Albert was a normal, though he seemed nevertheless to have an almost supernatural ability to organize, to make things happen, to do business. Looking at the group through hooded eyes, Sam knew Albert was probably the most powerful person in the room. Albert, more than any other person, had kept Perdido Beach from starving.
Edilio slumped, holding his head with both hands and not making eye contact with anyone. He had a submachine gun propped against his chair, a sight that had become all too normal.
Edilio was officially town marshal. Probably the mildest, most modest and least-assuming person in the council, he was in charge of enforcing whatever rules the council created. If they ever got around to actually creating any.
Howard was the wild card in the group. Sam still wasn’t sure how he had managed to talk his way onto the council. No one doubted that Howard was smart. But no one thought he had an honest or ethical bone in his body. Howard was chief toady to Orc, the glowering, drunken-boy-turned-monster who had fought on the right side a couple of times when it had really counted.
The youngest member was a sweet-faced boy named John Terrafino. He was a normal, too—Mary’s little brother. He seldom had much to say and mostly listened. Everyone assumed he voted however Mary told him to. Mary would have been there, but she was simultaneously indispensable and fragile.
Seven council members. Astrid as chairperson. Five normals, two freaks.
“A few different things happened last night,” Sam said as calmly as he could. He didn’t want a fight. He especially didn’t want a fight with Astrid. He loved Astrid. He was desperate for Astrid. She was the sum total of all the good he had in his life, he reminded himself.
And now she was furious.
“We know about Jill,” Astrid said.
“Zil’s punks. Who wouldn’t still be doing stuff like that if we’d shut them down,” Dekka muttered.
“We’ve voted on that,” Astrid said.
“Yeah, I know. Four to three in favor of letting the sick little creep and his sick little friends terrorize the whole town,” Dekka snapped.
“Four to three in favor of having some kind of system of laws and not just fighting fire with fire,” Astrid said.
“We can’t just go around arresting people without some kind of system,” Albert said.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Howard said with a smirk. “You can’t just go all laser-hands whenever you decide you don’t like someone.”
Dekka shifted in her seat, hunching her strong shoulders forward. “No, so instead we let little girls be kicked out of their own homes and terrorized.”
“Look, once and for all, we can’t have a system where Sam is judge, jury, and executioner,” Astrid said. She softened it a bit by adding, “Although if there’s one person I would trust, it’s him. Sam’s a hero. But we need everyone in the FAYZ to know what’s okay and what’s not. We need rules, not just one person deciding who is out of line and who isn’t.”
“He was a really good worker,” John whispered. “Francis. He was a really good worker. The prees are totally going to miss him. They loved him.”
“I only found out about this last night. Actually, early this morning,” Sam said. He gave a brief description of what he’d seen and heard at Orsay’s gathering.
“Could it be true?” Albert asked. He seemed worried. Sam understood his ambivalence. Albert had gone from being just another kid in the old days, a person no one even really noticed, to being the person who in many ways ran Perdido Beach.
“I don’t think there’s any way for us to know,” Astrid said.
Everyone fell silent at that. The idea that it might be possible to contact parents, friends, family outside of the FAYZ was mind-boggling. The idea that those outside could know what was happening inside the FAYZ…
Even now, with some time to digest it, Sam felt powerful and not necessarily pleasant emotions. He had long been plagued by the fear that when the FAYZ wall somehow, some day, came down, he would be held responsible. For lives he had taken. For lives he had not saved. The idea that the whole world might be watching, dissecting his actions, questioning every panicky move, every desperate moment, was disturbing, to say the least.
So many things he didn’t want to have to ever talk about. So many things that could be made to look awful.
Young master Temple, can you explain how you sat by while kids wasted most of the food supply and ended up starving?
Are you telling us, Mr. Temple, that children were cooking and eating their own pets?
Mr. Temple, can you explain the graves in the plaza?
Sam clenched his fists and steadied his breathing.
“What Francis did was commit suicide,” Dekka said.
“I think that’s a little harsh,” Howard said. He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the table, and interlaced his fingers over his skinny belly. He knew this would irritate Astrid. In fact, Sam guessed, he did it for just that reason. “He wanted to go running home to Mommy, what can I say? Of course, it’s hard for me to believe that anyone would choose to step out of the FAYZ. I mean, where else do you get to eat rats, use your backyard for a toilet, and live in fear of nineteen different kinds of scary?”
No one laughed.
“We can’t let kids do this,” Astrid said. She sounded quite sure.
“How do we stop them?” Edilio asked. He raised his head, and Sam saw the distress on his face. “How do you think we stop them? When your fifteenth birthday rolls around, the easy thing is to take the poof. You gotta fight to resist it. We know that. So how are we going to tell kids this isn’t real, this Orsay thing?”
