Friday arrived. At breakfast, my parents let me eat before they started on the lecture.
I put both hands in my lap and squeezed them tight. ‘Don’t say anything. I know what you think. You know what I think. Stalemate.’ I got up and left.
Hera and I ran to school, away from their worry and fussing.
The schoolroom was no calmer than our kitchen had been. Justa prowled, she repeated the same old arguments over and over. We kept our eyes on our screens and tried to work.
Hera wriggled her way across the floor.
Finally, Nixie arrived, but he was not alone; with him came Majool and Hilto.
Nixie ignored them and went right on with his normal routine. ‘Right now. Line up, ladies and gentlemen. Keep your hair on! Who’s first?’
Justa grabbed a chair and shoved it into the middle, right beside Hera. ‘Silvern. Come and sit down.’
My mind shrieked and skittered. What should we do? They’d beaten us. We hadn’t imagined that they would do this.
But I hadn’t reckoned on Silvern. And Paz. They stood, but didn’t walk to the chair. I took a deep breath and got to my feet as well. I saw that Marba, too, was standing, his face was calm and his eyes beamed bright. One by one, we all stood. We stepped forward in front of our chairs. We hadn’t planned to do this; it was something instinctive about safety in numbers.
Majool thumped his stick on the floor. ‘Hurry up. We haven’t got all day.’
I kept my eyes on Hera. She’d nearly made it across the room towards us.
Silvern cleared her throat, sent a glance along the line of us and nodded. We drew in a collective breath and spoke the words we’d worked out: ‘Nixie, we are going to grow our hair. We thank you for your past services.’
We didn’t sound too bad, given the circumstances. Our voices were clear, polite – and final.
Justa moaned and collapsed onto her chair.
Hilto bellowed, followed immediately by Hera. He stalked over to us, headed straight for me and grabbed my shoulders, tugging me towards the chair. ‘Troublemaker! This is all your doing! Comply, for once in your damned life.’
Marba and Paz, the two strongest boys, rushed forward and wrapped their arms around my waist. Brex snatched Hera up from the floor and dumped her in Justa’s arms. All the others jostled Hilto, putting themselves between him and Majool and forming a barrier around Hilto and me so that he couldn’t push me further. ‘It’s all of us,’ Silvern shouted. ‘All of us. It’s something we all want. We decided it. Together.’
‘Together!’ Fortun shouted. ‘All of us.’
The rest of them took up the chant. I found my voice and shrieked into the middle of the chaos, ‘Let me go! You’re hurting me.’ And terrifying me. It was hard to breathe, hard to stay strong against the torrent of hate pouring from Hilto. His hands gouged into my shoulders. His spittle spattered my face.
Hera wailed a high-pitched scream.
‘Let her go! Let her go! It’s all of us. Together!’ the others bellowed.
Hilto struggled to drag me with him. Paz and Marba held me secure. They pushed at him with their free hands. Hilto’s face, red and swollen with fury, was a handspan from mine. The heat of his hate seared me.
A new voice rang above the chaos. ‘Let my daughter go.’
And there was my mother. She marched up to Hilto. ‘Let my daughter go.’ Her voice was low and clear. Valiant. That’s what she was. Valiant and fearless.
She seemed to bring Hilto some way back to his senses. But even so, he gave a snarl and dug in his fingers as though to reach through my skin and gouge out my heart. Mother stepped closer. ‘Hilto!’
He dropped his hands and stepped back but his face was contorted and vicious. He growled out one, ugly sentence at her. ‘We should never have let you breed.’
Mother just said, ‘Do not come near my daughters. Ever again. Either of them.’ She turned her back on him, tottered to where Justa held my sobbing sister, took Hera from her then collapsed on the chair Rynd shoved under her just in time.
Hilto and Majool thumped their way out of the room.
We had forgotten Nixie until we heard him sigh. ‘So. It has come. The end of the golden age.’ Then he added, as if to himself, ‘Perhaps it is time. Perhaps it is as well.’ He collected his gear and walked out.
I fell to my knees beside my mother, my arms around her waist. ‘Mother …’ I lay my head on her lap.
She stroked my head.
I was aware of the others sinking onto their chairs, winded by what had just happened. We were silent, listening to Hera. Her sobs diminishing the further Hilto went from us.
I don’t know how long we sat without speaking, but it was Justa who broke the silence. ‘Are you all right, Sheen?’
Mother nodded. ‘As all right as you can be when you see somebody trying to murder your child.’
That put the steel back into Justa. She stood up. ‘That’s a wicked thing to say, Sheen. Hilto is a Governance Companion. He has our best interests at heart.’ She looked at each of us, one at a time, then she said, ‘I shall not withdraw from you. But know that in my heart, I have. You are my learning stratum and it’s my duty to teach you. That is the only reason I still speak to you. It is my duty.’
