| |
The ride back to Noble borough was uncomfortable for me as I awaited Emmaline’s rebuke. Frank rode in the back of a Protector’s vehicle. They continued straight, presumably to a holding cell somewhere in the Center, while Emmaline and I turned down the main street in Noble borough back toward the house.
“I know what you did back there.” Emmaline’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper as she stared straight ahead at the road.
Chill bumps covered my arms. This was it. It was time for me to face the music.
“I believed him. I could feel that he was telling the truth. I don’t think the others were guilty at all.” I hoped the truth would set me free. Part of being an Empath was having the ability to discern if what we were experiencing was real based on other people’s reactions. She couldn’t be upset with me for seeing the truth. But I suspected it was more the projection and manipulation bit she was upset about.
Emmaline nodded. “I know. I felt it too, but it wasn’t about punishing the people. I wasn’t getting them because I thought they were guilty— it was about sending a message to anyone else who may try to stand up and take Frank’s position. We have to be aggressive.” She sighed before continuing.
“Claren, you are a talented Empath, but sometimes I worry your heart may be too soft for this.”
I didn’t respond. My forehead pressed against the cool glass of my window, and the lights of Noble borough blurred as I allowed my misty eyes to relax. She was right. I wasn’t cut out to be a Peacemaker. I could never sentence someone to death the way Georgia’s mom had.
But if I wasn’t a Peacemaker. Who was I?
Everyone was asleep when we got back to the house, but there was quite a ruckus the next morning as word about what happened got out to the public. I was surprised to see the television on downstairs, my roommates gathered around watching with wide eyes.
“Claren—you’re okay!” Margo jumped up and wrapped her arms around me as I entered the living room.
“Of course I’m okay. What’s going on?”
Edgar looked at me as though he might cry. “We were just watching the news about last night. You were amazing.”
I cocked my head to the side, sure that I was misunderstanding. Maybe I was still groggy from my late bedtime. I turned my focus to the television screen to see what all the fuss was about.
A Protector was speaking into the camera. I didn’t recognize him, but he was recounting the events of the night before as though he was there.
“There was a whole mob of Outsiders. They were shouting and waving weapons. If it hadn’t been for Emmaline Frasier and her trainee, we may have all been killed.” His expression was grave, but excitement danced behind his eyes.
The image on the screen switched to footage of Frank behind bars. His eyes were tired, but he sat peacefully in the corner of his cell, avoiding eye contact with the cameras. A woman’s voice spoke over the footage, continuing with the story.
“The operation was a success, resulting in the capture of Frank Dalton, the rebel leader from the Outside who is believed to be responsible for the recent barrage of attacks on Classen City. He is also believed to be connected to the late Phil Gadson, who was executed for treason just last week.”
“I’m just glad we got the son of a gun.” The image on the screen flicked back to the Officer. “Now I can lay my baby girl in her bed each night and rest easy that it won’t be her last. The Outsiders are a dangerous bunch, but when their leader is executed next week I’m sure we’ll see things calm down a bit.”
My heart constricted in my chest. Executed? That couldn’t be right. Frank wasn’t a citizen of Classen City. He was born an Outsider, never really a member of the New American jurisdiction. He could be exiled—banished from Classen City, but he couldn’t be executed. I’d made sure of it in my planning. His citizenship, or lack thereof, was a loophole in the law.
The screen now flashed to an image of the woman whose voice we heard earlier. She was fairly attractive, but all business. Every word was spoken as if it was life-shattering. And maybe to her it was; she obviously took her job very seriously.
“Emmaline Frasier, the Director of Career Development for Classen City has been closely aligned with the case since she eliminated a threat in Morton borough several weeks ago during Morton High’s annual aptitude test. A student from the school identified an Outsider and drew attention to him before he could attack her classmates. That student, Claren Greenwood, is reportedly the same student who led Ms. Frasier and the officers to capture Frank Dalton last night.”
My body tensed as I felt the eyes of my roommates on me. I didn’t know if they were all aware of the incident at my aptitude test before then. But I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the screen, which was now showing the officer again.
“I don’t know who that girl is, but we better hold on to her. She’s quite the rising star here in Classen City, and I expect we’ll be seeing much more of her in the future.”
I wished a hole would open up in the floor to swallow me whole. Who else was watching the television right now? Dax? Raf? Oh, Raf. He must feel so betrayed.
I guessed it was probably official now. My time with the Outsiders was over. But I had to do one last thing before I could fully commit to the New American way. I had to find a way to keep Frank alive.
—————
All eyes were on me again as I entered the classroom a little later that day. The air was alive with a mix of awe, respect, skepticism, and jealousy. Lennie gave me a slow clap as I walked past him to my seat, which caused Georgia to boil over.
Her eyes were narrowed into slits as she glared at me, and I swear I almost saw smoke coming out of her ears.
“Who do you think you are?” Her mouth barely moved as she spat her words through gritted teeth.
