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Which is all I could ever want for her, I guess.
But still, my eyes blur as Elizabeth rises from the bed. The world starts spinning, and black dots impede my vision, something unknown slicing through my heart. I can’t contain a sob as I watch Elizabeth cover Gran’s face with a blanket.
Isolde stands motionless by the door the entire time, watching with a blank face. But something finally cracks on the older omega’s face when Gran’s covered with the blanket. She makes a strangled sound before pivoting, leaving the room without a word.
When we’re alone, Elizabeth rises and turns to me, her eyes sympathetic but also apprehensive.
“You poor thing,” she murmurs, pulling me close in a hug. She’s so much taller than me that my head rests comfortably on her shoulder.
And then, I cry.
She holds me for what feels like hours. I cry for my grandmother. Her secrets. Her disappointments. Her mistakes. But mostly for her love.
She was the only person who ever loved me back. And now she’s gone. Forever.
Elizabeth is silent the entire time except for a few low, comforting noises, but eventually, after I’ve quieted, her dark-haired head lowers to my shoulder. Through the thickness of my emotions and the unbearable volume of my thoughts, I hear her husky whisper.
“We need to get you out of here.”
20
How the World Works
Hetty
“How are we supposed to pack in the dark, Hetty?” Cleo grabs hold of my elbow, whispering fervently. “I can’t see anything.”
She’s scared, and I understand—really, I do. If I could feel anything right now, it would probably be fear. But I’m not scared… I’m nothing. I feel nothing.
Maybe fifteen minutes ago, Don and Lou carried Gran out of the room, her limp body wrapped in the blanket from her bed.
I stood in the corner, watching tearfully. They didn’t say anything to me, but they didn’t have to—I knew they were taking her to the beta boneyard on the south end of Goldenrod. I’ll never see her again. In fact, I’ll be lucky if anyone ever talks to me about her again.
When an alpha or omega dies, there’s a funeral and a mourning period—lots of black clothing and elaborate sniffling. They talk about grief and heartbreak, not being able to eat, and staying up all night crying.
But when a beta dies, we all go to work the next day. There’s nothing done to remember the dead. Gran’s memory will turn to dust much quicker than her body. So, maybe I shouldn’t be so hurt that Beth and Cleo have moved on so quickly… but I am.
“Don’t be such a baby, Cleo.” Beth sneers at Cleo from her spot on the opposite bed, a stuffed pillowcase on her lap. “What could you possibly need to pack besides your extra uniform? Just throw it in your pillowcase like I did.”
“It’s perfectly normal to be scared at a time like this,” Cleo wails, her arms flailing. “I need a lot of things, and Hetty does too.” The candlelight flicks over her eyes, filled with tears—she’s all but convulsing with emotion. “What about that hairbrush the Sages gave you, Hetty? Don’t you want to bring that?”
Numbly, I shrug and mumble, “I don’t want it.”
Stella gave the hairbrush to me for my eighteenth birthday. I don’t know why—I’ve worn a scarf over my hair for my entire life.
Cleo has always coveted it, though. So, it’s no surprise when her tears evaporate at the news that I no longer want it.
“Oh! Can I have it?” she pleads, turning to me, hands clasped. “You always wear your hair covered anyway, so it makes more—”
“Ugh! You’re so selfish!” Beth shouts, jumping to her feet. “What do you need a hairbrush for? You barely have any hair!”
Cleo gasps, her hands landing on her short brown hair.
“Girls!”
We all jump, our heads shooting toward the doorway in unison. Elizabeth’s standing there, holding a candle and frowning.
“Please stop arguing,” she says sternly in what must be her ordering the betas around voice. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
