16.

I sat at the fire, the flames causing the shadows beyond to flicker in a dance that kept my skin p.r.i.c.kling in goose b.u.mps. I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes watching me. We had been back at the Orchard for hours now and I could still feel the penetrating gaze bearing into my back, no matter where I turned. I felt twitchy, constantly jerking to look behind me, so sure I would see Carl smirking at me, lunging for me. Even Reed's rea.s.suring touch didn't calm the strange paranoia that had taken me over.

The fire glowed warm on my face. It felt good to sit around the flickering fire again, regardless of the distant shadows, Reed so close that I could feel his body heat hot against my chilled flesh. Every so often he would turn to talk to someone, his arm brushing mine. I felt tingles run up and down my body each time. As the night wore on, I found myself longing for more of those moments.

"Are you alright, Millie?" Reed asked. I had been sitting silent, knees tucked up to my chest, staring intensely into the fire for most of the evening. The feeling of eyes watching me bore into my soul, freezing me in fright. Staring into the fire was all I could manage to do.

Forcing a smile, I finally tore my eyes from the fire and looked into Reed's. "I'm fine. Tired. It was a long day."

Reed nodded. "Was it a good day?"

The smile became real on my lips.

"It was," I answered softly.

Reed smiled back. Inching closer, he carefully put an arm around me. I felt his hand mindlessly stroke the silky smoothness of my new shirt as he got lost in watching the flames. Occasionally a small group of men would wander by. Reed would glance up at them, watching as they whispered to each other and scanned me. I could see his face darken, his eyes bear into them until they finally moved on.

I had dealt with men like that my entire life. I knew they were there, I knew what was running through their minds when they cracked those sly smiles my way. But I couldn't seem to get myself to rea.s.sure Reed of this. I instead found myself melting into his protective arms, relishing the fact that, for once, I didn't have to be the only one on guard.

I wished he could make the eerie feeling of eyes watching my soul disappear.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Shaking it away, I could feel Reed pull back enough to look at me. "Are you sure you are alright, Millie?"

"I'm tired," I said. It wasn't a lie. I could feel sleep tugging at my heavy eyes, my limbs heavy with needed rest. The exhaustion ran deeper than our busy day in town, but something about the fear in the pit of my stomach kept me from telling that to Reed. "I think I should get to bed."

Reed nodded, rising to his feet and helping me up. Without asking, he moved in closer, silently guarding me as we walked toward my quarters. He walked stiffly, constantly looking over his shoulder as the fire grew smaller behind us. I finally let out a heavy breath and turned my face to him.

"Reed, you can relax. I know they are watching me."

Reed glanced at me, then looked over his shoulder again. The group of men were watching, laughter boiling from their loose huddle. "You have no idea what those guys are like, Millie. They are trouble."

"I don't?" I asked, stopping in my tracks. "I really don't? Reed, those are the guys I have spent my entire life around. Rapists, pedophiles, thieves, murderers. Have you forgotten that little fact? I had to walk past those guys every single day. I have felt them watching me every time I dared to venture out of my cell."

Reed clenched his eyes shut, a hand reaching to rub the bridge of his nose. Something inside me flared. I took another step away from him. My breath shuddered as I sharply drew it in.

"Yes Reed, I lived in a cell. And do you know why? Because my parents are murderers. The Nation locked me in a cell for the first eighteen years of my life, because my parents decided to kill. That's the truth. It really happened. I am not some stupid little town girl who only wants to flirt and cuddle in your arms!" I could feel my face getting hot with anger. The words were spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Reed slowly opened his eyes, his finger still gripping the bridge of his nose. He didn't move. He didn't even speak. He just stood there, his eyes watching me.

A moment ago I had been content in his arms. I relished his protection. Now I couldn't stand it. My body felt itchy, like my skin had grown too small for my bursting spirit. I didn't like how I kept snapping at Reed. He didn't deserve it. But I couldn't seem to stop myself. In some way, I didn't want to.

I let out another angry breath. My hands were clenching into fists at my side. "I have had to protect myself from those guys since the day I could remember." I pointed at the group of men, emphasizing who I was talking about. The men stopped their laughter as they saw me look their way. Without a word, they quickly moved off into the dark.

"The guards didn't protect me from them. My parents sure as h.e.l.l didn't protect me from them. I did." My voice faltered. I could feel the lump rising in my throat.

