The Gender Lie(68)

With a renewed sense of purpose, I sat down and watched. A collective sound of laughter rose to my right and I turned toward it. I spotted Tim with a group of boys.

They were all participating in an exercise that involved them working together to get a ball that was dangling from the ceiling, probably eight feet over their heads. I watched as two of them locked arms, forming a square with their wrists and hands. They bent their knees and braced themselves, before shouting encouragingly at Tim.

Tim backed up a few paces, and then launched himself at the boys, his face and eyes bright with excitement, his hair whipping wildly around his face as his legs churned, kicking up gobs of sand in his wake.

He leapt, one foot landing perfectly on the other two boys’ interlocked wrists, and they heaved. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as he flew through the air, his arms reaching out for the ball. He snatched it quickly and then landed in the sand, rolling once and coming back to his feet.

Laughing, he spun the ball on his finger before tossing it at one of the others. With a lazy speed, the other boy casually snatched it out of the air and then dropped it to the ground, kicking it to a third boy. The five boys kicked the ball back and forth, and for a moment, I teared up, seeing my brother in a new and beautiful light.

He was happy and playing, like he deserved to be. I watched as Viggo waded through the boys, a genuine smile on his face as he congratulated them. He held up a hand to Tim, who high-fived him enthusiastically.

In that moment, I felt my problem with Viggo melt away, as I watched my brother’s beaming face. He had done something magnificent with the boys, and I was so proud of them all. The sight alone was enough to remind me of something: For all of their differences and flaws, Matrian and Patrian citizens cared about one thing—the future for their children.

That was where Desmond’s plan failed and where Viggo’s idea succeeded. As optimistic and foolhardy as it was, it allowed people the chance to choose. Hers was artificial, manufacturing finely crafted bullets with no gunpowder. His focused on the positive nature of humanity. Hers presupposed that there was no positive aspect to humanity.

Watching Viggo, I felt infinitely more positive about the conversation that would follow. I kept my eyes on him, waiting for a free moment to pull him aside and make up.

He was walking across the field to where one of the boys was sprawled out in the sand. I watched him approach, his long legs steady and strong as he made his way across the sand.

“What’s going on, guys?” he asked, pulling up short in front of the group.

One of the boys looked over to where the boy in the sand was starting to sit up, an angry expression on his face. “He fell,” he announced, squaring his shoulders.

Viggo shot him a look, and then looked at the boy in the sand. “Is that true?” he asked.

The boy wiped sand off his face as he glared at the older boy who had spoken. “No! He pushed me.”

“I see. Colin—did you push Jacob?”

Colin—the boy who had spoken first—glared at Jacob, his face going scarlet. “Yes, but only because he’s a baby!” he shouted.

Viggo cleared his throat, and everyone focused on him. “Colin—Jacob is your brother.”

“No, my brother is in Matrus,” Colin argued, folding his little arms over his chest. “And he doesn’t care about me—no one cares about me.”

“Interesting. Why do you feel that way, Colin?” Viggo asked.

“Because they left us up here to have those stupid doctors experiment on us,” he practically screamed.

“That’s why you think your family doesn’t care about you. But what about the other boys in your unit? What makes you think they don’t care about you?”

Colin opened his mouth and then hesitated, indecision and confusion marching all over his young face.

Viggo went to one knee in the sand in front of Colin. He was very careful not to touch him, but his face was earnest as he spoke more quietly and directly to Colin. After a few minutes, the little boy scrubbed his eyes, and then went over to where Jacob was standing, holding out his hand.

Jacob accepted it, and the other three boys who had been watching warily closed in on them, whooping and hollering loudly. Colin’s face split into a smile, and I smiled too, feeling my heart lighten on seeing that moment of joy on his face.

Just then, I heard a sharp voice. Ms. Dale. She should have looked less imposing with the chains on her wrists and feet and the faded bruises on her arms and face, but she didn’t. She strode amongst them with her usual commanding attitude, excess chains dragging slightly behind her. The chains were at least loose to give her more movement during training.