Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(23)
What a sneaky little eavesdropper. “Why?”
“My reasons are my own business.” She sniffs, just as haughty as ever.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “The Spencers are good people. If something happened to them, I want to find out what. Besides, you could use my help if you get into trouble. That Jackson boy doesn’t seem like the most reliable in a fight.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she ain’t done. “Anyway, it’s the least you can do after destroying my bonnet.”
Right on cue a pounding sensation begins behind my eyes. “I didn’t destroy your bonnet. Like I told you, it was that Indian man with the damned rifle.” That intriguing man with a rifle who had looked at me with disdain. I’m still wondering how he happened to be there ready to put down a shambler just when I needed him.
“Really, Jane. You shouldn’t swear. Either way, you still owe me. For the bonnet, and for sullying my relationship with Miss Preston. Besides, I didn’t tell Miss Anderson about your beau. Or the book he brought you. And I still could.”
She’s right. Trying to give Katherine over to save my own hide hadn’t been my finest moment, and if I really think about it I do feel the tiniest bit guilty. Plus, now she’s got a whole load of dirt on me. It’s in my best interest to keep on her good side. If she wants to tag along, then that is on her.
“Fine, but you need to listen to me and listen well. We get caught and the punishment is going to be far worse than housework. We will get the strap. Or worse, expelled. So make sure you know what you’re asking for. We leave two hours after lights-out. Now, can we please dump this dirty water and get on with our lives?”
Katherine nods, and we each grab a bucket, hefting them back to the kitchen. We’re halfway down the hall when Katherine murmurs, “So, about your beau—”
“He ain’t my beau.”
“Really? Because he seems like your beau, bringing you gifts and all.”
I turn to look at her, but she’s serious. Does she really think that’s what courting looks like? Red Jack inspires feelings of murder in me, not love. It wasn’t always like that, but Katherine ain’t asking about ancient history. “No, he’s a mistake I have no intention of repeating.”
“Oh. I was just wondering.”
I watch her as we haul our buckets down the hall. Does Katherine fancy Jackson? She’s pretty enough, and Jackson’s type is anything he thinks he can tumble. Still, the thought of them together is enough to make me more than a little stabby. Jealousy is a terrible thing, and I swallow the emotion down hard as I can.
I consider warning her that taking a turn with Jackson is beyond a terrible idea, but I decide to save my breath. If anyone had tried to tell me a year ago that blue-green-eyed Jack would break my heart, I wouldn’t have believed them. That’s the way it is when you fancy someone. Your heart starts doing the thinking, and your brain? Well, it gets left out of the equation until too late.
Either way, Katherine can discover what kind of scoundrel Jackson is on her own.
My one regret about leaving Rose Hill in such haste all those years ago is that I feel like I never got to give you a proper good-bye, Momma. I know how you sometimes see fit to hold a grudge. I hope your lack of letters isn’t tied to you being in a fine temper. It’s hard to apologize when the miles steal every last bit of affection.
Chapter 8
In Which I Relate the Circumstances Surrounding My Departure from Rose Hill Plantation
The day the truancy officers came for the children of Rose Hill Plantation, I hid in the summer kitchen with Auntie Aggie. That wasn’t the first time the white men with their long beards and narrowed eyes had come to Rose Hill, taking every Negro boy and girl away to be educated. But it was the first time it was obvious to the naked eye that I was of an age to get carted off along with the rest.
So Momma had grabbed me by the arm and dragged me around the back of the house when she heard the chug and wheeze of the government ponies coming into the front yard, the federal seal painted on the side of the steam-powered metal carriages. “Keep her away from those bureaucratic bastards. Keep her safe,” she said to Auntie Aggie before sweeping out to greet the truancy officers. She was, after all, the lady of the estate, and it fell to her to pay for one of the better combat schools for her charges, should she be so inclined.
The government called it an investment. Momma called it extortion.
Either way, Momma had entrusted Auntie Aggie to hide me, to keep me at Rose Hill Plantation. I’d been hiding every year since I’d been eleven, and now at fourteen I was more than old enough to get carted off to one of the government schools. Momma wasn’t about to let that happen.
Auntie Aggie had other ideas.
“Jane, come here.” I walked over, and she held me out at arm’s length, an expression equal parts sadness and acceptance working across her dark features. “You got to go with the officers, girl.”
“Momma doesn’t want me to go.” I didn’t much want to go, either. There was a big scary world beyond the boundaries of Rose Hill. I was bold, but not so foolhardy as to think there was something worthwhile on the other side of the barrier fence that kept the dead out.
Auntie Aggie nodded, as though she’d heard my unspoken thoughts. “Yes, but your momma don’t always do what’s best for you. Sometimes your momma can be powerful selfish, and this is one of those times.”