An Ember Bright

Chapter 2c

"Lynn, where have you been?" Thomas shakes my arm. "We haven't seen you in forever."

"Never mind that," I say, dodging the question. "You two trouble makers still haven't told me what you were up to this close to curfew." I cross my arms expectantly.

The boys look at each other sheepishly, then down at the ground. "We were hungry," Daniel says quietly.

Guilt wraps around my heart as I lookh behind them at the overturned trash cans. I haven't been by in so long, and I've forgotten how bad it can get sometimes. I try to help by distributing a few things when there's enough that the crew won't notice a shortage, but there are times when it isn't enough. Most Standards don't live in absolute poverty and get by fairly well, but the lower sectors truly have it the worst.

Daniel and Thomas gaze downwards, their bare feet kicking at pebbles.

"Hey," I say, lifting their chins to get them to meet my eyes. "I won't tell your mother, okay?" No need to add to her guilt; she has too much of that. "But you have to promise me that you will never, ever, do something like this again. No matter what. You could get hurt – who knows what's in those things. Whatever it is, it's definitely not good. You two are lucky neither of you got hurt."

Its then I notice Thomas is holding his arm strangely. He's shifted to deliberately hide it behind his back. "Thomas," I say gently. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"Nothing," he squeaks, stepping back. Daniel looks at his brother, confused.

"Thomas, it's okay." I reach out and take his arm. He doesn't resist. I turn it over and inhale sharply at the cut along the half his forearm. Daniel gasps. The injury doesn't appear to be very deep, but blood trickles out and runs down his arm. How did I not see it earlier? I should have felt it when he hugged me. I twist my shirt around, and a smear of blood stains the fabric.

I gape at Thomas. Any other child would have been bawling at just the sight of blood, not to mention the pain. "Thomas, why didn't you say anything? Doesn't it hurt?"

He nods, his eyes filling with tears. "I didn't want you to be mad at me or tell Mama. I don't want her to be scared like she always is when we get hurt or sick. Then she'll find out what we were doing or think something else really bad happened."

"Oh, Thomas, I could never be mad at either of you." I wrap my arms around him and he cries into my shoulder. Daniel watches with wide eyes.

Thomas's concern for his mother and her fear for them fill me with sympathy and pity. Children shouldn't have to keep their pain or fear from their parents. But it's not as simple as that.

Once Thomas's tears have dwindled into sniffles, I gently pull away from him. I tear off the hem of my shirt and take Thomas's injured arm, wrapping the material around the cut. "Listen, Thomas – and you, too, Daniel. You don't need to keep it to yourself if you're hurt or scared or anything at all. You can still tell your mother. She isn't scared, she's just worried because she cares about you and doesn't want anything to hurt you. Just don't put yourself in situations where you could get hurt. There," I tie off the ends of the makeshift bandage, the black fabric a sharp contrast with Thomas's pale skin. "Now you have an armband, and no one can tell there was ever anything there." I wipe away a tear that slips down his cheek. "Now, enough of the tears. If I'm not wrong, isn't it someone's birthday in a week?"

Their faces light up. "You didn't forget!" they exclaim in unison.

"Of course not. How could I? You two will be six. You're getting big."

"Will you come? Mama says we might even have a cake," Thomas says.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile.