My heart is still racing. I came across my first group of survivors. Fellow soldiers who also returned to this catastrophe. They were nice at first, but one attacked me. I shot him and ran. I have never taken a life on American soil before, but I fear this won’t be my last.
—The diary of Megan Jean
“I sip a full glass of water,” Mia said.
She repeated the phrase, making sure to draw out her vowels. Tomorrow was the day they left for America and Mia worried her French accent wasn’t going to fool anyone at this point. A knock on Mia’s door came and she saw Albin enter the room.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Mia cleared her throat and tried her best to speak with the accent, opting to respond with one of the few French phrases she had picked up.
“Je suis bien,” she said.
“One last opportunity to see France this afternoon,” Albin said. “I will escort you to Madame Martineau.”
Mia hadn’t expected another trip out but thought anything sounded better than pacing around in her room obsessing over tomorrow.
“Please try to speak like a Frenchwoman,” Albin said. “You must exude confidence and sophistication. This is the final test of your skills.”
Mia nodded her head. She picked up the white cardigan that was on her bed and pulled it over the nude tank top she wore. Mia glanced in the mirror at her tight black pants and wondered if she should change. She didn’t want to ask, since she’d decided to get used to speaking as little as possible.
The car dropped Mia and Albin off at a storefront. Mia looked through a large glass window and spotted Flo. She didn’t bother looking at the rest of her surroundings and instead made a beeline to her mentor. Mia was quick to greet Flo with a kiss on each cheek and the woman smiled warmly at Mia. Albin was greeted in the same manner and Mia looked around the building. There were black chairs spaced out, each in front of a vanity. Different beauty products lined the counters. Before Mia could ask where they were Andrew and Zack appeared from the back, with two strangers also dressed in black, though their outfits were less intimidating.
“The area is secure, madame,” Zack said.
Mia looked around the empty building. They were the only ones inside. She caught a glimpse of the street through the window, which was now guarded by at least five men.
“Hiring American bodyguards now?” one of the strangers asked. She was a young woman who did not look impressed.
“They’re on loan,” Flo said. “For my trip overseas.”
The woman scowled. Mia knew she needed to ignore the two men. Andrew was playing the role of a stranger. Mia thought not acknowledging his presence would be the most difficult part of today and wished any other guard had come.
“America has done good things for our country,” Flo said. “We don’t have to agree with their way of life but we must respect them. Angelique, this is Jeanette; she will be accompanying me on my travels.”
Mia walked toward the woman, expecting a greeting with the typical cheek kiss, but Angelique made no effort to move forward.
“Approuvez-vous la politique américaine?” Angelique asked.
“Please,” Flo said. “English only, I don’t want my new guards to think I am speaking about them.”
Angelique rolled her eyes.
“I said: and do you agree with American politics as well?”
Every part of Mia wanted to scream about her hatred for the Registry, her firsthand knowledge of the horrors America was capable of, but she knew that was not an option. Besides, today was a test of Mia’s accent, not of her values. If she could fool an actual French person into thinking she was from France, then convincing other Americans should be a breeze.
“I agree with Madame Martineau,” Mia said.
Angelique rolled her eyes and walked off. The man standing behind her came forward and kissed Flo, then Mia. He was much friendlier.
“My name is Valentin,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Jeanette. Don’t mind Angelique, she fancies herself an activist.”
“Valentin and Angelique are two of the best beauticians in all of the world,” Flo said. “I thought it would be nice to freshen up for our trip.”
Mia touched her long hair. The last time she’d had a makeover it was done with little consent. The women had glued fake hair to her head.
“Yes,” Valentin said. “I will start with removing those extensions; they look cheap.”
“That is not very kind,” Flo said.
“I may be kind in certain areas,” Valentin said. “But not when it comes to beauty, and you, Jeanette, are as gorgeous as they come. Please tell me what you would like and I will try my best to keep my opinions to myself.”
“Actually I was hoping Angelique would work with Jeanette,” Flo said.
