Fire Country

Despite the obvious exaggeration in Circ’s declaration—females ain’t allowed to go on missions as they might get hurt and not be able to Bear—it makes me smile from earlobe to earlobe. “You’re just blustering now,” I say. “You’re full of air and sand, just like the wind.”

“We’ll see,” Circ says, gri

“All of what?” I ask. Our knees touch again and Circ stops rubbing my leg.

“I du

I take a moment to think. Then I start slow, taking it piece by piece. “Lara says a lot of stuff, most of which I don’t understand. I don’t know if I ever will or if I should even take her seriously. I mean, could she really be working with someone outside of the village? How would she even meet someone outside? My mother though, what she said took me by surprise. I never heard her talk like that. I can’t help thinking she’s losing her mind being Called to my father.”

“You think it’s the Fire?”

My head jerks toward Circ’s, his question taking me by surprise. “What? No. Of course not. She’s perfectly healthy.”

Circ chews on his lip. “Sorry, it’s just, she’s getting old. Like both our parents. The Fire’s inevitable.”

“I—I know that,” I say. Keeping it internal, I think Do I? My parents have always been there, since the very begi

Trying not to think about the Fire, or whether my mother is going wooloo, I move on to my next point. “There must be something of a ’spiracy,” I say. “Raja had no reason to lie. And I did see them hauling off with all those tools.”

“Tell me again what you heard Greynote Luger say to Keep,” Circ says.

“Nothing that made sense at the time,” I say. “Just asked about how the work was going. Keep said the Icies were happy, but that he needed more lifers to do the work ’cause they were dying on him.”

“And what did Luger say?”

“He said he’ll see what he can do.” I play with a loose strand of hair. Circ kicks at the sand, digging a hole with his foot. We’re both thinking real hard.

“So you think the work that Luger was talking about is what the prisoners were doing when they went off in the middle of the night?” Circ asks, jamming his heel into his hole like a pickaxe.

“It’d hafta be, right? What other work would prisoners be doing? And Raja went with them. He was a lifer, Circ. Stuck in Confinement for the rest of his life, all ’cause someone framed him for murder. Or so he says.”

“Do you believe him?” Circ looks up from his digging, his eyes big with interest. Beautiful, too, if I’m being honest. So deep and brown and mine to look at all day if I want to. Or at least until he leaves on his mission. “Sie?” I’m staring at him and I look away.

“Uh, yeah. I believe him.”

I can tell Circ’s eyes are studying my face and I feel my face go warm. A blush. “Siena?” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, making eye contact and feeling my face go even redder. There’s a look on Circ’s face I never seen before. It’s hard to describe but it’s like fire country after the spring rains. Vibrant, pure, alive. He wants to say something, but his lips are closed. They’re so close to me. I guess they always are when we sit here, but I never really noticed ’fore. Now it feels like they’re right on top of me, like if I just leaned in a couple of inches, turned my head slightly, I could—

“I’m lucky to have you,” Circ says. “You know, as a friend.”

I feel a jab to my stomach but no one’s hit me. It’s his words. I’ll take the first part but skip the second if you don’t mind. “I’m the lucky one,” I whisper.

He leans in, turns his head, his lips closer and closer and closer still, and then brushing past me as he embraces me in a classic Circ hug. Warm and tight. I’m hurting a little inside, but I hug back, ’cause I need it now more’n ever. ’Fore he leaves on his mission. Toward the borders of Killer country.

Chapter Fifteen

Three days can be a long time. Longer’n a year if you’re missing someone. Longer’n a lifetime if that person is Circ.

First day, I go to Learning, try to ignore the empty spot next to me, daydream the class away without getting caught. I’m lucky. Coulda been shoveling blaze all alone. When I get home I mope around the hut, pretending like I’m helping my mother, but not really doing anything. She lets me.

Neither of us says anything about her visit to Confinement. With my father always lurking, we can’t talk openly, even in our own hut. Perhaps that’s why she came to see me when I was locked up.

When I go to bed that night, I pray to the sun goddess for Circ. I’m hoping to get a warm feeling in my gut, something to tell me he’s okay, but all I get’s a big knot. I fall asleep grabbing at that knot with my hands, trying to squeeze it out.

The second day the knot’s bigger. Learning again. I try to listen, but my mind refuses to be forced. It dredges up memory after memory of Circ. How every year when the spring rains came we’d sneak out and run, run, run through the wastelands, getting soaked beyond belief. We’re made of water, we’d say. And then we’d laugh and run some more. It never went over very well with our parents, but we took whatever punishment they’d hand out like champs. It was worth it. There are other memories, too, painful ones, like when Skye was taken on the day of her Call, how I cried. It was the first time Circ’d held me. Really held me. Like I was the only one in the world and we could go on like that forever.

But after all those memories, we’re still just friends.

’Cause I’m Scrawny and he…well, he’s Circ. Always Circ.

After Learning I don’t bother to pretend to help my mother and she don’t try to make me. Without saying a word I know she understands. She lets me mope. She lets me shank the day away.

Today’s the third day and Circ’s s’posed to come home, although he couldn’t say whether it’d be morning, afternoon, or night. I hope it’s morning so I’m up early even though there’s no Learning today. Everyone else’s already out and about, doing who-knows-what.

I’m determined to pass the time as quickly as possible, for every second that ticks away is a second closer to Circ returning, safe and where he belongs. I go for a walk, nowhere in particular, just through the village, walking amongst the Greynote huts in my part of the village. The wind is swirling and swirling, working itself up to what’ll probably be yet another winter windstorm. A pair of britches whips past—someone didn’t tie them tight enough to the line. I’m wearing a white dress, the same one I plan to wear for my Call, a symbol of purity. Its skirts are snapping in the gale, making a cracking noise louder’n when Father punishes me. Seems awful silly women and girls still hafta wear long dresses in weather like this. But it’s the Law.

Most folks have no reason to wander this area of the village, unless you live here or have business with one of the Greynotes, so the pathways are empty. A brambleweed buzzes past, overhead. It’s a heavy one, too, with thick roots. It takes a heavy wind to uproot a weed like that—and keep it in the air for that long. I sniff the air, trying to pick up any trace of a sandstorm. Nothing. Just wind as far as I can tell. But surely the first sandstorm of the season ain’t far off. Tomorrow or the day after, perhaps.