Becoming Calder (A Sign of Love Novel)(21)

"Nothing. You," Calder said, smiling in a way that made me feel warm. "You gave that dirt drawing a lot of thought."
I let out a small laugh on a breath. "I told you, my days are pretty boring."
"Oh, no, Eden, I was just teasing you. Uh, let's see . . . I'm sorry, I can't remember what I might have been sketching."
"Calder's constantly sketching," Xander inserted. "It's the bane of our teacher's existence. Anytime he's allowed near a writing instrument, it's like the gods possess him to sketch."
I tilted my head. "And yet he's not allowed to?" I asked.
They both shook their heads. "Workers aren't allowed to partake in the arts. That's only for the council members and their families."
"Why?" I blurted out, thinking of all the instruments, paints, charcoal, and paper kept at the main lodge. Hector was big on the arts. He was constantly insisting we practice, practice, practice and that the arts pleased the gods. I wasn't aware of the many rules the workers lived by, as our lives had always been kept so separate. I had seen for myself the fact that they didn't have electricity like we did at the main lodge, but I thought, other than our living conditions and that they tended to the work in our community, we participated in pretty much the same things. Of course, not counting the Holy Book, I wasn't educated in anything other than the arts, but that was only me. The council members' children were schooled in the usual subjects, just like the workers. It suddenly all seemed so confusing.
Calder shrugged. "We all have our jobs. My dad says each one is equally important." He was quiet for a beat and then continued. "They all balance the community."
I nodded and Xander looked away before looking back at Calder more seriously. "We should get back," he said.
Calder nodded, his eyes lingering on me. His eyelashes were ridiculously thick, his eyes a deep, rich brown. He tilted his head and pursed his lips as if he was considering something.
"I have an idea."
"Oh no," Xander said. "No good can come from this."
Calder glanced at Xander. "You haven't heard my idea."
"I stand by my statement."
Calder rolled his eyes and focused on me again. "What would you say if I offered to teach you the subjects you're not being taught in exchange for some art paper and paints?"
"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa," Xander said, putting his hands up as if to ward off Calder's very, very bad idea. "Even worse than I thought. That's just asking for trouble, Calder."
"Look who's talking," Calder inserted, not taking his eyes off me.
"Yes," I blurted out. I did want to learn. I was hungry for it. But the truth was, I wanted to spend time with Calder and I was willing to do anything I could do to make that happen. I had surprised myself with my outburst though. I rarely interacted with people other than Hailey and her boys, and occasionally Hector, so why was it I could speak my mind with Calder? Perhaps it was because I'd spent so long with him in my own mind.
Calder smiled at me. "Okay," he said softly, not taking his eyes from mine.
Xander stood up. "All right, well, you two have fun sitting in the cellar."
Calder finally looked up at him. "The cellar would be worth it to finally get to draw on a big, clean piece of paper." He talked about paper like it was a delicious meal he couldn't wait to devour.
I bit my lip, not quite as sure now. The cellar was a very large, cavernous space under the main lodge where Hector would bring all two hundred or so of us at least once a year for a drill to prepare us for when the great floods came. I shivered just at the thought of standing in the cellar with all those bodies pressed together, feeling sick, scared, and claustrophobic.
There was also a small room down there with a heavy, metal door used during the rare time someone did something that went against Hector or the gods. They would be jailed for the amount of time it took for them to repent and then brought back up and made to sit to the side of the podium where Hector gave his sermons. They had to kneel on a piece of metal with little bumps on it from the beginning of Temple until the end. It wouldn't pierce the skin, but the look on the faces of those who had been punished that way, let me know it sure felt like it had after kneeling on it for two hours.
I never knew exactly what the transgressions were, but I watched those people—three since I'd come to live in Acadia—and I silently sent them strength as I sat behind Hector. I swore my own knees ached as I walked back up the aisle, away from them.
I came back to the present and Calder was still staring at me, waiting for my answer.