“Are you saying,” Abigail said, “that we can’t spend as much time together because—?”
Principal Harrison cut her off. “It’s already hard enough as it is, you watching your roommates change. Maybe not come back. This is for your own good. We don’t want to do a big move, because so much is involved. But we will, if you keep doing these kinds of activities.”
Words wouldn’t come, but Abigail, who was recently full of words (and ideas, like looking over walls), spoke up. “Maybe being together makes us healthier,” she said. “I feel better when I’m with Shiloh.”
Principal Harrison opened a file. The kind that he brought into the dining room when someone leaves. “Push me, Abigail. See how fast we move you from Haven Hospital and Halls to another Terminal residence in another part of the country.” The conversation, I could hear in his voice, was over. “Remember the rules. No more exploring. No more late nights. No more disobedience.”
“Wait,” I said. “Don’t break the rules. I understand that. But if we continue to do things together—”
“More than any Terminal should…,” Principal Harrison said. He stood. Straightened his tie.
“Then you’ll send one of us away?”
Principal Harrison pointed at the door. “I’m glad to see you understand. You’re excused.” He walked out of the room, past the walls lined with bookshelves, huge vases full of fresh flowers, and the big picture window that looked out on the yards covered in roses and summer flowers, benches and fountains.
I rubbed my eyes at the memory. Now, all around me, the voices of female Terminals echoed. Someone flushed a toilet. I miss being able to explore with Abigail, I wanted to say to the bathroom ceiling.
But saying it, admitting it, meant first, separation. Then Isolation. And finally, one of us being transferred from this unit to another. Or …
… or worse.
I didn’t want to think about this.
I hung my robe and towel on a hook in the cleansing area and slipped my clothes off. I put my pajamas in the Room 18 bin, then stepped into the shower stall.
Hot water spilled over my shoulders when I walked under the faucet head. I tilted my face under the warmth, trying to erase leftover bits of memory. I rubbed the bath puff filled with lavender soap all over.
Bubbles puddled on the tile before being pulled down the drain. Washing my whole body first, I let the water relax me, saving my right side for last. Like always.
Long after the staples were out, there had been pain. And even though the scar was pink and healing, there was sensitivity. I didn’t touch where the incision had been. The cut ran below my armpit to the bottom of my rib cage.
“We’re taking only one lung. Not two,” the doctor had said, his face growing large in my mind. A mask came down over my mouth and nose and I saw someone’s huge brown eyes looking at me.
“Count backwards from one hundred.”
I struggled.
“She reminds me of my own daughter.”
“Yes, yes.”
There were too many people. Too many voices. Words slid together. So did faces. Too many eyes. Too many noses. I fought.
“No more,” I said. My voice echoed. I turned into the pelting water. “No more, Shiloh.”
No Terminal ever speaks of what happened when they went away, even with the tokens left behind by the Disease—what it took from them—an obvious memento. Maybe I was the only one who remembered details. But we all had evidence of the Illness.
The air grew steamy. Too much thinking meant the dream would haunt me again. I didn’t want that.
If I was lucky, the water would cleanse everything that bothered me, leaving me with an empty mind.
* * *
A few clusters of females walked down the corridor toward Main Hall and breakfast as I hurried to dress. I tucked the shirt into my jeans, then ran my fingers through my hair, splattering drops of water on the dresser. I made no effort to tie the shoelaces. Later I might be sorry I wore no socks, but I was late and I didn’t have the extra seconds. Elizabeth was right. The whole day would be messed up because I hadn’t gotten out of bed on time.
“She thinks she’s so smart,” I said to my reflection, running the towel through my hair one last time. The curls bounced back into place. “She’s almost always right.”
I hurried to the dining room, my hair making my shirt damp in spots all the way to my waist.
We aren’t allowed more than walking inside, so I concentrated on getting into breakfast as fast as I could without swinging into a faster clip.
“Shiloh.” My name came at me in a whisper.
“What?” Two females in Main Hall looked back. One of them, Esther, called, “There’s not going to be anything left to eat, Shiloh.”
I waved them on. “I’m coming.” I took a few more steps. There stood Gideon—Gideon—in a window alcove.
“Shiloh,” he said again, his voice too loud. Heavy curtains the color of grape juice fell from the ceiling to the window seat. He was almost hidden in the folds of purple.
“You can’t be here.” Sweat broke out on my forehead.
“Shhh,” he said.
What in the Terminal world was he doing? I walked to where he hid, hesitant. This could mean trouble for us both. If he were seen. If we were caught together.
“I’m not that far from the Main Hall.” He gestured to where everyone converged. Only the slowest were still in the hall. Terminals who had had recent operations or weren’t used to their wheelchairs.
“What are you doing? You know the rules. Do you want Isolation?” I closed my mouth tight. “Or have you just gotten out of Isolation?”
He didn’t answer.
“I can’t stand here chatting with you. I’ll miss breakfast.” I tried not to say it, but the words came anyway. “The most important meal of the day.”
Gideon grabbed for me and I dodged him. Had he gone mad? Been infected with something? Had he caught what Isaac had? “Don’t!”
