DARJA
The mood in Mirtel's wagon was somber after Stephen left. I was glad he'd been so willing to help us, but I wasn't sure he understood what was at stake. Still though, it felt like a relief to bring someone inside our little circle…even if that someone was an outsider and outright ‘enemy’ of Vaikesti.
Mirtel busied herself clearing away the teacups and saucers, bustling and hmphing like it was a major chore, when in reality I thought she probably just needed something to do with her hands while she processed what we’d just done.
What we’d just done. That sounded pretty melodramatic, especially when our scale went from, ‘clueing in helpful stranger,’ to, ‘being burned alive.’ Still, Mirtel and Sofi remained quietly introspective, and I could see from their worried and somewhat guilty expressions how hard it was for the two of them to grapple with such an enormous break with tradition, no matter how flawed—how deadly—that tradition was.
Aggie, on the other hand, appeared to be slightly more optimistic. She’d seemed to relax somewhat since our talk, and I wondered if maybe a few of those walls were starting to tumble. And when I caught her gaze and gave her a cheeky and exaggerated wink, I swore I could almost see the corner of her mouth tug upward. She composed herself quickly, however, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Well. They couldn’t all be victories.
I waited a few more minutes while Sofi brooded and Mirtel put away her charmingly chipped china with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Finally, I slid over to Sofi’s elbow, quiet, easy, like approaching a horse I was pretty sure would spook.
“Hey,” I said, noticing as I did that she was picking absent-mindedly at a few loose threads fraying from one of the patchwork pillows on the small sofa.
“Hey,” she replied, her tone muted and distant.
“I think we’re doing the right thing,” I offered, feeling a bit worried at the uncharacteristic indifference I could sense in her. I couldn’t see it, but it was pervasive, like an aura hovering all around her. Not something I would have put any stock in…before. But I supposed any witch doctor hoo-doo bullshit was possible at this point.
“I hope you’re right.” She turned to look at me, and her eyes were tired. Blue as ever, but crinkled at the edges, with dark smudges beneath. I doubted she’d been sleeping enough since the Ceremony, and I made a silent promise to let her rest.
I put my pledge to the test later that night, staying in her room as she drifted off to a restless sleep. I felt like a creeper, but I wanted to make sure she could recharge. We had a long road ahead of us, and we weren’t going to get anywhere if she was dead on her feet. Besides, that role was already taken.
It wasn’t hard to convince Sofi to come to the koolis with me the next morning, and that worried me more than anything. I knew she was feeling overwhelmed, like we all were, but she was taking it the hardest. Of course, with Aggie and I already dead, and Mirtel having lived a very long life, Sofi was the one with the most to lose. In just a few days, her entire world had been shaken to its core, literally everything and every person she’d believed in suddenly called into question.
I decided to ride with her in the car, instead of flickering my way to the other side of town. My attempts at small talk, however, were met with resigned, clipped answers or pointed silence. Eventually, I dropped the conversation and stared out the window, marveling at how everything looked so familiar…but so different at the same time. More and more, I could feel that this was no longer my world, no longer the place I was meant for. I’d never felt any particular sense of belonging before, when I’d been alive, but at this point, the absence of it was palpable, like a wound throbbing with each beat of my heart…except I no longer had one of those, either.
Finally, we turned down the road that led through a tall grove of trees to the koolis beyond, looking, as usual, industrial and antiseptic. The surrounding woods were dappled green, heavy with unfurling spring buds. Even the field that lay to the east of the school looked idyllic, ankle-high corn stalks bathed in golden morning sunlight.
But the koolis, set down haphazardly in the middle of this Midwest paint-by-numbers beauty, looked even more intrusive, like the uninvited guest at a party. If I’d been alive, I would have shivered. Not all my memories in this place were bad ones, but enough of them were tinged with loss, longing and loneliness that I couldn’t muster any sort of fondness at seeing its flat gray roofline cutting a dark trench across the azure sky.
“You remember what we need to do?” I asked finally, breaking the lingering silence between Sofi and me.
She sighed. “Yes, but I still don’t understand—”
“I’ll explain everything once we get in there,” I promised, giving her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. She didn’t return it.
Sofi parked in the lot designated for tajas and got out of the car. She didn’t look back to see if I was following, but I stuck close behind her, hovering near enough that I could almost smell her shampoo. Classes were just beginning, but there would likely be a few stragglers finishing up breakfast in the cafeteria, and tajas on the prowl, watching for anyone daring to break any of the many rules koolis students were expected to uphold at all times.
