Glass and Gardens Page 7

  “Hey,” Marina said, noticing Andee’s color shift. “It’s okay. Come on, walk with me, we’ll be safe together.”

  Marina had mistaken Andee’s color for fear. At least there was that. People could see your emotion, but they couldn’t always tell why.

  “No, I’ll be down in a bit,” she said. “Marina, the Red Crusher could be Irwin.”

  “Oh, not again.” Even Marina’s color waned at that. He’d been one of their classmates and now rumor had it he was in danger of exile. “Still, be careful, okay? He’s red like that for a reason. It’s not safe. I’m glad you’re coming out. I’ll be by the beach, if you want to go down.”

  ***

  After Marina left, Andee felt more guilt and shame. Why couldn’t she have gone with her friend? She liked Marina, but all Andee could think about was herself, her own dark mood, and her ill shade.

  Her failure made her want to give up, but she sat down, turned away from the mirror, and closed her eyes. She recited Morell’s “Green Poem” in her head.

  Peace and calm they keep me free,

  Like the sea of deepest green.

  Act from love and not from fear,

  Come color, color, color clear.

  Andee let the calm settle into her. When she turned around again, she was a light shade of green. It wasn’t perfect and it wasn’t attractive, but it would pass. She wouldn’t be embarrassed by this mood anyway.

  She put on a hemp halter-top and wrap skirt identical to Marina’s. Her green skin glowed lightly through her clothes. The sun had lowered, but there were still hours of light. She had plenty of time to walk to Abersea Park.

  The crushed rock lining the ped path glowed a solar-powered blue as it wound its way to the sea. Andee looked up into the overhanging willow trees that lined the path. As she walked, she noted how her shade settled into a steadier green glow. Getting out of her dome was good for her. Walking made her feel better, but it was easy to forget when she was inside and her entire dome was glowing gray. Slowly, she relaxed and her forced green shade settled into her skin along with her uplifted mood.

  As she rounded the ped path’s last bend, she dipped under dark trees and then stepped into the park, alit with people shining like lanterns. She saw her friends, beacons of pink, orange, and yellow by the cliff overlooking the sea. The Spiked Sun statue towered over them and caught the last rays of sunlight in its tips. Her friends bounced and shone in a cascade of laughter and waves. Unsure whether she could match their enthusiasm just yet, she turned away from her friends’ bright lights toward the parents’ softer glows. Banquet tables were arranged under the park dome in the arboretum.

  Andee had lived under her parents’ sun dome longer than most and she missed them. She found her indie sun dome lonely, and her shade struggles had begun after she had left her parents’ bigger communal dome. She had lost the verdant color her parents expected of “their darling farm girl,” settling for a peaceful green when she could manage it.

  Outside, colorful children darted around the circle of the elders’ dome, flashing like fireworks. They turned the merry-go-round into an arc of striped multicolored light. With a couple of exceptions, most of the community elders had softer glows. Like Madame Morell, they had opted for lower doses of the bioluminescent solar-collecting nanites that made their skin cells glow at night. Everything in Aberdonia, from ped paths to domes to the Spiked Sun Solar Pact statue itself, did its best to capture the waning sun and power the community—and that included its people.

  “The glow keeps me up at night,” Andee’s mother had complained once, but later said, “Nowadays, I find it soothing. To see your father beside me glowing like a peach at night makes me happy.”

  It was a completely unintended side effect, but being able to see each other’s mood clearly, at night anyway, was now something the community counted on. Andee wasn’t sure how she’d relate to someone if she didn’t know they were baseline green, blue, orange, yellow, or pink. A violet glow was common among creatives and everyone knew to avoid Red Crushers—people in the throes of unacceptable anger or violence.

  Andee quickly found her mom’s comforting green glow among the crowd.

  “Oh, you made it,” her mother said. “Did you have any trouble on the path? People are saying there’s a Red Crusher out tonight.”

  “I know. Marina warned me. I’ll be careful,” Andee said. Before the Solar Pact and Aberdonia’s creation, her mother had been a Victim of Violence in the old regime. Andee didn’t like to worry her.

