One of Us Page 5

  The upstairs lobby is buzzing with people, and outside, the long drive is dotted by headlights as a line of cars creeps toward the parking lot. All Brotherhood. All the women and girls in hats. Beside the door two little girls have sat down to take off their shoes before going into the hall. I almost jump when I see the boy from the station standing in one of the doorways into the hall. His hair is wet. As we get closer, I smell chlorine.

  “That’s Gregory,” says Serafina.

  She squeezes my arm, and I stop myself from pulling it away.

  “He’s great.” She gestures over to the other door, where a boy with corkscrew curls and a friendly smile is handing out candles. “He lives here because his family is overseas. And that’s his friend, Emanuel. He lives here too. But you’ll meet them later.”

  I think she likes Emanuel. I fake-smile at Serafina. “I already met him—Gregory.”

  I follow Serafina’s lead and put my shoes next to hers in the shoe rack beside the door. The boy called Emanuel is standing on one side of the doorway, and a ginger-haired boy on the other. I can’t see Gregory. We file in with everyone else and Emanuel gives Serafina a candle, but the ginger-haired boy on my side of the doorway ignores my open hand. He looks me up and down, for too long.

  I stare back at him. I don’t think I look friendly. Sorry, Oskar.

  “That’s Jeremiah,” whispers Serafina. “He lives here as well.”

  I follow her in. Under other circumstances, I would love this room. Although it’s so old, it’s very simple, with huge windows that go from floor to ceiling. Outside, I can see a row of fir trees. Inside, there is nothing but carpet with a path through the middle that leads to a high table where their huge Book lies. Women and girls sit on the left side, men and boys on the right. Serafina clutches my arm as we sit down.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t notice your head’s not covered. We don’t have to wear hats indoors, but we do need something. That’s why Jeremiah couldn’t give you a candle. Now you won’t be able to come up and receive the blessing.” Her face has gone pink under her red-checked scarf.

  Sure enough, all the girls and women are wearing hats or scarves. I try to look like I care. “Hey, that’s OK. I can just watch you get yours.”

  But then I start to think what it’s going to look like when they all go up to the front, leaving me alone in a carpet sea. Grandma would be pleased I wasn’t taking part, at least. I feel a grim smile twist the corners of my mouth, not the sort of smile Oskar meant. And he said not to draw attention to myself. And soon I’ll be sticking out, all on my own. I should have remembered the stupid hat. How could I have been so careless?

  I jump as a red-checked shape leans over my shoulder. It’s Gregory, the station boy. He’s so close that his chlorine smell overwhelms Serafina’s perfume. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then reaches over me to pass a scarf and a candle to Serafina instead. Does this mean he can’t even speak to me if my head’s not covered in the Meeting Hall? He stands up and hurries away.

  Serafina turns to me, beaming. “Typical Gregory. So thoughtful,” she whispers. “Now you can go up too!” She holds out a candle, and the scarf.

  “What?” I want to push her hand away, but I stop myself. At least he’s saved me from having to sit on my own.

  Serafina’s face clouds a little. “Come on,” she murmurs. “Look, he even got one that matches your blouse.”

  I look down. The scarf is navy, with tiny pink flowers like the ones on my top. Serafina’s gazing at me with puppy eyes.

  “OK.” I take the scarf from her. “Thanks.”

  I tie the headscarf in a knot under my chin, not prettily at the back like Serafina’s.

  IT’S NOT WHAT I expected. Nobody sings, and nobody speaks, and in the deep hush I watch the sky turn from indigo to black. Who are all these people? I wonder. Who here is in the cell? Which of these quiet people could be a bomber? Then Brer Magnus comes in, a red cloak swinging behind him. He strides down the corridor between the men and boys and the women and girls and there’s a rush of movement as everyone scrambles to their feet. He stands behind the table with the Book, staring around the room with fierce blue eyes beneath the gray wing of his comb-over. The room is stilled into an expectant hush. Brer Magnus doesn’t speak as his eyes scan the room, searching every face. Oskar has told me all about you. I remember what he’d said: Who knows how many pupils he has radicalized?