Mother got to her feet as well. ‘Come, Juno. We’re going home. All three of us.’ She looked at the others. ‘Thank you for saving my daughter.’
The news of our rebellion sped around the island. Dad came home early from the gardens, running with long strides. ‘What’s happened?’ he demanded, the words bursting from him even as he raced through the door. ‘Is it true, Juno? That you’ve shamed us?’
I winced away from his anger.
Mother said, ‘Sit down, Zanin, and listen.’
He stared at her, and so did I, for I’d never heard her use such a tone before. She smiled briefly, as if she only had energy for one small smile. She told him what had happened at school. She told it all, the whole, true story with all the details. She finished by saying, ‘I don’t understand it. Any of it. But he frightened me, Zanin – he wasn’t sane. I don’t trust him. Not any longer.’
Dad stared at her, then at me. He shook his head. ‘That can’t be right, Sheen. And Majool was with him. They’re our leaders. If we can’t trust them, then we’re doomed.’ He gave me a very cool look. ‘This was not well done of you, Juno.’
Mother lifted her head at that. ‘No. It was not. But Zanin, I think Juno might be right. To some extent anyway. What I saw today makes me believe there’s more to shaving our heads than we’ve been told.’
For some odd reason, that made me cry. Dad ignored me. He sat beside Mother on the sofa and took her hand. ‘Sheen – this is madness! It’s crazy!’ He launched into the same old arguments, but Mother hushed him.
‘You weren’t there, Zanin. Being there – feeling the hate. That made the difference.’
Dad got up and half turned away. My hands flew to my mouth. He couldn’t withdraw, not my own father. Not from us, his family. But he slapped a hand onto a wall. ‘You’re wrong, Sheen. It’s unthinkable. Evil. What sort of society are we living in if that’s even halfway true?’ He came back and knelt at her feet. ‘Don’t turn from the accepted ways, my love. Don’t wreck our family.’
I cringed back into my chair. This was my fault. I’d done this to my family – split it down the middle.
Mother leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. ‘Let’s ask our parents to dine with us tonight.’
Dad jerked his head away and stood up. ‘This is our problem. Ours and our daughter’s.’
I sat with my head bent. I couldn’t bear to look at him for fear of what I might see in his face.
He knelt down in front of me next and looked into my eyes. ‘You will not go to the bay with Vima any longer. I forbid it.’
‘Dad – you can’t …’
Mother whispered, ‘I do not forbid it.’
My stomach clenched as he stared at her, stricken. I ran to the bathroom and vomited into the sink. All I’d wanted was hair. It had split my family. Cleaved us down the middle as surely as any axe could have done. I thought Mother would run to me as she always did when I was ill, but she didn’t. I heard the sound of their voices – Dad’s urgent and hers steady.
I rinsed my mouth. I’d go back and tell them I would comply. I wouldn’t grow my hair. I wouldn’t go to the bay with Vima. I looked at myself in the mirror but it was as if I didn’t see my own bald head: instead I saw Hera squirming and yelling as Nixie tried to shave off her hair. I saw her being crushed, always in the wrong, people constantly withdrawing from her. All because she, too, would not fit the mould. And it was my fault she didn’t.
I went back to my parents. Mother smiled at me. ‘You are better, my daughter?’
She was so brave, so sure. ‘Yes. I’m better.’ I wanted to go to Dad, to hug him, but he stood with his arms folded across his body and his face granite-hard. I drew in a ragged breath. ‘Dad – I’m going to the bay.’
He turned from me. My own father withdrew from me.
Mother and I ate our lunch at the table. Dad took his outside. I ate half a piece of bread. Mother managed a little more, but not much. We didn’t speak.
Two people withdrew from Vima and me as we jogged to the bay. Shallym’s mother didn’t – she didn’t notice us. Tears were streaming down her face.
Vima looked after Hera for me once we arrived. ‘Go and swim. Swimming’s good. It settles the mind.’
I swam until surely I must touch the walls of our world. I raised my head. Not even close. I came back and lay on the sand. ‘You want to give up?’ Vima asked, her tone neutral.
‘Yeah. I do. But I’m not going to.’
She gave a crack of laughter. ‘My feelings in a nutshell.’
I told her what had happened, about Dad withdrawing. She didn’t say anything, she just wrapped both arms around me in a tight hug and let me bawl my eyes out.
The grandparents all came to dinner that evening. Mother must have prevailed on Dad, or maybe they decided to come because of the news of our rebellion. I didn’t ask.
We went through the routine of the evening meal. It was a sombre occasion. We focused our attention on Hera, who was subdued and clingy. We ate, we cleared away and washed the dishes. The small talk of our existence dwindled into silence.
