He looked wobbly somehow. Chena squinted. She was seeing him through a layer of something, like plastic. Her eyes searched the air in front of her, found the dark line that was the seam, and traced it.
They had her in a box. A clear plastic box. Her chest spasmed as her brain told her she was sealed in, but a few frightened, shallow breaths told her the air was good. Whatever her prison was made out of, it had to be gas-permeable.
I can breathe. I can breathe, she repeated to herself until she calmed down.
Which was good, because it meant she would live, but it did not tell her how she would get out of here.
Whatever the boy saw, or did not see, behind her, he jumped off the crates and trotted over to her box. He was small, maybe five, maybe six years old at most. He crouched down beside her head, so she had to strain her neck against the collar to turn to see him.
Her heart faltered in her chest and it was all she could do to keep from crying out.
She was looking at Teal. This boy had her sister’s wide eyes, delicate bones, dusky skin, and straight black hair that hung down his neck and fell into his eyes.
“Who are you?” she croaked.
The boy shrugged. “Are they going to keep you?”
“Who?”
“Lopera. The others. The black and white people.”
That could only be the hothousers. God’s garden. Chena swallowed. I’m boxed up and sealed to go back to the hothouse.
And that was a long way from being all of it. Chena made herself look at the boy again. His dark eyes reflected the lamplight, as if he had stars inside him. There was only one thing he could possibly be. She did not want to speak, but she had to know. “Are you Eden?”
“I guess.”
He sounds like Sadia. Like Sadia in the involuntary wing. Chena closed her eyes. She couldn’t stand to look anymore. They killed Mom to make this thing, this mindless thing. Her muscles clenched against the straps that held her down. She wanted to rise up, to strike out at that thing, beat on it until it bled and fell and sprawled across the floor, just like Mom had. She wanted all the hothousers to find her standing over its bloody corpse so they’d know who’d done it.
She wanted…
She opened her eyes and saw Teal’s face again.
“Why’d they put you in a box?” Eden asked. “Are they testing you? Are they going to put me in a box?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Oh.” He sat back on his haunches and watched her for a moment, as if he were waiting for her to do something interesting. Looking at him, Chena’s mind slithered so quickly between confusion and fear, she couldn’t hang on to any single thought.
Eventually Eden stood. “I have to go.”
Leaving her alone. Leaving her for the hothousers.
No, no, no…
“Wait,” she gasped. “Eden, do you want to get away from the needles?” Sadia in involuntary had taken any suggestion Chena gave. If Eden was a mindless thing, she could put ideas into its head.
If Eden was a little boy, she could still put ideas into his head. She had done that with Teal all the time.
Eden scratched his backside for a minute. “I’m not supposed to leave. They say don’t leave.”
What would Teal want to hear? Think, think. “But have you ever played hide-and-seek with them?” tried Chena. “Lopera and the others?”
“I hide sometimes.” Eden shrugged. “They find me.”
“What if I told you I know a really good hiding place?” Chena hoped her voice sounded conspiratorial instead of desperate. “Someplace they’d never think of looking. You could keep them going for days.”
The boy crept closer. “Lopera turns red when she can’t find me. It’s pretty funny.”
Despite herself, Chena grinned. “Let me out of here and I’ll show you how to make her turn purple.”
Eden hesitated, but just for a second. “Okay.” He jumped up and ran to the foot of the box. Chena pressed her chin hard against the collar so she could see past her own toes. She heard something rattle, clank, and then snap. A section of box swung free. The boy grunted, and Chena felt herself slide toward him.
They’ve got me on a gurney or something. Slide in, slide out for easy storage. It was almost funny.
“Okay,” said Eden. “Now what?”
Chena swallowed. “Now see if you can find a buckle or a catch on these straps so I can get up.”
Eden scratched his backside again. “They really didn’t want you leaving, did they? They only ever shut me in my room.”
“I’ve been a bad girl,” muttered Chena.
Eden stared at the space over his head again. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I should put you back.”