Out of all the hairdressers in France, Flo had picked the one who hated Americans the most and was sending Mia straight into her clutches. Valentin nodded and held his arm out, signaling to Angelique, who was standing behind a chair. Flo wore a large smile on her face and nodded her head. Mia threw her shoulders back and tried her hardest to walk with confidence and sophistication.
Mia didn’t say a word as she took a seat in Angelique’s chair. The woman was mumbling in French and Mia was glad she couldn’t understand the words.
Angelique spoke louder, switching to English. “Valentin was right,” she said. “These are cheap extensions. Did you get them in this city?”
Mia shook her head. Angelique let out a sigh.
“Well, what do you want? I am not a mind reader.”
Trying her hardest, Mia mustered up the best accent she could.
“Whatever you think looks best,” she said.
Mia looked at Angelique in the mirror; the woman was frowning and examining Mia’s head. Mia felt a moment’s relief that her accent didn’t draw suspicion.
“I’m going to try my best to remove these and then we will see what we have to work with,” Angelique said.
Mia nodded and the woman left her to get whatever supplies she needed. Mia kept her eyes glued to the mirror and was thrilled to see Flo leaving her chair and approaching her. Mia turned to see the older woman, who was quick to speak in a low whisper.
“Small steps,” Flo said. “Trust me, you’re fine. Remember your lessons.”
She reached up and squeezed Mia’s hand before returning to Valentin. Angelique returned with a basket of oils whose labels were in French. She pulled up Mia’s real hair and started rubbing liquids on her scalp in a less-than-friendly manner.
“I don’t know how you stand her company,” Angelique said. “She ran promising fair treatment of everyone, yet continues to offer support to America. She is a hypocrite and I cannot wait until the next election when she is voted out of office. Then maybe someone with actual morals will replace her.”
“She is a good woman,” Mia said.
“And I know her guards can hear me,” Angelique said. “And I don’t care. This is the free world. They cannot stifle my opinions.”
Mia let out a small yelp as Angelique tugged on her hair.
“In my eyes if you support her you are just as bad as her,” Angelique said. “Do you have any children?”
Mia shook her head.
“Keep still,” Angelique said, grabbing the sides of Mia’s face.
“No,” Mia said.
“If you did would you throw them away like garbage or sell them to a complete stranger?”
Mia was all too familiar with the system Angelique was describing.
“No,” Mia said.
“Then why are you going with her?”
Every bit of Mia wanted to scream at this rude woman, to tell her that Mia was going back to put a stop to the very system she was describing, but doing so would jeopardize the mission. Defending herself to a stranger was not worth that compromise.
“I trust her,” Mia said.
“Blind faith is no way to live,” Angelique said.
Mia let out another cry and the extra hair came out from her head in Angelique’s hands. Mia felt the back of her head, expecting to see blood on her fingers, but instead there was oil.
“Come with me,” Angelique said.
She didn’t wait for Mia before walking toward the back of the shop. Mia followed her toward a chair with its back to a sink.
“I have to wash your hair now,” Angelique said. “You must look perfect for the Americans.”
She wore a smug smile and Mia felt her frustration grow. Mia took a seat and leaned back. The water was too hot, but Mia didn’t complain. She was glad the noise from the sink blocked out whatever Angelique had to say.
This woman could not have been more wrong about Flo or Mia. It wasn’t fair for her to judge them so harshly. Mia wanted to stand up for herself, to let the world know what her intentions were. Then she wondered what would happen if she did. Sneaking into America would no longer be a possibility. Ending the Registry would be off the table, and that was much more important than the opinion of another.
Like the water washing away the oils from Mia’s scalp, some things became clear to her now. If she were a symbol to the world of what was wrong in her home country she wouldn’t have to deal with this persecution. But Mia wanted more than that. She was ready to have a real place in the upcoming rebellion. That was much more valuable than anyone’s opinion of her.
Mia let her eyes close. She understood one of Flo’s lessons. Caring about other people’s opinions did not matter because Mia knew what she represented to herself, and that was enough for her.