Gone. Done. Over.

One

Click. The front door opened behind me and gently closed. “Hey,” Steven said, sitting beside me. 

“Hey,” I replied, my thoughts a blur. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll be back,” he continued. “This rally tonight is going to be big! Sheppard Mason is coming from Kelixk! I think this is going to be over soon, Meg. It won’t be long.”

“How?” Annalisa approached us, carrying a worn bucket. “We don’t have guns—or even butter knives for that matter.” She sat down beside us. Her long hair, was the most beautiful, rich, dark brown and her eyes matched. Though she’s only fifteen, one might mistake her as three years wiser. 

“Exactly! And why, may I ask, do we not have guns?” Steven asked, his voice animated and eyes alive. 

I smiled. The way he talked and plotted gave me hope. It made me want to do something! A little worry still hung over my shoulders though, keeping my lips loosely sealed. Last week Mr. Cravens, our neighbor, had gone missing. We never asked where he went because we all knew. We all understood the unwritten rule: be silent or be killed. Dying may have been the best option. A new family had moved in next door where he used to live. In fact, some people were starting to wonder if Mr. Cravens had even existed. The family beside us had a flower business set up that was actually prospering somehow. Steven said it was government funded to confuse us and I quite agree. But for those who didn’t agree, they sat, thinking that maybe they had imagined Mr. Cravens. Everything about the neighbors gave the illusion that they’d always been there. The sign on their front door was peeling, they knew the routine and they even seemed to have relationships with other neighbors.  

“Look, Steven,” Annalisa said, glancing around. Darkness cloaked her irises. “I know what Dad said and I know how we all feel, but you just can’t talk openly like this. You must be careful. Your actions will affect more than just you.” 

“But we can’t just sit here the rest of our lives while President Teklate thrives!” Steven retorted. 

“I’m not saying this because I believe the lies, but I’m saying this because I’m thinking about how it could hurt us,” Annalisa replied quietly. 

“But—.”

“No.” Annalisa stepped around us, pushed open the front door and entered.

“Well, I’ll be back 'bout ten, alright?” Steven said and rose to his feet.

“Okay,” I shrugged. “Be careful.”

“Thanks,” he waved and started down the road, plucking up an old sack and slinging it over his shoulder to give the impression he was doing something. 

“Goodbye,” I said and marched up the stairs. I took a deep breath before entering the dirty house. The air was heavy with dust and moist soil. 

“Meg, can you tell your brother to run and borrow the wheel barrel from the Jalson’s so he can re-pack our foundation before it rains again?” mother glanced up upon my entry. She was skinning some pathetic-looking potatoes. 

“Sure,” I replied, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to tell her Steven had already left. 

“Oh, mom. Aren’t you supposed to wash those potatoes before you skin them?” Annalisa asked, taking off her worn, grey sweater. 

“I did.”

Annalisa and I made eye contact. Those potatoes were definitely not clean. 

“Would you let me rinse them again? If you want, I can finish up the job,” Annalisa volunteered. She rolled up her sleeves and stepped to the old sink. Her hand moved to the knob and twisted it. A bronze liquid poured out. “Alright,” Annalisa said, turning the faucet off. She dried her hands on a rag beside the sink and glanced at me: “Let’s go next door and fill up a bucket or two of good water.”