I felt so angry. A helpless anger, aimed at no one in particular, and aimed at everyone in the world.

Reed lowered his hand from his face. I could see his body sway, as if wanting to move closer to me, then stopping itself before it had a chance to move an inch.

"I think your parents were protecting you more than you know, Millie," he said gently.

I couldn't speak. My lips refused to form words, my mind reeling at what he had said.

"Millie," he continued, his hands tucking into his pockets. "I know where you came from. But you aren't there anymore. I know you had to protect yourself your entire life. You might not need me, but it's about time you need someone. It's about time you let someone else do the protecting."

His eyes looked heavy. They searched mine a moment, almost begging for me to argue or consent, to say anything. When I didn't answer, he let his eyes blink, looking away back towards the fire. He nodded once, then started back down the path away from me. I wanted to stop him. I willed my voice to call his name. But nothing happened. I just watched as he disappeared into the night, then ran into my quarters.

I pulled open the dresser drawer, shoving my clothes aside as I dug for the sock. My fingers finally brushed it and I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, slamming the drawer shut. I flopped onto the bed, feeling the springs bend around my body. The envelope of cash dumped out first. It landed on the mattress next to me, a few bills sliding out. I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the sea gla.s.s, shoved the money back in, then pushed the sock aside.

I let the sea gla.s.s roll out into my palm. The light from the small lamp hit it, causing the green to glow slightly against my flesh. Rubbing a finger over it, I felt the small cracks and sandy rough spots, broken up by the wave-smoothed patches of time. The memory of Orrin crept into my mind.

For the first time since I had left the prison, I pulled open the drawer next to my bed and lifted out my notebook. Still clutching the gla.s.s in my hand, I cracked the book open and started to flip through the pages.

Every page held a different conversation. The scribbled words brought back memories. Some were angry, some goofy, some so boring I caught myself yawning as I turned past them. I flipped through the pages faster, working my way to the end of the stack.

Finally, I found what I was looking for. I pulled it out quickly, almost tearing the corner that I held too tightly between my fingers. Orrin's handwriting was perfect on the lined surface. I tucked up my knees, laying the page gently against them as I reread some of his final words.

You are who you are Millie. No one decides who you are but yourself. If you want to be mad like them, then be mad like them. But if you want to be different, please, be different.

... Dear, that is a question every child your age has asked since the dawn of time. Life is ahead of you. What this Nation is doing... they lock away the people and make them become the criminals they so fear. I do not know what you will become. But I pray to G.o.d that you don't allow them to decide your fate.

There is a lot you don't know yet Millie. There is a lot to learn. Remember everything your schooling has taught you. But remember: To every truth, there are a million untold truths.

I laid my head back, rolling the sea gla.s.s through my fingers. The stars twinkled in the sky outside my small window. I imagined Orrin sitting at the beach, watching the stars in their nightly guard. The waves crashed against the sh.o.r.e, the wind bent the gra.s.s in the night air. I found myself wondering if my parents ever laid under the same stars, taking in their beauty as they held hands in young love. Had life always been mad for them? Had it once been beautiful?

"Always a gray zone," I muttered to myself, my eyes searching the sky.

I wished Reed could meet Orrin. Deep inside of me, I knew they would somehow understand each other at a level most people never knew. They were so much alike. I felt a smile touch my lips at the thought of Reed, my hand brushing the purple shirt that I still wore. Then I remembered his final words that night, and the smile faltered.

Reed was right. There was always a gray zone. I sat up, shoving the notebook back into the drawer. A paper fell from it and I picked it. It was the entry I had written in one of my last meetings with Dr. Eriks. I read it, the same strange feeling that something about it was wrong rising in my stomach. My eyes traced the words, trying to place it.

It clicked. I finally realized what it was.

"Only a silent father and a state-proclaimed unstable mother. And it is because of them that I live in this cell," I read out loud, slowly p.r.o.nouncing each word. "Because of them," I repeated, looking out the window again, the paper wrinkling in my tightened hand.

I had always thought the unease from that journal entry had been because I admitted my fear. I had thought it was because I somehow felt unworthy to be set free, unable to leave behind my criminal parents. But it had always been something deeper. Something hinted at in every conversation with Orrin, with Jude, even with Dr. Eriks.

