Chapter 2
Clover
The days continue to seem shorter and shorter, until one morning, I wake up and realize it’s the last time I’ll ever open my eyes on the straw mattress I call my bed.
The last time I’ll sit up, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and see my mother trying to turn scraps into breakfast. The last time I’ll see my little sister playing on the floor with the doll I gave her when I outgrew it.
The same doll Beverly gave me when she had to start working in the cactus fields instead of attending school and playing with toys.
“Good morning, Abigail,” I say softly, letting her know I’m awake.
“Clover!” she says happily, dropping the doll and running over to me. “It’s your last day! Are you excited? I bet you’re excited!”
Abigail is eight years old. She’s too young to understand how cruel this is. We’ve been careful to shield her from the harsh reality. Maybe because my family mostly ignores the reality of the situation. I’ve tried to, but that’s going to be a lot harder today.
“Yes, I’m excited,” I say, hugging my little sister and pulling her into my lap. She doesn’t like it when I do this, but today I’m not going to let her squirm away. “I’m going to make sure you get to finish school and then you can decide what kind of life you want.”
“I think I’m going to marry Billy,” she says naively, squirming in my arms, but not trying to pull away like she normally does. “He’s cute, right? The other girls at school say he’s cute and he kissed me on the cheek yesterday.”
“Gosh, you’re growing up so fast,” I sigh, squeezing her tighter. “But it’s too soon for you to be worrying about marriage. Finish school first. Promise me you will?”
“I will, Clover. I promise,” she giggles. “I’ll wait until I’m ten to find my first boyfriend like Beverly did!”
“Speaking of,” I say, looking around our shack. “Where is she?”
“Dad took her with him. He went to barter for some stuff in the town square,” she answers. “Mom said we have to have eggs since it’s your last day because they’re your favorite.”
“Yes, they are,” I admit.
I hold Abigail until she gets too restless, then I let her go back to playing with her toys.
I get out of bed, clean myself up, and walk over to the stove where my mom is preparing breakfast. She looks at me but doesn’t say anything at first. The tremble in her lip and the way she sniffs and swallows tells me she’s fighting tears.
“I told your dad to take Beverly with him to get some eggs,” she sniffles, blinking a few times. “Is there anything else you want? You’ll need to eat a good breakfast, because there’s no telling how long it’ll be before they feed you when you get to Concord City.”
She’s already made biscuits. Bacon is frying, and there’s a small pile of cheese sitting on the counter, which means she’s going to make my eggs exactly how I like them. I’ve woken up with my mouth watering for a breakfast like this more times than I can remember.
Usually, we can’t afford to eat this much for one meal.
I guess it really is a special occasion.
The last time I got cheesy eggs was on Christmas.
This may be the last time I ever have them.
It’ll definitely be the last time I have them the way my mother makes them, unless I learn how to cook.
That’ll be up to whoever buys me at the Reparations Auction.
The door opens, and I turn to see my father walk in, followed closely by my older sister. Beverly is only a year older than me, but work has not been kind to her. She’s spent most of her life in the cactus fields, because not much else grows around here.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Morning,” my father says, no real emotion in his voice as he walks over and puts the eggs on the counter. “Brought the eggs. One for each of us.”
“I’ll skip the eggs. Clover can have mine,” my mother says, not missing a beat as she transfers the bacon to a drying rack and cracks the first egg.
“You like them too,” I offer, but I know why she’s doing it, so when she waves a hand at me, I don’t press the issue.
“Got a minute?” Beverly asks, jerking her head toward the door, like she wants to talk to me outside.
“I’ve got until breakfast is done,” I say, walking over to her.
“Don’t go too far,” our father says firmly. “We need to be at the station in two hours.”
“We’re just going outside,” Beverly sighs, opening the door.
“I’ll come too!” Abigail chimes, hopping to her feet.
“No, this is big girl talk,” Beverly says, shaking her head.
Abigail stops and pouts. I flash her a sympathetic look before following Beverly outside. Beverly doesn’t get along with Abigail very well. I think it’s because all children seem to annoy my older sister. Hopefully, she won’t be as annoyed when they’re her children.
“What do you need to talk about?” I ask curiously once we’re outside.
Beverly looks down, then she takes a deep breath, reaching into her dress and removing a pouch from her bra. “Here, this is all I could get. Just take it and go.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I take the pouch when she shakes it, and I realize it’s full of coins. “Why are you giving me this? I don’t need money where I’m going.”
Beverly takes another deep breath, then grabs my arm, tears threatening the edge of her eyes. “Don’t get on that train, Clover. Don’t let them sell you as some kind of slave. It’s not fair. You need to run. As fast as you can, and as far away as you can get.”
To say I’m shocked would be an understatement.
I’ve never been close with Beverly. We’re sisters, sure, and we’ve spent a lot of time together, but I’m a lot closer with Rose.
Sometimes, it feels like Rose is more of a sister than Beverly.
Except right now. Right now, Beverly looks like she is willing to do anything to keep me off that train.
“Beverly, I can’t,” I say, putting the pouch back in her hand. “You know what will happen if I run. They won’t spare any of you, even Abigail.”
“That’s why you have to make sure you don’t get caught,” Beverly says firmly, wiping her eyes. “They won’t touch us unless you’re there to witness it. And if they never find you… maybe they’ll just give up eventually. I know it’s a long shot, but…”
I want to believe her. For one wild second, I almost do. I want to take the pouch and run so badly my legs twitch a little, like the muscles are trying to warm up for it.
“That’s way too risky,” I argue, shaking my head. “Once this is all over, you won’t have to work in the fields anymore. You can get married. Dad will be able to afford a nice dowry, so you should have your pick when you get to Concord City.”
“I don’t want a husband. I want my sister,” she whines, wiping her eyes again.