  Just thinking this seems to draw his eyes to mine. I stare back. I’m not looking away first. What would happen if he guessed I wasn’t really Brotherhood? If I was here to “infiltrate a cell.” A tap on the shoulder followed by an “accident”? How easily I could just disappear. After all, I’m Verity Nekton now, an imaginary person. How would Oskar even know? It’s hot in this crowded room so I slide my borrowed cardigan off, letting it slip to the floor.

  Brer Magnus raises his hands and we all sit down again. “Brothers and Sisters, welcome to the Spring Meeting,” he says. “We are here to hold fast in these days of change! To protect our Brotherhood heritage even as our very existence is threatened by those who want us to sit at table with nonbelievers.” He raises his voice. “To force our children into mixed schools. To compromise our Brotherhood heritage.” His eyes sweep the room. “Brothers and Sisters, we must do everything in our power to preserve our separateness.”

  Everything in our power? A wave of panic floods me, but I make myself breathe calmly, staring out at the fir trees feathered against the sunset. We could be on top of a forested mountain instead of in a school. I let his voice roll over me like background music while I fix my eyes on the silhouette of a black crow until I forget where I am.

  Brer Magnus talks and talks, and nobody else says anything at all. At last his voice changes, becoming lighter. “And now we will light our candles of purity,” he says, “before we eat together. I hope that everyone will join with us in this time of fellowship.”

  A grateful ripple waves through the room and we all clamber stiffly to our feet, taking the candles up to the table. Brer Magnus still stands behind it, his hands spread wide on the gold cloth beneath the Book, the red check of his cloak glowing. He fixes his piercing gaze on each person as they approach. He makes my flesh crawl. I stand next to Serafina, clutching my candle, panic beating in my chest. I look over the top of his head as he lights my candle. But when I put it down in front of the Book with the others and see all the little lights glimmering together, the memory of the vigil strikes me. I wish I was wearing the floppy hat, so that I could hide my face. Instead I lower my head.

  AFTERWARD I LOSE Serafina. There are so many people thronging around Brer Magnus in the lobby below the Meeting Hall that I can’t see her. Maybe Brer Magnus is standing by the door to make sure that nobody leaves early. That boy Jeremiah seems to have his whole family here. They all look like each other and they’re all hanging on to Brer Magnus’s words with glowing faces. Have they come just to hear him speak? I edge closer in the crowd.

  “I wish I could go too,” Jeremiah is saying. He indicates the boy standing next to him. “This is my cousin.”

  Brer Magnus smiles, puts one hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. “You’re nearly old enough.” He turns and nods at Jeremiah’s cousin, who steps eagerly forward.

  “You’ll meet interesting people there when you come,” says the cousin. “People who will make them sit up and take note.”

  Them? Does he mean “us”? Citizens? My heart starts beating faster. I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands, pretending to look around for Serafina.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Jeremiah eagerly nodding.

  “They live like animals, without rules,” he continues. “But they need to know we haven’t forgotten.”

  I try to look as if I’m in the line to sign the visitors’ book, still on the little table in the corner, rather than listening in. I’m glad for the scarf now. It seems to make me almost invisible. Maybe that’s its purpose.

&
nbsp; “I want to do more,” says Jeremiah.

  The other boy steps even closer to Brer Magnus. “Talk to them in the language they understand, if you get what I mean.” He turns to Jeremiah. “You should join.”

  Brer Magnus laughs and pats Jeremiah’s shoulder. “It’s wonderful to see the passion you young men have.” His voice takes on a note of warning. “Just don’t get carried away.” Then he turns to someone at his elbow.

  I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. They weren’t even talking quietly! I look over to the stairs and my eyes meet Gregory’s. I wonder if he noticed me listening. I look away, cursing myself. I’m no good at this—why would Oskar think I could do it? Why would anyone?

  People are beginning to disperse now, across the grass toward the canteen block. As I reach the cold air in the doorway, I remember Serafina’s cardigan. I run upstairs to fetch it. It’s empty up here now. I slip off my shoes again, just in case, and kick them to the side of the door. In the Meeting Hall, only one lamp still shines, above the closed Book and the snuffed-out candles, and suddenly I need to see it for myself. What does it say in their Book that makes them want to kill strangers?

