TWO
SCHOOL WAS FREE OF CHARGE, AS WERE LUNCHES,
uniforms, and transportation. This was fortunate. While Honor’s
father had begun his new job, her mother had not. Honor’s parents
bought her a cot to sleep on, but they could not afford beds for
themselves. Will and Pamela were tired and stiff from trying to
sleep on the bare floor.
Will rubbed Pamela’s shoulders as the family
stood together at the bus stop on Honor’s first day of
school.
There were no other families at their stop, only
a couple of workers in white jumpsuits collecting recycling bins.
The workers looked strange, like grown-up living dolls. They all
looked alike, with blank faces and bald heads. They didn’t make a
sound. “Who are they?” Honor asked.
“Orderlies,” Honor’s mother told her. “Don’t
stare. It’s not polite.”
“Where are the other kids?” Honor
asked.
“The other children come from different
neighborhoods,” said Pamela.
“They’ll be getting on later,” said Will.
“You’ll be alone at first, because you’re the first
stop.”
“Are you sure the bus will come here?” Honor
asked. Their neighborhood was desolate. DO NOT ENTER signs and
barbed-wire fences marked the barriers near the shore, where
ancient hotels stood submerged in water. A stench of rotting kelp
and mildew filled the air. The only clean new thing in the
neighborhood was the Corporation watchtower, which stood tall and
slender on stilts. Honor could just make out a man with binoculars
inside.
“Look,” said Honor.
“Never point at a Watcher.”
Honor was startled by the fear in her mother’s
voice. She had never lived in a city and had never seen a Watcher
before. “He could probably see the bus from up there,” she
ventured.
“He sees everything,” her mother said, as she
touched up Honor’s sunscreen.
Honor looked down at her new sandals and book
bag. These were part of her uniform, as were her broad-brimmed sun
hat, her khaki skirt, and her white shirt with the letter H
embroidered in green on the pocket. She felt strange in the
uniform.
“Don’t worry,” Pamela said, but her voice
trembled.
“There’s the bus,” said her father.
A blue school bus pulled up to the curb. The
doors opened with a whoosh of cool air.
Honor looked up at the open doors, and for a
moment she was overcome with dread. She felt suddenly that once she
got on the bus she would be leaving her parents for good.
“We’ll be waiting for you right here at the end
of the day,” Will said.
“What if I don’t know the answers?”
“Let’s go,” ordered the bus driver.
Honor ducked her head down and ran up the
stairs.
“If you don’t know, don’t say,” said
Will.
“Be careful, sweetie,” Pamela called after
her.
Honor sank down into a seat and clutched her
book bag to her chest.
“Buckle up,” said the driver.
As the bus lurched to the next stop and then the
next, students of all ages crowded on. The big kids from years F or
E boarded cheerfully, but some of the little children were crying.
The embroidered letters on their shirts were N and M and L and even
O. The youngest were just three years old and didn’t want to leave
their parents. Some even tried to run back down the aisle of the
bus and escape, but the bus driver was a strong, burly man, and he
scooped up the littlest children and strapped them in with special
locking seat belts. The windows were unbreakable as well. Children
could pound with their fists, but they soon discovered that the
glass was stronger than they were. Then all the little ones could
do was scream. The bus driver didn’t mind. He wore
earplugs.
Honor covered her ears and gazed out the window
as the bus drove up a steep road through great iron gates wrought
in the shape of long trumpet flowers. She began to see a whole
fleet of buses entering terraced school grounds. A great field
spread before them, framed by whitewashed buildings, ocean view,
and sky. Teachers stood on the grass holding white pennants painted
with class letters.
“Everybody off,” announced the driver. He
marched down the aisle unsnapping the seat belts of the littlest
children. “Go find your flag. No pushing.”
The sun was hot now. Honor was sweating as she
made her way to the middle of the field, where the other
ten-year-olds were gathered around a flag painted with the letter
H.
“Boys on this side, girls on that,” said the
teacher’s kindly voice. “Are you the new girl? Over here, dear, for
the head count. Twelve?” the teacher asked another adult.
“Yes, twelve,” the other teacher
replied.
“Line up nicely, boys and girls.” The two
teachers spent some time straightening the lines and straightening
the students as well, adjusting hats and patting down shirt
collars.