‘I’ll make drinks,’ Dad said as we slotted the last dishes into their places. ‘Then we’ll talk.’
I chose not to sit beside my mother on the sofa. I wanted Dad to sit there. I wanted them to be united, the way they’d been for all the days of my life. He brought in the drinks. He didn’t bring one for me. He didn’t sit beside Mother. He brought a kitchen chair and set it apart, waiting to see which side the grandparents would choose.
I hurt right through with pain worse than Hilto’s digging fingers.
‘You know the story,’ Dad said. ‘And you know, too, that this meeting isn’t at my request. But let us begin.’
Dad’s parents spoke first. Bazin said, ‘It’s a serious thing to buck the system.’
Leebar got up, fetched a chair from the table and set it down beside Dad. She put a hand over her son’s, but she looked at me. ‘Juno, can’t you see? What you’re doing is wicked. You’re causing a rift between your mother and your father.’
Tears shone in my mother’s eyes. I had to stay strong – all over Taris, this same scene would be happening in thirteen other houses. ‘I have chosen my path. I have made my decision.’
Bazin snapped, ‘Then there’s nothing to be done. You’re determined to wreck all our lives. Go ahead. Do it. Grow your hair and may it choke you.’
This was my grandfather. My beloved grandfather, glaring at me with hate in his eyes.
Grif and Danyat said nothing. I couldn’t read their faces. Inscrutable. I’d heard that word from Grif herself.
Mother hugged her arms around her body. Dad had tears tracking down his face.
I kept my eyes on Hera. She turned over from her back to her front, crawled four wobbly steps before she flopped down again. It was the first time she’d done it. Nobody noticed. I looked at Bazin and spoke without thought. ‘What was it like to have hair?’
The silence froze around me. Dad broke it. ‘Juno, you’re losing your mind.’ He sounded as if he hoped that that was what was wrong with me.
Bazin got to his feet, his face suddenly looking a hundred years old, instead of less than seventy. ‘You know the story, Juno. I’m disappointed in you. Deeply disappointed.’ He headed for the door.
I screamed after him, ‘Well, tell me the truth then!’
Leebar got up and followed him. Dad called, ‘Wait! I’m coming with you.’
He strode from the room, not glancing at me, not farewelling my mother. In the silence of his leaving, Grif and Danyat looked at each other, and seemed to agree on something unspoken before they too, headed for the door.
I wanted to scream and rage, but my voice came out in a squeaking choke. ‘You’re cowards. All of you!’
Danyat turned back. He gripped my shoulder. ‘There are decisions to be made, Juno. We must not act hastily.’
I wrenched away from him.
Grif grabbed me as I tried to run from the room. She held tight to my shoulders, her hands pressing on the bruises Hilto had left. ‘There are different kinds of courage, my child. Yours is one kind. Ours is another. Don’t judge what you can’t understand.’
Mother stared in bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’
Danyat thought for a moment. ‘I will not say the words. Not yet. Words can never be recalled. Remember that, Juno.’
I stared at him, trying to fathom the meaning of what he’d said. ‘And actions can never be forgotten.’ I could barely speak above a whisper.
‘Or suppressed it would seem,’ Grif remarked. She smiled at us, her devastated daughter, and both of her upset granddaughters. ‘This is not the end. We will consider what is best to be done. We will talk to Leebar and Bazin.’ They left Mother, me and Hera alone and without Dad for the first time in my life.
Hera wound up to a full-blooded yell of anguish. Mother didn’t respond, she didn’t seem to hear her. I picked her up. It took ages to calm her, then I handed her to Mother to feed her.
‘She crawled,’ I said.
‘And we missed it.’ She didn’t say anything else. Not while she was putting Hera to bed, not when she came back into the lounge. She collapsed onto the sofa and stared into the distance.
‘Mother?’ I sat beside her. I wanted to touch her, but I was afraid to – scared she’d turn on me and accuse me of breaking the bond between her and Dad.
But she patted my hand absentmindedly. ‘They had hair. My parents had hair.’ She shook her head. ‘I wish Zanin was here. I wish …’ She bent over and wailed. It was the sound of heartbreak. I crept away and cried myself to sleep.
I woke early in the morning to Hera’s wailing that the new day had arrived and she was hungry. I lay still, waiting till Mother went in and picked her up. My mind played over the scenes of the day before. My father had gone – had withdrawn from us, and it was my fault.
I curled up and hugged my knees. Who was right – him or me? I believed I was. I believed still that this whole drama was about more than our hair. I knew another thing as well – I knew that my childhood was over.
Have you heard? Zanin has withdrawn from his family.
Have you heard? Hilto says Juno is a divisive influence. He says she’s dangerous,
Have you heard? Merith took two steps today.