  I can see the cardigan lying on the carpet. After I’ve picked it up, I glance over my shoulder, but nobody is there. I pad over to the table. I can hear my own breath, loud and quick. I am going to look at the Book. I turn it around and open it, letting the heavy pages fall back. I think of all the times I tried to peer through the Brotherhood Meeting Hall doorway in Yoremouth while Grandma dragged me quickly past. And here I am actually leafing through their famous Book for myself. I’d better be quick, though.

  I’m expecting to find incendiary prose about killing nonbelievers, but all I find is a long poem about fish in a lake.

  That’s when I feel eyes boring into my back. I turn to see Gregory standing there, frowning. I didn’t hear him come in.

  “What are you doing?” His voice is grim.

  “Reading?” I hide my flash of anger. Who made him judge and jury? And I want to ask him what he was doing at the station that day.

  I wait for him to tell me that Sisters have to keep their polluting hands off the Book, but he hesitates for a moment and then half-nods. “It’s there to be read.” He waits, like a dog guarding something.

  I close the Book carefully. “I’m done now,” I say, turning to leave. Be careful. Be friendly. “I left this.” I hold up my cardigan. “I’m Verity, by the way.”

  “I know. And I’m Greg,” he adds.

  “I know.”

  He waits behind me as I shuffle my feet into my pumps back outside the Meeting Hall. Then he follows me down the stairs. The foyer is empty. Through the stairwell windows I see that all the people are in the canteen, eating and drinking. Fiddle music drifts across the courtyard. I glance back when I reach the door.

  Gregory’s still standing at the foot of the stairs, watching me. I think he knows, Oskar. You feel so far away. You said I wouldn’t feel alone. But I do.

  CHAPTER 7

  I LIE AWAKE in the darkness at the end of this long first day. The bed is comfy enough, warm and cozy, but I can’t relax. I never thought I would miss the four stark walls of my room at the halfway house, but hearing a stranger’s sleep-breathing is so odd that it’s keeping me on edge. Serafina has been sleeping for a while when the bedroom door creaks open and Celestina slips in. She nearly trips over Serafina’s stuffed giraffe and swears softly. Where has she been? I wait until she’s in bed. She can’t sleep either. It’s ages before she stops shuffling about and her breathing slows down. Then I get up.

  I have to get outside now, before I lose it. I can see I’ll never be able to be alone here. We eat together, study together, even sleep in the same room. And all the time there are the watchful eyes of Greg and Celestina, waiting for me to give myself away.

  I put my clothes and shoes back on, and the long woolly cardigan Serafina lent me. She won’t mind. She seems to like giving me things. I’ve been given keys for the Sisters’ house, two for the front door and one for the back, and now I put them in the cardigan pocket. Upstairs there’s just our room and a bathroom. I tiptoe downstairs past the kitchenette and Georgette the cook’s apartment and open the front door, letting it click shut softly behind me. Oskar wouldn’t like this. Guilt stabs at me. Am I being reckless? I pause for a moment, under the porch. But Oskar doesn’t have to live here.

  The air is cold and clear, sweet with night dew. It’s colder here than in the city. I feel my spirits lift as I run down the path to the rhododendron grove. Free! I can hear an owl, and foxes barking in staccato calls. We have foxes in the city, but I haven’t heard owls since I was little. Sometimes I could hear them call from the woods behind Grandma’s house. It’s very dark here, because there’s only a thin crescent moon tonight. But through the trees I see something gleam—a pond, surrounded by trees. As I get closer I see it has a wooden platform by the edge. The water shines in the sliver of moonlight. I’m not afraid of deep, dark water.

  I know it’s way too cold, but even so I climb onto the deck and pull off my clothes. It can’t be much colder than the sea at Yoremouth, which faces the open ocean and is almost never calm. And however cold it is, at least I will feel it. Maybe it will wash away Verity Nekton, just for a few moments.

