“Does Mrs. Evans ever hit the domestics?” Mrs. Haverford asked.
“No ma’am,” he said.
“Does she give the domestics an adequate amount of food?” Mr. Delman asked.
“I guess so,” Jon said. “I mean, yes. Well, I don’t eat with them, so I can’t swear they’re getting enough, but they seem healthy. I’ve never heard either of them complain. As a matter of fact, they’ve both told me how grateful they are to work for us.”
Mrs. Haverford smiled at Jon. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us about Mrs. Evans?” she asked. “Before we call her in for her examination?”
“She’s great,” Jon said. “She didn’t have to give me the pass, but she said she wanted me to live with her, that it would be wonderful for Gabe to have a big brother. And I know she works hard at her job. I really think she should be allowed to stay in Sexton.” He stopped. “I hope that’s okay,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Jon,” Mr. Hughes said. “You playing in Sunday’s game?”
“Yes sir,” Jon said, getting up.
“Give ’em hell,” Mr. Hughes said. “Show them who’s boss.”
“I’ll try, sir,” Jon said. “Thank you, Mr. Delman, Mrs. Haverford.”
Their nods indicated that he could leave. Jon realized he was shaking. He wasn’t sure what they were trying to find out about Lisa. He could only hope he answered in the right way.
He didn’t want to think about the consequences if he hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said as Jon answered the phone. “I never should have talked to you that way.”
“It’s okay,” Jon said. “You were upset about your students. I understand.”
“I’m still upset,” Mom replied. “Maybe even more so. Did you hear what happened to the high school?”
Jon swallowed. “Yeah,” he said.
“Destroyed,” Mom said. “Someone’s idea of a joke. It makes me sick.”
“But you’re still teaching,” Jon said. “Right?”
“I’m trying,” Mom replied. “They moved us to the elementary school. The whole high school is crammed into three rooms. They moved the chairs and desks out, and the kids sit on the floor. It’s the only way they could fit everybody in.”
“Where’s the elementary school?” Jon asked, trying not to picture the high school as it burned down.
“On Maple,” Mom replied. “It’s about a ten-block walk.”
“Well, that’s good,” Jon said. “At least you don’t have that long walk anymore.”
“It’s so unfair,” Mom said. “I know it’s not your fault, Jon, but the whole system is so wrong.”
“Hey, lady, you’re not the only one who wants to talk,” Jon heard a man shout.
“I’ve got to go,” Mom said. “I’ll talk to you next week. I love you, Jon.”
“Love you, too,” Jon mumbled, and hung up.
They’d done the right thing, he told himself. Mom wasn’t there. She couldn’t understand what it was like that night.
Besides, what difference did a couple more years of education make to a grub? Miranda and Alex had both gone to high school, and look where they were now.
They all had work to do, grubs and clavers. Jon would finish high school and go to Sexton University to learn whatever the board thought would be most useful to the enclave. He wouldn’t have any more say about his future than a grub.
Maybe the system was wrong. But it was the only system they had. It was the system that kept them, clavers and grubs both, alive.
It was a three-hour bus trip to Worley, and the air was particularly foul.
Jon didn’t care. He played as though he were the only man on the Sexton team. He didn’t just steal the ball from the Worley players. He stole it from his own teammates. He made thirteen shots, and nine of them went in. Sexton won 11–2.
“Nice job, Evans,” Coach said.
“He hogged the ball,” Tyler declared. “Didn’t give the rest of us a chance.”
Coach paused. “You’re right, Tyler,” he said. “Evans, this is a team sport. Let the grubs see who the real clavers are.”
It was a balancing act, Jon told himself. Everything was a balancing act. “I did hog the ball,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Just remember which side you’re on, slip,” Tyler said.
“I’ll remember,” Jon said. As though he’d ever be allowed to forget.
Jon was playing horsey with Gabe when the phone rang. Val answered it.
“It’s your mother, Jon,” she said.
Jon eased Gabe off his back and walked over to the phone. Mom called only on Saturdays. It was Miranda, he thought. Something bad must have happened to her.
“Is everything all right?” he asked before Mom had a chance to say hello.
“Everything’s fine,” she said. “Miranda went to the clinic for her checkup on Sunday, and it turns out a friend of yours works there. Sarah Goldman. Her father’s the doctor.”
“I know,” Jon said.
“I had this idea,” Mom declared. “I’ll invite Sarah and her father—and you, of course—for dinner. They could come over from the clinic, and you could take the bus in with Miranda and Alex. Nothing fancy. What do you think?”
Jon thought it was a terrible idea, but he knew better than to say so. “Sarah’s father is very busy,” he said. “He probably wants to go right home at night.”
“Well, we won’t know until we ask,” Mom said. “So why don’t you ask Sarah? Find out what day would be best for her and her father. One day next week. You can tell me on Saturday.”
“Can you afford it?” Jon asked. “Food’s not cheap, Mom.”
“I know what food costs,” Mom said. “Better than you. And yes, we can afford it. Jon, ask Sarah, all right?”
“All right,” Jon said. “I’ll talk to you on Saturday.”
“Have a good week, honey,” Mom said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Jon said.
He did love her, he told himself. She was his mother. She’d starved for him.
So why did he dread the idea of Sarah meeting her?
Jon woke up at the near sunless dawn. He hated the thought of inviting Sarah and her father to Mom’s apartment. Not because he thought Sarah would be offended. On the contrary. He knew Sarah well enough to know what she’d say. She’d be delighted. All part of her everyone-is-equal attitude.
But Jon knew better. Maybe everyone was equal, or had been before, but everyone didn’t live equally. That was the way the system worked. Clavers had more because they deserved more. Grubs had only as much as they needed to survive, because their survival was important. Not essential, the way claver survival was, but important enough to justify their being fed and sheltered. Grubs could be replaced easily enough. Clavers, except for Zachary’s granddad, were irreplaceable.
Julie should have been the slip. That had been the plan. He’d be the grub, working in a factory most likely. Maybe even in the mines. If Sarah had met him, and there’d be no reason why she would have, she wouldn’t have looked twice at him. For all her talk about everyone being equal, she was a claver girl, and claver girls never looked twice at grubs.
But it hadn’t happened that way. He lived in Sexton, on Julie’s pass. Julie, who had died because of him.
He tried to fall back asleep, but it was impossible. Instead he got dressed and stared out the window until he knew it was time for Val to be making his breakfast.
“I guess I should thank you,” he said, sitting down at the table. Val had already poured him a glass of goat’s milk, and he took a sip.