The Moon Dwellers (31 page)

“There’s something I should tell y
ou,” Cole says
, finally sitting down on the floor.

I glance
at him
, but then back to
the tel
ly
as the next segment
begins
.
It is a review of each of us—
our pasts, our crimes, our sentences, t
hat kind of thing.
They start with Tawni and brush
past her pret
ty quickly, saying Cole and I a
re bad influences
on her and that her sentence i
s much lighter—for the minor charge of illegal interstate traveling.

“My parents are hard at work doing d
amage control again,” Tawni says
sullenly
, as if she would prefer to be depicted as a hardened criminal
.

They move
onto me next, turning my parents’ slight rebelliousness into an act of hig
h treason, framing it like we a
re a family of thieves and s
p
ies, not satisfied until we destroy
everything from the Star Re
alm to the Sun Realm.
They go
into a lot of detail
about how it mak
e
s sense that I would
try to escape, given my life
sentence.
By the time they a
re done with me,
I
even feel
slightly a
shamed of myself, although I have
done nothing wrong.

The broadcast ends
with Cole, touting him as the ringleader of ou
r little gang, noting that he i
s “as cunning
as he is dangerous.”
I grin at him when they say
that, expecting him to take i
t as a compliment, but he looks
away from me, his lips a straight line, unreadable.

I wait
for them to tell Cole’s story about the bakery, his attempted theft of six loaves of bread, his apprehension and short juvie sentence.

I fin
d out the truth.

There was no bakery, no br
ead, no mild sentence.
Col
e
duped me.
The way his eyes
sparkled when he told the story, his attention to detai
l, his effortless laugh: it
all made me believe without a doubt that he was telling the truth.
The
true
s
tory paints
a much grimmer tale
.

According to the reporter, Cole attacked an Enforcer without provocation.
The Enforcer
was
conducting a r
outine
search of Cole’s neighborhood, looking
for anything suspicious—they do
t
hat from time to time.
They do
n’t need search warrants; just
a badge and a uniform authorizes them to go wherever they want, whenever they want
.
Cole jumped the guy and killed him, br
oke his neck cleanly.
They say
it wa
s instant death and that Cole i
s a murderer.
Cole was sentenced to life in prison, just like me.

The segment ends and Tawni clicks
off the telebox.

I stare
into space in silence.
I
am upset that Cole didn’t tell
me
the truth
, but even more upset with the information i
n the broadcast.
Although I haven’t known Cole for long, I kno
w enough about him to realize that he wouldn’t kill someone witho
ut a damn good reason.
I want to ask, want
to know the
real
story, but also know that Cole has
to
want
to tell me.
I do
n’t want to force someth
ing out of him that he prefers
to
remain buried.
So I just wait.
A few minutes go
by in silence, each of us lost in o
ur own thoughts.
Cole still won
’t make eye contact with me
—his face turned away
—
although I look
at him a few times.

Tawni i
s the first to speak.
“Cole, she’s one of us.
She should know.”

Cole finally turns his head, and I see
what he’
s
been doing in silence.
Crying.
H
is cheeks a
re slick with moisture and his eyelashes beaded with tears
.
It scares
the hell out of me.
In the s
hort time I have
known Cole, I’
ve
found there to be a strength in h
im that i
s beyond anything I’
ve
seen in someone before.
I
t mak
e
s
me want to be his friend, to depend on him, to
count on him.
But now he looks
broken, destroyed,
devastated
.
The pain on his face i
s utterly complete.

He starts
slowly,
building momentum as he unloads
his pain.
“There were three of them,” h
e says
,
“
but I thought there was only one.”

“Enforcers?” I ask
.

He nods
.
“When I came home from school he was in the house.
My younger sister, Liza, had stayed home sick.
My parents were both out, wo
rking, like always.”
He pauses and ta
k
es
a deep br
eath.
Before he starts
again,
a fresh stream of tears dribble
s
from each eye.

“He
was on top of her,” he continues
, “trying to take everything from her.
God, Adel
e, she was only eleven.”
I feel
my own batch of tear
s well up and I fiercely blink
them
back.
If Cole can’t be strong, I need
to be strong for him.

