The Girl With Green Scales: A Gen M Novel

Chapter 4: Anton

When I come down the next morning, the board games, shattered wisdom jar, and the pieces of paper with Amma's sayings are gone—not put away, gone. I never see them again. Where the wisdom jar once sat is a potted plastic orchid. I overhear my parents talking in the kitchen in their secret language—"Korean" they call it. When I was little, they insisted on teaching me, using worn workbooks with missing pages and the previous owner's answers blacked out. Those lessons ended years ago when the standardized language law came into effect in our borough as a test case. I can't speak more than a few phrases, but my comprehension is better than my parents realize—enough to understand what they're saying.

"This is the second year in a row our borough hasn't had a Manifestation," Amma says. "People are getting nervous, especially after what happened in Borough 2."

"Those are rumors," my father replies.

"Rumors can be worse than facts," Amma says. Mason jars clatter as she roughly closes the fridge. "I can work my socialista magic and misdirect the populous in the short term, but if this borough doesn't properly Manifest a Supergenic teen by next year's Testing Day, you know there will be consequences. They could cut our rations and turn this quadrant into a malnutrition experiment or conduct mind audits to make sure we're not hiding children with powers."

"Those are worst-case scenarios," Appa says in what Amma calls his "Pollyanna" tone. I sometimes wonder if he should be the socialista and she the bureaucrat.

"Oh, they can do worse than that," she insists. "If Jupitar Island punishes our borough by forcing us to devalue credits, enforce sterilizations, and increase factory shifts, who do you think the people will blame?"

"They'll adapt," Appa replies as the kettle starts to sing.

"Not right away," Amma says. "People accept what they've never had. But when they lose something, they turn. It's us they'll turn on."

"The protectors will keep us safe," Appa says. I hear him pick up the kettle and pour.

Amma's earrings tinkle as she shakes her head. "The protectors will drag us out of our beds in the middle of the night under an agent's watchful eye, all to show the Supergenics they're taking the matter seriously. They'll execute us. It's time for you to act."

I wait for Appa to argue. He doesn't. A spoon clatters against the inside of a mug as he stirs.

"Are you suggesting—" he begins.

"I am," she says.

"I can only call in that favor once," he replies. "I'd hoped to save it in case Lilianne ever—"

"The girl's tougher than you think," Amma says.

"She takes after her mother," my father replies.

I hear the faint sounds of kissing. My face scrunches. In the kitchen? I have to eat there!

"This may not work," Appa says. "This is the first cohort. Our daughter may be as likely to Manifest as any of them."

"Find the most promising subject," Amma says, switching to the universal tongue. "Do what you have to do—bribe, extort, beg if you must, but get him/her/zir here."

"You're certain?" he presses. "You're that afraid?"

She sighs. "We need a win."

I touch the kitchen door and step in. As if nothing were any different than any other morning, Appa hands me a steaming cup of tea. It smells of ginger and honey; it's enough to make me forget what I've overheard. Amma grows the ginger herself. But the honey? How did my parents get such a luxury? I sip the steaming drink. I close my eyes and revel in the silken sweetness soothing my throat.