What a weird thought: I used to have two parents. But Ma was taken away for a mood-adjust. She hadn’t come back. And then I’d been stupid enough to leave Pa home with the rifle. Even though I knew—
By pedaling furiously, I was outside my best friend’s house at 6:20, throwing pebbles up at her window. Steph finally opened her window and peered out. After one look at my white, frantic face, she blinked and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“Becca’s still gone!” I said, and saw the instant fear in Steph’s eyes.
“Just like Kathy,” she said, putting her hand over her mouth. I nodded. Kathy Hobhouse had been in our class at school. Four months ago she had simply disappeared, and hadn’t returned.
“But I still want to look for Becca—just in case.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Steph nodded. A few minutes later she was downstairs, dressed, and armed with her mother’s car key.
“Maybe she’s just… staying with a friend,” Steph suggested, pushing the ignition button.
“I hope so,” I said fervently. “I really, really hope she’s just being a jerk and making me worry.”
Steph’s dinky little electric Hopper wasn’t much, but it was all we had. We picked up two friends I could trust: Sarah and Ted. I wanted to race up and down the fields of wheat, sweep every road, check every house. Rebecca—ridiculous as she was—was my twin sister, and we’d never been separated. Shouldn’t I be able to sense where she was? Shouldn’t there be an invisible twin beacon that would call me to her?
“Did you go to the Provost’s office?” Ted asked as we headed down the road to town.
“Not yet. They didn’t help when Ma disappeared,” I said bitterly.
Lines of worry creased Sarah’s forehead. “But people don’t disappear,” she said. “Not in our cell. I mean—even with Kathy. I’m sure there’s some explanation.”
“Like what?” I asked. “We’ve all seen the flyers around town: MISSING PERSON. They stay up for a day or two and then get taken down. But the people don’t come back!”
Sarah looked unconvinced. “But this is our cell,” she said. “Maybe they just… moved to a different house.”
“We would know!” I pointed out, losing patience. “We know everyone! We know every house!”
“I don’t,” Sarah said stubbornly.
My teeth clenched at her blind loyalty, but before I could argue, Steph spoke up.
“You better… you better do things by the book,” she said. “Go file a missing person report and meet us back here. We’ll start in the square and work our way outward.”
“Since this is Becca, we’ll hit all the bad citizens first,” Ted said. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I said, and got out.
The Hopper drove off silently as I looked up at the Management Building with dread. This was the center of our cell: where you got marriage licenses and licenses to have kids or to move, where you registered your moped or got permission to buy another cow or horse. Where you filed a missing person report with the Provost’s office. Like I had done three years ago for Ma.
They hadn’t helped then and I didn’t think they would help now. But this was Becca. With my stomach already in a knot, I went up the white marble steps.
Inside the Provost’s office was a waiting room full of uncomfortable wooden chairs. Five or six people were sitting patiently. I didn’t have time to wait, and instead went up to the counter where the Provost Secretary sat. Behind her was a screen scrolling messages: LIFE IS HAPPINESS UNITED! OUR PEOPLE ARE HEALTHIER UNITED! CRIME IS AT AN ALL-TIME LOW! WE HAVE CONQUERED DISEASE! It was the same stuff we were taught in school. It played on screens everywhere—in the few restaurants, the drugstore, the grocery stores, the hardware and feed store.
The secretary looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Missing? Our citizens don’t go missing,” she said.
“My ma’s never come back,” I pointed out. “And Becca’s not the only kid who’s disappeared.”
The secretary’s chilly gooseberry-colored eyes narrowed. “Your ma went away for a mood-adjust,” she told me, like I didn’t know that. “She didn’t disappear. And neither did your sister. Or the other teenagers.”
“How did you know they were teenagers?” I said, gripping the edge of the counter.
Two pink spots of anger colored her face, and she sharply rapped a pile of papers against the counter. Picking up a cube of Post-it notes, she wrote “Rebecca Greenfield—missing?” on it, and stuck it on the sheaf of papers. “There. I’ll give this to the Provost. Even though you’re wasting his time on this.” Then she banged a little bell and shouted, “Next!”
Feeling helpless, I leaned over the counter. “My sister is missing,” I said, my voice shaking. “And we need to find her. Having kids disappear is not good for the cell.”
The secretary looked at me coldly and banged her bell again. “Next!”