Price of a Bounty - By S. L. Wallace Page 0,52
myself and for April, not caring about anyone else. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
“And you don’t have to.”
Guy pulled me into a warm embrace. I leaned against him and felt his strength. When he pulled away, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a shiny gold pendant. It looked like a serpent in the shape of an S striking at a gold coin. It sparkled in the sun.
“I know it can never replace the locket you lost, but I want you to know that I’m glad.”
“About what?”
“That I was right about you.”
-Scott-
No Race Can Prosper
“No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. - Booker T. Washington.”
“What?” April asked.
“That quote is what started it all.”
“How do you mean?”
“I met Rick a few months before my sixteenth birthday. He was new in town. He hadn’t realized who was who at school yet, so he crossed social lines that aren’t typically crossed.”
“You had classes together?” April asked in surprise.
“Of course not. He was placed in classes with the other rich kids, but I was sitting alone at lunch those days. I was busy trying to figure out my future. It’s hard to know who to sit with at lunch, especially if you’re new. Do you try to break into an established clique? Should you sit alone? Or, should you sit with someone else who looks as lonely as you?”
“I see.”
“‘No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. - Booker T. Washington.’ That was the first thing Rick ever said to me. He said they’d been discussing that quote in English class, and he wanted to know my opinion. At first I thought he was joking. A rich kid, asking for my opinion? I looked around to see who was watching, but no one was. No one had ever been interested in my opinion in anything before that.”
“I’ve always been interested in your opinions,” April reminded me.
“So you have.” I smiled. “How are you doing?”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“There’s an envelope in the glove compartment. It contains your paperwork: a new ID, travel documents and bank account information. Memorize the address on the ID. If anyone asks for your permanent residence, that’s what you should tell them, even though it isn’t where you’ll really be staying. All correspondence will be routed through that address.”
“Where will I be staying?”
“When you’re not at the Art Institute, you’ll live and work with Danielle Bellami. You should follow her instructions while you’re in Parisio. She can be trusted.”
“How will I know who can be trusted and who can’t? I’m not used to mistrusting people. That’s more Keira’s style.”
“Just follow Danielle’s lead, and you’ll catch on in no time. I think you’re going to like her. You’re alias is Aimee Lafleur. It will be best if you use that name from now on, especially when you return home. There’s a good chance you’ll be wanted, for questioning if nothing else. Beckett’s family won’t let his death go unnoticed.”
April looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of that either, Scott.”
I reached for her hand. “We’ll help you through this. We all will. Just don’t turn yourself in. You wouldn’t get fair treatment.”
“Will I ever be able to use my real name again?”
“Only with people you’re absolutely sure you can trust.”
April nodded and opened the glove compartment. She studied her new ID, then put the documents into a purse she’d chosen from the safe house. It complemented her outfit. She really did have a flair for both style and color. If clothing styles were any indication, she and Danielle would get along well.
Other than her eye, April looked great, and even that didn’t look so bad. The eye drops the doctor had given her were already beginning the healing process.
“So, what did you tell him?” April asked suddenly.
“Who?” I asked.
“Rick…Guy…what did you tell him? Your opinion of the quote,” she reminded me.
“Well, I think it means that everyone is necessary. As long as a person finds some way to contribute to society, it doesn’t matter which task he chooses. We’re all important. That’s what I told him.”
“Did he agree with you?”
“Yes, and that was the beginning of the Resistance, only we didn’t know it at the time.”
“Scott, do you think what Keira does is necessary?”
I was quiet