I gave her a syrupy sweet smile. “Claren Greenwood, rising star of Classen City at your service.” It was too easy to infuriate her. I knew I shouldn’t enjoy it, but there was no use hiding from the attention. My adventure was clearly not a secret.
The knuckles of her tightly clenched fists were white as she stood and moved toward me, but Mr. Saxon had perfect timing as he made his hurried entrance into the classroom.
“Ms. Hines, please take your seat so we can get started.” I had to hide my smirk.
“Good day, class. I can tell everyone is quite excited over the news coming out this morning. In case anyone missed it, our very own Claren Greenwood assisted in the capture of rebel leader, Frank Dalton.” He gave a small clap, joined by about half of my classmates. My cheeks flushed under the attention.
“Mr. Dalton’s trial will take place first thing Monday morning, and we have all been invited to attend. It will be broadcast throughout the city. Trials of this magnitude don’t come around often, so you are lucky to have the opportunity to witness it first hand. And it’s actually the perfect way to end your first semester in the program. Next semester we’ll be focusing heavily on trial procedure, so this is really a great introduction for you all.”
Monday. That meant I had four days to try and get Frank exiled before he was sentenced to death. Margo sat a few chairs away, taking notes as Mr. Saxon began the day’s lesson. My heart pounded in my chest. I still wasn’t sure if I could trust her, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to save Frank on my own.
I asked her if she wanted to join me on the second-floor landing that night after supper, the way we used to do. Her eyes flashed with light, and I felt a wisp of something that seemed so out of reach for me now. Hope. Hers was hope for forgiveness, for friendship. But it was enough to remind me that I once had hope as well. What a fool I was.
She spoke first as we snuggled up into our favorite two armchairs. “Claren, I—”
I lifted my hand to stop her. “I know. I was listening the day you came to my room. It wasn’t your fault.”
Emmaline was very persuasive when she wanted to be. And after I was able to stop her from taking everyone at the church meeting as her captives, I knew how powerful the art of projection could be. If I had the power to stop Emmaline, then she probably had the power to get anything she wanted. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
But it wasn’t Margo’s fault. If anything, it was mine. I should have never mentioned Cato to her. If I was smart, I would probably keep my mouth shut now, too. But I didn’t see any other possible solution.
Margo’s lower lip trembled. “It was my fault, though. I told her everything.”
I reached out my hand to hers. Concentrating on the feeling of forgiveness I had resting deep in my core, I tried to radiate the feeling up and out through my arms, from my hand into Margo’s. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Good. It was working. I pushed for her to feel accepted and trusted once again. I wanted her to feel loved.
When she opened her eyes again, she was almost smiling.
“How do you feel right now?” I asked.
“I feel...good. Really good.” She raised an eyebrow at me as I removed my hand from hers. “Are you—”
I nodded. “It’s called projection. It’s one of the things Emmaline and I have been working on together. It’s what she used to get the information from you.”
Margo’s head tilted back as she began to understand. “That’s some powerful stuff. But why would she bother coming to me for the information? Why not just use her little trick on you?”
“Well...” It was time to reveal my other secret. The one I’d hidden from everyone until now. It was time to share the gift that Raf gave to me before I left. “There’s another trick. It’s called blocking. Blocking your affect. And I learned it from a friend back home. Emmaline doesn’t realize it’s something I know how to do. Or if she does, she’s never spoken of it.”
“And what does it do?” Margo leaned forward, her blue eyes dazzling with curiosity.
“Well, it’s kind of like building a wall around your emotions. It prevents others from being able to read you. And I believe, to some degree, it helps defend against emotions being projected onto you as well.”
She shook her head. It was a lot to take in. It was even more to learn, and we didn’t have much time.
“Would you like to learn how to do it?”
Margo nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course! But why are you teaching me? Why now?”
“Because that man they are going to execute—Frank Dalton... He’s one of the good guys. And I need your help.”
My plan was to teach Margo as much as I could about blocking and projecting over the weekend. We would have to work fast at the trial on Monday, and Margo likely had a better shot at getting to Chief Justice Hines than I did.
Georgia despised me. But she was so arrogant that if Margo feigned interest in meeting her mother, she was certain to oblige. She’d do anything to make herself look good in front of her peers. It would be especially true if Margo had Lennie by her side. As much as Georgia pretended not to care, I knew she was a little jealous over the friendship that had developed between Margo and Lennie since the Harvest Dinner.
We practiced during every spare moment we had over the next few days. Margo was a fast learner, thankfully. By Monday morning she was ready to go.
“So once I get to Justice Hines, I just focus on grace?”
“That’s right.” I nodded. “Shake her hand, and pour every ounce of grace and mercy you have into it. Pour it out until your legs go weak.”
“And she’s just magically going to let him go?”
“Not quite.” I held out a folder I’d created. Inside were articles and past judgments establishing the law regarding citizenship. I’d highlighted the areas that suggested Frank should be exiled. An execution would be unprecedented. With the law right in front of her, plain as day, and the feelings Margo would project into her before the trial, I hoped we might just find a way to set Frank free.
Because to him, the Outside was home.