The Pledge
Page 15
d understood “Cloud” perfectly that time.
But already I was pulling her, dragging her away from the enormous men and their mysterious language. And away from the suffocating dread that bore down on me.
MAX
The barracks were never fully silent, even in the dead of night. Around him, Max could hear the rustle of bedding, the bark of an unrelenting cough, and the hushed voices of a faraway conversation.
He lay in his bunk, as still as he could, pretending to be asleep despite the fact that he was nowhere near it. He didn’t try to keep the girl from his thoughts, but he didn’t want to share those thoughts with the others. Better to feign sleep. Better to avoid questions from those around him, those who kept him under constant watch.
It would be easier if he were alone. If he were ever truly alone.
But this was the life he’d chosen, and alone was no longer an option, so he’d have to settle for stolen moments in the blackest part of the night, hiding in plain sight.
Clear blue eyes stared back from inside his own memories, eyes he wished he’d never seen in the first place. Yet eyes he hoped to glimpse again. Soon.
She would be trouble, this one; the fact that he was lying awake now was proof of that. Just a few words exchanged, a smile, scant minutes spent together at the club, and already he was tortured and restless.
He replayed those last moments, after he’d followed her in the club, whe Bowednd manemories, en he’d watched as she’d listened to her friend’s flirtatious banter. He recognized the moment immediately, it would have been impossible not to notice it; her eyes going wide, her voice trembling, her conviction shattered.
She wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be
.
He worried for her, even though she was safe for now—probably at home, probably with her family, asleep in her own bed.
Unaware of the torment she’d already unleashed in him.
IV
Brooklynn had refused to speak to or even look at me on the walk home, no matter how many times I’d tried to apologize. If I could have explained why I’d insisted on leaving, she might have forgiven me, but I couldn’t. No one, not even my best friend in the world, was allowed to know what I could do . . . that I could understand everything I heard.
By the time we were nearing our neighborhood on the west side of the city—the vendors’ part of town—I’d decided it would be better if I just stayed at my house. My parents would know that I’d been out instead of at Brook’s, but with her silent glare aimed directly at the street ahead of her, she’d made it more than clear that she wasn’t going to forgive me. Not that night anyway.
But I wasn’t sorry for making her leave. Even the next morning, in the light of a new day, I was certain I’d done the right thing.
I’d heard Claude when he spoke last night, and there was something wrong with it. . . .
Why had I never heard his language before? How was that possible? With the threat of the revolution drawing interest from outside countries—countries hoping to prey on the fact that our defenses were weak, hoping to take advantage of a queen in peril—Ludania’s borders had been closed off, and all foreign visitors had been forced to leave. No more tourist Passports were being issued.
Yet I had heard all the regional variations of Termani, Parshon, and Englaise; I knew all their intonations, their cadences, their rhythms. Or so I’d believed. Until now.
Now I’d heard something new.
But why was I so certain that I was never meant to hear this language in the first place?
I couldn’t help wondering who Claude and his friend were. Spies? Revolutionaries speaking in code? Something worse?
Those questions, and the strange sounds of this new language, had haunted me far into the night, chasing me into sleep and making me restless.
Other things had kept me awake too, and occupied my thoughts, things I had no business thinking about. Dark gray eyes, soft lips, a brash smile.
I tried to tell myself it was foolish to entertain such notions, but every time I forced him out, he found his way back in again.
The next morning I was relieved when I saw Brooklynn waiting in our usual spot in the plaza before school. I nearly smiled, until I realized that she was pretending not to notice me. Aron wasn’t there yet; it was only the two of us. I approached warily, uncertain how to deal with last Cal `g Inight.
“Hi,” I offered apprehensively, wishing I had something better to start off with.
Brook kept her arms crossed over her chest, her book bag lying crookedly at her feet. Yet even with her defiant stance, I knew she must be wavering. Why else would she have come?
She turned her cheek, still refusing to acknowledge my presence.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, realizing I would have to make the first move and hating the bitter taste of apology on my tongue. “Brooklynn, I’m sorry. I know you liked that—that Claude guy.” I purposely said his name like “Cloud,” hoping to crack her cast-iron shell. But I got nothing as she continued to glare skyward. “I can’t explain it, I just can’t,” I tried. “There was something . . . strange about them. Something I didn’t trust.” It was as clear as I could be, but at least her foot was tapping now. She was listening to me, and that was a start. “You know I wouldn’t have asked you to leave if I wasn’t worried. . . .” I paused, trying to think what more I could possibly say.
Brooklynn turned to me then, a concerned frown taking the place of her unrelenting glower. She thought for a moment, and when she finally spoke, I wished we could go back in time. The silent treatment was easier than the truth. “It wasn’t about the guy, Charlie. It was about you. Something happened last night, and not just at the club, at the restaurant, too. You’re the one who’s acting strange. . . .” Her voice dropped to a discreet whisper as she closed the gap between us, standing so close now that no one could possibly overhear. “You’re the one who’s going around breaking the law. And don’t fool yourself, I saw what you did at school yesterday, when you gave that boy a cookie. It’s dangerous. The deadly sort of dangerous.” Her mouth became a firm line as she nearly pressed her cheek to mine then, her voice almost inaudible. “I’m your friend, Charlie. If there’s something you want to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll keep your secrets. But you need to be more careful. For the sake of everyone around you.”
But already I was pulling her, dragging her away from the enormous men and their mysterious language. And away from the suffocating dread that bore down on me.
MAX
The barracks were never fully silent, even in the dead of night. Around him, Max could hear the rustle of bedding, the bark of an unrelenting cough, and the hushed voices of a faraway conversation.
He lay in his bunk, as still as he could, pretending to be asleep despite the fact that he was nowhere near it. He didn’t try to keep the girl from his thoughts, but he didn’t want to share those thoughts with the others. Better to feign sleep. Better to avoid questions from those around him, those who kept him under constant watch.
It would be easier if he were alone. If he were ever truly alone.
But this was the life he’d chosen, and alone was no longer an option, so he’d have to settle for stolen moments in the blackest part of the night, hiding in plain sight.
Clear blue eyes stared back from inside his own memories, eyes he wished he’d never seen in the first place. Yet eyes he hoped to glimpse again. Soon.
She would be trouble, this one; the fact that he was lying awake now was proof of that. Just a few words exchanged, a smile, scant minutes spent together at the club, and already he was tortured and restless.
He replayed those last moments, after he’d followed her in the club, whe Bowednd manemories, en he’d watched as she’d listened to her friend’s flirtatious banter. He recognized the moment immediately, it would have been impossible not to notice it; her eyes going wide, her voice trembling, her conviction shattered.
She wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be
.
He worried for her, even though she was safe for now—probably at home, probably with her family, asleep in her own bed.
Unaware of the torment she’d already unleashed in him.
IV
Brooklynn had refused to speak to or even look at me on the walk home, no matter how many times I’d tried to apologize. If I could have explained why I’d insisted on leaving, she might have forgiven me, but I couldn’t. No one, not even my best friend in the world, was allowed to know what I could do . . . that I could understand everything I heard.
By the time we were nearing our neighborhood on the west side of the city—the vendors’ part of town—I’d decided it would be better if I just stayed at my house. My parents would know that I’d been out instead of at Brook’s, but with her silent glare aimed directly at the street ahead of her, she’d made it more than clear that she wasn’t going to forgive me. Not that night anyway.
But I wasn’t sorry for making her leave. Even the next morning, in the light of a new day, I was certain I’d done the right thing.
I’d heard Claude when he spoke last night, and there was something wrong with it. . . .
Why had I never heard his language before? How was that possible? With the threat of the revolution drawing interest from outside countries—countries hoping to prey on the fact that our defenses were weak, hoping to take advantage of a queen in peril—Ludania’s borders had been closed off, and all foreign visitors had been forced to leave. No more tourist Passports were being issued.
Yet I had heard all the regional variations of Termani, Parshon, and Englaise; I knew all their intonations, their cadences, their rhythms. Or so I’d believed. Until now.
Now I’d heard something new.
But why was I so certain that I was never meant to hear this language in the first place?
I couldn’t help wondering who Claude and his friend were. Spies? Revolutionaries speaking in code? Something worse?
Those questions, and the strange sounds of this new language, had haunted me far into the night, chasing me into sleep and making me restless.
Other things had kept me awake too, and occupied my thoughts, things I had no business thinking about. Dark gray eyes, soft lips, a brash smile.
I tried to tell myself it was foolish to entertain such notions, but every time I forced him out, he found his way back in again.
The next morning I was relieved when I saw Brooklynn waiting in our usual spot in the plaza before school. I nearly smiled, until I realized that she was pretending not to notice me. Aron wasn’t there yet; it was only the two of us. I approached warily, uncertain how to deal with last Cal `g Inight.
“Hi,” I offered apprehensively, wishing I had something better to start off with.
Brook kept her arms crossed over her chest, her book bag lying crookedly at her feet. Yet even with her defiant stance, I knew she must be wavering. Why else would she have come?
She turned her cheek, still refusing to acknowledge my presence.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, realizing I would have to make the first move and hating the bitter taste of apology on my tongue. “Brooklynn, I’m sorry. I know you liked that—that Claude guy.” I purposely said his name like “Cloud,” hoping to crack her cast-iron shell. But I got nothing as she continued to glare skyward. “I can’t explain it, I just can’t,” I tried. “There was something . . . strange about them. Something I didn’t trust.” It was as clear as I could be, but at least her foot was tapping now. She was listening to me, and that was a start. “You know I wouldn’t have asked you to leave if I wasn’t worried. . . .” I paused, trying to think what more I could possibly say.
Brooklynn turned to me then, a concerned frown taking the place of her unrelenting glower. She thought for a moment, and when she finally spoke, I wished we could go back in time. The silent treatment was easier than the truth. “It wasn’t about the guy, Charlie. It was about you. Something happened last night, and not just at the club, at the restaurant, too. You’re the one who’s acting strange. . . .” Her voice dropped to a discreet whisper as she closed the gap between us, standing so close now that no one could possibly overhear. “You’re the one who’s going around breaking the law. And don’t fool yourself, I saw what you did at school yesterday, when you gave that boy a cookie. It’s dangerous. The deadly sort of dangerous.” Her mouth became a firm line as she nearly pressed her cheek to mine then, her voice almost inaudible. “I’m your friend, Charlie. If there’s something you want to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll keep your secrets. But you need to be more careful. For the sake of everyone around you.”