I felt a flutter of nerves as Sofi strode through the front doors. I had to admit, there was something courageous, almost reckless about her actions, and though I was worried for her, I also admired her strength. I wondered what it would have been like to have been friends in life. The concept had never occurred to me before, but I thought that I would have liked it. Would have liked her.
She made a beeline for the front office, turning on a blazing smile just as she rounded the corner and stepped up to the reception window, all traces of the emotions she’d been holding in for the last few days suddenly evaporated.
“Hi there,” she chirped, putting her hands on the counter and leaning toward the plexiglass window, peering in at the sour-faced taja sitting at the desk on the other side. “I was wondering if Ms. Kross is in?”
“Where else would she be?” the woman behind the glass barked, but Sofi’s smile never wavered.
“Ha, of course. Right. Well…would it be possible to see her?”
The woman’s frown deepened. I’d seen her around, but students didn’t interact much with the administrative staff. And thank goodness, because the look of her would have sent most of us cowering in our beds.
“What do you need with Ms. Kross?” she asked. Her hair was steel gray and wiry, much of it attempting to escape her mercilessly tight bun—not that I could blame it for wanting to be as far away as possible.
“Oh,” Sofi said with a tinkling laugh, “I’ve visited her here before, and she said I could come back anytime.” She leaned in closer, looking around conspiratorially, then whispered, “It’s about Darja Kallas.”
If this had any effect on the old crone, she didn’t show it. But she did slide a guest badge beneath the glass, pushing it forcefully toward Sofi’s splayed hands.
“She’ll be on breakfast duty,” the woman said in a near growl, nodding her head toward the cafeteria that sat at the opposite end of the hall.
Sofi took the badge and dropped the lanyard quickly around her neck. “Thanks so much,” she said, then turned and dashed down the corridor before the receptionist could change her mind.
Feeling like a proud (if delinquent) mama, I trailed behind, taking in the familiar gloom and quiet of the koolis’ interior. In any normal school, I imagined it would be noisy during meal time, bursting with pent-up adolescent energy, but instead the cafeteria sat like a tomb, the only sounds the scrape of cutlery and the occasional thump of the vending machine in the corner. High, narrow windows let in a slant of diluted sunlight, but it faltered and then died before reaching anyone at ground level.
In the shadow of the farthest corner, I saw Ms. Kross, sitting at a table thumbing absently through an old textbook with one hand while mindlessly stirring her tea with the other. She wasn’t looking at either, instead gazing off into the distance, a blank expression on her face. She seemed older, I noticed. Tired. I tried to feel bad for her, but I couldn’t muster any sympathy.
Sofi approached slowly, the manufactured smile slipping from her face as she got closer. She had one hand on the chair opposite before Ms. Kross glanced up, startled, the spoon clattering sideways out of the cup, spattering the table with dark droplets of tea.
“Sorry!” Sofi said, swiftly pulling out the chair and sitting down before looking around to see how much attention they’d attracted, but no one even spared us a glance.
Ms. Kross was immediately on-guard, carefully closing her book and straightening her red top smartly. “What’s this about?” she said, none of the warmth she’d shown on Sofi’s last visit apparent in this cold, gray mausoleum. Could it be guilt? Or was she really as emotionless as I now suspected? Not a murderer, exactly. But an accomplice, to be sure.
“I’m Sofi Ilves,” Sofi said, keeping her voice quiet and even. “I was here last week about…about Darja Kallas.”
“I remember,” Ms. Kross said. “I meant, ‘why did you come back’?”
Sofi shifted in her chair. “Well, I remembered you said I could, if I ever wanted to talk more about…about Darja.”
Ms. Kross’s eyes lowered quickly to the table, but her expression remained stony.
“And…” Sofi continued, her voice beginning to falter. “I just thought…I thought you might be able to help me learn more about her—about her life here.”
Ms. Kross barked out a sharp and unexpected laugh. “There’s not much more to it than this,” she said, waving a hand dismissively around the room. “Lessons, chapel, meals. Punishment,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “So, now you know.” She opened her textbook again and began reading.
“Yes, well…umm…“ Sofi cleared her throat and, for the first time, looked over to me, meeting my eyes pleadingly. I gave her a nod, then tilted my head at Ms. Kross.
“Right,” Sofi said, “I’m sorry to interrupt you. It’s just…Darja and I knew each other from school. From the days she was there. We were…friends. Well, before she…died. My other friends, they’re mostly younger than I am. They haven’t had their Spring Day Ceremony. I don’t have anyone to talk to and I—”
“I understand,” Ms. Kross said with a deep sigh. She gave Sofi a searching look. “It’s so hard,” she said. “On you girls. We ask so much of you. Keep our secrets, don’t ask too many questions. It’s an unfair burden.”
