“How things are stinks,” Sarah said.
“I don’t see you moving into a grubtown,” Jon said. “You had your chance, but you chose an enclave.”
Sarah turned away from him. Jon touched her face, and felt her tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll make my own breakfast. Can we walk to the bus together?”
She faced him, and he kissed the tears off her cheek. “I know I sound awful,” she said. “I didn’t used to. It’s just I feel so alone.”
Jon nodded. “I know how that feels,” he said. “We all do. Clavers, grubs, all of us. We all feel alone. We all feel exactly like you.”
Wednesday, May 6
Jon tried making his own breakfast, but he burned everything.
When he got home from soccer practice, he asked Val if she’d mind getting up twenty minutes earlier to make his breakfast. He didn’t bother to explain why.
Val told him it was no problem, exactly as Jon had known she would. He couldn’t figure out why Sarah had made such a fuss.
Thursday, May 7
Jon had spent the week eating lunch and joking with his teammates, rebuilding their relationship. Sarah was a prime target of their ridicule. He told himself it didn’t matter since she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She knew he liked her, and that was what counted.
He was always a good student, mostly because he was afraid of the consequences if he wasn’t, but he worked particularly hard that week. He was the first to raise his hand when his teacher asked a question. He participated actively in the discussions. He did everything short of licking ass.
That he saved for soccer practice. No one did more reps, no one pushed harder, no one took practices more seriously. He apologized again to Coach, and nodded thoughtfully when Coach lectured him on the importance not merely of winning but of winning big. Ryan and Luke snickered, but Jon acted as though he’d never truly understood all that, but now he did. Grubs had to be kept in their place, and it was his job to see to it they were. His job, except, he hoped, for the upcoming game.
Even if Matt wasn’t going to be in White Birch that Sunday, Jon would have been reluctant to play. The Sexton team was scheduled to play against the York grubs. York was a backcountry town. It could be reached only by driving over untended roads, and the trip took at least four hours.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the York grubs didn’t seem to understand they were grubs. None of them commuted. Instead clavers came to them. York was the chief manufacturer of potka. They grew runty potatoes, the kind no one would ever have eaten before the bad times, and they fermented them into the only alcohol readily available in the area. They had a long history of moonshining, and they knew what they were doing.
Jon had played in two games against them. Both times the Sexton bus carried twice as many guards as usual. Both times the York team played for blood, and the only way the grubs were appeased after their defeat was by the enormous amount of potka the Sexton clavers purchased from them. Both times Coach proclaimed the clavers had taught them their place, and both times no one cared because they were too drunk to listen. The only sober one was the driver, and that was because he was a grub and knew better than to get drunk in front of clavers.
Even if Jon weren’t the top scorer on the team, Coach would want him there on Sunday, partly because he was a slip and partly as punishment for his lousy play the week before.
But Jon asked anyway. He was scared of Coach, but he was more scared of Mom.
“No,” Coach said. “Forget it, Evans. No special privileges for you.”
Tyler walked over to them. “Excuse me, Coach,” he said. “I’m scheduled for this Sunday off, but I’d like to play.”
Coach snorted. “No one wants to play York,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” Tyler said. “But my father has family around there. He’d like them to have a chance to see me play.”
“You put him up to this?” Coach asked Jon.
“No sir,” Jon said. “It’s news to me.”
“It would mean a lot to my father,” Tyler said. “I know I’m not as good as Evans, but I’ll have extra incentive. Dad hates that side of his family. He wants me there when we kick their ass.”
Coach grinned. “All right,” he said. “Buy me an extra bottle of potka. Evans, you got the day off.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Jon said. “Tyler, thanks.”
Tyler shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he replied. “Don’t forget who your friends really are, Evans.”
Friday, May 8
Jon was in his room, studying chemistry, when Lisa knocked on his door.
“Come in,” Jon called. He’d been sprawled on the bed, so he sat upright as Lisa sat on the desk chair.
“I was wondering if you’d like to take some food on Sunday,” Lisa said. “We could manage with one less chicken next week, and I’m sure that would be a real treat for them.”
Jon had known Lisa was going to suggest this. Every time he visited Mom, Lisa made the same offer. “I asked Val to pick up some grapes for me to take,” he said. “Thanks anyway.”
Usually that was enough, and Lisa would get up to leave. But this time she stayed seated.
“I woke up early, Jon,” Lisa said. “I found Val in the kitchen. She said you’d asked her last week to get up earlier to make your breakfast.”
“Just twenty minutes,” Jon said. “Val said it would be no problem.”
“You know what my job is,” Lisa said. “I’m head of domestic placements. Do you know what a mess it would be if Val filed a complaint against me? There are things other clavers can get away with that I can’t. That we can’t. Especially with the evaluation coming up.”
Sometimes Jon felt like a slip in his own home. He loved Lisa, and he knew she loved him, but she was his stepmother, and his father was dead. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Is an early breakfast that important to you?” Lisa asked.
Jon nodded. “I’ve been feeling rushed,” he said. “And when I have breakfast with Gabe, we both get distracted.”
“All right,” Lisa said. “I’ll tell Val. Next time, though, ask me first. All right, Jon?”
