“Oh, I’m not taking math this year,” he says.
“You—what?” April sounds scandalized.
“Yeah, I suck at that shit. I’m doing this cool program, actually! It’s like, half regular school, half work placement. I’m doing the agriculture focus, so working on the farm half the year, doing English or whatever the other half. You should look into it! Then you won’t have to give a crap about the math thing.”
“Won’t have to give a crap?”April sets her bowl of stewed beans down, as if she needs her full body to yell at him properly. “You mean you gave up? On the entire concept of math?”
“Uh… sort of?”
“Carlos chose something different,” Sid interjects, more defensive than Carlos himself. “The school system has to be practical. Most people are needed in agriculture or trades these days. He’s doing something valuable. But it’s great if you want to do high level academics—”
“Want to? It’s the principle of the thing! Proving that Ican.”
“April, that’s not the best reason for doing something,”I point out, still fighting laughter.
She throws me a withering look. “Well, of courseyouwouldn’t understand. You’re happy just surviving.”
I’m so taken aback by the accusation; I don’t have a rebuttal. Does she have any idea how difficultjust survivingis? Things might seem easier now that we’re on this island, but our position is still precarious. We’re living in someone else’s apartment, eating someone else’s food and have no guarantee that we’ll be able to pay for her insulin when she runs out in a couple of weeks. Her life hangs in the balance more than anyone’s. She should be thrilled with survival.
“I’m going to bed,” she announces.
I make a move to follow her, but Sid places a hand on my shoulder, halting me. “Hey, do you have a minute?”
“Um… sure.” My eyes are fixed on April as she marches away with her nose in the air.
“Great. Duck pond?”
I sigh, annoyed to be pulled in the opposite direction, but it’s better than hanging around the fire with all the other guys. They seem like nice enough boys, but there are so many of them. Two of them—Dominick and Albert—are brothers and they look so damn similar I still can’t keep straight which is which.
The bench is wet tonight, having soaked up the rain that fell earlier this morning. Still, Sid sits on it, silent as he takes out a cigarette. I see him most evenings at dinner, but this is the first time we’ve been alone together since when I first arrived. I hesitate, telling myself it’s because I don’t want a wet butt and not because I still feel uneasy next to him.
“So how did the interview go?” he asks.
“Oh! Fine. Maybe?” I decide to sit and while the damp does seep through my pants, it’s not as cold as I thoughtit would be. Probably because Sid radiates nearly as much heat as the firepit through pure body mass.
“Maybe?”
“He called me a Wildling.”
Sid rolls his eyes. “Asshole.”
“Exactly. But you got a job guarding the border, didn’t you? Don’t they take Wildlings?”
“Yeah, you’ve got rights. Employers can’t discriminate against sanctuary seekers due to citizenship status,” says Sid. “There was a big court case about it a few years ago.Hawkins vs. Cuthbert Composting. It set a precedent and now everyone appeals to it.”
I snort. “That’s oddly specific. Do you sit around reading court decisions for fun, Sid Charles?”
His cheeks flush. “Sometimes.”
“You’re just a big nerd under all those muscles, aren’t you?”
His brow furrows. “I can’t tell if I’m being insulted or not.”
“Hmmm. Not as smart as I thought, then.”
At that, he descends into a scowl and I grin like a feral cat. Then, as if reluctantly taken in by my antics, the corner of his mouth lifts. Soon, we’re both laughing. I can’t remember the last time I harassed someone like this other than April and there’s something delicious about it. My chest warms as a strange thought seizes me. I could do it. I could be friends with this man.
That realization is terrifying. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about, aside from April. My mother, my father, and Curtis were the most gutting, but the list is far longer. Unbidden, someone comes to mind who I hate dwelling on even more than Mum or Curtis. Beth-Anne Reed—my best friend during the years we lived in Astolia. She and Sid have a lot in common: blonde hair, blue eyes, farmore serious than me. But most unsettling? Both were “assigned” to make me feel welcome in the community.