“Off we go inside,” said the teacher at the head
of Honor’s line. “Follow me.”
After the sweltering sunshine on the field, the
classroom was deliciously cool. The room was large. Twelve desks
stood ready, with a microscope on each. There were twelve easels
and twelve armchairs in a circle for reading time. Twelve standing
looms and twelve glossy black upright pianos. On one wall,
gardening tools hung from hooks. A giant saltwater aquarium
sparkled with tropical fish, lacy coral, sea anemones, and even a
class octopus called Octavio. At the front of the classroom above
the blackboard hung a framed portrait of Earth Mother. Honor could
not remember ever seeing such a big picture of Earth Mother. Her
eyes were blue and twinkling, her hair silver, tucked up in a bun.
She wore a red cardigan sweater and reading glasses on a chain
around her neck.
At the blackboard, the teacher wrote, Mrs.
Whyte. She was an elegant-looking woman with long cool fingers and
white hair to match her name. She took attendance.
“Hagar,” Mrs. Whyte called out. “Harriet,
and—why, yes, here’s another Harriet. You shall be Harriet K. and
Harriet V. Haven . . . Hedwig . . . Helena . . . Hester . . .
Hilary . . . Hildegard . . . Hiroko . . .” She paused for a moment
and stared at the attendance sheet with a puzzled look on her face.
“Honor,” she said at last, and then went on. “Hortense.”
Because Honor had never been to school before,
she watched the other girls to learn what to do. Everyone in the
classroom had a job, and no one else could do that job. The book
monitor distributed books for reading. The snack monitor wheeled in
a cart with cups of juice and plates of cheese and crackers and
lychees. The fish monitor fed the fish. There were many rules at
school and many classes: painting, math, copying, science,
gymnastics, music, weaving, and, of course, geography, Earth and
Weather.
For geography, Mrs. Whyte rolled down a great
map over the blackboard. This was a map of the world. The map was
entirely blue, except for the tiny dots of green representing the
world’s islands. “Who can find the Colonies on the map?” asked Mrs.
Whyte, offering her pointer to any student who could find the
islands in the deep blue Tranquil Sea. “Who can find our island on
the map?”
The girls strained their eyes, but there were so
many islands it was hard to find their own. Mrs. Whyte had to point
to the correct island herself. “And what sort of island is this?”
Mrs. Whyte asked.
“Big,” suggested Hagar.
“It is relatively big,” said Mrs. Whyte. “But
what sort of island is this?”
“Tropical,” said Harriet K.
Mrs. Whyte nodded.
“Important,” said Hortense.
Mrs. Whyte looked pleased. “Yes, Hortense, this
is an important island for several reasons. But that’s not the
answer I was looking for. This is a volcanic island. We are living
on the tip of a great volcano that rises from the ocean. And you
will all enjoy learning about volcanoes this year. Who can find the
Northern Islands?”
“Me!” Honor called out, but Mrs. Whyte called on
Hester because she was raising her hand.
“Who can find the Polar Seas?” asked Mrs. Whyte.
“And who would like to tell us what they were like before
Enclosure?”
“They were cold,” said Hiroko, standing at the
map and pointing to the oceans near the North and South
poles.
“Stormy,” said Hilary.
“The blizzards could kill you,” added Harriet
K.
“Very good,” said Mrs. Whyte. “Who will show us
what they are like now?”
Honor’s hand shot up, and this time Mrs. Whyte
called on her. Honor got to stand on a special footstool and roll
down a transparency over the map of the world. The transparency was
tinted over both Polar Seas and the Northern Islands as well, so
that those parts of the earth now looked rosy pink and
warm.
“Honor,” said Mrs. Whyte, “you come from the
North. What’s the North like now? Are there polar bears up there in
the Northern Islands?”
Some of the girls giggled.
“I saw one,” Honor said from her place up on the
stepladder. The giggling stopped. Mrs. Whyte looked so severe that
Honor’s heart began pounding.
“We do not lie in this classroom,” said Mrs.
Whyte. “We do not exaggerate or tell untruths, ever.”
Honor flinched.
“Do you know what happens to children who
lie?”
“I didn’t lie . . . I really . . . It was
swimming,” Honor spluttered. She remembered her mother calling
after her, Be careful, sweetie! “I think it was another kind of
bear.”
