I LOVE THIS. I love being able to write absolute garbage and be unashamed. Ok, I'm a little ashamed of parts of it, but it's a journey! Editing happens in December. :) Soo.... Chapter 1. Enjoy. (Also, if you have any plot ideas you'd like to share with me... I'd love to take them off your hands. 'Cause I have, like, two. :] )
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Piper watched from her bedroom window as the fleet of helicopters took off from the launch field. Daddy was gone, just like always, but Branson was sixteen now. Branson was gone too.
And she’d be with them, if it weren’t for her stupid ear.
She remembered the day all too well, even though she had only been six years old. It was the old tree’s fault, in the end. It had been too inviting, too enticing, too easy to climb. Its limbs were strong and sturdy and low to the ground, spiraling upwards as effortlessly as a fancy staircase.
Branson refused to climb, but he’d always been the more reserved of the two. They were just about as different as twins could be: fraternal and completely opposite in temperament. Often neighbors refused to believe they were related. Branson was the image of their father, with blue eyes and red hair that desperately wanted to be brown. Piper, however, received the look of her mother: pale and somewhat thin, with stick-straight dark hair and “eyes like emeralds.” That’s what she’d always been told, anyway. She didn’t know if she believed them, as nobody around here had seen an emerald since before the war, which was a very long time ago.
“Don’t, Piper,” her brother said as she placed a foot on the first limb. “You can’t climb that high.”
Piper merely bit her lip and glared at her brother. Anything Piper supposedly “couldn’t do” became an immediate goal. Branson may have inherited Daddy’s looks, but she had unmistakably inherited his personality.
The first limb, as thick as her torso, came easily. Then the next. Then the next.
And then she slipped.
Air whipped through her hair, beating against her eardrums like a flood. Her head hit the ground first. She woke up in a hospital bed, miraculously alive. Apparently she’d landed on her left side, breaking her left arm and damaging the left side of her brain. The only lasting mark of the accident, however, was the loss of hearing in her left ear. Piper hadn’t climbed a tree since.
She’d been drafted along with Branson, but she hadn’t passed the admissions test. All because of her stupid, useless ear.
She touched the windowpane and felt a slight twinge of guilt at her ungratefulness. She was alive against all odds, and considering the army’s mortality rate… No. She wasn’t going to think about that. Branson was going to be just fine, and so was Dad. And she and Mother would be right here waiting when they got back.
“Sissy!”
And so would Baylor.
Baylor had been an unexpected surprise, born only five years ago in the middle of the war. Like Branson, he looked like their father, but his green eyes proved he was his mother’s child.
“Sissy!” He dashed into his sister’s room and pulled back her alcove curtain, uncovering her hiding spot by the window. “Sissy! Where’s Branson?”
“He went with Daddy, hon, you knew that. They went to the capitol with the rest of the army.”
“Will he be back tomorrow?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Will he be back next week?”
“Baylor, they’re going to be gone for a long time. Maybe two years, if the war isn’t over sooner.”
“But he’s gonna come back, right?”
“Yes, honey,” Piper said hesitantly. If she wanted Baylor to believe it, she had to believe it herself, right down to her bones.
“And Daddy too?”
“And Daddy too.”
“Will Daddy ‘member me?”
Piper almost laughed at the question. “Of course he’ll remember you. Why would you even ask a thing like that?”
Baylor gave a little shrug. “I don’t ‘member Daddy when he’s gone. Just pictures and stuff.”
A piece of Piper’s heart broke for the little boy. She and Branson, for however short a time, had known their father before the war, before he was constantly gone. Baylor didn’t have her memories of having water gun fights in their yard, or of camping out in the basement, or of being thrown into the air and falling into strong arms. Baylor remembered a man with a chiseled face and tired eyes who had seen much more of the world than any man should. She pulled her little brother into her lap.
“Daddy loves you. More than I can even tell you,” Piper reassured. “And he knows you love him too. And Branson loves you, and Mommy loves you, and I love you.”
“You love me the most, huh?” He giggled a gurgling little laugh that fit his age much better than the previous conversation had.
“Yeah, you’re my favorite. But don’t tell Rudy. He’ll be upset.”
As if he had heard his name, the family dog came bounding into the room, jumping onto Piper’s lap with Baylor and licking them both vigorously.
“Get down, Rudy!” Baylor fought through giggles. He jumped from Piper’s lap and chased the dog out of the room. She watched him leave, her heart pricked just a little by his innocence. She didn’t have the heart to follow them. Instead she climbed off the window seat and moved to her bed.
“Sissy,” a voice called. It was full and feminine—Mom. Piper turned around and nearly had a heart attack. The ghost of her mom was standing in the room next to her.
No, it wasn’t a ghost, she finally realized. The stupid holograms gave her the creeps. She would have much preferred the things her great grandmother had called “cell phones”; they couldn’t have been quite so startling.
“You scared me!”
“Sorry, honey. I’m at the store, you need anything?”
Piper looked around her room slowly, scanning for things she was running low on. “Um… pencils.”
“Pencils?” The holographic mom laughed. “Where did you hear about pencils, Piper? Nobody’s used them in years. I won’t be able to find them at the store.”
“I wanted to write a letter to Dad and Branson.”
“Why on earth would you take the time to handwrite anything when you just got that brand new dictator for your birthday? You’ve been talking to your grandmother far too much. She’s putting all these crazy ideas into your head. It’s ridiculous.”
“But she’s so interesting, Mom, and—“
“There’s no sense living in the past, Piper. It’s not healthy and it’s not right. The past can do us no good. The only way to live is to move forward. If you paid attention to the Presidential address you would know that.”
“Just because the President says it—“
“Stop, Piper. Stop right there. We’ll talk about this when I get home.”