I could see, in her downcast eyes and the creases around her mouth, she wasn’t completely unaffected by what had happened. In some ways, she was just as much a victim of Vaikesti as the rest of us.
But only in some ways.
“It’s just,” Sofi began, apparently sensing the same weakening in Ms. Kross’ walls, “Darja mentioned something—a box. She said you gave it to her, a long time ago, to keep some of her things in. She thought you might still have it, and I wondered if maybe…I could see it?”
Ms. Kross’s eyes sharpened. “Why would she think I would have it?”
“Oh, uh, I meant I thought you might have it,” Sofi said quickly, covering her misstep. “That you might have kept it…afterwards.”
Ms. Kross looked around, then back to the envelope. Her face gave away nothing, but her eyes were fierce.
“Come with me.”
The box was in storage, and though the less-than-accommodating admin seemed reluctant to allow us into the records room, with a firm nudge from Ms. Kross, she finally relented.
Half an hour later, we were back in Sofi’s car, idling in the parking lot while Sofi gently lifted the lid. I tried not to dwell on what Ms. Kross was thinking, back in her room, rehashing her conversation with Sofi. Was she guilty? Did she regret leading me to my death?
Annoyed with myself, I forced the thoughts away and focused on the box, thin and shoddily constructed. It had once been a jewelry box, though a very cheaply-made one. The remnants of a pasted-on forest scene were barely visible on the lid, disintegrating everywhere the glue didn’t hold.
Sofi hadn’t said much since we’d got back to the car, but I could tell by the way she was eyeing the box that she must be curious. She held the lid open and placed it gently on the car’s center console. Inside, I could see what was left of my old baby blanket, barely more than a handkerchief’s worth of fabric. Sofi looked up at me and I nodded at her, trying not to let her see how nervous I was. Delicately, she lifted the blanket and shifted it to the other side of the box. Beneath it, gleaming a brassy sort of golden-silver was the teaspoon, the handle curling intricately around the engraved I.
Sofi was shaking her head, reaching out a finger to trace along the curve of the spoon. “But how…” she said. “And why?”
I shook my head, too. “I don’t know, but I know this spoon was my mother’s most treasured possession. It’s the only thing she kept from her life before.”
Sofi’s brow furrowed. “Could she have been a cleaning lady for my family? A babysitter for my sisters?”
“Stealing a fake gold-plated spoon? For what? It couldn’t be worth anything. And obviously it wasn’t all that precious, if no one’s ever noticed it missing in all these years.”
Sofi frowned. She lifted out the spoon and scrutinized it, as if she thought it might be an imposter. Then, she held up the box, peering inside. “That’s it,” she said, sounding frustrated. “We went through all that for this? What does it even prove?”
“It proves we’re connected,” I said, wishing she could feel the same current of excitement that was rushing through me. Our families were somehow linked, and the spoon was evidence of that. It might bring up more questions, but it got us one step closer to unraveling this mystery.
“It proves your mom was in my house at some point,” she said stubbornly. “That’s all.” She was still holding the box, fiddling mindlessly with it. She flipped it upside down and gave it a little shake, like that was going to do anything. However, when she turned it back over, she did a double take, leaning over in her car seat to get a better look.
“What is it?” I asked, straining to see. And there it was. Inside the box, where the bottom should have been, one corner of thin plywood had popped up. Sofi lifted it up and looked beneath, but the bottom of the box, from the outside, was still intact.
“What the hell?” she breathed. She reached a finger gently inside and began to pry up the loosened corner. It came away with little resistance, one corner splintering as Sofi continued to lift, revealing a very thin compartment beneath.
“Holy shit,” I said quietly. All those years, I’d never thought to look—never would have imagined the plain box held any secrets within its flimsy walls.
Sofi reached underneath the wood and pulled out a thin stack of letters, all of them sealed. There were six in total, and each one had a return to sender stamp across the front.
The sender was listed as M. Kallas. My mother. I reached out a hand, wishing I could trace my fingers over the ink, wishing I could feel her spirit in the curving, swirling letters beneath.
I glanced up at Sofi, hoping she could see how grateful I was to her for finding this—for bringing me this piece of my mother—but her face was stricken, and she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at the envelopes, all addressed to the same person.
Dr. Robert Ilves.