I had been born into the Prison. I had been raised in the Prison. I had always a.s.sumed and been told that my condemned life was my parents' fault. And I had believed it. Now I sat, paper wrinkled in my shaking hand, tears stinging my eyes, and finally let the thought surface: Was it?

"I decided," I said aloud, sitting high in the tree. I could hear both guys pause at my words.

"What have you decided?" Reed asked, his voice strangely cautious.

"I want to know. I want to know the whole story of what my parents did." My voice softened. "I need to know."

I could hear Reed adjust himself on his branch, the plunk of an apple dropping into his basket echoing through our silence. "Are you sure, Millie?"

I nodded, knowing no one could see me. I needed to nod. I needed a physical rea.s.surance that I did in fact want this. "I am."

Reed didn't answer. I could hear his apples dropping into his basket above me. Clenching my lips tight, I grabbed the branch above my head and pulled myself up. Reed balanced carefully on a branch just through the leaves. His legs were hanging limply around the limb, the basket nestled in a cl.u.s.tered of branches next to him.

His face was twisted up, as if in pain. His eyes were glued to an apple in his hand, staring intensely at it as his face tightened even more. The look of pure torment on his face stabbed my heart.

"Reed?" I asked softly.

His eyes snapped up from the apple. He let them waver unfocused a moment, then looked down at me. I reached up and grabbed another branch, pushing off with my feet and hauling myself up closer to him. He looked away from me, watching the apple again.

"Reed, about last night "

"I don't even know how my parents died," he said, cutting me off. His voice sounded distant. "After they died, I was put into foster care. The Nation... it likes to keep children in their care. Every year, they make money off of the kids. They rip the child out of the home they had finally settled into and move them, then bill the family that had been a.s.signed them for back pay. The family has to pay back everything the Nation had loaned them to take care of the foster child, plus interest. I was hated."

Reed spun the apple in his hand, watching its surface thoughtfully. "Eddie's family finally took me in and adopted me. Kind of. I had to keep my last name, and they had to pay the Nation a yearly fee for having me. But they did it."

"What happened to them?" I asked carefully.

"Eddie's family?" Reed spun the apple in his hand, a sigh escaping his lips. "His older brother got arrested and thrown in prison for theft. Twenty years. Eddie's mom had a panic attack, which turned into a stroke that killed her. His father is still alive... somewhere. We don't know where he went."

I thought of Eddie, light-hearted happy Eddie. It was hard to believe that something like that had happened to his family. It was nearly impossible to believe anything bad had ever happened to Eddie.

"After that, Eddie and I came here. We had nowhere else to go. Being homeless wasn't an option. Becoming a GF was... We couldn't do that."

Reed finally looked over to me. His eyes were heavy, as if he hadn't slept at all. "When you said you didn't want to know the truth about your parents, I hated you, for that moment. I hated how you had your parents, had a chance to know the truth, and refused to take it. While I am here, wanting so badly to know and..." His voice trailed off. He stared at the apple again, then said roughly, "What if you find out more of the truth? Will you push me away, again? Will you close those doors in your mind and shut me out, expecting me to be here waiting once you feel like creaking them back open?" Reed let out a frustrated breath, staring up into the branches. "I can't... I am so sick of this."

I felt my body sway in the breeze and clutched the branch beneath me. "Sick of this?" I asked. I felt myself panic at the thought of what his answer would be.

Reed waved his hand around in the air, motioning to everything around him. "This. The Nation. The constant fear of breaking the law. The need to always work, never knowing what you are working for. Never being in control." He looked at me, his eyes heavy again. "Fearing that the goodbye you refused to say might have been your last."

I could only watch him, the memory of last night flowing in my mind.

Reed tossed the apple to me. I shot a hand out and caught it before it could fly past. Reed plucked another apple from the tree and stared at it a moment. The dark red skin shone in the bright daylight. Then, slowly, he took a huge bite. Juice sprayed from the apple, the meat bright white as he took a second bite into the crunchy surface.

"Reed..." I said, alarmed. My eyes scanned the ground beneath me, afraid someone pa.s.sing would see what he had done. Reed wiped a stream of juice from his chin, carefully chewing and swallowing before looking back into my eyes.

"Millie, I am sick of not knowing who owns this delicious apple that I am never allowed to eat. I am sick of seeing the people I finally let myself grow close to disappear. I am sick of this fear that sticks to us every single day. There has to be more than this Nation. There has to be."

"Like what?" I asked.

