The Gender Game

C
opyright
© 2016 by Bella Forrest

Nightlight Press

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

T
o my readers
, for every kind comment, email and review.

I would not have come this far without you.

M
y sweating palms
slipped against the handles of my bike as I cycled at a pace I hoped would not look suspicious. I tried to fix my eyes ahead on the perfectly even road and not keep glancing over my shoulder at the makeshift wooden trailer I was pulling behind me.

As the uniform townhouses on either side of me grew sparse, so did the light. By the time I arrived at the edge of town, the sun had set.

I had been lucky so far. I hadn't passed anybody I knew, and nobody had halted me to ask where I was going.

I slowed to a stop once I reached the end of the last concrete road on this side of the city. Catching my breath, I wiped my palms against my blouse. My lower back felt sticky with sweat. And I had run out of water.

But I was almost there now.

I repositioned my throbbing palms on the handlebars and my feet on the pedals of the bike when a voice called behind me.

"Violet? Is that you?"

I froze.

I knew that voice. It was one I’d grown accustomed to hearing every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Ms. Dale, my defense trainer.

What was she doing in this part of town at nightfall?

I forced a casual expression to my face and twisted around.

The fluorescent street lamps illuminated the tall, lithe brunette standing on the sidewalk outside Georgette's Laundry. She was clutching a bundle of white sheets.

"Good evening, Ms. Dale," I called back.

"What are you doing out here, Violet?" she asked.

My jaw twitched as she left the sidewalk and approached me.

"Trashing Ms. Connelly's old china," I explained, a response I had thought up long before leaving my room this morning.

"Oh, I see," she said, her eyes moving from my three-wheeled trailer and returning to my face. "Wish I had someone to run
my
errands." She grimaced at her laundry.

I managed a half-smile.

She lingered a few seconds longer before glancing back at the launderette. "Right, well… you'd better be on your way. You know the junkyard gets creepier the later it gets."

"Yeah," I murmured.

"See you Monday."

She turned on her heel and I let out a slow breath. Gritting my teeth, I faced forward again, my eyes focusing on the narrow cobblestone path that branched off from the end of the road. I cycled for another fifteen minutes down the winding route, past the suburban cottages and misted greenhouses until I reached a pair of corrugated iron gates— the junkyard's entrance. Pulling the gates open just wide enough for my bike to fit through, I rolled it inside. I gazed around the sea of color-coded trash containers, wide-eyed. Nobody was around.
So far, so good.

The overpowering smell of artificial mint filled my nostrils as I wound around the containers toward the back of the enclosure. The chemical the hygiene department sprayed in here helped to mask the odor of trash, but had the tendency to cause a dull headache.

Arriving at the last row of trash containers lining the back wall, I stopped. I grabbed the handles of the container directly in front of me and slowly eased it forward to reveal the brickwork behind it. I hurried to the wall and sank to my knees on the ground. My fingers fumbled along the bricks, feeling for the tell-tale gap. Finding it, I gained a firmer grip and coaxed it out of place. Then I worked on the previously weakened bricks behind it and above it until I had created a hole just large enough for my frame to squeeze through.

I had to be quick now. Quicker than ever. If someone spotted me here like this, all my days of preparation, all my sleepless nights, would be in vain.

I darted for the wooden trailer hooked to the back of my bike and, clutching the clasp that was holding the lid securely shut, I unfastened it. My heart was hammering against my chest as I opened it.

Curled up in the cramped wooden crate, knees drawn to his chest, eyes tightly closed, was my eight-year-old brother, Timothy.

My eyes moved over the mark etched into his right hand. The mark of a black crescent.

The mark that had changed our lives forever.

It took a few seconds for him to unglue his eyelids and realize that it was finally time to climb out. His black hair clung to his moist forehead as he raised his head to look at me. His gray eyes shone with fear.

I leaned over and wrapped my arms around his midriff, helping him step out. He winced and groaned against me. It killed me to think of how much time he'd been holed up in that box.

But it wouldn't be long now.

It wouldn't be long.

"Come on, buddy," I breathed. "Cad will already be waiting for us."

I pointed to the dark gap in the wall. He glanced at me uncertainly before lowering to his hands and knees. He scurried through. I followed immediately behind him. A chill stole through me as we emerged on the other side.

I swallowed hard as I gazed around at the seldom-frequented surroundings. At least, what I could see of them. We were standing amid a slushy marshland, pale and glistening beneath the strip lights that lined the exterior of the wall. Fifteen feet away flowed Veil River, above which hung a dense gray mist. The river was wide, so wide that the opposite bank was a blur even in the daytime when the mist was thinner.

