Please forgive me.
~James
Chapter 14
“I see she’s dragged you into this as well,” Henry deadpanned.
“Well, she needed a supplier, didn’t she?” Eric replied, pulling a jar of tannish liquid from his coat pocket.
“Will you guys just come in already?” I asked. “You’re causing a scene.”
Time was not on my side, and I needed answers. I had to know what my father’s plans were. Despite training for an hour with him every morning for weeks, I was no closer to the truth. And James was fading. Every morning I re-read all of his letters. His words, his pleas, were what kept me going. Any time I began to doubt what I was about to do, I clutched the letters to my chest, closed my eyes, and reminded myself exactly what I was fighting for.
Cramped into the tiny hallway outside my room stood Eric, Lockwood, and Henry. I opened the door wider and ushered them in. “Where’s Stephanie?” I asked when Henry walked past me.
“Oh, Stephanie’s coming? I didn’t know that,” he said, feigning ignorance. He had looked toward the stairs about a million times in the brief moments he stood outside my door. He had been the first to arrive, so we both made pathetic attempts at conversation to avoid entering the room we once had shared alone. Henry bunked with Lockwood now.
I needed Stephanie for my plan. I had made sure she didn’t have duty, practically begging her to join us. Once I let it slip that Henry would be attending our small party as well, she couldn’t agree faster.
Not that I had created some genius master plan. I’d simply thought back to the last time I had drank the community’s mystery liquor, and how easily words and truths slipped from my mouth. Like rain that had no choice but to fall from the sky and touch everything. I assumed that since Stephanie committed her life to the great cause, she was just as unused to the potent drink as Henry and I had been. If I could get her drunk enough, maybe she would spill information about my father’s plan.
“You brought me here to drink?” Lockwood asked. His brow furrowed; he was clearly not impressed. It had taken forever to convince him to leave Louisa’s side, until Sharon volunteered to sit with her for a few hours. Despite giving birth only weeks before, she was back up on her feet, attending to the needs of everyone.
“I think we could all use a little fun. One night, Lockwood. Think about the last month of our lives. It’s been pretty stressful, no?” I said.
Lockwood sighed, a deep, soul-shaking sigh. His shoulders slumped as he released all the tension that he held inside. “Yeah. I guess I could use a night off. Not that staying with Louisa is a job. Because it isn’t. I didn’t mean it that—”
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to explain. I understand.”
“Are we going to sit here all night and rationalize every decision we make, or can we just damn drink already?” Eric said. “I, for one, prefer drinking. The best part about it is you won’t ever think of making decisions at all. This beautiful stuff makes them for you.” He brought the jar to his lips, then handed it to me. “Ladies first,” he said.
“I’m not sure I would call you a lady, Eric. There are a few other words that might fit,” Lockwood said.
“Let me rephrase. Ladies after stunningly macho men who could kick your ass,” Eric countered.
I laughed and shook my head. I tipped back the jar and pretended to drink; I even made a face as I pulled the jar from my lips. Eric had made me practice my expression what felt like a hundred times earlier in the day. He didn’t think I was good at keeping my emotions in check. I tended to think he was right.
There was a soft knock on the door. Henry, who had been sitting on the windowsill, shot up at the sound. “I’ll get it,” he chirped.
“Wants and needs,” Eric muttered beside me.
“Sorry I’m late,” Stephanie said as she walked into the room. My mouth fell open.
Stephanie was stunning. Gone was the tight ponytail and dirty uniform. Her black hair was free, cascading past her elbows. She wore a long pale blue skirt with a white blouse pulled tight enough to prove to anyone who wondered that she was all woman, not a girl. The sleeves of her blouse were shorter than what most women wore in the community, showcasing her tight and toned arms. She was the perfect mixture of toughness and beauty.
I crossed my arms on my chest. Between worrying about Louisa and trying to spy on my father, it had been weeks since I had bathed. I was dirt and dust, tiredness and lost hope.
I looked over at the other boys, who were also caught in the brightness that Stephanie brought with her into the room, entrapped as if all sense had been stolen from them. I cleared my throat. “You’re not late at all. We just got started,” I said, trying to keep a smile on my face.