“Thanks, Lisa,” Jon said.
Lisa left the room, but Jon found it impossible to concentrate on his chemistry lesson.
Grubs weren’t the only ones who lied, he thought. Slips were good at it, also.
But Sarah was worth the lies. And once the evaluation was over, the lies would be, too.
Saturday, May 9
“I’m going into White Birch tomorrow,” Jon told Sarah as they walked to the bus stop. “My brother’s in town. I thought maybe we could take the bus together.”
“Dad and I leave at five a.m.,” Sarah replied.
“Five a.m.?” Jon said. “I didn’t know there was a claver bus that early.”
“We have a private driver,” Sarah said. “Daddy opens the clinic at six o’clock on Sundays. He says we should keep the clinic open all night Saturdays because there’s a lot of fighting Saturday nights—knife wounds, domestic violence—but the town board won’t let him. They say it would encourage even more fighting if the . . .”
“Grubs,” Jon said.
“If the people know they can be taken care of right away,” Sarah said. “Not that it is right away. Did you know there’s not a single ambulance in White Birch?”
“Ambulances take gas,” Jon said.
“Sexton has an ambulance,” Sarah said.
“Yes,” Jon said. “And it’s mostly used for grubs who get hurt at the job. There’s an entire wing at the hospital just for them. The grubs who get hurt in White Birch bring it on themselves.”
“Not the wives who get beaten half to death,” Sarah said. “And then have to walk miles to the clinic for treatment.”
“There are buses in White Birch,” Jon said. “They could take a bus.”
“They charge for the buses,” Sarah said.
“Sure,” Jon said.
“We don’t have to pay,” Sarah said. “Not for the buses in town or the ones that go to White Birch. But the . . .”
“Grubs,” Jon said.
“The laborers, the ones who come in every day from White Birch, they have to pay. That’s so unfair, Jon. Can’t you see that?”
“But it isn’t unfair,” Jon said. “Buses cost money, for fuel and maintenance and drivers. Clavers pay for all that. We pay for their schools and the clinic, too. I’d say grubs have it pretty easy.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Sarah said. “It wasn’t like this in my old enclave.”
“How do you know?” Jon asked. “Did you ever ask your domestics if they paid for their bus rides? Did you ever leave the enclave to see what things were like for the grubs?”
“No,” Sarah said.
“Then don’t make assumptions,” Jon said. “Maybe things could be better for the grubs, but things could be better for clavers, too. We’re in this together. We’re all making sacrifices so things will be better, if not for us, then for Gabe and all the children to come.”
“Do you think things will get better?” she asked. “Do you really think that?”
Jon had no idea what he thought, but he knew what the answer was supposed to be. “Yes,” he said. “Things will get better for all of us.”
Sarah took his hand and squeezed it. “Let’s make it better,” she said. “You and me. Promise me, Jon, we’ll work to make things better.”
“I promise,” he said. “Okay, go.”
“There’s no one at the bus stop,” Sarah said. “No one would see us walking together.”
“I don’t want to take chances,” Jon said. “You go first.”
“I can’t wait for Lisa’s evaluation to be over,” she said.
“Me neither,” Jon said. “And Sarah? Don’t talk to the other kids the way you talk to me. Bus fares and ambulances. You won’t convince them, and it’ll only make them mad.”
“All right,” she said. “Jon, there’s nobody looking.”
Jon made sure she was right. And then he kissed her.
Sunday, May 10
Jon was surprised to find Alex driving the claver bus to White Birch. “You driving Sundays now?” he asked as he boarded the bus.
“Picking up extra cash,” Alex replied. “I’ll be home before Matt leaves.”
Jon nodded and took his seat. It was nice of Alex to give the family some time alone with Matt, especially since Matt had never much liked him.
Smart of Alex, Jon thought, and then out of nowhere, he could hear Julie saying, “But my IQ is higher than his.”
Jon grinned. Julie had loved her big brother, but they fought all the time. One day, when Jon and Julie were alone, she told him that she’d overheard her parents talking about their kids and what would become of them.
Carlos, they felt, would either end up in jail or in the military. Fortunately for everyone he chose the military.
Her parents thought her older sister, Briana, might become a nun. Julie knew better. Bri was devout, but she loved babies and wanted to have a dozen or more.
Alex, everyone knew, would go to college and become somebody important. Their dad might grumble about him, but even he knew Alex was destined for greatness.
That left Julie, the youngest. It was then she heard her father say, “Don’t forget, her IQ is even higher than Alex’s.”
But her mother replied, “We’ll find an older man for her, one that can control her.”
Jon couldn’t believe any mother would wish that, but Julie assured him her mother meant no harm. The important thing was that her IQ was higher than Alex’s, even though he was the golden one and she was the troublemaker.
He’d asked her if Alex knew, and Julie shook her head. “He must never know,” she said. “Promise me you’ll never tell him.”
“I promise,” Jon had said, although he couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal. So what if Julie was smarter? That didn’t mean Alex couldn’t achieve his dreams.
But the world had come to an end, and Alex was a grub bus driver and Julie was dead. What difference did their IQs make now?
