Blue by Kasey Jackson Page B

a brightly colored scarf tied around her head.
    Alyssa sat nervously pushing her body up from the bench and looking toward the main building, kicking her feet under the bench as they sat next to each other chatting. Alyssa’s head perked up as two compound workers began to take down the large wooden panels that covered the wall of windows on the side of the main building.
    “What are they doing?” Alyssa asked.
    “Taking down the panels so that any visitors can see out into the courtyard. They keep them covered most of the month—I guess to keep the glass protected from soccer balls and sticky hands. On visitation day, though, anyone that would like to see into the compound can come look out of the window-wall into the courtyard as the residents go about their daily business. I think it is mandated by the government that the taxpayers be allowed to come look at the conditions here at least once a month,” Tabitha said, watching one of the panels being pulled down. “I’ve always found it a little creepy to think that basically anyone—well, anyone with security clearance—is just allowed to come and watch us live our lives.”
    “Yeah, at my last compound they did guided tours around the compound every month. I always thought it was just kind of exploiting our disabilities—putting them on display. The weirdest thing about it was that it seemed like the same people were coming every month to gawk at us. At least your gawkers have to stay behind glass,” Alyssa replied.
    “Wow. How awkward. I guess this is a little less creepy. I’ve noticed that there are some ‘regulars’ that show up. I’ve seen some of the same young women come by a few times, and I’ve always assumed that they were the mothers of some of the residents here, coming to check on the children that they sold to the compound when they were babies. I know I’ve caught myself examining their facial features to find traces of my own, or those of the other residents. I am pretty certain I have identified the mothers of a few of the kids here, but I haven’t shared with them. Quite frankly, what good is it to know that your mother thinks about you only enough to gaze through a window guiltily at you, once a month or so? I like to sit here and think and dream, though. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t wonder if my mother has ever come by to check on me. I can’t help but sit here every week and look at their faces and wonder,” Tabitha said.
    “I don’t blame you. I would do the same thing if I were you. I’m sure that your mother has come by to check up on you, and I’m sure that the only reason that she sent you here was to protect you, just like mine,” Alyssa said with a smile, trying to find the right words to say.
    “I like to think that too,” Tabitha said, smiling back at her and pausing a moment as she looked into the foyer behind one of the open panels in the wall of windows. “But I do think that it is awfully convenient that the window-wall is only open, and visitors are only welcome the one day of the month that we are looking the most ‘unshorn.’ Harvest day usually puts a damper on everyone’s mood. It might be considered ‘humane’ but it still doesn’t feel right to be plucked, shaved, and clipped until we’re raw.”
    “I know. Harvest isn’t fun for anyone. But, I try to always remember that it could be so much worse,” Alyssa said, setting her hand down beside Tabitha’s on the bench. Tabitha saw her missing fingers and immediately felt a pang of guilt. “Speaking of worse, have you happened to have heard any of the rumors about the new harvest laws? They were stirring like crazy in Johannesburg when we left.”
    “I’ve heard that there may be some changes soon, but I haven’t heard anything about what they might be yet,” Tabitha responded.
    “Soon? I heard that they were already in place, we just haven’t felt the effects yet,” Alyssa said. “I was actually expecting to see the