Imitation Read Free

there, pulling them
apart and handing out punishment orders. No one dances
anymore.
    “ When are you going to man
up and play me at tennis, Ida?” Lonnie asks as we pass through the
now-empty courts.
    “ When they get us decent
equipment,” Ida replies, eyeing her twice-taped racket in
disgust.
    “ Agreed,” says Lonnie.
“All the money they bring in growing people out of petri dishes,
you’d think they could afford a decent racket. Or real eggs. Messed
up priorities, I’m telling ya.”
    We return our rackets to the bin and
linger in the doorway just out of sight of the overseer stationed
inside the gym. We are the last to leave and this corner of empty
hallway—if we stand just so against the wall, the cameras miss
us—feels like the best place to say goodbye.
    “ Are you coming?” Ida asks
when I don’t follow.
    “ I don’t have time for
free period today,” I say after a gulp.
    “ Is it time
already?”
    I nod. “Yes.”
    She throws herself against me,
wrapping her arms tight around my neck. I hug her tight and kiss
her hair. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her in my best soothing
voice.
    She nods against my shoulder but I can
tell she is crying again. In this moment I want desperately to do
the same. We both know nothing will be okay. I will probably never
see them again. But Ida lets me soothe her with my empty words and
I manage to hold it together for her sake. I murmur a few more
reassurances that are lies before I gently break free of her
hold.
    Then it’s Lonnie’s turn. We stare at
each other for a long time. Her stoic expression and clenched jaw
are stark reminders of all that Lonnie is. Her will to fight is
automatic, an ingrained part of her. It is a trait that balances my
quiet brooding and Ida’s emotional outbursts. I’ve often wondered
if we’ve been grouped together for this reason. As I stare at her,
I imagine myself memorizing her strength so I can copy it later.
I’m not sure if that will help, but I’m such a copy already, maybe
it will work.
    “ Be brave,” she says
finally.
    There is a fire in her, a fierce
determination that she has summoned. I know it’s her shield against
what’s happening.
    “ I will,” I
promise.
    That is all we say before she turns
and drags Ida down the hall.
    I stand and watch until they vanish
around the corner. My feet are heavy and it takes a moment to get
them moving. Every step closer to Marla feels like a step toward
the end.
     

Chapter
Two
     
     
    Marla’s door is closed when I arrive.
The view through the small window beside her office is obscured by
heavy blinds. Two men in dark suits stand against the wall, arms
crossed, eyes locked on something far away and invisible to
everyone but them. I shuffle past and stop at the front
desk.
    “ Can I help you?” says
Gerta, the receptionist. It is most often her nasally voice we hear
on the intercom when there is news to be dispatched to Twig
City.
    “ Marla asked to see me,” I
say. I produce the note from my pocket and hand it over. Gerta
slips on a pair of glasses that look too small to be of real help
and squints at the paper.
    “ Ah, yes, Ven. We’re
expecting you. Please have a seat. Marla will be right with you.”
Gerta motions for me to sit in one of the blue-cushioned chairs
along the wall.
    I make my way over as Gerta scurries
out of sight. Around the corner, a door opens. I hear voices and
then nothing as the door shuts again. I sit and shuffle my feet
around, trying to get comfortable. I cross my legs and then
immediately uncross them. We are taught early that our bodies are
fragile, something to be protected and cared for. Leg crossing cuts
off circulation, which is detrimental to the nervous system. It’s
frowned upon. I have a bad habit of doing it when I’m nervous. Ida
always fusses at me. Lonnie crosses her legs every time she sits
down. Ida has given up fussing at her; it only makes Lonnie
laugh.
    My chest pings at the mental image of
Lonnie grinning at