  I stand on the edge of the platform and leap in, and then I’m whooshing up for air and gasping, gasping with the ice-cold water crackling inside my head and tingling my skin. I swim as hard as I can across the pond and then back, splashing up white spray in the moonlight. Then I stop, treading water; I’m making too much noise.

  Maybe I can survive here if just now and again I can have a swim in this magic pond. It’s not that bad, after all. I’ve gotten through this day. Tomorrow for the first time ever I’ll have an Art lesson. Serafina is kind and the food’s great.

  Twigs snap near the edge of the trees. In the weak moonlight a shadowy figure shifts.

  Is it security? What was I thinking? I am naked in a Brotherhood pond!

  I duck under, holding my breath, but can’t stay submerged for long. I surface and tread water as softly as I can. I can’t see anyone in the inky shadow of the rhododendrons. Did I imagine it?

  I listen and peer into the shrubbery, my ears and eyes straining. The cold is gripping me. I can’t stay in here much longer. I swim breaststroke back to the platform, skirting the side of the pond, trying not to go too near the weeds. I have to get out, even if someone’s lurking there, waiting.

  I heave myself up. There’s nobody hiding in the shadows after all, so I must have imagined it. My teeth are clattering together and I’m shivering, but I feel like me again. I won’t give up after just one day. I rub myself dry with Serafina’s cardigan—hopefully it’ll dry before morning—haul on my clothes any old how, and jog back through the trees. Moonlight silvers the edges of the buds.

  Then I hear footsteps thudding on the path behind me. A jolt of fear charges through me. I leap into a rhododendron bush and crouch down in the dark, my arms hugging my knees. I’m so cold that my whole body is shaking.

  The footsteps slow down and stop. I hold my breath. An owl hoots above me. The footsteps move on.

  I wait until I can’t hear anymore, and then I slip out of the bushes and onto the path. Too late I see the waiting black shape of someone. I crash into him, he grabs hold of me and we teeter together for a second before I regain my balance enough to try and pull away.

  “Verity?” It’s Greg.

  I jerk myself free, panting. “What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?”

  “I didn’t look,” he blurts out.

  So he did see me in the pond. I feel my face turning bright red and I’m so glad it’s dark. He sounded just as uncomfortable.

  “What were you doing, swimming on your own in the middle of the night?” He sounds outraged. “I’ll walk you back to your house.” I hear his frown, in the darkness, and under his breath I hear him mutter, “What an idiot.”

 
; Who does he think he is?

  He starts taking off his jacket. “Here, have this,” he says. “You must be freezing.”

  “No, thanks,” I say. “How would I explain why I’ve got your coat?”

  “Oh,” he says, his jacket half on and half off. “But you look so cold.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “But thanks for not watching.”

  “I’m not a perv.”

  I can’t help liking him a little bit then. “Of course not, I know that.” Because there are different kinds of spies, aren’t there? I should know. “Sorry.”

  We stand there awkwardly for a moment. Then he says, “You must really like swimming.” I think I hear a smile in his voice. A friendly smile.

  “I do. But you’re right. It was a bit too cold.” What would Oskar think if he knew how I’ve risked everything? “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  He laughs. It was a sneering smile after all. He really does think I’m an idiot. And I am.

  “I’ll just run the last bit,” I say, taking off. I can’t afford to be so careless again. This time Greg doesn’t follow me.

  But he did follow me before. He must have been hanging about near the Sisters’ house. I look back as I slip through the front door, under its ancient stone porch, but there’s no sign of Greg. That doesn’t mean he isn’t there, though. What was he doing out in the middle of the night?

  Then I think about Celestina coming in late too. Were they together?

  I’ll ask Oskar what he thinks, when I see him. Maybe the cell is right in front of me.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE NEXT MORNING the Institute is transformed. At breakfast, the few boarders rattled around in the empty canteen. But by half past eight, buses are lining up in the parking lot and the corridors are already full of hurrying pupils. Still, it’s not like my last school. There aren’t any bells, for one thing, or a uniform. Just a little bit of red check on everyone. Apart from me—I’m covered in it from head to toe. Thanks, Oskar.