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"A military school? They want to make me a soldier?"
"You already are a soldier, Bingwen. They want to make you a better soldier. But this has to be your decision. You have to do this because you want to, because you think you have something to offer, not because Shenzu said so or because I'm the one telling you about it. This is your call."
"When would I go? Once the war's over?"
"A transport leaves for the north in the morning. You would be on it."
"Tomorrow?"
"It's safer in the north, Bing. I know it feels safer here underground, but we're still in the middle of it. I'd sleep better at night knowing you were far away from here. Even if you don't want to go to the school, say that you will. Lie. Let them carry you out of here. Then run like a rabbit when you get there."
A school. The idea was so unexpected, so out of nowhere, that at first Bingwen didn't know how to respond. A school. Tomorrow. It was happening too fast. And yet isn't this what he had always wanted? Wasn't this the reason why he used to get up hours before dawn every day and sneak into the library, just so he could study more than everyone else, just so he could have more time with the computer, just so he could improve his chances of getting out of the village someday?
And wasn't this what Mother had wanted? That he escape? That he make something of himself? Bingwen knew that Father had wanted that for him as well, even though Father had never said so aloud. But Father didn't have to say it; it was there in his eyes every time something went wrong with the crop or the equipment--a look that said, Be better than this, Bing. Do more than this. Don't stay in this mud hole. Don't subject your children to this life, as I have done. It was a look that said more than a hundred thousand words ever could. It had motivated Bingwen to study as much as he had. He didn't want Father to have to show that face again. Instead, Bingwen wanted Father to wear another expression. A look of pride. A look that said, That's my son. I made that kid. I did something right, after all.
"I'll go," said Bingwen. "On the transport and to the school. No lying required."
"You sure?"
"On one condition."
Mazer smiled. "You're making conditions now?"
"There's a girl my age and her younger brother back in my camp. Pipo and Niro. They get to come as well. Not to the school. I can't control that, but on the transport. They get carried out of here and taken somewhere safe up north. An orphanage where they'll be cared for, maybe. Or to a family who will take them in. Someone kind."
"I'll talk to Shenzu."
Bingwen nodded. "And one more condition."
Mazer sat back and folded his arms. "You're in a bargaining mood, aren't you?"
"I'm giving my life to the military. That has to be worth something. And I might as well get what I can now. Once I'm a full-fledged soldier, I'm in their control. I won't have much negotiating power."
"More true than you know. What else do you want?"
"I want you to come with me."
There was a long silence. "You know I can't do that, Bingwen."
"You could be a teacher at this school. A trainer. Who knows more about being a soldier than you do?"
"I have a job to do, Bing. I have to end this."
"I know," said Bingwen. "I know you do. But I had to at least ask." He poked at his pudding with his spoon, then he looked back up at Mazer. "At least tell me you wish you could come."
Mazer smiled. "I would be a pretty good teacher, wouldn't I?"
"Oh you'd be terrible. You're too serious. You're always scowling. Like a crotchety old man. You'd scare all the students. We'd call you Professor Mazer Geezer. But I think I could tolerate having you around."
"I'm stronger than you, remember?" said Mazer. "I can dump that pudding on your head."
Bingwen put a giant spoonful in his mouth and smiled, "Considering how good this is, I don't think I'd mind."
*
That night they put Bingwen in an empty dorm room in the restricted area that had two sets of bunk beds and a bathroom with a shower. A small brown jumpsuit was waiting for him when he arrived, folded neatly on one of the bottom bunks. It sported a patch of the Chinese flag over the left breast. Bingwen felt the material. It was soft and stretchy and brand-new.
He showered and then slipped into the jumpsuit. Surprisingly it fit. Why the military had clothes for someone his size he could only guess.