Edilio slumped, holding his head with both hands and not making eye contact with anyone. He had a submachine gun propped against his chair, a sight that had become all too normal.
Edilio was officially town marshal. Probably the mildest, most modest and least-assuming person in the council, he was in charge of enforcing whatever rules the council created. If they ever got around to actually creating any.
Howard was the wild card in the group. Sam still wasn’t sure how he had managed to talk his way onto the council. No one doubted that Howard was smart. But no one thought he had an honest or ethical bone in his body. Howard was chief toady to Orc, the glowering, drunken-boy-turned-monster who had fought on the right side a couple of times when it had really counted.
The youngest member was a sweet-faced boy named John Terrafino. He was a normal, too—Mary’s little brother. He seldom had much to say and mostly listened. Everyone assumed he voted however Mary told him to. Mary would have been there, but she was simultaneously indispensable and fragile.
Seven council members. Astrid as chairperson. Five normals, two freaks.
“A few different things happened last night,” Sam said as calmly as he could. He didn’t want a fight. He especially didn’t want a fight with Astrid. He loved Astrid. He was desperate for Astrid. She was the sum total of all the good he had in his life, he reminded himself.
And now she was furious.
“We know about Jill,” Astrid said.
“Zil’s punks. Who wouldn’t still be doing stuff like that if we’d shut them down,” Dekka muttered.
“We’ve voted on that,” Astrid said.
“Yeah, I know. Four to three in favor of letting the sick little creep and his sick little friends terrorize the whole town,” Dekka snapped.
“Four to three in favor of having some kind of system of laws and not just fighting fire with fire,” Astrid said.
“We can’t just go around arresting people without some kind of system,” Albert said.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Howard said with a smirk. “You can’t just go all laser-hands whenever you decide you don’t like someone.”
Dekka shifted in her seat, hunching her strong shoulders forward. “No, so instead we let little girls be kicked out of their own homes and terrorized.”
“Look, once and for all, we can’t have a system where Sam is judge, jury, and executioner,” Astrid said. She softened it a bit by adding, “Although if there’s one person I would trust, it’s him. Sam’s a hero. But we need everyone in the FAYZ to know what’s okay and what’s not. We need rules, not just one person deciding who is out of line and who isn’t.”
“He was a really good worker,” John whispered. “Francis. He was a really good worker. The prees are totally going to miss him. They loved him.”
“I only found out about this last night. Actually, early this morning,” Sam said. He gave a brief description of what he’d seen and heard at Orsay’s gathering.
“Could it be true?” Albert asked. He seemed worried. Sam understood his ambivalence. Albert had gone from being just another kid in the old days, a person no one even really noticed, to being the person who in many ways ran Perdido Beach.
“I don’t think there’s any way for us to know,” Astrid said.
Everyone fell silent at that. The idea that it might be possible to contact parents, friends, family outside of the FAYZ was mind-boggling. The idea that those outside could know what was happening inside the FAYZ…
Even now, with some time to digest it, Sam felt powerful and not necessarily pleasant emotions. He had long been plagued by the fear that when the FAYZ wall somehow, some day, came down, he would be held responsible. For lives he had taken. For lives he had not saved. The idea that the whole world might be watching, dissecting his actions, questioning every panicky move, every desperate moment, was disturbing, to say the least.
So many things he didn’t want to have to ever talk about. So many things that could be made to look awful.
Young master Temple, can you explain how you sat by while kids wasted most of the food supply and ended up starving?
Are you telling us, Mr. Temple, that children were cooking and eating their own pets?
Mr. Temple, can you explain the graves in the plaza?
Sam clenched his fists and steadied his breathing.
“What Francis did was commit suicide,” Dekka said.
“I think that’s a little harsh,” Howard said. He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the table, and interlaced his fingers over his skinny belly. He knew this would irritate Astrid. In fact, Sam guessed, he did it for just that reason. “He wanted to go running home to Mommy, what can I say? Of course, it’s hard for me to believe that anyone would choose to step out of the FAYZ. I mean, where else do you get to eat rats, use your backyard for a toilet, and live in fear of nineteen different kinds of scary?”
No one laughed.
“We can’t let kids do this,” Astrid said. She sounded quite sure.
“How do we stop them?” Edilio asked. He raised his head, and Sam saw the distress on his face. “How do you think we stop them? When your fifteenth birthday rolls around, the easy thing is to take the poof. You gotta fight to resist it. We know that. So how are we going to tell kids this isn’t real, this Orsay thing?”