Her mom disappeared.
Well, Piper thought, when the going gets tough… the tough go to Nana’s.
Nana, thanks to modern medicine, was one hundred fifty-three years old and counting. Many of the neighbors insisted she was crazy, and Piper didn’t entirely disagree. Nana certainly had her eccentricities. She lined the walls of her house in analog clocks that tick-tick-ticked all day long. With the exception of medicine, she for the most part rejected modern technology entirely. As far as Piper knew, she owned the only automobile in town, even though the Lev cars had become the major mode of transportation long before Piper was born. The Guard had often spoken to her about the car, warned her to stop driving it, but they never took any real course of action. Nana had the advantage of getting off easy for being out of her mind. Despite everything people said about her, Nana had always been Piper’s favorite relative. She loved the rest of her family, but Branson and Nana were really the only ones with whom she felt a kindred spirit.
Piper pushed open the olive-green gate into Nana’s garden and walked up the cobblestone path to the door. Flowers lined the pathway like a jungle. She wasn’t sure how her grandmother managed to keep such a well-kept garden, what with the rations and the war taxes. Knowing Nana, she had probably had the seeds for years.
She rapped the pretty pastel green door in their usual pattern, and as always, it opened within seconds.
“Hello, dear heart,” Nana said, sweeping her granddaughter into her arms. She smelled like coffee. “Come on in.” Piper followed her into the house, hearing the comfortably familiar tick-tick-ticks of the clocks. “Want a cup of coffee? Just made some.”
Piper nodded happily. Nobody had coffee anymore except for Nana. Drinking chocolate had come into style ages ago. Nana doused her cup in sugar and cream and handed it over. She took a sip, relishing the slightly bitter taste and the heat tickling her tongue.
“What’s eatin’ you, honey?” Nana asked after a few minutes.
“Branson,” she replied.
“Miss him already, huh? Isn’t he your brother?” Nana laughed and patted her knee. “I know it’s hard. He’s a smart boy, though. He’ll be all right.”
“Coltrane Thornton was smart too, and he wasn’t all right.” Nana looked a little taken aback at her mention of their neighbor, who had left for the battlefield a year and a half ago and never returned. After a moment of silence, Nana finally spoke again.
“Fine, I can’t promise he’ll be okay. Nobody’s promised anything nowadays. War is an ugly thing, dear heart. It takes away all your certainty, takes away your family…”
“I know, Nana.” Anybody who talked to Nana for more than five minutes knew her stance on the war: that it shouldn’t be happening at all. She might have disowned Daddy after he received his commission, had it not been for Piper, Branson, and Baylor.
“I know you know. It hits you harder than me. My life is almost over—“
Piper laughed. “You’re over a hundred and still living at home, Nana. I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”
A sad look overcame her grandmother’s blue-gray eyes. “Yes, I’m over a hundred and I feel older. If it weren’t for you and your brothers I’d have gone off the medicine a long time ago. I need peace. I’ll be ready whenever my time comes, if sooner or later.” She leaned over the coffee table to place a hand on Piper’s knee. “But you, Piper, you’ve only just begun to live. If this keeps going it’ll suck the life right out of your generation. It’s not your war. It’s ours. And it should die with us.”
“Nana, the war is necessary. That’s what they told us in current events—“
“Current events? Is that a class at that school you go to? Current events?”
“Yes, Nana, it was part of that education amendment, the government felt we didn’t know enough about our time—“
“Your time? All you know is your time! That’s all they let you know, that’s all they let anybody know.”
“Nana, I really didn’t come for a rant about the government. I’m sorry. I just wanted to ask for a pencil.”
The furrow between Nana’s eyebrows disappeared, and was replaced with a smile. “A pencil? Whatever for, dear?”
“To write a letter.”
“Don’t you want to use one of those dictator things? Your mother gave me one for Christmas. I hate to admit it but they’re dead useful.”
“I wanted to write Branson an actual letter. In my own handwriting. He’s weird like me, he’d like that kind of thing.”
Nana chuckled. “Well, I’m sure I can find you one in the attic, if nowhere else. I’ll go check. You want to come look? I dare say you’ll something up there to interest you, knowing you.”
Nana pulled down the door in the ceiling and began to climb up the descending wooden ladder. Piper followed suit, and found herself in a wonderland.
“I’m a little bit of a packrat,” said Nana, as if she could read her granddaughter’s thoughts. She must have kept everything she’d ever known; Piper didn’t see how the attic could hold so many treasures. In a corner on a table was a small, black, rectangular box with a glass circle protruding from its front: Nana called it a camera. The thing sitting next to it intrigued her most of all. It was a stack of paper bound together in a cover. She picked it up and flipped through it. Inside were words.
“Don’t you know what a book is?” Nana said. “Surely you still have books in school.”
“We download all our texts to our dictators,” Piper said, still mesmerized at the book. The first page said “1776: Revolution or Evolution?”
“You can take it home if you want, honey.” Nana took the book from her hands and looked at the cover. “Oh, this was MY grandfather’s. Copyright 1978… this is ancient, isn’t it? Seventeen seventy six… It sounds familiar. I feel like something important happened, but I couldn’t tell you.” She chuckled. “Guess you’ll just have to read it yourself.” Smiling, she handed the book back to Piper, who tucked the book under her arm.
“Do you have something I could put it in? I don’t know if Mom would be too happy.”
They went downstairs and Nana handed her a shopping bag, along with a piece of paper and a pencil.
“Write your brother a letter,” she said, wrapping Piper in her arms. She just stood there and held her for a long time. “Love you, dear heart,” she whispered after a few moments. “See you soon.”
Piper nodded and walked out the door, leaving the cobblestone path and the gate behind her.
For the last time.
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