Pucker Read Free Page A

and down a hall. Finally we stood in front of an unmarked door. From her pocket she produced a key, and quickly we let ourselves in. We were in a tiny library. My mother breathed deeply. The room smelled of leather.
    â€œDo you know where these books are from, Thomas?” she asked.
    I shook my head.
    â€œCan you take a guess?”
    I pulled a book from the shelf and read the title— Anna Karenina .
    â€œThey’re from Earth,” she told me.
    Quickly I slid the book back onto the shelf as if it were diseased. I had been taught that anything from Earth was contaminated, poison. Isaurian children were not even allowed to speak to the Changed.
    â€œDo you want to know how many of these books I’ve read?” my mother asked.
    â€œNo, thank you,” I said. This day was getting stranger and stranger. I just wanted to go home.
    She stuck her face in mine. “Don’t believe what they tell you about Earth, Thomas. It’s not a horrible place. It’s not filled with savages. Literature like this could only come from a world where there’s love.”
    â€œWhat’s happened to you?” I asked.
    She smoothed the hair back from my forehead. “I don’t want to frighten you, baby.”
    â€œThen don’t call me baby,” I said.
    My mother took me home. A few hours later there was a knock on our door. Two of the Changed stood on our doorstep, a young girl and a man. They looked similar, with the same silvery blond hair. They wore baskets strapped around their necks; their wares were displayed to their best advantage. We already knew that they were bringing ripe tomatoes, garlic, and a leg of lamb: the Meals Department had determined that more than a week ago.
    â€œThe strawberries are ripe today. I’ve got a fine leg of lamb,” said the girl. “Butterflied, just as you wanted it.”
    She curtsied, but there was no eye contact. She knew the rules. She was not to address me. Isaurian children were considered impressionable and vulnerable. They should have as few dealings with the Changed as possible.
    The Changed were good at following the rules, for they lived under threat of being changed back to their disfigured forms and sent back to Earth.
    â€œMy son wants chicken,” my mother said. “It’s his birthday.”
    That was a lie.
    The man looked at us blankly. “But we were told you wanted lamb.”
    He wasn’t trying to be insolent. He was following orders. According to his delivery list, which had been compiled by the Ministry seven days ago, the Gale family would be having a lamb dinner tonight.
    â€œChicken,” my mother challenged him.
    â€œThis has never happened before,” he said, addressing me.
    â€œMom,” I said, but she stared at me emptily.
    The man turned to the girl. “Do we have chickens back in the Compound?”
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œI don’t want chicken. Lamb is fine,” I said.
    The girl was pretty, just a few years older than me. Her skin was the color of toffee. What had she looked like before? Were her hands flippers? Was her body curled up into the shape of a comma?
    â€œLamb is not fine,” said my mother, gathering up her sweater.
    Twenty minutes later we stood on a hill looking down at the bustling Compound.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” my mother asked the man.
    â€œEthan 434,” he said. 434—his last name: the number of days he’d been in Isaura. Tomorrow his name would change and he’d be Ethan 435.
    â€œThank you, Ethan 434,” she said.
    Ethan led us down the hill and we trailed after him like sheep. We went past the bakery and the laundry. I smelled seared cotton and bleach, tallow, fried onions, and yeast.
    Our presence in the Compound was unnerving, and the Changed hurried to fulfill my mother’s request. They did a sloppy job. The heads of two chickens were lopped off; they were wrapped in a rag and tied with twine.