Better than that, Chena felt free. She could almost pretend she could go anywhere, that the rails weren’t lined with fence posts and that the whole world really was opening up around her.
When Teal had heard about Chena’s trip, she, of course, had wanted to come. She’d followed Chena around in the miniature library, with its two terminals that didn’t even have any input jacks, begging Chena to let her come along. When Teal finally hit the tears and the I-don’t-get-to-do-anything! stage, Chena was afraid Mom was going to give in. But Mom cut the scene short by saying that while Chena was “gallivanting around the world,” she and Teal would have a special day together scrounging stuff for the new house.
They had a house now. Mom had been able to get an advance on her salary to make the rent. The place was dark and had roots coming through the roof, they were still sleeping on the floor, and they had to take baths in a big copper pot, but it was all theirs. They got to learn how to cook on the woodstove and do all kinds of things that did not involve shit, compost, or cleaning up after other people. Now that Mom was making money and paying at least something into the village fund, they only had to put in three hours a day on shift instead of six. When they got enough together so Chena and Teal could go to school, they’d only have to put in two hours.
Chena had really known Teal was over her snit when Teal rolled up close to her in the dark and whispered in her ear, “You’re really going to look for spies, right? Because the poisoners are trying to divert messages from Dad.”
They hadn’t shared a Dad story in weeks. Teal had been too pouty. Relief had rushed through Chena. She’d have her day.
“Right. Stem is a bigger town,” Chena had whispered back. “They’re bound to have more information there about what’s going on. I need to scope the place out. See who we can trust there.”
“I’m starting a record of who comes and goes from other towns,” said Teal eagerly. “There’s this kid on my shift, Michio, he talks about the boat schedules all the time. I think it’s like a game with him. I could talk to him.” Then she added quickly, “But I wouldn’t tell him why I wanted to know.”
“That’s a go plan,” said Chena. “But mostly you’ve got to keep an eye on Mom while I’m gone. Let me know if there’s anybody sneaking around watching her or anything like that.”
“Because Dad’s got enemies,” added Teal solemnly. “Which means we’ve got enemies, and the spies may be watching Mom to see if they can find him through her.”
“Right.” Chena nodded, even though Teal couldn’t see her in the dark. “So, we’ve got to look out for her, okay?”
“Okay.”
Teal had curled up and gone straight to sleep then, but Chena had lain awake for a while, thinking about the stories they told about their father, and the spy game. Sometimes she wondered if it was a good idea.
I mean, if he was coming back, he’d be back by now, wouldn’t he? If he was coming back, Mom wouldn’t even have left Athena.
Unless we’re right… unless the stories are true.
Or unless Dad had just run out on them. Chena had squirmed under her blanket, making Teal stir sleepily like an echo of the restless movement. Sadia and Shond’s mom had left them. She just got onto a boat one day, Sadia said, and she didn’t come back. Sadia wouldn’t talk about what happened to their dad.
She wondered if Teal ever thought about that, if Dad had just left them, because he’d gotten tired of them, or he didn’t like being poor anymore, or they were just too much of a hassle to stay with when he could have been out flying around with the Authority. They never talked about it, and Chena realized she didn’t really want to. She wanted to tell the stories and believe he was coming home, even when she knew he wasn’t.
Chena pushed down hard now on the pedals, trying to put some distance between herself and that idea. Ahead of her, the light made a white wall with just a thin screen of trees in front of it. Another half dozen pedal strokes, and she broke free of the forest into the full sunlight.
In front of her stretched a sea of pale blond grass undulating gently toward a misty blue horizon. A riot of birdsong replaced the rush of wind in the branches. Chena gasped and forgot to pedal for a moment. Her bike glided to a gentle halt.
Birds clung to every stem of grass, all of them singing, chattering, or calling. The noise was deafening. They were all different colors, from browns and blacks to vivid reds, blues, and golds, and even one little one that was deep purple. Even the butterflies fluttering between the grass stems didn’t come in more colors.