Minders were big, strapping types with stern faces and thick necks. They had biceps the size of Gabi’s waist. Minders also knew what you needed before you did, as Gabi learned during a visit to the Center when she was five. She’d tucked herself behind a column in the main lounge, waiting for Grammy Low to finish for the day, when a massive man wearing a Minder badge approached on silent feet and offered her a handkerchief. He waited patiently until the sneeze she didn’t feel coming overtook her, helped her blow her nose, slipped the hanky into a biohazard baggie, and offered her a chewable Vitamin C. By the time Gabi unwrapped the chalky orange tablet, he had already moved off to escort an elderly gentleman to the bathroom before the patient knew his bladder was full.
Gram explained it all to Gabi when she asked her grandmother why Minders needed to be so big. “People do things when they’re sick, Gabriela. They can hurt themselves or others without really meaning to. The Minders are there to keep everyone safe while they heal.” Gabi’s father had only agreed to appoint Gram as a Minder because he knew that the other Minders would keep Gram safe. Though she was sometimes grumpy and tired after her shifts, Sam understood that Grammy Low would be happier making herself useful as a Minder than dwelling on all she’d lost.
As Gram disappeared into the Care Center with a backward wave, Gabi picked up the familiar scent of mown hay and lemon rind. “Don’t even think about it,” she said as she turned to find her brother Mathew lurking behind her.
“Impossible,” Mathew protested. “I’m downwind, the sun’s casting your shadow behind you—wait, did my shoes squeak? That’s it, isn’t it?”
Gabi giggled, arching an eyebrow at Mathew’s blazing white basketball sneakers. “No, but the glare is rather loud.”
Mathew draped an arm around his sister’s neck and rubbed his broad palm across the top of her head. He was the only one who didn’t treat Gabi as if she were made of tissue paper, not counting Bradley and his gang. For this she adored her big brother, even when he was being a pain in the butt.
“Seriously, tell me how you do it. It’s not fair that you’re hogging all the superpowers in the family,” Mathew said as he continued to make a mess of her curls and dragged her toward the temple.
“Quit it,” Gabi complained.
“Hey, did you see Grammy Low kick up her heels back there?” Mathew asked.
Gabi squirmed out from under his arm and attempted to restore order to her hair. “She did not.”
“Oh, please. Half the reason she hounded Dad to get her in with the Minders was so she wouldn’t have to go to services. I’m telling you, Gram couldn’t give two farts about the fellowship, no matter what she says in front of everyone else.”
Gabi elbowed Mathew in the ribs. “Shhh! What’s wrong with you?” she hissed, craning her neck to see if anyone funneling into the massive temple around them had overheard.
“What?” Mathew shrugged, batting Gabi’s elbow away. “Nobody’s listening, and even if they were, they’re not going to do anything about it. Gram’s old guard, the last of a generation. She’s allowed to be eccentric.”
Eccentric? Gabi had never thought of her grandmother in those terms. Stubborn, certainly, and more than a little skeptical when it came to the Unitas doctrine, but eccentric implied that she was somehow off-kilter. Grammy Low was the most centered person Gabi knew. She had the ability to pare a thing down to its most essential parts, the way she sliced an apple until the core disappeared and nothing but a few shiny brown seeds were left. Just that morning, while the two of them were conducting their morning pill-taking ritual, Gram placed her mottled hand over Gabi’s just as Gabi was about to take her medicine.
“Gabriela, how do you feel when you don’t take your pills on time?” Her voice was low and quiet. “Last evening, when you came into the kitchen….”
“What? What is it?” Gabi prodded.
“You were a little pink.” Gabi recalled the surge of excitement she’d felt at that squiggle of an idea, the notion to see what answers might be hiding behind all that Correctors’ ink. Gram placed a hand to Gabi’s cheek, the triple furrow between her eyebrows deepening with concern. “There. There’s that color again. Have you picked up something at school, or maybe…? I’m wondering if you might try holding off on your next dose a little longer if the pills are—”
Gabi flapped her hands and shook her head. “It’s nothing, Gram, I just came down the hall too fast yesterday, that’s all. I was worried to be so late taking my pill.”
Grammy Low opened her mouth to say something more, but Sam strode in with his necktie in a hopeless tangle, begging for her help. The older woman gave Gabi one last long look, then turned to the mess Gabi’s father had made of his service attire. Gabi slipped out of the kitchen, happy to be away from her grandmother’s scrutiny and feeling guilty even though she hadn’t done anything… yet.
“Grammy Low’s sharper than you give her credit for,” Gabi said as they searched for their father in the temple interior. “My super sense had to come from somewhere.”
“What?” Mathew yelled above the din of people laughing, hugging, and talking as they found their seats in the concentric circles where chairs were arranged forty deep.
“Nothing,” Gabi said, glad her last words had been lost in the noise. It was disconcerting enough that Gram had sensed Gabi’s excitement over the possibility of an adventure. No need to put Mathew on alert as well. As much as she loved her big brother, Gabi was determined to accomplish something on her own for once.
She found a seat four rows
