Recompense

FOUR

I sit on the makeshift risers at one end of the gymnasium with the rest of my graduating class, listening to Councilman Sweeny drone through one of his lengthy speeches and looking out at the rows of chairs set up on the gym floor. Most of the settlement has turned out for the ceremony. I can see Opal and the kids sitting five rows back on the right-hand side. Hoke tried to comfort me this morning by telling me that now I can stay here with him. He's so relieved that I have failed. How can a four-year-old understand the hopes I had entertained to raise him out of the Lowers and give him a better future than Settlement 56 could ever offer?

The twins have a better grasp of what we have lost. Tillman has been silent and awkward, giving me a stiff-armed hug this morning at breakfast. Ollie made me a cup of hot chocolate, a luxury we can hardly afford. Will must have given her the milk. I don't know who splurged on cocoa and sugar.

The Ransoms are here, too, sitting just behind Opal. They've been sympathetic, but I can't expect them to dampen their own excitement. They have an Initiate in the family. I can see them sitting there, proud as peacocks. Will's father, Hayden, hasn't let off smiling since the race ended. I guess I would be too. They will have the certainty of food to last the winter and money for luxuries, like new clothes for Jonas and Hobart and coal instead of countless cords of wood cut from the forest. They'll share with us, but it isn't the same. Most likely, in a year or two, they'll pack up and move away to the city.

Most important, as his immediate family, they'll have access to Will—letters, phone calls, maybe holocalls, and probably even a visit or two. The Ransoms will be allowed to see him, but I will not. That hazy future of togetherness that we had hoped for, wherever it might have taken us, has been snatched away.

Will has done his best to comfort me. Yesterday, when I'd finished throwing up and finally caught my breath, he pulled me to my feet and just held me tight. I'd clung to him and sobbed, surrounded by two hundred pairs of eyes and the mingled smell of our sweat. He stroked my hair and held me upright without uttering a word. What could he say?

Eventually, someone in the circle of bystanders handed me a handkerchief. I'd swabbed my face and somehow withstood the barrage of sympathy cast by those caught up in the drama of the moment. I was the week's novelty. The one they'd cheered for in a fit of excitement and for whom they'd felt a fleeting flicker of disappointment, just because I'm a girl and I'd come so close. They'd thrown a few blithe comments my way, probably talked about my plight at dinner, and forgotten about me before dishes were done. Their words were cheap and meaningless, and I disdained all of them.

Ernie was different. He came to shake my hand after we'd gone back inside the school and left curious eyes behind. "You ran a great race, Jack," he'd said. "I'm really sorry you missed the cutoff." There was something genuine in his condolence. It was a moment of mutual admiration, a recognition of our commonality. The race had bound us in a way outsiders couldn't understand, and that made me wonder why we had never been better friends during all those years of school.

"Thanks, Ernie," I said, and I meant it. "Congratulations."

His nod of acknowledgment was humble. He cleared the time by half a second and knew well that he could just as easily have been in my shoes but for two or three well-placed steps. I'm truly happy for him, and equally impressed with his classy comportment. On a normal year, he would have gained all the publicity for himself. But he's not at all jealous of sharing the limelight with Will, of finishing every event in his shadow. I'm glad he'll be accompanying Will to Macron City.

Councilman Sweeny has stopped talking and begins to call us forward one at a time to receive our diplomas. With only twenty-three graduates, it doesn't take long before I stand before the podium. I force a smile and shake the principal's hand. Then I'm back in my chair. Now awards are being passed out. I have gained top honors in my class. I've also scored the highest on the written half of the Examination. I can see Miss Whaley clapping in the front row with the teachers, the smile on her face as wide as a barn. I stand woodenly to accept my certificates.