Donor 23 (3 page)

She thought of the Governor in the stands. Joan wanted to impress him. Joan always wanted to do her duty, follow his rules, and obey his laws, as she had been taught in school. Photographs of him adorned everywhere.

But deep inside her existed conflicting emotions, nagging feelings that crept out when she looked at his photo—feelings of awe and admiration mixed with disgust and hatred. Now he was here, standing over her, watching her.

Up in the stands, Tegan and Duncan tried the food. Mrs. Gates, likewise, ate and fed bits of it to her primly coifed dog
sitting in her lap. The doctor gazed at his wrist phone. The Governor and the trainer observed the audition.

Joan nervously glanced up to the stands—her eyes on the Governor—just as the first donor, number 609, stepped up to throw. 609’s javelin soared through the air and sliced into the grass, swaying to and fro, as workers measured the length. Then came number 18. Her pitch measured much the same. Number 85’s throw was better.

Joan was last. She paused in concentration and caught her breath, slowing it, cleansing her mind—preparing everything so that her body could perform. She made her approach running, then pulled the javelin behind her back and threw. For what seemed endless seconds, the spear sailed through space, reaching an arc, before it plummeted down and knifed into the soft ground…farther than 85’s. Relief swept over her. She hoped Tegan had seen it.

“Dad, can I have just one glass of champagne?” Tegan asked loudly.

The trainer interjected, “Tegan, not only are you not old enough, but you’re in training.”

“Dad…” Tegan ignored her trainer and pleaded with her father.

“Half a glass,” Governor Gates nodded to the waitress. “Duncan, do you want a little, too?”

The Governor turned his attention back to the field.

“Sure, thank you, sir,” Duncan smiled. No one ever said no to Our Governor.

The waitress came over to them. She poured the bubbly wine, her donor tattoo plainly evident. She was young and pretty, with black hair set off by striking violet eyes. Two glasses stood on her tray, and she carefully poured champagne into one of them, stopping when Tegan’s glass was half full. Tegan nudged her arm, motioning for her to fill the glass. The nudge from Tegan caused the waitress to lose balance of the tray. The empty glass fell off the tray and broke on the ground.

“Stupid,” Tegan chided her.

Duncan tried to calm down the waitress, who was clearly nervous serving the Governor and his famous daughter. He bent over and picked up the pieces of glass, “See, a clean break, only two pieces,” he said, as he handed them back to her.

The waitress retrieved another glass and filled it for Duncan. Tegan noticed the girl’s eyes when the waitress set the glass down.

“Cool purple eyes,” Tegan grabbed her arm and bent the waitress’s face toward her. “Surprised your benefactor hasn’t taxed those.”

On her run for the second throw, Joan felt her leg tighten. When she let go of the javelin, she recognized immediately it was not a good throw. This time it landed behind 85’s spear. Joan tried not to rub or favor her leg while she and the others prepared for the third throw.

The second in line began her run up for the third throw. Like her other throws, it was a good, strong throw, but still it landed behind Joan’s first throw. Number 85 took her approach and let go of the spear. It went farther than Joan’s second throw.

Joan stepped up for her third try. As she picked up the javelin, she put all thoughts out of her mind. She needed to concentrate.

“That number 23 has nice form. Her first throw was good, but that last run up looked bad,” the Governor said.

“23 was the donor for Tegan’s last tax—the thigh—two months ago. She may not be back up to par, yet,” the trainer told the Governor.

The Governor took a sip of champagne. “Tegan just won a medal yesterday. She managed to ‘get back up to par.’ Why not this 23? Maybe I’ll have a talk with Jack. I’m not keeping a donor on board who can’t keep up.” Taking another sip, “Nice vintage.”

Sensing an opportunity to impress the Governor, Garcia explained, “I ordered it from New Europe. A whole case. It came in on a ship last week.”

“Hmm, just shipped in, you say?” Gates murmured. His eyes displayed a hint of irritation.

Garcia’s mouth dropped—he shouldn’t have anything of better quality than Our Governor has. “I’ll send the case over to you, Governor. Please accept it with my compliments, sir.”

Behind him, Tegan studied the tray of food, “Bring me more of those cheese puffs,” she ordered the waitress. “Want anything, Duncan?”

“No, but I see plenty of those cheese things on that table over there. I’ll get you some.” He started to stand.

Tegan grabbed his arm. “It’s her job. Geez, just sit down. Drink your champagne. You haven’t touched it.”

“I’m in training.”

With an angry look, Tegan picked up his glass and poured the contents into her own.

“I’m going to go down to the gym,” Duncan said. “Some of my old trainers work there, from when I was a kid. I want to say hi.”

Mrs. Gates glanced up at him, “You’re leaving, Duncan?”

“Yeah, I wanted to go say hi to some friends. Thanks for the drink and the food.” He turned and addressed the Governor more formally, “Thank you, Governor.”

Nonchalantly, the Governor queried, “Duncan, has your father been Outside lately? Down south? Does he have any of those cigars?”

The Governor knew Duncan’s father had been to the Outside. As the Governor, he knew when any citizen left the country and traveled to the Outside. They had to have his permission. He paid particular attention to the many business trips taken by Duncan’s father. He also knew every item Mr. Starr had brought back from each trip. Asking questions like this was a way for him to remind his subjects of his power and his knowledge. He realized Duncan would mention the query to his father.

Joan threw her javelin for the third time. She put all her strength into her final throw, an excellent throw. The average length of her three throws should end up better than 85’s average.

After Duncan left the stands, Tegan returned to her wrist phone, and Governor Gates motioned to the waitress to pour him another glass of champagne. As the waitress filled his glass, he perceived her for the first time. She was pretty, very pretty. With his hand, the Governor gestured toward his aide. The aide understood the sign. As he has done on other occasions,
the aide would arrange for the girl to be in the Governor’s room that night.

The trainer looked at his wrist phone getting the results, “They finished the three rounds. 23’s average was the longest, by one inch. 85 was second. The other two were at least three inches behind her. Of course, this is a game of inches.”

“Oh, right,” the Governor uttered, still staring at the waitress, “but 23 was the one that had a bad approach.”

The Governor continued admiring the waitress as she poured the champagne, following the curves of her shirt and the smoothness of her hands, taking leisurely pleasure in her. Her violet-colored eyes captivated him.

Absently he said to Garcia, “Have that 23 take a few more throws.”

The trainer punched into his wrist phone.