not?” she blurted.
It took me a second to register what she’d said. “A go?”
“You watch me. I figured you were ready to ask for a go.”
A go at her.
Oh , God.
There couldn’t have been anything else I wanted less than sex.
“No!” I said too loudly.
She recoiled.
I backpedaled. “I just thought you’d do well on the Line. Since you get paid there.”
Her face froze for a moment and her eyes drilled into mine. “Paid?”
“Yeah. They give you a private sleeping chamber and your own room for appointments. They have doctors and nurses there to keep you healthy. I used to work there.”
“You don’t look like you’re off the Line,” she said, eyeing me.
“I don’t?”
She shrugged as if dismissing the idea as soon as it occurred to her. “Thought you’d be, I don’t know, older. Look more used up or something.”
I sure felt used up, and probably looked it too, but that confession wouldn’t have helped my cause just then. What was this girl playing at? “Thanks, I guess.”
“And you got paid?” the girl added, squinting her eyes at me.
“Well, yes, they pay.” Half-truth.
“They feed you?”
“More than sausage sandwiches.” Oatmeal mush, with biscuits hard as rocks and mystery meat gravy, usually.
The girl sighed, as if the thought of food was worth it for her. “Why’d you quit?”
I hesitated. I could tell her the truth, but she would bolt. If I lied, she might know I tricked her once she got there. But did that matter? “My contract was up,” I offered. So they’d said.
“Contract?” she asked.
“Ten years.”
“Hmm.” She turned and went back to work.
I couldn’t tell how the talk had gone. It was the most we’d said to each other in almost a week. She seemed intrigued by the idea of the Line, and that didn’t sit well with me.
I knew it was what I had to do, what I’d been doing by watching, stalking this girl and trying to gain her trust enough to talk to her about it, but just then I couldn’t bear to look at her.
The idea of what I was doing repulsed me.
I left the bar. A perfectly clean glass of water was still sitting at my table.
* * *
By leaving the bar early, I was forced to go back to the boarding house. It was just a few hours after twilight. One of the lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling of the women’s room had burned out, putting half of it into shadow. The lights of the room couldn’t be shut off until nearly midnight.
I sat on my bunk, clutching my knees to my chest, my back against the wall, and watched the women. It was the same group from my first day, except the one who’d left.
From what I could tell, a few of them worked off and on at a glass-recycling factory, sorting different-colored bottles. They bickered back and forth about who was picked to work that day and who didn’t have enough to eat. Two of them whispered passionately to each other in the corner. One woman snored from her bunk by the door, her lean arm dangling from her cot. The little girl didn’t say much of anything. Though I did overhear her tell an orange-haired woman that she had blisters from sweeping all day.
I wondered if that would be me soon, sweeping like her or working in the factory like the others. When the credits ran out, and I made my own living, I would have to compete with these women for work. I knew I didn’t want to raise the babies here, in the boarding house. But I wasn’t sure how was I supposed to go to work with no one to look after them. There was still so much I had to figure out.
What if I couldn’t earn enough to feed them?
I knew I could never take them to an orphanage. With population control monitored by Auberge, many children ended up there. It was overcrowded, underfunded and crawling with disease. Plus, orphanages were known for their rampant abuse. They often sold unruly girls to the Line; I’d met a few of them. The orphanage girls told stories of babies lying around in cribs all day with no human contact
It took me a second to register what she’d said. “A go?”
“You watch me. I figured you were ready to ask for a go.”
A go at her.
Oh , God.
There couldn’t have been anything else I wanted less than sex.
“No!” I said too loudly.
She recoiled.
I backpedaled. “I just thought you’d do well on the Line. Since you get paid there.”
Her face froze for a moment and her eyes drilled into mine. “Paid?”
“Yeah. They give you a private sleeping chamber and your own room for appointments. They have doctors and nurses there to keep you healthy. I used to work there.”
“You don’t look like you’re off the Line,” she said, eyeing me.
“I don’t?”
She shrugged as if dismissing the idea as soon as it occurred to her. “Thought you’d be, I don’t know, older. Look more used up or something.”
I sure felt used up, and probably looked it too, but that confession wouldn’t have helped my cause just then. What was this girl playing at? “Thanks, I guess.”
“And you got paid?” the girl added, squinting her eyes at me.
“Well, yes, they pay.” Half-truth.
“They feed you?”
“More than sausage sandwiches.” Oatmeal mush, with biscuits hard as rocks and mystery meat gravy, usually.
The girl sighed, as if the thought of food was worth it for her. “Why’d you quit?”
I hesitated. I could tell her the truth, but she would bolt. If I lied, she might know I tricked her once she got there. But did that matter? “My contract was up,” I offered. So they’d said.
“Contract?” she asked.
“Ten years.”
“Hmm.” She turned and went back to work.
I couldn’t tell how the talk had gone. It was the most we’d said to each other in almost a week. She seemed intrigued by the idea of the Line, and that didn’t sit well with me.
I knew it was what I had to do, what I’d been doing by watching, stalking this girl and trying to gain her trust enough to talk to her about it, but just then I couldn’t bear to look at her.
The idea of what I was doing repulsed me.
I left the bar. A perfectly clean glass of water was still sitting at my table.
* * *
By leaving the bar early, I was forced to go back to the boarding house. It was just a few hours after twilight. One of the lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling of the women’s room had burned out, putting half of it into shadow. The lights of the room couldn’t be shut off until nearly midnight.
I sat on my bunk, clutching my knees to my chest, my back against the wall, and watched the women. It was the same group from my first day, except the one who’d left.
From what I could tell, a few of them worked off and on at a glass-recycling factory, sorting different-colored bottles. They bickered back and forth about who was picked to work that day and who didn’t have enough to eat. Two of them whispered passionately to each other in the corner. One woman snored from her bunk by the door, her lean arm dangling from her cot. The little girl didn’t say much of anything. Though I did overhear her tell an orange-haired woman that she had blisters from sweeping all day.
I wondered if that would be me soon, sweeping like her or working in the factory like the others. When the credits ran out, and I made my own living, I would have to compete with these women for work. I knew I didn’t want to raise the babies here, in the boarding house. But I wasn’t sure how was I supposed to go to work with no one to look after them. There was still so much I had to figure out.
What if I couldn’t earn enough to feed them?
I knew I could never take them to an orphanage. With population control monitored by Auberge, many children ended up there. It was overcrowded, underfunded and crawling with disease. Plus, orphanages were known for their rampant abuse. They often sold unruly girls to the Line; I’d met a few of them. The orphanage girls told stories of babies lying around in cribs all day with no human contact
Similar Books