Gideon raised a finger to his lips, then spoke past it. “I need to talk to you, Shiloh.” He reached for me again, staying hidden. “Come closer. So the others won’t see us.”
We were alone in the corridor. I kept my hands tucked in my pockets. If I needed to, I wanted to be able to get away. “I’ll come closer if you stop grabbing at me.”
“You are so pretty, Shiloh.”
A strange feeling ran through my chest. “What are you talking about?”
He looked at his feet, then up at me again. His voice was somehow different. “The way you look, your skin, your hair—”
“I have no idea what you mean, Gideon. We’re going to get in huge trouble—”
“You’re right,” he said. “We have only a few moments.”
My pulse beat in my wrists. “Keep hidden in the curtains,” I said. “I don’t want to go to Isolation again.” Nothing to do there but lie on the floor with my pain, and the white walls of the room. And the lights. It felt like I had been stored in a too-bright, empty closet.
“I’ll be quick.” He folded himself deeper in the drapes.
I moved a foot nearer, ready to run. Male Terminals can spread Disease to female Terminals just like that. It’s a proven scientific fact. And the reason we sit in different parts of the classrooms, lunchroom, and have recess in different parts of the yard. Why would Gideon risk this when his roommate was gone? When Isaac might not come back? The Disease could conquer him next.
And what did he mean, I was pretty? “Tell me whatever you have to,” I said, itching to go. “I want to get to breakfast.”
“Promise that you’ll think over whatever I say to you.”
If anyone saw me standing here, would they call for help?
I crossed my arms. “Think about what?”
“My plan.”
I didn’t answer.
“To save us.”
What?
“To save all Terminals.”
I tried to speak past my closed-up throat
.
“Promise.” There was that voice again.
I nodded.
“We’re figuring things out,” Gideon said. He spoke too slow. “We need your help. We need your memory. We need you.”
My throat felt even tighter. I might never talk again. Or end up in the OR because my vocal cords didn’t work anymore.
“We can talk more in Planting Committee if you sign up. Daniel will make sure you get in. We’re starting seedlings for spring.”
Outside the window, snow reflected the sun.
“It’s too cold for Terminals to go outside.”
“We have jackets. Ways to keep warm. And—”
The sharp sound of heels on marble echoed from down the hall.
Principal Harrison advanced on us. His face looked hard as concrete. I heard Gideon whisper from his hiding place, “Don’t give me away.”
My fingertips grew icy from Gideon’s words.
“Ms. Shiloh,” Principal Harrison said, closing the distance between us. “You are late.” A few more steps and I could have touched his vest. I looked up at him. “This is the Terminal’s most important meal of the day.” His lips turned up, showing his teeth. He reminded me of a jackal I once saw on Wild Terminal Kingdom. “And you are missing it. You know the rules.”
I nodded, wanting to peek back at the curtains. Somehow I didn’t let myself. Instead, I kept my eyes on Principal Harrison’s thin mustache.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I got a late start this morning. Elizabeth said this would throw off the whole day. She was right.” Would he see I was lying? Send me to the Isolation Room?
I wasn’t lying. Not really. I was omitting.
Tell on Gideon, a part of my brain said. Report him. He’s in the wrong place. He shouldn’t be in the Females’ Hallway. He shouldn’t have a plan. Tell.
The memory of someone hunched in the snow, that flashing light, popped into my head, made me pause. Had that been Gideon? I opened my mouth to speak.
“Do you have something to report?” Principal Harrison took a step closer. His eyebrows tried to meet over his nose.
Confess. All good Terminals are obedient. Stop the Disease by telling.
“I didn’t…” The words came out garbled. I cleared my throat. “I didn’t sleep so well last night.”
Principal Harrison clapped his hands together. “An easy cure, Ms. Shiloh,” he said. “You know that. After breakfast go to Infirmary. I’ll make sure you have a sleeping aid waiting for you for tonight when you go to bed. Take it with your Tonic. There is no reason not to get your sleep.”
He raised his meaty hand, then pointed down the hallway. “Get going.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I felt dizzy, my skin prickly like blunt needles tapped all over, looking for a way into my flesh.
“What is it, Ms. Shiloh?”
“Sir?”
“You’re hesitating. I said get to breakfast.”
You have a chance. A second chance. You could be a hero. You could save the Terminals. Tell on Gideon right now.
I thought of Principal Harrison threatening to separate me and Abigail. I thought of the Isolation Room. Then took one step, and another, not sure how my feet even moved. I never wanted to be away from Abigail. Not for anything.
Speed up. Get in to breakfast. But I was afraid for Gideon.
“Do you need an escort?”
“Yes, sir. Please.” I nodded.
“Then let’s go. I have many Terminals to look after, you know. Not just you.”
“Yes, sir.”
At the cafeteria doors. I heard the soft voices of the Terminals.
“You Terminals are so slow,” Principal Harrison said. “Hurry, unless you want me to lead you over to the breakfast line?”
I looked back over my shoulder, down the long hall. It was empty.
“No, sir,” I said. “I can do it. Thank you for walking me here. I was light-headed.” The complete truth. Even at this moment I couldn’t believe I had broken one of the biggest rules of all at Haven Hospital & Halls.