“I was like a raging bull, full of anger, and I felt st
ronger than ten bulls.
I was
on him before he even knew I was there.
Liza’s tunic was half-ripped and he was trying to pull it off of her.
She was incredible, Adele, not giving an inch, kicking and clawing and fighting to the bit
ter end.
Eventually he would’
ve subdued her, but not before taking a bit of a beating.
My sister was strong, like
me.”
Although his face remains
mournful,
I
detect
a hint of pride in his voice.
But as much as I want
to, I
ca
n’t ignore his use of the word
was
.
It i
s there in the back of my mind,
tormenting me
.

“I pulled him off of her with two hands, threw him against the wall.
He wasn’t prepared for a fight.
His hands and voice were pleading, begging for me to let him go.
I wonder if I should’ve.”

“No, Cole,” Tawni says
.
“If you’
d let him go he would’ve just made up a story about you attacking him and the end result would’ve been the same.”

Cole ha
ng
s his head and bobs it up and down, like he wants to believe her but kno
w
s he never will.
He says
, “I was in a rage, not to be reasoned with—you
know
my temper.
I grabbed
him and slung him into the wall
headfirst.
I spun him around,
cradled
his head, and wrenched it hard to the side.
I didn’t even know how to do it properly, but I guess brute strength was enough.
I can still hear the bones in his neck cracking.
I know I should be sickened by it, but I’m not; I relish the memory.”

I relish
that part of his memory, too.
The Enforcer was pure evil, inherently bad for sure.
If anyone was deserving
of death, it was him.
I want
Cole to
stop his story there, but I know he can’t.

“The other two
Enforcers
were
ups
tairs when it happened,” he says
.
“They were looting our few measly possessions of value.
My mother’s gold wedding band.
My father’s steel-toed boots.
Taking our stu
ff while their buddy
took my sister.”
Cole’s face rem
ains
tearstained, but
there are no new flows.
His eyes a
re strong again, flashing anger.
I
would’ve
pitied any Enforcer who walked into the room at that moment.

“I guess they heard the commotion, because they came down quietly, their guns out and ready to shoot.
But I wasn’t ready to fight anymore.
I was holding Liza, helping her cover herself with a blanket.
She was bawling, kissing my face, begging me to take her far away from that place.
Our home, the place where we’d had so many happy memories, grown up together, had become dirty to her, a prison o
f filthy nightmares
.
She would’
ve cast it off forever, Adele.”

I am
crying.
I don’t know when I starte
d, but once the taps are turned on I can’t seem to stop them.
I feel ashamed, like I’ve
let my friend down in
his moment of need.
But he doesn’t seem to notice, like it i
s simply the natural thing
for me
to do.

“They pointed
their damn guns at us, screamed
for us to ‘
Stand up!
Stand up!’”
He wipes
his face with his sleeve.
“One of them checked the other Enforcer, realized he was dead.
They separated us, moved us apart
, kept screaming at us
.
I didn’t understand what was happening until they shot her, my Liza, oh
,
my poor sweet Liza!”
Cole’s head i
s tucked in his hands, his entir
e body shaking with sobs.
I am bawling.
Tawni i
s crying, too,
but more constrained.
She moves to Cole’s side and rubs
a hand on his back.

I think the story i
s over, but a few minutes later Cole look
s
up, dripping tears from his chin.
“They waited for my parents to get home.
I was in shock, sitting there numb
ly
, waiting to wake up from the horrible nightmare.
I almost charged them, daring them to shoot me—preferring if they would—but I didn’t because I knew I had to explain to my parents why their little girl was dead on the floor.
They hadn’t even bothered to cover her body with the blanket.”

The only thing I can do for Cole now is
to
listen.
Believe me, I don’t want to, do
n’t want to know the truth—
not anymore.
Desperately want
to believe the comedic story about him juggling the loaves of bread.

“
My parents
walked through the door like they always did, holding hands, laughing, as happy as anyone in the Moon Realm ever was in those days.
I screamed out, tried to tell them everything in a single breath, but I was denied even that.
They shot them befo
re they’
d even registered what was happening.”
No, no, no, no, no!
I can’t take any more of the story.
I bury my head in my shoulder, sob uncontrollably, like he i
s telling me the tale of my own parents’ death
s
.

In a stra
nge reversal of roles, he waits
patiently for me to get contro
l of my emotions.
When I force my head back up, he continues
.
“I fought like a wild animal, trying to force them to kill me
,
too.
I really thought they would, especially when I started throwing anything I could get my hands on at them.
But no.
They ran around, dodging the things and laughing, mocking me,
enjoying
themselves.”