Call Forth the Waves by L. J. Hatton

no threat.”
    “Have you thought about what this will do to him? His health is worse than you remember. You don’t know what life’s been like up here since you left.”
    “Would you like to compare scars and see who fared worse?”
    Winnie shoved the sleeves of her nightshirt up past her elbows, putting her skin on display. Its usual brown color was mottled through with the evidence of Warden Arcineaux’s experiments. One patch at her wrist looked nearly like cedar bark because there were so many layers of damage, and I knew that these were only the smaller reminders she carried from the Ground Center. There were wider, thicker scars that cut from her collarbone, over her shoulder, and onto her back, and more that I’d barely glimpsed.
    Nola wasn’t prepared for any of them. She choked on whatever she’d planned to say. Her face turned sallow, and Winnie fastened her sleeves back in place.
    “What happened?” Dev asked, concerned and saddened the way children often are when they’ve seen something horrible. Winnie chose not to answer him.
    “Either open the door or I’ll knock, and you can explain to Baba why you didn’t let us in,” she said. She’d lived too long among the wardens to back down when an opponent showed weakness. That was the time to go in for the kill.
    Nola pressed the latch release on the door, standing in the opening so we couldn’t pass until she let us.
    “Whatever happens is on your head,” she told Winnie.
    “Isn’t it always?” Winnie brushed her aside and let herself into the house.
    Nola went inside with Dev. Anise followed, taking Birdie with her.
    “Do you know what’s going on?” I asked Birch.
    “This is her grandfather’s house,” he said, but Winnie had told us that much.
    “You knew about this place?”
    “No, just about the blue door. Her parents died right after she was born. Baba raised her and her cousins. Greyor, too, I suppose.”
    “Dev and Nola are her cousins?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then why does Nola treat her like that? She acts like she hates her.”
    “Because Winnie isn’t supposed to be here. She was exiled, and I shouldn’t have told you that. Don’t ask me to share secrets that aren’t mine.”
    He slipped through the door before I could press him for more answers.
    How could a kid be exiled from anywhere, much less her own home and family? What could she possibly have done?
    “I still don’t like him, but he’s got the right idea,” Jermay grumbled. “We should go inside. She’s still there.”
    Across the street, the woman in black was still watching us. She stood completely still, allowing her shawl to twirl around her. None of the people who had ventured out of their homes and businesses stood close to her.
    “Creepy,” Jermay said.
    I agreed but didn’t say it out loud. I was too busy fighting thoughts of torch-bearing mobs chasing us all off the rim, lemming-style. A feeling that only got stronger when Klok beeped a question for me on his screen.
    “I could inquire as to their intent. Should I?”
    “I think it’s best if we leave them alone for now,” I said.
    The last thing we needed was our own Frankenstein’s monster spooking the locals into pulling out their pitchforks.

    The inside of Baba’s house looked nothing like its shipping container origins. It was homey, warm, and full of light and life, a welcome change from the cold outside. It reminded me of the living compartments on our train.
    The entryway opened into a living room where one wall was nothing but pictures. Some of them didn’t even have frames; they were just taped up in layers like wallpaper, reminding me of the comic-book pages I’d used to paper my room on the train. More photos filled shelves and tables, giving a better idea of just how many people Baba had been responsible for raising.
    There was a kitchen to the right, with a window cut into the wall so we could see inside. Two closed doors were set to the back, where extra shipping containers