Internment(47)

“Listen, guys,” I whisper to Soheil and Ayesha. “I think we should put off the fast.”

Both Soheil and Ayesha stop digging and look at me. Ayesha squints against the sun as she looks in my eyes.

“What?” Soheil asks in a loud voice. When a couple of heads turn to look at us, he immediately lowers his volume and continues. “Why? I’ve been recruiting people, as you can see. They’re ready. We’re ready.” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it.

Ayesha rests her hand on his forearm for a second. “Ease up, Soheil. Maybe Layla has a reason.” Then she turns her expectant face toward me.

I quickly tell them what happened yesterday—seeing David, almost getting caught, what the Director said. Ayesha wraps an arm around me.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Soheil asks.

“Yeah, Jake was with me.”

Soheil raises an eyebrow. “I know you said you trust him—”

“I did. And that hasn’t changed.” I’ve doubted, too, but I don’t share that with them. I pick up my trowel and start digging again and gesture for Ayesha and Soheil to do the same.

“I trust you,” Ayesha says to me, and then turns to Soheil, handing him a seed packet. “You should, too.”

Soheil takes a breath and faces me. “I do trust you, Layla. But I don’t trust his motives. Watch your back, is all. He could still turn you in at any time. He’s a guard. His job is to keep you imprisoned here. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t. And I’m not forgetting that people could get hurt or disappeared, and that’s why I’m worried about doing the fast. Maybe it’s too small. We’ll all get taken away or tased, and then it will be over. That’s a temper tantrum, not a revolution. And we need to organize better and steel ourselves for the days ahead. Whatever we do will be dangerous, and we can’t be na?ve. Na?veté comes at too high a cost.”

“What was that quote from the girl from the White Rose?” Ayesha asks. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “‘Someone has to make a start’? I’m as scared as anyone else. I’m not a brave person. But I know we need to act before things get worse. This fast—maybe it’s small, but it’s how we start.”

Soheil moves so he’s facing both of us but looks directly into Ayesha’s eyes. “You’re brave,” he whispers. She gives him a soft smile. “And you’re right, Layla. We do still have to do this. Now more than ever. Don’t lose faith. Don’t let complacency creep in. We’re all scared. Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s doing the right thing in spite of it.”

Hearing their words, looking at my friends, I know they’re right. It’s so hard to act when you also feel terrified all the time. That’s what the Director is counting on—terror seeks silence, not screams.

Ayesha nudges Soheil. “Dig, or they’ll think you’re conspiring. Or worse, flirting.”

I grin and look down, feigning interest in my trowel. From the corner of my eye, I notice Soheil smile at Ayesha.

The hum of a drone snares everyone’s attention. Before it’s on top of us, Soheil quickly murmurs, “Friday. Dinner fast. Everyone here is in. This is happening.”

The red metal of the drone glints in the blazing sun; I shield my eyes from the light and stare at the mechanical spy as if it has eyes. I grit my teeth and quash an impulse to throw a trowel at it. Jake catches my eye and gives me an almost imperceptible shake of the head. I’m not sure how he knows what I’m thinking. I mouth an okay and get back to work.

We toil away for a couple hours in the heat, sweating and even finding moments to laugh. It’s hard work, but I lose myself in the simple rhythm of digging a hole and planting a seed on repeat. As noon approaches, the group begins to break up, seeking shade and food. Ayesha waves to me as she walks toward Soheil’s block for lunch. She asked me to join them, but I give them their semblance of privacy.

I dump my tools with the others and then refill my water bottle and take a long gulp. The dirt on my hands turns to mud as condensation appears almost instantly on the plastic. I wipe one hand, then the other, on a small patch of my jeans that’s not already dusty.

“My mom loved gardening.” Jake’s voice comes from behind me. As he approaches me, I refill my bottle.

“Loved? She doesn’t any longer?”

“She died when I was twelve.” Jake kicks at the earth with the back of his heel. “In summer I always remember her with dirt under her nails and on her jeans. She had a pair she only wore for gardening. I swear the knees were made of mud patches.” A melancholy smile spreads across his face.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He shrugs. “It’s been a while. My brother was a lot older, already out of the house. And my dad and I, we made out okay.” Jake’s not looking at me while he talks. He’s focusing on the mountains in the distance. It’s the same look he had in his eyes when the Director stopped us yesterday. Focused, but not on what’s in front of him. I’m also keenly aware that this is the first time he’s ever really talked about his life outside of being a guard, and the first time that I’ve ever really considered that he has one.

“That must’ve been hard,” I say.

“My dad’s a military guy, too. Army. Ran the house like clockwork. A rule for everything. I think that’s kind of what saved me. The structure. In the military, everyone doing their job, the organization of it, that’s what keeps you safe. That’s how my dad showed his love, I think. By protecting us. He wasn’t big on words or feelings. That was my mom’s job. But she wasn’t a softy, either.” Jake chuckles a little to himself. He doesn’t say it, but the pained look in his eyes makes it clear he misses her.