  “Honey, you look lovely,” her mother said, and Andee’s skin flashed a bright green response. “I’m so jealous. In my day, we had so much struggle over what to wear.”

  “You look nice too, Mom.”

  Her mother was wearing loose hemp slacks and a billowing blouse. Andee had thought it weird how much time her mother used to spend selecting clothes. Teens in Aberdonia wore uncolored hemp basics. Andee was glad to see her mother finally embracing the modern style. The old fashion industry had been such a waste. Though sometimes she wished she could worry about clothes and makeup instead of her solar skin glow.

  Andee found her father next to a buffet table snacking off a platter of colorful vegetables and talking with his friend, Council Leader Gordon.

  “Hey, Andee.” He hugged her. “I was worried about you walking alone, because of the Red Crusher.”

  “That Hunter boy, I suppose,” Gordon said. “The Council is talking of banishing him.”

  “Andee, good to see you.” Gordon winced as he smiled. Three red punctures puckered below his eye.

  Where The Spiked Sun hit him, Andee thought.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her shade gray with horror. So it was true; Irwin could be exiled.

  ***

  When they were younger, the kids had teased Irwin Hunter mercilessly about his temper. His red glow didn’t show during the day, but his acting out did and everyone knew he was quick to anger. Finally, their parents had intervened. Andee remembered the night her own parents had sat her down to talk about Irwin.

  “We don’t shun people for being different, Andee,” her father had said. “That’s not who Aberdonians are. You have to make an effort.”

  Unfortunately, Andee had already watched a number of her more sociable, attractive, and outgoing classmates try to befriend the ill-tempered boy. Sorcha, Xollo, and even Marina had all failed. Irwin grew red and turned them away.

  So Andee was surprised when Irwin talked to her and she started to get to know him. He would sometimes turn a soft yellow, a sunny color she enjoyed. In school and around the other children, he never showed that calm.

  The other children began to make fun of her for her closeness to him.

  “Watch out, you’ll get red, too,” they teased.

  In fact, she could feel it flaring up in her.

  “You were all told to make friends with him, too,” she said one day, red with anger.

  Soon, she stopped making an effort to be nice to Irwin and they had grown apart. For a while, they were classmates, nothing more.

  ***

  “Father,” Andee said, throwing his own words back at him now on First Summer night. “We don’t shun people for being different.”

  “We tried,” Council Leader Gordon said. “It’s not something we take lightly, but now…” He touched his bruised cheek. “People are afraid.”

  “It’s a matter of safety, Andee,” her father said. “You know we can’t allow violent behavior.”

  “Andee, what are you doing once work starts?” Gordon asked, changing the topic.

  It was an honest question, but Andee bristled. If she didn’t say, “farmer,” if she flashed red anger, would the Council Leader consider exiling her, too? Red prickled across her green glow. Andee shrugged, trying to calm herself.

  “You’ll decide soon,” the Council Leader said.

  “I’d better get to my classmates,” she said, and turned toward the cliff overlooking the ocean. They we
re easy to spot: bright yellow Sorcha, orange sherbet Blair, and hot pink Chris.

  “Andee!” Sorcha cried as soon as she spotted her. She picked her up and swung her around. Blair and Chris had to step back so as not to be hit by Andee’s swinging feet. As soon as Andee was on solid ground again, they had to warn her about the Red Crusher.

  “Did you see that Red Crusher? So brick. Out of control. I saw the flash earlier up the ped path,” Blair said.

  “Yeah, I heard,” Andee said. “It might be Irwin. Did you know the Council is talking banishment?”

  “That’s terrible,” Sorcha said.

  “Probably for the best though, don’t you think?” said Chris. “I mean, if he’s really dangerous.”

  ***

  When Andee had gotten older, she’d connected with Irwin again and for a while they’d been more than classmates. They’d started to take evening walks together. He’d told her what had happened that day in school when he’d been dubbed Red Crusher.

  “Somehow I was carrying your stupid cake and I tripped and I dropped it. And I was so ashamed and embarrassed, that I decided to make it like I’d done it on purpose. I stomped. I screamed. I totally destroyed that cake. I don’t know why I did that. Now I wish I hadn’t, of course, but it’s not like anyone was going to eat it once I’d dropped it anyway. I had no idea it was going to stick with me so long.”

  Irwin was still angry, but he talked about why he didn’t like Aberdonia. Andee didn’t agree with a lot of what he said, the source of his deep-seated anger, but she started to understand his reasons.

  “The adults at least had a choice about whether to be injected with these solar cells. They never gave us any choice. And now we’re judged by this side effect. A freakin’ side effect.” He would start to flash red as he talked. “You know, Aberdonia, it isn’t perfect for everyone.”

  She had listened to his angry ideas and some of what he’d said made sense. He was frustrated with the Solar Pact and its unfair provisions.

  They’d sat together through the night under the dome at Abersea Park. They’d talked about what it would be like to not glow at night, to be Unseen. They’d talked about the sun, its waning power, and its color.

  “I don’t know about the night glow, but I’m glad to have some of that beauty and power inside of me,” Andee said.

  One summer night as they sat on the merry-go-round, Irwin turned a serene shade of yellow like the summer sun. She’d liked him that way.

  “What are you feeling?” she’d asked shyly.

  “It’s none of your business,” he’d said, but his shade had stayed strong. It hadn’t shifted.

  So she knew it was okay that she had asked and that he hadn’t answered.

  They’d walked to the cliff and sat on the edge overlooking the sea, listening to it crash beneath them. They’d stayed together just holding hands and mostly silent until the real sun came up, and the Solar Pact monument began to pull in its rays.

  He could kiss me, she’d thought. It had seemed like a dangerous, rebellious idea at the time. What would her classmates think? I would let him, she’d thought.

  But he hadn’t.

  So for a while, Andee had become fascinated with Xollo, a talented storyteller. She’d gathered with her classmates around his violet glow. He told Red Crusher stories featuring wild characters with violent outbursts made ridiculous. Andee could see herself in his stories, see the absurdity, and she had laughed loudly along with the others.

  Irwin never saw the humor. He grew distant again.

  Still, Andee remembered when he had confided in her. He’d told her what he really wanted, what he was dreaming about for his life in Aberdonia. It had surprised her.

  ***

  “Irwin wanted to be on the Aberdonian Council someday,” Andee told her friends. “He wanted to have a say, to help change things, to update the Solar Pact, and make it fair.”

  “Well, anger won’t help,” Blair said.

  “Come on, it’s First Summer,” Chris said, picking up some solar balls and beginning to juggle them. “Let’s enjoy it. We can worry tomorrow.”

  Andee spent the rest of First Summer night in the company of her bright classmates. They ran around posing like light statuettes, making art out of their shining bodies, and playing Solar Ball. When Andee tired of their neon antics, she took the walkway cliffside to the beach to look for Xollo and Marina.

  Marina was swimming, a blue flash in the dark sea. Xollo was in the corner of a stone cave by the beach, glowing violet. His shade was not as bright, but it was alluring. People were gathered around listening to his stories, his work. She wandered over to listen, too. He was telling a beautiful story about selkies and water nymphs that betrayed his love for Marina.

  Xollo stopped telling stories after Marina came out of the water. His audience wandered off in pairs or trios down the beach. Marina gave Andee and Xollo wet, salty hugs. Xollo lingered by Marina’s side and Andee decided to let the couple be alone together.

  “Be careful walking back by yourself,” Marina said.

  “Yeah, watch out for the Red Crusher,” Xollo said.

  “Thanks.” Andee turned away. “I’ve been warned.”

  Again, she thought and rolled her eyes.

  She began walking back to her indie sun dome alone, away from the scent of lavender and sea salt, along the ped path with its solar-blue light.

