The Freedom Race, page 10
“How come you’re … different?”
Silapu pulled up the chair and plopped down in it. “Do not worry. It will not last. I made a promise to Dregulahmo to stay sober until after the Ratification. That is what I am doing—fulfilling a final promise to the dead.”
At last something made sense. Her mam’s sobriety was temporary, the result of a promise she would feel obliged as a Toteppi to keep. Ji-ji risked another question.
“Did you know Uncle Dreg was a Friend of Freedom?”
Silapu stood up and hurried to the door, tugged it open and peered out. Satisfied, she closed it again. In lieu of a lock—botanicals weren’t entitled to privacy—Silapu stuffed a wooden wedge under the door. She came back to where Ji-ji was sitting, sat down, and spoke softly.
“Lotter’s blasted parrots are everywhere.… Yes, I knew. I have lived with the danger his choice posed to him and those around him. It is a burden I carried. Do not let males choose your burdens, Jellybean. If you do, you will be forced to carry them for the rest of your life. He asked me to promise to … when I saw him the last time … after he was captured.”
“Wait! What are you talking about?”
“I visited him. In PenPen.”
“But … that’s impossible! No penitents get visitors.”
“Normally that is true. But a few nights before his Culmination—after you snuck that stinking Cloth into the cabin when you thought I was sleeping—I rose in the middle of the night. Zaini and I took to him his favorite stew. Zaini made it. Delicious. Gru’nut soup from the Cradle.”
“The PenPen guards let you visit at midnight? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It was later than that when we got there. Diviner Shadowbrook had some of her own guards on duty. Emmeline and Uncle Dreg have always been … close. They let us see him.”
Ji-ji prided herself on how observant she was. How had she missed all this?
“What happened?”
“I gave him the soup.”
“Is that it?”
“I gave him a spoon. What do you expect? A miracle?”
“Was he still predicting he would escape?”
“Yes. That is why he did.”
“Not for long. They caught him.”
“No they did not. Dregulahmo escaped … then he chose to return.”
“But … that’s crazy! Why would anyone choose to come back to a hellhole like this?”
“Because he worried about what Williams would do to Zaini and her offspring if he left. And because he still had things to accomplish—is it not so? And clean up your mouth and watch your grammar too. You know how your father-man feels about—”
“But I don’t understand … how did he escape from PenPen?”
“Better not to know how he did it. Dreg was a fool to enlist in the Friends in the first place. And a bigger fool to get caught.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Ji-ji replied.
“Whose fault was it if not—”
Silapu stopped midsentence and eyed her offspring suspiciously. She stood up, grabbed hold of Ji-ji’s shoulders, and shook them hard.
“It was not Zaini he was covering for! That is what your eyes are saying! Who then? Argh! Your fool fly-boy! Tiro is a Friend of Freedom! Of course! Why did I not see it? Dreg betrayed me after he swore to keep my offspring safe, swore Tiro would never join the rebels! He promised! He and Zaini duped me! I will never forgive her for this! You will never see that fly-boy again!”
“Mam, I can’t live without—”
“Of course you can! You think that foolish, empty-headed fly-boy loves you? If he makes it to Dream City he will be snapped up by the Dreamfleet. You think he will have eyes for a plain-looking dusky like you after he sees those flaunty city whores? His nappy head will spin.”
“Please, Mam,” Ji-ji pleaded. “Please don’t.”
Charra used to say their mam said things like that cos she didn’t want Ji-ji to get her heart broken. Yet Ji-ji had no illusions about how she looked: no cheekbones to speak of, no dimples, an ordinary mouth, average eyes often with dark circles under them, rebellious hair, and a muddy complexion decidedly dark for a Muleseed. Her sisters—beautiful Charra and pretty Luvlydoll—took after their mam and father-man respectively. She didn’t.
Silapu spoke with venomous irritation, spitting out her words and pulling on her fingers like someone who wanted to dislodge them from their sockets. “Tiro’s devil father-man makes Lotter look like a saint! You think a seed from Williams’ loins will exercise self-control? Swinging around in that coop like some brainless bird! Those vulgar wings on his shirt! Using cheap tricks to fly! An illusion—is it not so? A game steaders play to pacify seeds—trick us into forgetting we can never fly from here. They’ve snatched our history like they snatched us! You think that lousy equipment in Brine’s rusty coop—the Douglass Pipes and Marshall Mazes, the Rosa Parks Seats—”
“Perches. They’re called Rosa Parks Perches.”
