“What do you think is happening to them?”
Becca turned back to Heather. “Who?”
Heather shoved the turkey around some more. “My parents.”
Becca knew all the reassuring things Heather wanted to hear. She couldn’t say them. How could she, when she knew they weren’t true?
Two trays hit the table, saving Becca from having to answer. Anna and Laine slid into the seats across from Becca and Heather. Unlike the rest of Heather’s friends, they were Becca’s friends too, and they weren’t as quick to strike when they smelled blood in the water. Becca should have known they wouldn’t turn on the two of them like everyone else. Becca shot them a grateful smile—both for saving her and, more importantly, for braving the cafeteria’s hostile eyes to support Heather.
Anna opened her mouth before she had fully made it into her seat. “Is it true? Are your parents really… you know…” She waved her hand in a vague gesture.
“They were arrested,” Heather mumbled, not looking at either of them. “They aren’t dissidents. It was a mistake.” She stabbed a slice of turkey with her fork.
Anna turned to Becca. “You were there, weren’t you?” Her words tripped over each other in their rush to leave her mouth. “Did you really get them to let Heather go? How did you do it?”
Becca was starting to feel sick—and it wasn’t from the smell of Heather’s lunch. She pushed her own untouched lunch away.
Next to Anna, Laine held herself rigid, like she was afraid Heather would start spouting dissident propaganda at her. She uncoiled long enough to speak. “If they aren’t dissidents, why were they arrested?”
Heather examined her lunch. “I don’t know.”
“You might not even know if they were,” Anna pointed out. “I mean, it’s not like they’d talk about it.”
“And if she did know,” said Laine, pointedly looking away from Heather as she spoke, “why would she tell us?”
Becca met Laine’s narrowed eyes. “What are you trying to say?”
“You have to admit, it doesn’t look good.” Laine fingered her Monitor pin, a small golden shield with an eye in the center, conspicuously.
A few years ago, only the really political kids and the ones angling for good Internal jobs after graduation had become Monitors, or so Becca had heard. Then a group of the most popular seniors got political and joined. After that, pretty much everyone in the school’s inner circles signed up every year to observe their fellow students for Internal—but Heather hadn’t. Not as a freshman, not as a sophomore, and not this year as a junior.
Becca hadn’t joined either. She probably wouldn’t have even if she had been popular enough that people expected it. Her mom was already pressuring her enough about getting a job with Internal after she graduated. If she joined the Monitors, it would be like giving in and saying she was going to follow in her mom’s footsteps. So she couldn’t blame Heather for making the same choice. But now, after last night… Laine was right: it didn’t look good.
Becca met Laine’s eyes and didn’t look away. “If you think Heather is a dissident, why are you even here?”
“We came to talk to you.” Laine didn’t look away either. “We saw you sitting here with her, and, well, you have to know what it will look like if you take her side.”
“People are already calling you a dissident,” Anna added. “Not that we believe them.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Becca edged her chair closer to Heather’s, just in case Heather—or Laine and Anna, for that matter—had any doubts about whose side she was on.
Laine gestured to the poster above her head. “Are you sure about that?”
Don’t be fooled, the poster warned. Dissidents are everywhere. A sinister smile peeked out from behind a mask. Beside that poster, another encouraged students to consider a career in Internal Defense. Like Becca didn’t hear enough of that from her mom already.
Unlike Laine, Anna looked at Heather when she spoke. “We haven’t all decided you’re a dissident,” she said, shooting Laine a brief glare. “We just want to know what’s going on. You’re our friend. When we heard what happened, we got worried.”
Anna’s eyes were shining. This had to be the most exciting thing to happen to her in a long time.
Becca felt like she had swallowed sewage. “So you came over here to make sure Heather was okay. It has nothing to do with you looking for gossip to take back to your friends over there.”
Becca had trusted them. She had thought they weren’t like the others. Most of Heather’s friends treated Becca with as much contempt as they thought they could get away with, jealous of her place as Heather’s best friend, bewildered that someone who wasn’t interested in playing the popularity game was closer to Heather than any of them. But Laine and Anna had been different. They had been Heather’s friends first, of course, but they had been Becca’s friends too.
How many hours had she and Heather spent with them? How many inside jokes had they accumulated over the past couple of years? And for what? So that now they could pick at her and Becca while the other vultures kept their distance?
Anna, at least, had the grace to look ashamed.
“We were just trying to help,” Laine muttered. To Becca, not to Heather.
Becca sat up a little straighter. “Unlike the rest of Heather’s so-called friends, I’m not going to abandon her, no matter what her parents did. You can stay here and eat, and quit accusing Heather of things she’d never do—or you can leave and get your gossip someplace else.”
“You know it’s only a matter of time before they arrest her,” said Laine with a twist of her lips. “You might want to change your mind before then, or you’ll be right there with her.” She turned to Heather. “It’s not enough for you to be plotting God-knows-what with your parents? You have to drag Becca into this too?”
Heather’s hands tightened on her lunch tray.
“You should tell Becca the truth so she can get out of this mess while she still can,” Laine continued. “You owe her that much. Otherwise she’ll be executed along with you and your parents.”
Becca stood. “I told you I don’t want your help. Either you can leave, or we will.”
Laine ignored Becca. All her attention was on Heather now. “I hope they make you watch when they execute your traitor parents. I hope—”
A glob of turkey hit Laine in the face. Heather stood still for a moment, breathing rapidly, clutching her now-empty tray. She dropped the tray; it clattered to the floor. While Laine sputtered and spat out turkey goo, Heather ran out of the room.
Becca didn’t spare Laine and Anna another glance before scrambling out of her seat to follow.
Becca caught up with Heather in front of the school. Heather was sitting on the front steps, head on her arms, arms on her knees. When Becca sat down next to her, she didn’t move.
Becca scanned the area for teachers or Monitors who might spot them outside. It was bad enough to leave the building during school hours; it would be much worse for someone to think she was sneaking off alone with a suspected dissident. She didn’t see anybody—just the unnaturally-clean brick walls of the school, and the unnaturally-green grass. The new high school had just gotten finished earlier this year. The walls didn’t have that familiar coating of dust and grime yet, and the new grass hadn’t had a chance to yellow in the sun.
She and Heather were safe for now. No one was around to spot them.
There would be no convenient interruptions to save her this time.
What if Heather asked about her parents again?