The Torturer's Daughter Page 2

  Becca quieted the voice in the back of her mind that told her Internal almost never got it wrong. The voice that reminded her how Heather’s parents had encouraged Heather not to join the Monitors, and how they always got quiet when the news came on. “How do you know for sure it was them doing all this, and not somebody else? That’s happened before. You’ve told me.” Becca stood up. “Did you look into it? Can’t you try to figure out what happened?”

  “Sit down, Becca. There’s something else I need to talk to you about.” Her mom sounded more like a capital-M Mother, and less like herself, with every word.

  Becca sat down.

  “It’s about Heather. Children from dissident families…” She shook her head. “There’s not much we can do with them. The options are to arrest them along with their parents, or let them go and hope their parents’ ideology didn’t get passed down to them. A futile hope, in too many cases.”

  Becca’s eyes narrowed. “Heather is not a dissident.” This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Her mom was supposed to find out what had gone wrong and fix it. She wasn’t supposed to say Heather’s parents were dissidents. She wasn’t supposed to practically accuse Heather of being a dissident.

  “Unfortunately, there’s no way to know for sure. The odds aren’t good. And the directors have been telling us to ease up on dissidents’ families lately—some new initiative or other—so she wasn’t even sent down for questioning. If they would just let us do our jobs…” She shook her head. “So for now, I’d prefer it if the two of you saw less of each other.”

  Like Becca was going to abandon her best friend right when Heather needed her most. “You didn’t answer me. How do you even know this isn’t all a mistake?”

  Becca’s mom looked away. “Because they’ve confessed. They were assigned to me; that’s why I had to work through the night. I heard their confessions firsthand.”

  Silence echoed through the room.

  Becca stood again. “I need to go get some sleep. I’m going to have to get up for school soon.”

  “If you want to talk some more—”

  About what? Heather’s supposed secret life as a dissident? Her mom in an interrogation room with Heather’s parents? “Not right now. I need to think.”

  Becca’s mom opened her mouth as Becca stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. Becca closed her bedroom door behind her before her mom could say anything else.

  Chapter Two

  As Becca struggled to stay awake during her morning classes, the whispers floated in the air around her. Her parents. Last night. I heard Becca Dalcourt made them let her go—you know who her mother is, don’t you?

  Becca tried to block out the whispers and the stares. She looked for Heather in the halls, but didn’t see her. How was Heather handling this? Heather, who had come to Becca in tears last week after someone had started a rumor about her cheating on a geometry test.

  When she walked into the cafeteria, everyone’s head swiveled toward her. The room’s constant roar of conversation dropped to a murmur. She thought she heard her name a few times, along with Heather’s. The force of all those eyes and all those whispers felt like enough to melt her into the ground, but she wasn’t that lucky.

  She almost turned around right then—she could spend lunch in the library. But the thought of Heather facing this alone made her stay.

  She scanned Heather’s usual table, filled with the school’s elite. Heather wasn’t there. Maybe she had skipped school… or maybe—Becca’s chest tightened—Enforcement had gone back for her. But no, there she was, by herself at a table in the corner, hunched miserably over her lunch tray.

  Becca had already played a major part in a lot of the stories making their way around the school this morning. If she sat at Heather’s table she would practically be announcing herself as a dissident. And her mom had told her not to spend time with Heather…

  It only took her a second to decide. She crossed the room and set her lunch bag down beside Heather’s tray.

  To the people who didn’t know her, Heather probably looked as polished as ever. But Becca took in the wrinkles in her shirt, her hastily-brushed hair, the dark circles under her eyes.

  Heather gave Becca a tired smile that dissolved halfway through into a near-sob. She turned her head away and poked at the congealed turkey on her tray. “Thanks for sitting with me.”

  “I went to 117 for you. You think I’d abandon you now? This is nothing.” She slid into the chair next to Heather. “Besides, it’s not like I believe any of the stuff they’re saying. You’re not a dissident.” She wasn’t. No matter what Becca’s mom said. Her mom didn’t know Heather like she did. And anyway, her job was bound to make her paranoid about that kind of thing.

  Heather made a strangled noise at the last word. She swiped her hand across her eyes, but not before Becca saw the tear that had started running down her cheek.

  The last time Heather had cried in the cafeteria was when her boyfriend of six weeks had dumped her for some freshman. Becca had sat picking at her lunch, separated from Heather by the backs of everyone who wanted to win points with her by offering her a tissue at just the right time or coming up with the perfect insult for the boy in question. That night, Heather had slept over, and she and Becca had stayed up all night talking and ceremoniously tearing up Heather’s few pictures of him. The next day Heather had been her usual self again, eyes sparkling as she painted her nails candy pink and wondered aloud how long it would be before her ex realized what he was missing.

  Becca wished she could believe it would be that easy this time.

  She glanced over at their usual table. At least sitting in exile with Heather meant she didn’t have to sit at that table and endure another lunch period of subtle snubs from Heather’s friends. A rush of shame followed on the heels of that thought. Heather had lost everything, and this was what Becca thought about?

  As soon as Becca looked at them, Heather’s friends—probably ex-friends now—all snapped their heads forward, trying to pretend they had been focusing on their lunches the whole time. Becca hoped they all got whiplash.