"I don't know." He took another bite. I could hear him chewing the apple, his head leaned back against the trunk of the tree. I looked at the apple in my hand. Then looked back over at Reed.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Reed sighed and looked over at me. "I don't know, Millie. I don't know if I even can do anything." His eyes searched mine. "I don't want to risk losing the few things I do have. But there has to be something." He took another bite, watching me as he chewed. "First thing I know I am going to do. We are going to find out what really happened with your parents."

He looked at the remains of the apple in his hand, then let out a slow sigh. Leaning his head back again, I watched as he disappeared into his thoughts, his mouth mindlessly chewing the last bite he had taken of the apple.

"You were right. Last night." My voice was almost a whisper. I saw Reed's eyebrows slightly raise, his eyes watching me. "I do need you."

Reed slowly chewed the bite of apple. He let his eyes wander away from mine, deep breaths causing his chest to rise and fall in perfect rhythm.

"Reed, about last night "

"Millie, stop" he said, cutting me short again. "This life we have been doomed to is much too short to hold grudges against friends."

I looked again at the apple in my hand then raised it to my lips. The skin was cool and smooth, smelling rich as it pressed against my teeth. I glanced up to Reed once more. Clenched my eyes shut. I took a bite. The apple was crisp, its juices spraying into my mouth and down my chin as I carefully chewed. I didn't feel myself cringe as I took another careful bite. This apple was different than the ones I had always known.

Maybe it was because it had been fresh picked off the tree that I sat in. It had never had the chance to soften and brown in its over-filled basket. Captivity and the end never loomed in front of it, stealing away its deep red and sweet juices. All it had ever known was the sun and the breeze and the song of the birds.

All it had ever known was freedom.

I leaned heavy against the trunk, finishing my apple alongside Reed. We didn't talk. We didn't need to. We knew without saying a word that something had just changed. Something deeper than eating an illegal apple. Something that was about to ignite a change that would landslide our entire lives.

17.

"You sure?"

We stood in front of Records, the blocked windows menacing as they loomed in front of us. I stared at them a moment before slowly nodding. Reed reached out and gently took my hand, giving it a squeeze. I felt the spark jump into my body at his touch, his warmth racing up my arm to take me over. A moment later he let go. My hand felt cold and alone where he had just touched it. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to seal in the last spark of warmth from his touch.

Reed pulled the door open and stepped inside. A bell hanging on the door rang, cutting through the quiet air inside. I paused a moment, listening to its soft lilt in the air before following Reed inside. The door swung shut behind me. I jumped as it slammed back into place, killing the sound of the bell in one swift click.

Just a few feet away from the door stood a desk. We stepped closer, watching the man behind it motion for us to wait. He was talking to someone on the phone, his voice lowering as we pulled to a stop in front of the desk. He wrinkled up his nose in thought, his dark brown skin stretching across his full cheeks. On his wide nose sat a thick-rimmed pair of gla.s.ses, the gla.s.s so thick it magnified his eyes to an almost comical size.

Waiting for his conversation to end, I let myself look around the room. A long table lined the wall to my right, its surface layered messily with old computers and loose papers. The other wall was solid window, all covered with the thick white paper. Nothing hung on the walls. No art, not even color. Just the solid white of a temporary life.

The white of the Prison.

The man clicked the phone back onto its base. "How can I help you?" He glanced up at us as he spoke, his words relaxed and easy.

Reed stepped closer. "I'm Reed Taylor. This is Millie 942B. We were hoping you could help us find records on a past crime?"

The man took us in slowly. Then he stood, pulling his pants up as his round belly tried to push them down. "Reed Taylor. I've heard your name around. Been here some time, eh?"

Reed nodded.

"Congrats on that," the man said. He looked over at me. "I'm figuring you're the one wanting to know the facts." He moved forward, a finger pushing his gla.s.ses up his nose. Holding out a hand, he waited for me to shake it. I held out my hand and he gripped it tightly, cranking it up and down. "Call me Rick. My mom named me Ricardo, which I always found stupid, being as Ricardo is a Mexi name and I'm a black man." He smiled at me, his teeth a startling white against his dark skin.

Moving away, Rick walked over to one of the computers and jammed a thumb down on the monitor b.u.t.ton. The computer blinked to life. He motioned for us to sit in the plastic chairs on either side of him, then drummed his thick fingers on the computer keyboard.