punch it. “Hey, I’m Peter. Are we going outside or what?”
“I-I left my coat back in the dorm.” Jordan stepped toward them, keeping his eyes on the scuffed toes of his boots. He was at least a head taller than the other three, but his posture was apologetic. “But I can go get it. Whatever you guys want.”
“Come on, it’s only, like, fifty degrees out there,” Peter objected. “I thought you Spruces were supposed to be tough.”
“Let’s do this,” Marnie said. “I need a smoke.” She started toward the door, and Peter followed close behind.
“I need my coat too,” Gabi called after them. “We’ll catch up.” She smiled at Jordan, but his eyes were still cast down.
THEIR BREATH made puffs of clouds in the afternoon air, which created a camouflage for Marnie’s smoky exhales. Marnie had found
