Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(37)

“They dismissed their girls? Just like that?”

Katherine adjusts her gloves and ducks her head in respectful acknowledgment to a young fellow that can’t seem to stop staring at her. “Just like that. But get this: apparently there is some sort of scandal with folks going missing. The Edgars never made it home from Miss Preston’s two weeks ago. Their pony was overrun and they were consumed by shamblers! All things you would know if you hadn’t been off skulking about.”

“I was watching the entrance—”

Katherine silences me with a single glare. “There’s something going on here. Between the Edgars and the Spencers . . . Keep your head about you, Jane. And in the meantime, don’t ruin this opportunity for me.”

Folks line up to enter the dining room, the mayor and his wife at the front of the line. Katherine and I stand along the wall at attention, but even though we’re doing just what we’re supposed to, I can feel Miss Anderson’s glare burrowing into me, and I stand a little straighter. I ain’t going to afford that woman an excuse to give me any grief. But mostly, I don’t want to ruin things for Katherine. The mayor and his Survivalist pals might be as corrupt as the night is long, but this is the life she wants, and even though I’m lukewarm on her, I won’t do anything to stand in the way of her future.

Formal dinners require a procession from the sitting rooms into the dining room, a process I find to be the height of silliness. All the men and women pair off and go marching in to eat food that’s like as not gotten cold by the time they get there.

A handsome young swank comes to offer his arm to Katherine, and she reddens. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, sir. I’m an Attendant.” The man looks like he’s about to object to her polite refusal, but then he catches an older woman’s eye and moves off to escort a homely girl in a yellow dress instead.

Once everyone has filed into the dining room Katherine and I follow the dinner party in. “Well, that was a whole barrelful of awkward,” I say.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Katherine says stiffly, her eyes darting around like she’s afraid she might be on the dinner menu.

We take up our places along the wall opposite the serving board, a space left vacant for serving girls and Attendants. Someone clears his throat loudly next to me. I look to my left and all but groan.

“Mr. Redfern.”

“Indeed, Miss McKeene.”

“You here to keep an eye on us? It would be difficult to steal the silver when everyone’s using it.”

His lip twitches. “You aren’t the only one working tonight.”

I nod. “Well, then, what exactly are we supposed to do?”

“Wait and watch our betters eat.” The man crosses his arms, and there’s a recognizable bitterness to his voice that asks for no response.

The first course is served, a cream-based soup the servants ladle out from a large tureen. I sniff the air. Crab bisque. It looks heavenly. Mr. Redfern watches me intently, and I shrug. “What?” I ask.

“You aren’t missing anything,” he says. “What they’re eating is a little past it’s prime, carted in days ago from the docks. You girls eat better out at the school.”

My stomach growls, and I shift. “Would that we had eaten.”

Mr. Redfern shrugs. “Lesson learned I suppose.”

It’s the first time he’s been anything but dismissive to me, and I seize the opportunity to pry. “What tribe are you from, Mr. Redfern?”

“Lenape. I doubt you’ve heard of us, my people don’t exactly get featured in the weekly serials.”

“Is Redfern a Lenape name?”

His lips tighten. “No, it was the name given to me by a teacher at the school I was sent to when I was six.”

I brighten and cling tight to the fact that we have something in common. “Did you go to a combat school?”

He doesn’t look at me as he answers. “They called it an industrial school, but yes.”

“What was it like?”

“They took me from my family, cut my hair, beat me every time they felt like it, and sent me to work for the mayor when I was eighteen.” His expression is still calm.

“Sounds familiar,” I say before I consider my words too carefully.

His eyes widen slightly, and he looks straight ahead once more. “You should spend less time conversing and more time listening.”

“You don’t like me very much, and I ain’t sure why. I’ve done nothing to earn it.” His words have opened up an ugly feeling in me, part rage at the unfairness of it all, part anguish, and I don’t know what to do with it but throw it back at Mr. Redfern.

“I’ve seen you skulking on the county roads in the dead of night, Miss McKeene. Do you know they call you the Angel of the Crossroads, the people you save?”

I get an uncomfortable feeling like I’m sliding backward down a slope into a deep hole that I dug my own self. If people are whispering about me, that isn’t good. Stories have power, and how long will it be before Miss Preston hears about my nocturnal exploits?

Mr. Redfern continues. “I don’t like you because you’re arrogant and self-important. You could be so much better than you are, but you’re too selfish to see it.”

There ain’t much I can say to that. His words sting, and he isn’t even looking at me to determine their impact. Next to me, Katherine hasn’t said a word during our entire exchange, just kept watch over the white folks eating their meals. Seems like as good a plan as any, so I look straight ahead and wish the time away.