  As she walked she caught a glimpse of red and fear flared up in her. She thought about what could happen to her out here. A Red Crusher could take their anger out upon her body, and she was small, weak against their wrath. Everyone who warned her would have been right, and she would be proved wrong and stupid. What had she been thinking walking alone when she knew there was a dangerous person on the rampage?

  As she grew closer to the red, she saw she had mistaken the color. The red shade was pinker, more passionate. She heard a giggle, a rustle, and glimpsed a couple glowing amorous, pink-red through the trees.

  Andee sighed. Her shoulders relaxed. She took a deep breath and walked on. Maybe she should be scared, but she was happy to be alone. It had been exhausting worrying about her mood and how it might affect others. She was glad to relax with herself and glow blue if she must.

  What if she wasn’t meant to be a farmer as expected? Maybe she didn’t want to feel the peacefulness of green.

  What if she became a counselor, a listener, someone like Madame Morell? Even if others scorned them, she liked Madame Morell’s classes. She thought about Irwin sitting near her in the outdoor classes at dusk. She’d seen the classes work for him sometimes. He’d come in red, but then that true-sun color would rise in him and burst through his thin hemp wrap as the night bloomed.

  She started to think she understood that color, knew what it meant: acceptance.

  Maybe she could be blue and that would be okay and let other people know they weren’t alone. She could listen, maybe tease out of people a lighter, warmer color, and see them shine that yellow glow. Yes, she’d like that. It would be satisfying to help others.

  But would it be allowed?

  It’s easier to exile people, she thought, growing angry.

  On the path, she saw the red light ahead of her. This time the red anger was unmistakable. She heard shouting. Andee knew she should veer down another path and avoid confrontation.

  Act from love and not from fear, she remembered the words of Morell’s poem.

  But acting out of fear had served her well. Sometimes, she was sure it kept her safe. Certainly, it paid to trust her instincts. Her mother had told her about violence in the time before solar cells, when it wasn’t easy to spot and avoid dangerous people…he held me against the tree, I tried to fight…bits of her story, just enough to make Andee listen. It was terrifying how, back then, you couldn’t know someone’s mind in the dark until it was too late.

  “Now we can see them coming,” her mother said. “There’s no reason not to use that knowledge, avoid danger.”

  Th
inking about this and looking at that Red Crusher, Andee felt her heart beat faster.

  It wasn’t fear, though. How did that person know she was a target? How could they assume she was powerless?

  Maybe she was the angry one. Maybe she was the danger. No one knew what she might do. She was tired of people assuming they knew her. Maybe this time, they should hide.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Andee could see her own solar cells reddening as she headed toward the brick glow on the path.

  Then she saw it, the lit pearl of luminescent pink in the wall of red.

  Madame Morell. And someone else. A spark of peace and love surrounded by hate.

  Andee charged forward.

  She wanted to find a stranger there, some exile, some outsider. She didn’t want the danger to be someone she knew, but when she got close enough to see limbs and faces among the light, Irwin looked up at her. In his eyes she saw someone she had agreed with and someone—she saw it now—she had loved.

  She screamed, no words, a bright animal call of alarm.

  Irwin froze. Madame Morell shrugged him off, scrambled to her feet and to Andee’s side.

  Irwin crouched and rose.

  “We were just talking. It got out of control,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Go.” Andee said, trembling with rage.

  He stepped toward her. “You think I’m a monster.”

  “No. I never did. It’s what you’re doing. Go now. Don’t wait for the Council to tell you. I’m telling you. You can’t be here. That’s not who we are.”

  Irwin looked at her. His shade wavered, rippling lines of red.

  I’ll never move. Hurt him if I have to, Andee thought.

  Finally, he turned and walked away.

  The red glow remained, a sumac flare around Andee as her body relaxed and her breathing slowed. She smoothed Madame Morell’s mangled hemp wrap and covered the welts rising on her shoulder and collarbone. Andee hugged her teacher.

  “I’m fine,” Madame Morell said. “I’m okay. Really. Thank you.” She reached for Andee’s hand and held it. “I see. You have found your shade.”

  “It’s unacceptable,” Andee said, her voice shaking. “It’s wrong.”