Chapter Twenty Ren #2
Of course, not everything is right as rain.
Mr. Wozumi works on the pond in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep.
He doesn’t say what happened to him in jail, but whatever it is, he tries to bury it by digging until dawn.
Makes me think about Violet’s father, being locked up for so long and now so close to coming home but still so far.
“What are you going to fill it with?” Violet asks, peering into the hole.
“Water!” they chorus at once.
“And fish,” Ethan adds shyly.
“Anything else?”
They frown, looking at each other in confusion.
“I think you can fill it with lots of other things, too,” Violet says. “Maybe planets? Oh, and magic! Of course, you’ll also want to pour in some adventure and courage.”
Their eyes light up, and they jump up and down. Jace, who still has his pirate sword from the Children’s Village, waves it.
“I’ll fill it with sharks!” Jace cries. “And big strong cannonballs.”
“No, I don’t want sharks. I want mermaids with teeth,” says Abigail.
“I like all the ideas,” Violet laughs.
We leave them and sit down under a tree.
It’s as withered as the ones in the orchards outside, but it’ll come back to life in the spring.
I think we’ll sit side by side, but somehow my head finds its way into Violet’s lap, and I feel the warmth of her thighs through her dress.
Her fingers tangle with my hair, her nails grazing pleasantly against my scalp.
“Akira is getting worse,” she says. “But I think I have a plan.”
“What is it?” I don’t tell her, but lately I’ve been feeling like we might not be able to free Akira—we might just have to deal with the fallout.
Every few hours, I find myself running through my plan and telling myself the fire extinguisher, wire clippers, and extra knives I’ve smuggled from the kitchen will be enough to save us from whatever happens when those shadows explode.
“You know how you tricked Boser with a fake relic?” she asks.
“I wonder if we might make another one—only, a real one. Akira was punished for seeking invalid worship from spirits in Yomi, but I think we can give him an offering he’s never had before.
An icon with his image. He’s the Nameless Faceless God, but we are the only mortals who can see his true face, the one his celestial parents see.
If I draw him, can you carve an icon panel? ”
“Yeah, for sure.” It actually sounds like a pretty legitimate idea. “I’ll start tonight, if I can get Cosette to sleep.”
“The biggest problem is how to imbue it with magic,” Violet says.
“I suppose we’ll figure out that part when we get there?
The drawing has been a bit tricky. If it’s going to work, I know it must be the best sketch I’ve ever done—and so far, I haven’t gotten it right.
” She stops abruptly, and her fingers gently touch my brow. “You’re exhausted, my love.”
My love. The term of endearment startles me.
I stare up into her eyes and take a breath to respond, to tell her I love her and that I know she’ll get the drawing right, but she notices and gently lowers her head to kiss me, silencing me.
Then her fingers trail to my neck and I quiver with her touch.
She’s right. It all hits me like a wallop as I lie here. Everything is going to hell in a handbasket tied to a rocket ship, but right here, lying with my head in Violet’s lap, my soul quiets down in a way it never could back home. We’ve always managed to find places just for us.
My eyes are heavy. I fight to keep them open, but Violet leans over and plants a kiss on my temple and whispers, “Rest,” and so I do.
I manage to carve a panel out of birch that night. It’s about four inches by seven, the size of a postcard. My mind races, everything coated in panic and exhaustion. It feels like I’m being tortured or going mad or maybe both.
I have to skip work again the next day. Cosette is so fussy from her upset stomach that I’m scared to leave her.
I pace with her and when she finally falls into a fitful sleep, I set her down on Emi’s bed.
Mrs. Wozumi suggested putting her there, just in case she can smell Emi on the blanket. Mama dozes nearby on her cot.
I sit down at our table. I’m going to write Mrs. Ross and ask her for canned milk.
It’s unnerving—I’ve been relieved she’s stopped bothering us—but I don’t know what else to do.
Cosette has hardly grown and is more miserable with each passing day.
I bite my lip, hoping I’m doing the right thing inviting her back into our lives.
I quickly scratch out a letter and stuff it in my pocket.
I’ll get a stamp from the canteen and mail it while Cosette sleeps.
Before I leave, I pause. Mr. Nomura’s origami lines a shelf he installed for Mama.
I pick up one of the flowers—a rose—and grab another sheet of paper.
Unfolding the rose, I’m able to see how it’s made.
Carefully, I refold it and put it back. Then I make one of my own.