“What? Seats, perches, who gives a damn! You think the King-spins and that ridiculous crow’s nest are tributes to the likes of us, a recognition of our struggle? You think most steaders—and most seeds for that matter—remember the Passengers and the old stories of flight? You know how many Toteppi are left in the world? A few hundred at the most! Genocided by war and famine and disease and drought and betrayal and more war! You think it is only the fairskins who are evil? The old wizard glorified it, made it sound like paradise. It is not. It is still the Africa of old—the Dark Continent of strife and terror. How do you think so many of us wound up in the Territories? One tribe sells the other to the highest bidder.… Freedom Race! Huh! It is a joke! The males do not even race anymore. Two short sprints, that is all. The coop is for fairskins’ entertainment—and those fly-boys are too dumb to know they are being exploited! Why do you think the only time juvis are called ‘boys’ is when the word is chained to flight? It is smoke and mirrors, mockery! The race is a way to cage Freedom, a trick to distract us. And dumb seeds like you and that fly-boy of yours fall for it every time.”
Ji-ji leapt from her chair. “You’re wrong! When Tiro soars in that coop he’s magnificent!”
Silapu’s disgusted laugh stung more than her words: “Ha-ha! You are a fool, Jellybean. Fly-boys like Tiro live for air and applause, not for some homely-looking seed. How does the rhyme go?
“Love a fly-boy, if you dare.
He’ll fly from you. Beware! Beware!”
“That’s a stupid rhyme. Doesn’t mean a damn thing. Tiro loves me more than—”
“Lotter loves his Mammy Tep too. The sonuvabitch has poured that poison into my ears for twenty years.” Without warning, Silapu shoved the chair behind her farther back from the table. It toppled with a clatter. She high-kicked her right leg up onto the table, which lurched like a rowboat.
“Didn’t know you were still that flexible,” Ji-ji said, instantly concluding it was one of the dumbest comments she’d ever made.
Silapu grabbed hold of the back of Ji-ji’s neck and pushed her face down until her cheek brushed up against her mam’s raised ankle. “See that?” she cried. “Look at it. LOOK!”
Silapu jammed Ji-ji’s nose against the copper seedmate band, which had worn a cracked path around her ankle. Lotter’s name and planting number were engraved on it in bold capitals: ARUNDALE LOTTER, 437. Her planting name, Mammy Tep Lotterseedmate, was written in small font under his. All seedmates were called “Mammy.” Silapu was a Toteppi import, so Lotter called her “Tep” for short. Ji-ji had asked her once if it bothered her that Lotter never called her Silapu. She’d said she was glad. Didn’t want the bastard swilling her Cradle name around in his mouth.
“You want one of these pretty little bands on your ankle for the rest of your life? Well? Neither did I. Got one anyway. I am a Tribalseed, an import. You are a Muleseed. You wear a black-and-white seed symbol and I wear a black one. That is all there is. Nothing but that and purple tears.… Lotter has enemies—that bastard Williams most of all. If your father-man keeps favoritizing you and me they will accuse him of Unnatural Affiliation. Tryton’s already suspicious, itching to summon every inquisitor in the region to investigate Lotter’s unnaturalness.”
“Think I care ’bout what happens to Lotter? I hate him!”
Relinquishing her hold on Ji-ji’s neck, Silapu laughed scornfully again. “Dale Lotter is the only thing standing between you and calamity. I will not wait for you to come back in some box.”
“A box is better than a cage! It’s not me Lotter favoritizes, it’s you. If it weren’t for you he wouldn’t even know I existed.”
Silapu groaned. “Oh, Ji-ji. Why must you always fight?”
The answer flew out of her mouth before Ji-ji could prevent it: “Why did you stop?”
Silapu reached over and took Ji-ji’s hand. “For you. And for the others I seedbirthed.”