Mrs. Whyte’s face softened. She helped Honor off
the ladder. “Oh, now I see what you meant,” she said kindly.
“That’s absolutely right.” And as Honor took her seat, Mrs. Whyte
told the children, “The Polar Seas and Northern Islands are
Enclosed. What does that mean?”
“They’re Safe,” said Hiroko.
“Secure,” said Hildegard.
“They have a ceiling,” said Hortense, tossing
her blond hair with some importance.
“Yes, they are ceiled,” said Mrs. Whyte,
smiling, “and because of that, they are enjoying what we call . .
.”
“New Weather,” chimed the girls.
“Are the Northern Islands cold?”
Sometimes, thought Honor.
“No,” answered the girls.
“Are the Northern Islands hot?”
Sometimes, thought Honor.
“No.”
“What is the New Weather there?”
“Sunny!” said Hilary.
“Gorgeous!” said Hedwig.
“Perfect!” said Hortense.
“Good,” said Mrs. Whyte.
Honor shook her head. She wanted to say, “No,
the North isn’t perfect. Some days are sunny and some days are
cold. The Northern Islands are muddy and icy. Sometimes you can see
to the next island and sometimes there are only marshes as far as
the eye can see.” She wanted to ask the other girls, “How can you
know a place you haven’t been?” but she kept quiet until the lesson
was over and Mrs. Whyte told the girls to line up for target
practice. It was time for archery.
At hour five, when school ended, Honor was
exhausted. Slowly, she gathered her books and made her way to the
door. Something caught her eye just as she was about to leave.
Something or someone was watching her. She pivoted slowly,
searching the room. The other girls were hurrying out the door.
None of them so much as glanced in her direction, and yet, she felt
watched. She searched again. Then she saw that the octopus was
staring at her. He was bunched up against the glass of the
saltwater tank, and he was watching her with one great bulbous
eye.
She walked to the aquarium. Octavio was looking
deeply at her. She reached out to touch the glass.
“Stop! You’ll be late,” called Mrs. Whyte.
“Hurry to the door. Run.”
Honor raced outside. By the time she reached her
bus, she was out of breath. She squeezed into the last seat and
sank down with her head against the window. What happened if you
missed the bus? She didn’t want to know. The bus rumbled down the
hill and Honor closed her eyes. Maps and weather filled her mind,
uniforms and rules and Mrs. Whyte and the dark-eyed
octopus.
One by one, the other children got off the bus.
Round and round the island the blue school bus drove. Honor drifted
off to sleep.
“Last stop. Your parents are waiting.” The bus
driver shook Honor roughly by the shoulder, and she stumbled down
the stairs into the arms of Pamela and Will.
“How was it?”
Honor shrugged.
“Did you make any new friends?”
“No.”
“What did you learn on your first
day?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, I can’t believe that,” Will said stoutly as
they walked home. The air reeked with rotting mangoes and mushy
breadfruit. Only a few people lived in bungalows along the way to
the Greenspoons’ development. Chain-link fences and ferocious
lunging dogs defended those houses that were inhabited. A brown rat
darted into the deserted street. And then, in an instant, the
silent flash of a taser stunned the animal. Honor shrank back close
to her parents.
“Don’t worry,” said Pamela, “the Watcher got
him.”
“Our Corporation at work,” said Will.
Honor shuddered. The rat wasn’t dead yet but
crazed, limping off into the open mouth of a compost bin by the
side of the road. Any creature hit by a taser turned instantly to
find a compost bin. That way no festering bodies littered the
road.
“Do we have to be the last stop?” Honor
asked.
“Yes, we have to be the last stop.” Pamela
sighed.
Honor looked up at her mother. In all the times
they’d moved, she had never heard her sigh like that before. It was
hour six by the time the family arrived home. The sky was the color
of orange sherbet.
“Look at the clouds.” Honor was puzzled. The
clouds were not white, as they had been back home. They were tinted
the same color as the sky. “Why are the clouds orange
too?”
“Shh,” said Pamela as Will unlocked the front
door.
Will tensed as he raised his hand to turn on the
lights. A hulking form stood before them in the living room and
another in the hall. But with a flick of the switch, fear turned to
joy. The Greenspoons saw that the hulks were their own belongings.
Their trunks had finally arrived from the North.