ice cream from each other’s cones. Then it’s different. Something is very wrong. I look around and no one is there, not even my parents; the whole plaza is deserted. The stores are all empty, too, and they look like they’ve been deserted for a long time. It feels like the town has been abandoned.
I hear something. I can’t see them but I hear whispers, and the whispers feel like someone calling me. Then all at once the calling stops. Everything becomes silent and still, and something powerful and angry is in the square with me, something terrible.
It pulls at me from all directions. It’s like it’s pulling me apart. I wake up with my heart racing.
Betty gets herself killed today.
She hands me something at lunch. She puts her hands over mine for a second and she whispers, “Happy spring, Jesse.”
“Come and sit with me,” I say.
“I can’t,” she says.
“Well,” I say, “thanks for the gift.”
“My pleasure. You know how old I am?”
“You look young.”
“Such a liar,” she says, “but the good kind of liar. I’m sixty-one. I doubt there are many left who are sixty-one.”
“You are.”
“I am. I’m too old to see a future, Jesse.”
I start to tell her what my dad told me, but she holds up her hand. “Keep track of the days. It’s important. If there’s a future, it will be important.”
She walks away. I look at what she’s given me: pages. At first I hardly recognize it: the little squares with numbers and days of the week. She’s made a calendar. It begins with the date of the invasion. There are empty pages for the next year and a pencil to fill them in with. It’s a funny thing, but seeing the calendar makes me hopeful. It’s like seeing it makes me think there will be days in the future.
I look up as Betty approaches Anchise, and I know what she’s going to do before she does it.
“No, Betty,” I whisper.
She slaps Anchise so hard I can hear the surprise in Anchise’s mind. I can hear her laughing even though I don’t think she’s laughing out loud. She looks back at me.
Anchise is going to kill her, turn her off like all the others, but something unbelievable happens. She stops him. It’s not for long, just a second maybe, but long enough that I see it. She wants me to see it. This is part of my gift.
Then Anchise, the anger like fire in him, turns her off. He makes her scream in pain before she dies, but she doesn’t stop looking him right in the eye. This makes him even more angry. I feel her leave. I can actually feel her move out of her body. Where does she go?
I feel sorrow defeat me. It’s like it covers me. I get weak everywhere. I want to fall off my chair and curl up on the floor and just lie there. I can’t stand this losing anymore. I can’t.
But I do, and when I do, I get mad. “Why did you have to do that, Betty?” I want to shout at her corpse. I want to scream at it. “You are stupid! You are a coward! You make me sick! I hate you!” I want to say all these things to her.
Anchise doesn’t say he’s sorry. He turns and walks away, and I’m sure if anyone makes a noise, he will kill them, too. He can’t control himself. She made him unable to control himself.
I put her calendar in my pocket, and my anger weakens and then disappears entirely.
“I’m sorry, Betty,” I whisper.
She stopped Anchise. It was only for a second and she had to die to do it, but she stopped him. Betty wanted me to see that it could be done. She wanted me to see that they aren’t invincible.
The next day, Michael and I are painting in the dorms again. Another day or two and we’ll be done. The Handler supervising the crew wants us to think he’s nearby, but I know better. I’ve improved at recognizing the phantoms they create, and I know that what’s in the room with us isn’t real.
“Betty stopped Anchise before he killed her,” I say. “Did you feel it?”
“Maybe,” Michael says. “I’m not sure.”
“She did.”
“Okay, let’s
I hear something. I can’t see them but I hear whispers, and the whispers feel like someone calling me. Then all at once the calling stops. Everything becomes silent and still, and something powerful and angry is in the square with me, something terrible.
It pulls at me from all directions. It’s like it’s pulling me apart. I wake up with my heart racing.
Betty gets herself killed today.
She hands me something at lunch. She puts her hands over mine for a second and she whispers, “Happy spring, Jesse.”
“Come and sit with me,” I say.
“I can’t,” she says.
“Well,” I say, “thanks for the gift.”
“My pleasure. You know how old I am?”
“You look young.”
“Such a liar,” she says, “but the good kind of liar. I’m sixty-one. I doubt there are many left who are sixty-one.”
“You are.”
“I am. I’m too old to see a future, Jesse.”
I start to tell her what my dad told me, but she holds up her hand. “Keep track of the days. It’s important. If there’s a future, it will be important.”
She walks away. I look at what she’s given me: pages. At first I hardly recognize it: the little squares with numbers and days of the week. She’s made a calendar. It begins with the date of the invasion. There are empty pages for the next year and a pencil to fill them in with. It’s a funny thing, but seeing the calendar makes me hopeful. It’s like seeing it makes me think there will be days in the future.
I look up as Betty approaches Anchise, and I know what she’s going to do before she does it.
“No, Betty,” I whisper.
She slaps Anchise so hard I can hear the surprise in Anchise’s mind. I can hear her laughing even though I don’t think she’s laughing out loud. She looks back at me.
Anchise is going to kill her, turn her off like all the others, but something unbelievable happens. She stops him. It’s not for long, just a second maybe, but long enough that I see it. She wants me to see it. This is part of my gift.
Then Anchise, the anger like fire in him, turns her off. He makes her scream in pain before she dies, but she doesn’t stop looking him right in the eye. This makes him even more angry. I feel her leave. I can actually feel her move out of her body. Where does she go?
I feel sorrow defeat me. It’s like it covers me. I get weak everywhere. I want to fall off my chair and curl up on the floor and just lie there. I can’t stand this losing anymore. I can’t.
But I do, and when I do, I get mad. “Why did you have to do that, Betty?” I want to shout at her corpse. I want to scream at it. “You are stupid! You are a coward! You make me sick! I hate you!” I want to say all these things to her.
Anchise doesn’t say he’s sorry. He turns and walks away, and I’m sure if anyone makes a noise, he will kill them, too. He can’t control himself. She made him unable to control himself.
I put her calendar in my pocket, and my anger weakens and then disappears entirely.
“I’m sorry, Betty,” I whisper.
She stopped Anchise. It was only for a second and she had to die to do it, but she stopped him. Betty wanted me to see that it could be done. She wanted me to see that they aren’t invincible.
The next day, Michael and I are painting in the dorms again. Another day or two and we’ll be done. The Handler supervising the crew wants us to think he’s nearby, but I know better. I’ve improved at recognizing the phantoms they create, and I know that what’s in the room with us isn’t real.
“Betty stopped Anchise before he killed her,” I say. “Did you feel it?”
“Maybe,” Michael says. “I’m not sure.”
“She did.”
“Okay, let’s
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