UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,11
It’s something they’ve never done before. Keeping the size of the home’s population consistent has always been at issue—around ten kids go every six months or so—but culling kids because of budget cuts? She looks to Thor, hoping he’ll laugh at the very idea or just shake his head at how preposterous it is. But there’s a seriousness to him now that makes her frown.
They meet eyes, and Brooklyn stops signing. Now she mouths the words for him, slowly. Solemnly. You know something I don’t?
The teachers make Thor speak in class, or at least they try to. Everywhere else he only signs. Brooklyn never makes him read her lips unless she needs to read him. See his eyes.
Peace, Brooks, he signs back. I know nothing, but I watch the news. You think you’re at risk?
She returns to signing. Thor’s always telling her that her signing conveys only words, that she doesn’t have the knack of showing emotion through her fingers. Like what Durkin said about the way she played music. That it sounded like a death rattle.
Boeufs push the limits. The headmaster can’t complain that I make a good monster. She fingers in her usual boring way, hoping that Thor will miss the bitter twist in her lips and the fear in her eyes.
And you’re worried that you’ve lost points because of that fight last week?
She looks from his fingers to his face and feels her mouth drop. How did he know?
He grins. Don’t underestimate the deaf network, B.
She shoots back a sign not invented by the deaf. He laughs, but then his face turns more serious. Even boeufs know to kiss up to their lieutenants, B. It’s the one survival skill you lack. Thor taps her arm to make sure she gets the point. I like you, B, because you’re not political. You say what you mean. You mean what you say. But that won’t win you any friends.
She mouths at him, The list is about rank, and how you score against the other kids. It is not a popularity contest. Then she signs, Will you find out where I am on the list?
He leans back in his chair, the metal complaining loudly. She manages a smile, knowing he wouldn’t care even if he heard it. He studies her somberly. Why are you anxious, B? Your grades are fine.
Maybe she is a little worried about Tuesday’s fight, but he doesn’t need to know that. She shrugs. Yeah, all is good. I just gotta know.
She feels her forehead crease with uneasiness, and Thor sees it. Now he looks worried too.
• • •
When Brooklyn changes for dinner, Abigail, one of her dorm mates, admires her Parana River shirt. Another dorm mate, Naomi, asks where she got it.
Brooklyn shrugs. “Charity closet. Some church sent a big delivery yesterday.”
A ripple of excitement moves through the room, like the vapor of lemon-scented soap and mint ChapStick that always hangs there.
Abigail asks suspiciously why their DormGuardian hadn’t made an announcement about the delivery, and another dorm mate asks how Brooklyn nabbed the shirt when the closet is closed on Sundays.
“I got it yesterday.”
“But you said it came in yesterday,” Abigail says. “It takes twenty-four hours to clean and sort them.”
Brooklyn winks. “So it pays to know someone in laundry, don’t it?”
Some of the girls laugh, and others stare enviously at the shirt. It’s nice to be the center of attention. The focus of jealousy. She adds generously, “Next time a good haul comes in, I’ll let you know.”
“You should have told us this time,” Naomi says, disgruntled. “You’re supposed to watch out for your ward sisters.”
Brooklyn musters a smile, thinking, Yeah, right. In a StaHo, you watch out for yourself and maybe for those in your squad. But mostly yourself, because no one else will.
“Next time,” she repeats.
• • •
The StaHo dining hall holds about three hundred wards, meaning they eat in shifts in the large room painted institutional green with puke-yellow accents. She and her fellow sixteen-year-olds sit their shifts at long tables lit by high windows and low bay fluorescents. Too much light in Brooklyn’s opinion. StaHo food doesn’t bear close inspection.
At dinner Logan, one of her squad mates, slides onto the bench next to her. Logan is strong but bumble footed in relays and useless with nav tools. She drills him, and he gives her the latest news on food and clothing deliveries. For some reason he thinks she’s getting the better deal and should be grateful for it.
“That shirt looks good