After Wreck returns, I ask him, “Who is the girl with black paint on her lips?”
His eyes sparkle angrily. “Darn Maxine! Did she stop by already? Well, don’t pay any attention to her. She’s crazy. She said something mean about me, didn’t she?”
“No,” I lie. “She just came to say hello.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Wreck sighs. “Maxie hates me. But someday I’m gonna put her in her place.”
I’m too worn out to wonder what’s happened between them.
“You need to rest before meeting Tartis,” Wreck says after I yawn. “You didn’t sleep much last night, did you?”
“I’m fine,” I say, although my body aches and my head is cloudy.
“C’mon, take a little nap,” he insists, giving me a blanket and a pillow. I sit unmoving, just looking at him, and he adds, “I’ll be right outside. I’m too wired to sleep anyway. Don’t worry, nobody will come in and bother you while you’re sleeping. I promise.”
He leaves, closing the door behind. I stretch out on the blanket, thinking about my coming meeting with the leader of roamers, the one who’ll be determining my fate. I don’t notice when I drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER 24
I awaken terrified, my fingers wrapped tightly around my knife. I can still see my mother being swallowed by flames. I can still hear the gunshot that killed Amethyst. A heavy feeling of grief floods over me. I turn to my stomach, cover my face and begin to cry.
Weak and glum, I walk outside several minutes later. It’s not yet evening, but low dark clouds hang above the village making everything look hopelessly gray. Wreck sits on the ground, leaning against a wall of the cabin with his eyes closed.
I stand several feet away, observing his bare neck. I’m still holding my knife but my arms suddenly begin trembling. I shake my head to force out the violent thought, and place the knife in my pocket.
I know I could do it, but at least for the moment don’t believe I should.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Wreck wakes, staring blankly as if not recognizing me, his expression startled.
“Hello there,” he stretches his lips into a grin, becoming himself again. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You were talking in your sleep,” he says.
“What?” I scowl. “Were you watching me sleep?”
“Oh please.” He rolls his eyes. “I seriously doubt that watching you sleep is a very exciting activity. Nah, I’ve been outside the whole time. But you were talking loudly enough for me to hear. You actually screamed a few times. You were calling for your mother.”
I don’t say anything, feeling embarrassed and saddened at the same time.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he adds quietly. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
“Did you lose somebody?” I ask carefully.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Wreck says, and I know better than continue the conversation. Besides, I don’t really care whom he lost.
“Come, sit with me,” he motions toward the ground beside him.
I don’t really want to sit so close, but follow his suggestion because I don’t feel like arguing. A few other roamers walk by. Wreck watches them warily, remaining silent until they’re out of earshot.
“You’ll have to meet with Tartis soon,” he says. “Remember not to mention Central Settlement. You’ve never been there, okay? People around here don’t know the meaning of servant branding marks, so nobody will learn the truth. Got it?”
I nod, already knowing that lying comes easy for me. I’m an excellent liar.
“Just be sure to tell how you wasted the two guards in the Recycling village during your escape,” Wreck continues. “And our squad didn’t actually capture you yesterday. You were looking for us because you wanted to become a ranger.” He pauses, turning to face me, and asks, “How old are you by the way?”
“Sixteen.”
“Really? You look older.” He seems surprised. “You’re so tall. Well, I told Tartis that you’re eighteen. He doesn’t like rangers to be too young.”
“That’s fine with me,” I say, knowing I can easily pass for eighteen. “How old are you?”
“Well, that’s a good question,” he grins. “I don’t know exactly when I was born. I believe I’m around nineteen. I just don’t see how I could be any older.”
I offer no comment. I don’t even really know why I asked.
“Tartis doesn’t like outsiders, those not born in our village,” he says. “He’ll be against your joining us. Don’t let him intimidate you, all right?”
I nod again, remaining quiet.
It’s warm outside and the gentle wind brings back memories of long distance runs along the ocean shore back in Central Settlement. I close my eyes, leaning against the wall and trying to rest my mind.
What am I doing in this strange hostile village? I ask myself. How did everything in my life become so twisted? The familiar sharp feeling of self-pity overwhelms me. But a second later I remember my mother carefully wiping the dirt and blood off me, and the pity is replaced by feelings of guilt and hatred.
You let Samuel kill your mother, I tell myself. She’s dead because you couldn’t save her.
Tears well underneath my closed eyelids, and I sniffle, blinking them away. I worry that Wreck will try to comfort me or maybe even hold me, but he doesn’t. He politely looks away, pretending not to notice my crying, and I feel really thankful for that.
“Well, I guess it’s about that time,” Wreck says finally, standing up.
I realize that I’ll have to face Tartis and a crowd of roamers in a few minutes. A bit of nausea rises in my throat and I swallow hard, still sitting