It was true. All the sacrifices Silapu had made over the years had been aimed at keeping her five offspring alive and close by. Ji-ji wanted to forget the scalding anger that bubbled from her mam’s mouth, forget the drinking and the drugs and the beatings. She wanted to forget finding her on the cabin floor, wrists slashed … finding her in the seeding bed beside an empty bottle … When you got right down to it, she, Ji-ji, wasn’t enough to persuade her mam to stick around.
Ji-ji clutched at the only thing she had to cling to: “The race is coming up an’—”
Silapu rapped Ji-ji’s forehead with her knuckles as though she were knocking on a door. “Anyone in there? You got to grow up, Jellybean. Most Mules your age have two seedlings by now.”
Silapu’s fury always came in waves. For now, it had subsided a little. She seemed to notice her toppled chair for the first time. She righted it, then grabbed the pick off the table as if it were a weapon. She started in again on Ji-ji’s hair. Whenever Ji-ji squealed in pain, she scoffed at her for being tender-headed, reminded her she was half Toteppi and needed to toughen up. The Cradle was suddenly paradise again: she boasted about how boys in her own village became men by walking on hot coals, while girls endured cutting to become women.
“Cutting is barbaric,” Ji-ji countered. “They cut out the clitoris, the only part that matters.”
“Barbaric, you say? And what is this?” Silapu said, indicating the planting with a wide sweep of her arm. “Now hold still! Your hair is as stubborn as you are.”
Periodically, Silapu jammed her fingers into a jar of coconut oil and smoothed a dollop onto Ji-ji’s head. When she protested, Silapu launched full-tilt into another scolding. “Your head’s as empty as a seed’s pocket! You are lucky Lotter did not punish you for arriving late to the coop. Yes. Ma Mac told me how late you were. You know how many botanicals would kill to make it to chief kitchen-seed? Even with your dusky skin and plainness, Lotter could have seedmated you to a father-man for a decent seed-price. He spared you for my sake.”
“Spared me? How? To labor in planting kitchens fourteen hours a day for a few lousy seedchips? I’d rather be dead than demean myself like…”
The word you hovered between them, a tongue of fire.
Silapu slumped down into the chair again. She looked worn out … old.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I would rather be dead too. But some of us do not run like the wind.… The steaders are spooked by what happened. You better be minding your p and q for the next month or two.”
“P’s and q’s. It’s plural.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know—what’s it matter? Lotter is cropmaster now. He can ratify whoever he likes.”
“Whomever. And have you been asleep while I schooled you? In a million years he will never let you go! Herring wanted the cash reward. For Lotter it is all about power and control. If you are lucky, he will allow you to remain as chief kitchen-seed.”
Silapu stood again and continued her battle with Ji-ji’s hair. “So … Dregulahmo took the fall for his reckless nephew. I was a fool not to guess this. He knew I would help if it was for Zaini.… You know what they do to the kith-n-kin of underage traitors who are found guilty of cultivating an insurgent? They pyre females and lynch males. That fly-boy is as selfish as Charra!”
“Charra was brave. How come you hate her so much?”
Silapu put the pick down, said, “I do not hate her.… I have never hated her.”
“They’re all gone,” Ji-ji said, desolately. “Charra, Clay, Luvlydoll, Bonbon. We lost them all.”
Something seemed to register for Silapu. She tilted her Last&Only’s face up to hers again and looked into her eyes. “Dregulahmo asked me to tell you this. I suppose it is time.” She took a deep breath. “They did not kill your sister. Charra escaped. Made it all the way to Dream City.”
Ji-ji dared not even blink as she waited for her mam to speak again.
“Last we heard she was in a place called North Fork in the Madlands, leading a group of rebels, raiding plantings. Dregulahmo said she is on the Southeast Territories’ Most Wanted list. So much for escaping to the City of Dreams! Your selfish sister chose to live inside a nightmare. Dregulahmo helped her escape. He took her from me … my beautiful, headstrong Charra. That is why I could not speak to him much after that. And then Lotter snatched Bonbon and the feeble old wizard did nothing! Some things are unforgivable.”
Ji-ji stared at her mam in disbelief. The sister she used to follow around everywhere wasn’t dead after all. She was living Free!
“All this time … why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Uncle Dreg tell me? Does Tiro know?”