I feel dumb but I scrawl A flower for you on its underside, remembering how Violet’s dad said he’d ask this of a god and hoping it makes her feel special.
On my way to the canteen, I leave the rose and carved panel on Violet’s windowsill.
Then I continue on, eyeing the sky like it’s my enemy.
Today the shadow mountains have morphed into the vague shape of hulking elephantine monsters.
I swallow hard. I wonder what Kai and James are using for weapons.
They have access to tools. But what’s a hammer in the face of a machine gun?
A hand grabs my shoulder. I startle, jerking away, preparing to defend myself. My shoulder, which has been much better, spasms.
It’s Boser. He looms behind me, blue eyes as ominous as the sky above our heads. Without a word, he grabs the envelope from my hand and reads the address.
“What the hell?” I try to snatch it, but he steps back. My chest heaves and I want to piledrive him to the dirt.
“I’m revoking your mail privileges,” Boser intones, mouth set and face grim. He tears it open and glances at the letter. “No more letters, especially not to the Ross family.”
“On what grounds?” I demand.
“I don’t have to justify myself to a resident,” Boser returns. Guards are passing by, and he arches an eyebrow in their direction, threatening me with their presence. One word from him and my ass is grass.
“I was asking her to send canned milk.” I can barely speak, I’m so angry, but I force out the words. “Because my niece needs it.”
“For someone in a desperate position, you certainly aren’t working very hard to help your family.
” Boser sounds snide. I stare at him. Desperation?
Desperation is swirling around the camp and painted in the damn sky up above, and it’s going to bite him.
Suddenly, I think I understand Kai. An uprising can’t succeed, but hell, if I could put Boser in the hospital, I wouldn’t mind in the least. “You haven’t gotten your relic back. ”
“Told you before. It’s gone. Not sure what you don’t get.”
Boser crosses his arms and stares hard at me. I meet his gaze, scowling, waiting.
“Very well. Here’s the thing. I’ve seen you with that old man, the one who dresses in traditional clothing.”
“Yeah? What of it?”
“I know he’s…” For once, something akin to life brightens Boser’s eyes. My breath catches—how could he know who Akira truly is?—but lets out in a gust when Boser continues: “A practitioner of ancestral magic. Is he training you in the old ways?”
“Training me in the old ways? Aren’t you a little old to believe in magic?” It isn’t hard to sound disdainful.
“Not if it’s real. And I know it is.” He sniffs, and I stare in disbelief.
“Then go talk to the old man yourself,” I say, thinking about Akira lifting me off the floor as though I weighed no more than a kitten. “I don’t know anything about him.”
“I think you do.” Boser has the self-satisfied smile of a guy who already knows he’s won. “I’ve approached the man several times. No matter what I say, he won’t talk to me. Then I noticed something around his neck. Your relic.”
My throat goes dry. If Boser has seen Akira wearing my relic, then he for sure knows we have some sort of connection. Still, I can’t admit it.
“Yeah? He must’ve found it after I lost it. Like I said, why don’t you ask him for it instead of me?”
“I did,” Boser says. “He said I’m not…” Boser stops, struggling for the right word. “Worthy. But I’m trying to make myself so. I’ve been meditating every day.”
“In your heated bungalow?” My lip curls as I stare at him in disgust. “Maybe it isn’t a good idea to use incarcerated people for your spiritual enlightenment, ever think of that?”
“You don’t understand,” Boser says. “If anyone is unworthy, it’s you. You’re a criminal who knows nothing about who he is or where he came from.”
“And you’re a pathetic asshole,” I say.
Boser steps forward, his hand lashing out and gripping the back of my neck.
His fingers dig into my skin, forcing my head down.
My face is parallel to the dirt and level with his knees.
Good. I grab his leg and upend him, but he doesn’t release me, so we both go down, hard.
Choking dust puffs up around us. Skin scrapes off my knees and hands.
Immediately, we scramble to our feet, facing off. He’s breathing hard, and I am, too.
“You attacked me. I can arrest you right now,” Boser says, and there’s a smug note in his voice, like I’ve played right into his plan.
“Sir? What’s going on? Do you need help?
” a guard calls from across the way. Boser holds up his hand, telling the man to stay away.
But at any moment, he can drop it. He has me right where he wants me.
Sand grits in my teeth. I spit. More is in my eyes, and I drag my forearm across them, trying to blink it out.
“What do you want?” I ask, willing to tell this lunatic whatever he needs to hear.