I wake before dawn, thinking of my mother. I wonder whether she is awake as well. Is she missing me? I envision her being all alone in our small dark shack, and the painful thought pierces my heart. I press my face into my pillow, unable to hold back my tears.
“Kora, are you all right? Are you sick?”
Amy sits on the edge of my bed, patting my shoulder. She must have heard me sobbing. I mutter that everything is fine.
“You’ve been crying,” she says, a little astonished.
I look up and see a pair of most beautiful, sympathetic eyes in the world.
“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Tell me all about it.”
She slips under my blanket and stretches out beside me. She lays her head on my pillow, facing me. I can’t understand how she manages to look so stunning even after having just woken in the middle of the night. Even her hair appears perfect, put up neatly into two thick braids.
“I’m just missing my mother,” I confess. “Do you miss your family?”
“Oh, of course,” Amy sighs. “I didn’t want to leave my village. I was happy there. I miss my parents and three wonderful sisters. I don’t know when or even if I can see them again.” She pauses, looking at me sadly. I understand exactly how she feels. “And I had a boyfriend back home,” she adds, grinning. “Actually, a few boyfriends.”
“Was your master brutal?” I ask.
“Well, not really. He could beat us sometimes. But he didn’t seem to care where we went or what we did as long as our work was completed.”
“Are your scars from the beatings?”
Amy lets out a quiet laugh. “No, silly! They’re from fishing. I’m from the Fishing village. I catch fish.”
I listen to her with a genuine interest, as if she’s an exotic creature that came from an entirely different world. I no longer feel like crying.
“Most adults go deep sea fishing in my village,” Amy tells me. “It’s dangerous work. They head out into the ocean on boats for days, catching large fish and sometimes even sharks. Those of us not going out to sea spent time noodling in the river.” Upon seeing my blank stare, Amy goes on to explain, “Noodling is where you catch fish in the river using your bare hands. You have to stick your arm into holes underwater feeling for a fish. You feel for a mouth and try to get it to bite you. You then grab hold and pull it out of the hole. One small problem is that the water is muddy. You can’t see anything, and can’t know what sort of thing is gonna bite you. And we have snakes, snapping turtles and many other creatures in our rivers. A nasty turtle once bit off my finger.”
Amy laughs about it as if telling a joke.
“That sounds really amazing,” I say, envisioning myself wrestling with a giant fish underwater, its sharp teeth piercing my flesh. I’d kill to have such a job.
“The master also had us shell diving for pearls,” Amy continues. “It was my favorite job. I can hold my breath underwater for up to three minutes.”
I make a mental note to check out how long I can hold my breath.
She wraps an arm around me and we fall asleep together. This time I see snapping turtles, strings of black pearls and Amethyst’s long golden braids in my dreams.
***
Joan wakes everybody right before sunrise. She walks along the corridor, banging on doors and yelling, “Rise and shine, sleeping beauties. Time to get moving.”
“Oh gosh,” Amy groans. “What time is it?”
My face feels numb from lack of sleep. I rub my cheeks, yawning.
We get about twenty minutes for breakfast before our first training session begins. No time for showering. In the dining room, we receive bottles of water and oddly shaped yellow fruit. I sniff the fruit suspiciously, then take a cautious bite.
“What are you doing?” Amy laughs. “It’s a banana. You need to peel it.”
She demonstrates the peeling procedure. I end up eating three bananas. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything I liked better before.
Amy stops to chat with the two guys she was hanging out with yesterday. I walk alone to the door, anxious to see what kind of sky we have today. Outside, I squint into the hot blinding sunshine. The sky is the same blue perfection. I smile, breathing the fresh humid air, a few bees buzzing overhead.
A tall guy with dark brown hair watches me closely, a strange grin across his face.
“What’s your name, girl?” he asks.
“Kora,” I answer hesitantly.
“I believe your name is trash rat,” he states. “You were a picker, weren’t you?”
He must’ve noticed the scar on my shoulder. I don’t say anything.
“Stinking varmint,” he says slowly, relishing the words. Laughing, he leaves.
I stand motionless, feeling like something has died inside me. I can’t believe this is happening again. Why do they always have to choose me for their target? I think of Trent. He didn’t approach me during breakfast, lost deep in his own thoughts.
“There you are!” Amy exclaims, marching out of the building. The two guys follow obediently behind her. “Let me introduce my friends. This is Dennis. He used to be a hunter in his village” A short tough-looking guy shakes my hand. “And this is Sandro. He was a blacksmith.” The tall broad-shouldered Sandro nods his head, smiling shyly. His eyes are crossed and it’s hard to understand where exactly he’s looking. I introduce myself, informing them that I’m from the Recycling village. They don’t seem to mind the fact.
After breakfast, Joan has us run six miles along the ocean shore. Brutus, another coach, joins the training session. He’s a thin man