Jon watched as some of the clavers gave Alex tips. It was nice of them, he thought. They had no obligation. Each time one did, Alex tipped his cap and said, “Thank you, sir; thank you, ma’am.” Jon grinned. Alex had always had good manners.
Alex pulled the bus over to Jon’s stop. Jon walked to the front. “See you later,” he said.
Alex nodded, and Jon got off. Mom’s apartment was three blocks away. It was in a good neighborhood, as White Birch went. The houses had been converted into two- and four-family apartments. There were no drunks or corpses on the street, and the only guard Jon saw was more interested in flirting with a grubber girl than protecting visiting clavers.
Matt opened the door and gave Jon a hug. “You look great!” he said. “You’ve grown. More muscle.”
Matt was thinner than Jon remembered, but it wasn’t sickness thin. It was the leanness of someone forever in motion. “You look great yourself,” Jon said. “How’s Syl?”
Matt shrugged. “She took the last miscarriage hard,” he said. “But she’s back to work, and we keep hoping.”
“Give her my love,” Jon said. He and Miranda found it wildly amusing that Syl was working as a domestic. When she and Matt had first married, Syl did nothing but stay in their bedroom while the rest of the family did all the cleaning and washing. Not that Jon had done so much. Maybe that’s why he was so comfortable having Val do the housework. He was used to others taking care of him.
Mom grabbed Jon from Matt and hugged him even harder. She’d lost weight, too, Jon noticed. It would be like Mom to eat less so Miranda could eat more. Jon wondered if Matt had noticed and spoken to Miranda about it.
Miranda glowed. The last time Jon had seen her, he could hardly tell that she was pregnant. But now there was no mistaking it.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“Fine,” she said. “I get a little tired at work sometimes, but otherwise I feel great. They even doubled my food allotment. I’m going to be the fattest person in White Birch.”
“There’s not a lot of competition,” Jon said. “I saw Alex. He drove my bus in.”
Miranda nodded. “He’s working seven days a week,” she said. “He says he’ll stop when the baby is born. I don’t know. I won’t be able to go back to work for a couple of months, so we won’t have my salary. It’s going to be hard getting by on just his and Mom’s pay.”
“We’ll manage,” Mom said. “Look at us. My three children together, all grown, all beautiful. It’s almost four years since everything happened. And we’re still here, still together.”
“Remember Crazy Shopping Day?” Miranda asked. She and Jon burst out laughing at the memory of their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Nesbitt, attacking some poor guy who’d tried to steal her shopping cart.
Matt hadn’t been there for Crazy Shopping Day, but soon they were reminiscing about their lives. Jon had learned not to think about the past any more than he had to, but it was wonderful talking about Christmases and birthdays and even fights they’d had growing up. Mom told how pleased Matt had been when Jon was born and he had a little brother, and how angry Miranda had been since she was convinced she’d been promised a sister of her own.
“What are you going to name the baby?” Jon asked Miranda. “Have you decided?”
Miranda laughed. “It had better be a girl,” she said. “Alex and I keep fighting over boy names. If it’s a girl, it’s Liana. The ‘li’ is from Julie and the ‘ana’ from Briana.”
Miranda hadn’t even known of Briana’s existence, Jon thought. Julie had told him about her, but when they began the long walk to Sexton, Jon had mentioned Bri to Miranda, only to have Miranda ask who he was talking about. Miranda and Alex had had a terrible fight after that, Miranda enraged that Alex never told her he had a sister who’d died.
That was the first of
their two terrible fights. There were squabbles after that, but they all squabbled. The trip was a nightmare. It would have been impossible to stay in good spirits through those long terrifying months. But the second fight Alex and Miranda had was something far beyond a squabble. No one could tell what the fight was about, but a day later Alex left. Miranda said he was going to Texas to see Carlos and tell him of Julie’s death. But Jon knew—they all knew—it was something more than that, something far deeper.
Jon had actually been surprised when he learned Alex had returned to Miranda in White Birch. By that point Jon had slipped into Sexton. But he came for Alex and Miranda’s wedding, and now, in a matter of months, he’d be an uncle.
As they sat down for lunch, Jon knew Mom was giving up supper for a couple of days so the table would be full. Even so, Jon noticed the food was nowhere near as good as what he was used to in Sexton. He felt like he was seeing things through Sarah’s eyes. The apartment Mom shared with Miranda and Alex seemed smaller than Jon remembered, and grimier. The only heat came from a coal stove in the kitchen. That’s where they ate, but when they were through and went back to the living room, Jon felt a dank cold.
He also noticed that, at different moments, each one of them coughed. White Birch homes didn’t come with air purification systems.
Jon had been to his family’s apartment maybe ten times. He tried to remember if he’d noticed the cold before, the dirty air, the just adequate food. Maybe he hadn’t cared because it was so much better than what they’d had in Pennsylvania, where the four of them slept in the sunroom, all of them near death from starvation.
No, that wasn’t true. Jon had never been that close to death. The others had given their food to him. He’d been hungry, and he’d been tired from the endless labor of chopping firewood, but they’d seen to it that he would survive.