  It wasn’t just that table, either. Everywhere she looked, eyes darted to her and Heather, and then away. A black-haired boy two tables away met her eyes when she caught him staring. She couldn’t read his intense expression. For a minute Becca thought he might get up and come over to them, but he stayed where he was, dropping his gaze to his tray.

  “What do you think is happening to them?”

  Becca turned back to Heather. “Who?”

  Heather shoved the turkey around some more. “My parents.”

  Becca knew all the reassuring things Heather wanted to hear. She couldn’t say them. How could she, when she knew they weren’t true?

  Two trays hit the table, saving Becca from having to answer. Anna and Laine slid into the seats across from Becca and Heather. Unlike the rest of Heather’s friends, they were Becca’s friends too, and they weren’t as quick to strike when they smelled blood in the water. Becca should have known they wouldn’t turn on the two of them like everyone else. Becca shot them a grateful smile—both for saving her and, more importantly, for braving the cafeteria’s hostile eyes to support Heather.

  Anna opened her mouth before she had fully made it into her seat. “Is it true? Are your parents really… you know…” She waved her hand in a vague gesture.

  “They were arrested,” Heather mumbled, not looking at either of them. “They aren’t dissidents. It was a mistake.” She stabbed a slice of turkey with her fork.

  Anna turned to Becca. “You were there, weren’t you?” Her words tripped over each other in their rush to leave her mouth. “Did you really get them to let Heather go? How did you do it?”

  Becca was starting to feel sick—and it wasn’t from the smell of Heather’s lunch. She pushed her own untouched lunch away.

  Next to Anna, Laine held herself rigid, like she was afraid Heather would start spouting dissident propaganda at her. She
uncoiled long enough to speak. “If they aren’t dissidents, why were they arrested?”

  Heather examined her lunch. “I don’t know.”

  “You might not even know if they were,” Anna pointed out. “I mean, it’s not like they’d talk about it.”

  “And if she did know,” said Laine, pointedly looking away from Heather as she spoke, “why would she tell us?”

  Becca met Laine’s narrowed eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You have to admit, it doesn’t look good.” Laine fingered her Monitor pin, a small golden shield with an eye in the center, conspicuously.

  A few years ago, only the really political kids and the ones angling for good Internal jobs after graduation had become Monitors, or so Becca had heard. Then a group of the most popular seniors got political and joined. After that, pretty much everyone in the school’s inner circles signed up every year to observe their fellow students for Internal—but Heather hadn’t. Not as a freshman, not as a sophomore, and not this year as a junior.

  Becca hadn’t joined either. She probably wouldn’t have even if she had been popular enough that people expected it. Her mom was already pressuring her enough about getting a job with Internal after she graduated. If she joined the Monitors, it would be like giving in and saying she was going to follow in her mom’s footsteps. So she couldn’t blame Heather for making the same choice. But now, after last night… Laine was right: it didn’t look good.

  Becca met Laine’s eyes and didn’t look away. “If you think Heather is a dissident, why are you even here?”

  “We came to talk to you.” Laine didn’t look away either. “We saw you sitting here with her, and, well, you have to know what it will look like if you take her side.”

  “People are already calling you a dissident,” Anna added. “Not that we believe them.”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong.” Becca edged her chair closer to Heather’s, just in case Heather—or Laine and Anna, for that matter—had any doubts about whose side she was on.

  Laine gestured to the poster above her head. “Are you sure about that?”

  Don’t be fooled, the poster warned. Dissidents are everywhere. A sinister smile peeked out from behind a mask. Beside that poster, another encouraged students to consider a career in Internal Defense. Like Becca didn’t hear enough of that from her mom already.

  Unlike Laine, Anna looked at Heather when she spoke. “We haven’t all decided you’re a dissident,” she said, shooting Laine a brief glare. “We just want to know what’s going on. You’re our friend. When we heard what happened, we got worried.”

  Anna’s eyes were shining. This had to be the most exciting thing to happen to her in a long time.

  Becca felt like she had swallowed sewage. “So you came over here to make sure Heather was okay. It has nothing to do with you looking for gossip to take back to your friends over there.”

  Becca had trusted them. She had thought they weren’t like the others. Most of Heather’s friends treated Becca with as much contempt as they thought they could get away with, jealous of her place as Heather’s best friend, bewildered that someone who wasn’t interested in playing the popularity game was closer to Heather than any of them. But Laine and Anna had been different. They had been Heather’s friends first, of course, but they had been Becca’s friends too.

  How many hours had she and Heather spent with them? How many inside jokes had they accumulated over the past couple of years? And for what? So that now they could pick at her and Becca while the other vultures kept their distance?

  Anna, at least, had the grace to look ashamed.

  “We were just trying to help,” Laine muttered. To Becca, not to Heather.

  Becca sat up a little straighter. “Unlike the rest of Heather’s so-called friends, I’m not going to abandon her, no matter what her parents did. You can stay here and eat, and quit accusing Heather of things she’d never do—or you can leave and get your gossip someplace else.”