We crept as quietly as we could through the sludge, toward the edge of the vaporous water. I continued to reassure Tim in whispers that Cad would be waiting in his rowboat, just like he’d promised. Only a little further up… but as we reached the river's border, neither Cad nor his boat were anywhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" Tim gasped.

"He… He's got to be along here somewhere. Let's move up the bank a bit more."

I led Tim further up the river through the marsh, knowing how much danger we were in now. My whole plan had revolved around Cad being here, waiting for us, so that Tim could immediately board his boat. We shouldn't be roaming in the open like this. Wardens could spot us at any second and the consequences would be catastrophic.

"Oh!" Tim hissed, making me jump. "There's a boat!" He jabbed a finger toward the river as Cad's competitive rowboat came into view.

Warm relief washed over me.
Thank God.

Cad closed the distance between us, an apologetic look on his unshaven face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, as he bumped the boat against the bank. "I had some, uh, unexpected complications. You know, with Margot. She started asking me where I was going and… Let's just get this done."

I turned to my brother and bent down. Wrapping my arms around his thin waist, I lifted him up. But before I could pass him to Cad, he struggled against my grip, forcing me to replace him on the ground.

"Wait, Vi!" he breathed. Tears moistened his eyes. "When am I going to see you again?"

My voice caught in my throat. How could I answer a question like that? What could I tell him? I didn't want to lie and say that I would see him next week, next month, or even next year. Because once he reached the other side of the river, I didn't know if I would ever see him again.

I cupped his face in my hands and planted a firm kiss against his forehead, his nose, then his cheeks.

"We'll see," was all I could think to whisper.

My chest ached as I thought of returning home to the orphanage tonight to sleep alone in my room. And tomorrow, waking up without him. How I would have to maintain complete ignorance as to his whereabouts to everyone in the city.

I pushed the thoughts aside.

"I love you, Tim," I said, hugging him tightly as I buried my face in his hair. "Don't forget it."

"I love you too, Ma," he whispered.

Ma.
How I despised it when he called me that.
And now of all times…

Gripping him firmly, I pried his arms away from my neck and rose to my feet.

"You need to go," I choked.

Tears streamed down his dirty cheeks as he finally let me pass him to Cad, who hauled him onto the boat.

Even as Tim left my grasp, every part of me remained holding on. As Cad sat Tim down and, with a grim nod of his head, began to row away, I couldn't let go.

My eyes stung as I gazed through the mist at their retreating shadows.

I had already imagined this moment in my head long before tonight. I'd pictured myself standing on the muddy bank, staring out over the water and waiting until the mist engulfed the boat. Until I lost sight of them completely. But now that it was happening, I couldn't handle it. It only made Tim's departure seem all the more final. All the more conclusive.

I turned and began wading back across the marshland, but after barely five steps, I stalled.

Three hunched shadows loomed near the wall. Three large, black dogs. Sniffers. And behind them, two tall, broad-shouldered women in deep green uniform. Wardens patrolling on their nightly rounds of the wall's perimeter.

I dropped down, flattening myself against the wet ground, the panic in my chest almost suffocating me.

It was too late.

They had seen and sensed me. Growls ripped from the dogs' throats as they closed the distance. But it wasn't the end of the world if I was caught out here. As long as—

"Watch out, Violet!"

Tim's scream.

My blood ran cold.

Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy!

The dogs' and wardens' attention instantly shot to the water, where the outline of Cad's boat was still visible.

Losing all interest in me, the five of them dashed to the water's edge. One of the women pulled out a whistle from her pocket and blew it before barking a command to the dogs.

"No!" I cried, stumbling after them.

In spite of its toxicity, the dogs leapt into the water, their powerful legs navigating the current twice as fast as Cad's oars as he attempted to speed up and escape.

Two of the animals reached the boat and leapt onto it, causing Cad to topple into the river. One of the dogs closed its jaws around Tim's shirt and tugged hard, pulling him over the edge and into the water.

My vision became tunnel-like. All I could see was Tim being pulled through the water, back to the bank. I attempted to swoop in and grab him as the dog arrived at the shore, but one of the women leapt at me. Tripping up my already shaking legs, she tackled me to the ground.

"Violet!" Tim screamed again. I gazed helplessly as the second warden locked his inflamed arms behind his back and began dragging him away.

Back toward the wall.

As the woman straddling my hips drove a tranquilizer dart into my shoulder, that scream would become the last memory I ever had of my brother: A marked boy.