Met with someone of the opposite gender.
What was Gideon thinking? What was I thinking? As I took a bowl of cracked wheat cereal sprinkled with blueberries and drizzled with honey and cream, I knew I would stop at the Infirmary for a sleeping aid. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would make me feel better.
7
Planting Committee met in the greenhouse office. This building was situated on the west side of campus. That’s what Ms. Iverson said, when I asked her if I could sign up. The whole time I thought, Why do this? Snowy weather can kill a Terminal. Plus, I shouldn’t meet with Gideon. Still, my mouth kept moving, asking when and where and what time I should show up for the Planting Committee.
“They need all the help they can get over there,” Ms. Iverson said. She nodded. “Dr. King says they’ll put plants in the ground before you know it. They’re working on some hydroponics stuff. Do you know what that is, Shiloh?”
I thought for a second, guilt crawling all over my skin. “Growing with water only?”
“Right! Good for you. I’ll get this turned in.” Ms. Iverson filled out paperwork on a clipboard. She held it against her chest. “You know, I’ve never seen the kind of vegetables grown here. They’re huge and beautiful.” She looked at me. “Perfect for nutrition and keeping Terminals safe and cared for.” More nodding. I sure was glad she didn’t do that in class. I’d never be able to concentrate.
Later that afternoon I stood at the double doors, looking outside across the grounds toward the greenhouses. The sun, brilliant and glittering off the snow, seemed full of spring.
What was it that Abigail had said? Spring meant a promise to her. Almost spring. Almost a promise.
And Gideon telling us we should be responsible for ourselves. Who would have thought that? Terminals responsible for finding cures and discovering what was wrong with us.
I zipped my jacket, tucked a scarf around my neck, then slipped into the breezy weather. Hurrying, I followed footprints and tire tracks across the snow.
Ahead, the wind whooshed around the corner of a closed-off building, pushing snowflakes ahead of it, twisting into a zephyr, then swishing away until the little tornado dissolved.
Hands deep in my pockets, I hunched tighter against the gusts of cold air. To the door marked OFFICE at the far end of the greenhouses. The place was empty except for a table and chairs, a desk (the Teacher’s), and a whiteboard covered in writing. The room smelled of dirt and flowers, but I saw no plants in here. A side door swung open and Gideon came in, brushing his hair off his forehead with a gloved hand.
He said, “Glad you decided to join us, Shiloh.” He lifted his chin to me. His voice softened. “I didn’t think you’d show.”
“You asked me to come.”
“You’re right.” Gideon pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit.
“The committee will be supportive. We needed someone to take Isaac’s place. Lots to do around here.”
“Wait. I’m Isaac’s replacement? I hadn’t realized that.” Did that mean he wasn’t coming back? The news made me uncomfortable. I wanted to leave.
Gideon didn’t stop talking. “As an introduction, there’s lots to get done for spring—planting seedlings and starts, fertilizing, working the grounds.”
My eye twitched. “I shouldn’t be here with you alone. It’s against the rules. I think I should go back.”
Gideon checked the chart. “And when I said you’re pretty, what I meant is, it’s nice to look at you. I like you, Shiloh.”
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stood there, my weight on one foot. “I don’t think you should tell me that.”
“I know I shouldn’t. We’re not allowed.”
“Please,” I said. I should go. But the disobedient part of me wanted to hear more.
“Sorry.” Gideon dipped his head, looked up at me through his eyelashes. “I’ll do better.” His face colored, like maybe he had a fever. “You already know this, Sh
iloh, but many Terminals make light work.”
“I understand.” I didn’t need a reminder from a Terminal like Gideon. He didn’t follow rule one. Then he spoke inappropriate words, making me want to hear him say these things again.
“There are supposed to be Teachers here,” I said, raising my voice. My head pounded with the volume, so I lowered my tone. “We can’t be in here without direction.”
“I won’t tell you my feelings again. Unless you want me to.”
I took a step back and bumped into the doorjamb. “I’ll never want that,” I said. “Terminals spread Disease—”
We both stood quiet. Gideon pointed at the whiteboard. “There’s our direction. A list of things they want done. We won’t be alone. Ms. Iverson or Mr. Tremmel or someone else will come to the greenhouses to check on us. We don’t stay in here but work where we’re needed.”
“All right,” I said, unsure. I sat down. Did Gideon tell me the truth? There was dirt on the surface of the tabletop and I dusted a clean space to rest my hands.
The side door opened and Daniel wheeled himself over near Gideon. I could see rows upon rows of tiny plants in the huge room that he came from.
Daniel didn’t acknowledge me. He knew how Terminals should act. He tucked his hair behind his ears. There was grime under his nails.
I felt jittery. Lopsided almost, like I had after the operation. Now there were two males and only one me.
“We’re waiting for another,” Gideon said. He stared straight into my eyes. I looked away. It’s nice to look at you. What was it with this Terminal? “Daniel, you know Shiloh, right?”
“Sure,” Daniel said.
The door to outside burst open and cold air pushed into the room.
Abigail rushed in, head covered against the cold. “Sorry I’m late.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, and then, “Abigail. Since when?”