“I know I shouldn’t have waited until your very last day to say this, but I love you, Clover.
You keep things interesting. Your stories…
I love listening to them, even when you’re just trying to get Abigail to fall asleep. ”
“Those stories all come from the books in the library, Beverly,” I say, forcing a smile. “Concord City has one that takes up an entire block. If you’re in no hurry to get married, then you can read all the stories you want.”
“I can barely read,” she sighs.
“You’ll learn. Just like I did,” I say. “They never let me go to school, because I was the second-born child, but I still managed to teach myself with mom’s help. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you, once she can put her feet up and relax for a change.”
“Maybe,” Beverly mutters, looking into my eyes. “But I think she would be happier knowing you were safe. We all would be. Even Dad, although he’d never admit it.”
“No, he doesn’t believe in saying anything that doesn’t follow the status quo,” I agree. “Old habits, I’m sure. People used to go to prison for speaking out against things like the Reparations Auction.”
“Now they just stand idly by while their children are sold as slaves,” Beverly says. “That’s part of why I don’t want to get married, if I’m being honest. How could I bring a child into this world knowing they’ll be sold?”
“I mean, there are ways, if you’re determined enough,” I offer.
“Plenty of people stop after their first child because of that. Especially in Concord City where they have access to birth control. But you really shouldn’t have to worry about that.
Mom and Dad are going to be rich after this.
I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a man who can afford to pay the Reparations Tax, if that day ever comes. ”
“It’s all bullshit, Clover. Every bit of it. The tax. The auction. This freaking punishment we’re forced to face because of what humans did two hundred years ago,” Beverly mutters.
“I don’t disagree with you, but it’s way bigger than us. We can’t change it,” I sigh. “I’m scared. I won’t deny that. But knowing my family will be taken care of after I’m gone helps. You and Abigail will have a future. A good one.”
“Except we won’t have our sister,” Beverly sniffles, abruptly hugging me. “How am I ever going to deal with Abigail without you around?”
“Is that what this is really about?” I ask, knowing there’s a lot more to it. “You’re just scared of being left all alone with Abigail?”
“It’s certainly a worry,” she says, squeezing me tight before finally letting go. “But if you’re not going to run, then we should go back inside. Don’t want the eggs getting cold.”
I fight the tears as we walk back inside.
Breakfast is on the table. My mother does her best not to let any emotions show.
My father does that naturally. Beverly forces a smile when she sits down.
Abigail is happy, bouncing in her seat, eager for what is basically a feast for this family.
The last meal we’ll share together as a whole family.
We’ve tried to keep the uglier parts of my departure from impacting Abigail. Most everyone around here knows the song and dance. We’ve sung and danced it our whole lives in public.
Reparations are a good thing. We’re helping those less fortunate than us. It’s an honor to be able to provide a better life for your family.
I’ve heard that in Concord City, they have things like that on flashing billboards that look like enormous television screens. There’s only one television here and it’s at the mayor’s office, so he can keep up with what’s happening outside of Troona.
Places I’ve never seen, but I will soon. I’m going to see everything between here and Concord City. The city itself, which is supposed to be such a technological marvel that some of it will seem like magic to me. Then I’ll see another country.
“I’d like to say something, before we leave for the train station,” my father says, putting his fork down, his plate scraped clean.
We aren’t making much noise, other than Abigail, but we all grow quiet, like we usually do, when our dad has something to say. I’m fighting back tears just in general right now, like they’re permanently trying to escape.
“Clover, it’s been an honor… being your dad,” he says, nodding to me, blinking away what could have been a tear, but it’s gone too quickly.
A man of few words, but they mean a lot, coming from him.
“You’ll always be my dad,” I whimper, unable to stop the tear from trickling down my cheek. “I’m not going to forget all of you after I’m gone. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll see you again.”
“I’ll come visit you as soon as I’m old enough!” Abigail chirps. “I bet you’ll even have babies by then! Mom and Dad will be grandparents! Wait, that means you’re really old now, right?” she ponders, looking at our mom and twitching her nose.
“I don’t have time to get old keeping up with you, little girl,” my mother sighs, blinking a few times before pushing her chair back. “I’ve got one more thing. A surprise.”
“A surprise? Mom, I don’t get to bring anything with me,” I say hesitantly.
“This one you can,” she laughs, opening the oven and removing a cake. “I got up early to make it so you wouldn’t know it was waiting for you.”
“Mom, I said no birthday party,” I groan. “Besides, my birthday was several days ago.”
“We’re not having a party, we’re just having cake,” my mother says, bringing it to the table and reaching for a knife. “For breakfast. Just like we used to.”
“You guys used to have birthday cake for breakfast?” Abigail asks, eyes widening like it’s the most amazing news she’s ever heard. “Why haven’t I ever gotten to do that!?”
“Today you do,” my mother says, smiling as she begins cutting the cake. “And maybe for the rest of your birthdays, too…” She trails off, nervously glancing at me and swallowing hard.
“Make sure she does,” I say, offering a nod of understanding.
My family hasn’t really talked about the money.
Some families have it spent before their second-born is on the train.
I had a very frank conversation with my parents about a year ago.
I told them they could do anything with the money they wished, but I asked them to please ensure some of it goes toward Beverly and Abigail’s future.
My parents agreed. My mother with tears and hugs.
My father with a nod and a smack of his lips.
We eat our cake. We tell a few stories. Most of them embarrassing ones about me, which is fine, because it makes us laugh. It’s good to remember those things, one last time. Maybe that’ll help me hold onto those memories once I get where I’m going.
For now, I’ll sit at this table, eat my cake, and pretend the train isn’t coming. But I already heard the horn. I know everyone else did too.
Hopefully, I’ll keep it together long enough for them to remember me fondly.