“That fool fly-boy knows nothing. Dreg wanted me to tell you, but it is my job to keep my Last&Only safe. Even with help from the Friends, Charra almost died. Shot in the back by Bounty Boys. Would have been mauled to death by snarlcats if Dreg had not found her. He and the Friends ran a secret trailroad.…”
“The Friends’ Trailroad is real? I thought it was just a story.”
Silapu wasn’t listening. “Charra could have stayed in Dream City, been safe, petitioned for us to join her as asylum seekers. They let seeds do that sometimes. The Friends would have made it happen. Lotter would never let me leave, but he would have let you go if I begged hard enough.… Let Oletto go too.… But your sister forgot us. Charra left us here to rot.…”
“An’ now she’s in the Madlands?”
“What? Oh … who knows? Maybe. We heard she was raiding plantings in the Tidewater and down south. The Madlands region is a gator-infested swampland. Malaria is worse there than the Cradle. Dengue fever too.… Charra is like Tiro. Always putting her own needs first.…”
“An’ Uncle Dreg asked you to tell me she’s still alive?”
“Said your fate and hers intertwined. But Dregulahmo said many things. Most were lies.”
“Mam, don’t you see? This changes everything! You gotta help me an’ Tiro get out of here! I can find Charra an’—”
“If you follow in her footsteps you will die! My Last&Only.…”
Silapu broke down and wept. Ji-ji had not seen her cry since she returned from Auntie Zaini’s the day after Lotter had snatched Bonbon. For forty-eight hours, Silapu had purple-wailed for her lastborn. Then Bettieann had stopped by with a bottle of cheap whiskey, and Lotter had brought her whatever he had around the father-house, only some of which was legal—uppers, downers, killers, drifters, flukes.… Silapu hadn’t wept since. Ji-ji attempted to comfort her.
“I’ll send for you, Mam. I promise. We get six petitions each, remember?”
“Only if you make it all the way to the city inside the time limit. He will never let me go.”
“He will if the seedmate price is right.”
“You are not listening! For Lotter, it is not about money. It is about power. And love.”
“That’s not love, Mam.”
“You are wrong. Love is a bludgeon, and a razor too. It beats you up then slices you open. Tiro will do that to you. I have seen the way you look at him. It is not the way he looks at you. I am sorry, Ji-ji, it is not.”
Why did her mam always want to pluck out hope and cast it aside like there was so much of it to spare? Anyway, she was wrong. Tiro cared. She mustn’t let her bitter mam snatch that away.
“You may have more schooling than me, Jellybean, and you can run like the wind and cook like a magician, but beauty is what a female needs to hold on to males like him … and even then.… Tiro is a Wild Seed. And Wild Seeds never belong to anyone.”
“I don’t want him to belong to me. Why can’t we be two Wild Seeds together?” Ji-ji resolved to tell Silapu the truth while she was sober enough to hear it. “I’ll die if I have to stay on this planting, Mam. I swear I’ll walk into Blueglass Lake like Mbeke’s mam. Sometimes it feels like I’m already swinging from Sylvie or burning on a pyre. I can’t live as a seed for the rest of my life. I’d rather be dead. You got to persuade Lotter to let Tiro an’ me compete. You got to let me go!”
When Silapu spoke next she sounded far away.
“Dregulahmo was planning to help you if you were ratified for the race. He had arranged for Friends to guide you along the way. Herring blasted a hole in … Shot the only man who ever…”
“Ever what?”
“Nothing. Without the Friends’ help you will be as vulnerable as the rest of the competitors. The race monitors protect the fly-boys, ferry them from one sprint to another so they are rested enough to battle each other in the coops. It is not the same for female runners. Females are disposable. Only fourteen racers made it last year—out of a hundred and seventy-five! And only four of those were runners. They say steaders are sabotaging the race. Homesteads claim the reward for their female runners who are then snatched by pickers along the way and shipped to the auctionmart. The whole thing is rigged. You enter that race and I will never see you again. No. You stay here. Safe. With me.”
Silapu took a step back to study Ji-ji’s hair. “Well, it is not perfect, but at least it is not a nest for a bird. Come on. We must not be late.”
The thought of burying Lua made Ji-ji want to vomit. She grabbed hold of Silapu’s hand and pleaded with her one last time: “Uncle Dreg said we were destined to fly the coop.”