  “You know it’s only a matter of time before they arrest her,” said Laine with a twist of her lips. “You might want to change your mind before then, or you’ll be right there with her.” She turned to Heather. “It’s not enough for you to be plotting God-knows-what with your parents? You have to drag Becca into this too?”

  Heather’s hands tightened on her lunch tray.

  “You should tell Becca the truth so she can get out of this mess while she still can,” Laine continued. “You owe her that much. Otherwise she’ll be executed along with you and your parents.”

  Becca stood. “I told you I don’t want your help. Either you can leave, or we will.”

  Laine ignored Becca. All her attention was on Heather now. “I hope they make you watch when they execute your traitor parents. I hope—”

  A glob of turkey hit Laine in the face. Heather stood still for a moment, breathing rapidly, clutching her now-empty tray. She dropped the tray; it clattered to the floor. While Laine sputtered and spat out turkey goo, Heather ran out of the room.

  Becca didn’t spare Laine and Anna another glance before scrambling out of her seat to follow.

  * * *

  Becca caught up with Heather in front of the school. Heather was sitting on the front steps, head on her arms, arms on her knees. When Becca sat down next to her, she didn’t move.

  Becca scanned the area for teachers or Monitors who might spot them outside. It was bad enough to leave the building during school hours; it would be much worse for someone to think she was sneaking off alone with a suspected dissident. She didn’t see anybody—just the unnaturally-clean brick walls of the school, and the unnaturally-green grass. The new high school had just gotten finished earlier this year. The walls didn’t have that familiar coating of dust and grime yet, and the new grass hadn’t had a chance to yellow in the sun.

  She and Heather were safe for now. No one was around to spot them.

  There would be no convenient interruptions to save her this time.

  What if Heather asked about her parents again?

  Heather raised her head, revealing her puffy eyes and smeared makeup. “I can’t do this.”

  Becca put an arm around her shoulders. “You did great.”

  “Last night Aunt Lydia kept tiptoeing past the door of the guest room, like she thought she was going to catch me calling my dissident friends or something. Every time I heard her footsteps, I thought it was Enforcement. When I tried to go downstairs to get a glass of water, the door was locked. She didn’t unlock it until morning. And then I came here, and everyone…”

  Becca’s shoulders tightened at the memory of Laine’s stiff hostility and Anna’s eagerness for a juicy story. “They don’t know anything.”

  Heather stared down at the concrete. “They’re my friends. I’ve known Laine and Anna since junior high, and they acted like I was just some dissident.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Everyone thinks I’m a dissident now.”

  “I don’t.” She wouldn’t allow herself to doubt Heather. She couldn’t. Not when everyone else, from their friends to Becca’s mom, had turned against her. Besides, she knew Heather too well to think she could be a dissident. So what if her parents were dissidents? Heather wasn’t, any more than Becca wanted to work in Processing like her mom.

  “And if people can’t even see that I’m a good citizen, what about my parents?” Heather continued as though Becca hadn’t spoken. “I thought Internal had to realize they’d made a mistake eventually. But if my own friends think I’m a dissident… maybe Internal won’t figure it out after all. Not until it’s too late.”

  Becca kept her mouth shut. What could she say? That Internal had been right about Heather’s parents? That they had confessed to passing information to other dissidents? Besides, maybe there was still some other explanation. Couldn’t her mom have… misheard them or something?

  Heather stood up. She looked down at Becca, but it was like she was staring through her. “I have to do something.”

&nb
sp; Becca motioned her back down. “There’s nothing you can do. If it’s a mistake…” She paused, afraid of the damage even that small amount of doubt could do. “…and it has to be a mistake… Internal will figure it out.” She hated lying. But if she told the truth, she would become just another vulture in Heather’s eyes, and Heather would lose the only friend she had left.

  Right. She was just trying to keep from hurting Heather. It had nothing to do with her fear of how Heather might react. What Heather might think of her.

  She believed that about as much as she believed Anna and Laine had only wanted to help.

  “Do you think you could talk to your mom for me?” Heather’s voice was thready. Her eyes pleaded with Becca. “She’d listen to you. And Internal listens to her. If you can get her to understand that my parents are innocent, they’ll have to do something.”

  Now was the time to tell Heather about the conversation she’d already had with her mom. No matter how much it would hurt.

  She looked away. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Coward.

  Heather’s face was white, like all her blood had spilled out of her along with her tears. “Then I have to do it.” She turned around and started walking toward the pristine grass.

  Becca rushed after her. “Do what?”

  Heather didn’t look back. “Make them understand. Tell them they got it wrong.” She didn’t sound like she was talking to Becca anymore.

  Becca grabbed Heather’s shoulder and spun her around. “Tell who?” she demanded. “Internal?”

  Heather’s eyes were directed toward Becca, but she wasn’t looking at her. “Then they’ll know none of us are dissidents. Not my parents. Not me.”

  It had been hard enough for Becca to get in to see Heather—the receptionist had been ready to treat her as a potential threat until she had mentioned her last name. If Heather went to Internal and demanded that they release her parents… after her parents had already confessed to dissident activity… “They’ll arrest you. And then whatever happens to your parents will happen to you. Why would they believe you if they don’t even trust your parents?”