Lise - DM Arnold (inspirational books to read TXT) 📗

Lise. “You poor girl. I know what they do to unregistereds. You must've been terrified.”

“I was more worried for the Klarissa and Geddes.”

“How did you get home?”

“The constables wouldn't transport us. We tried the streetcar, but the twins would have to ride up front and I'd have to ride in the back and I didn't want us separated again. So, we took a livery cab. I paid for it out of the scrip card you gave me.”

“That's not what I intended it to be used for, Lise.”

“I know... But I had to get the children home.” She bit her lip. “I'm so sorry...” She fought back tears and saw and saw anger building in Megan's face. “Oh, mam, I'm so sorry.”

Megan regarded her. “There's more, isn't there, Lise?”

She nodded. “The livery fare amounted to eleven and a half units -- that's what the meter read -- but the driver kept the card. He probably thought I couldn't read or add. I asked him for the card and he said there's a surcharge for carrying ... novonids.”

“That's nonsense!”

“Oh, mam -- I'm so, so sorry...”

“Quiet, Lise. I'm thinking.” Megan paced the room.

“You've every right to be furious with me.”

“I am, furious, Lise. But, not with you. ” Megan faced her. “My heart aches for you. I've had my run-ins with the deputies. In my case, though -- I deserved it. There's no excuse for them harassing peaceful, law-abiding folks ... and, little children. There's no excuse for taking advantage of someone. You didn't happen to remember the number of the livery cab, did you?”

“No, mam.”

“Lise -- the only thing that will make me angry with you is if I hear the word 'mam' one more time.”

Lise smiled, covered her mouth and laughed.

Megan turned to the mediaphone and placed a call. She turned to Lise. “Where did you get the cab?” she asked.

“The corner of First and Hope -- outside the Safety Palace.”

“I know the place...” Megan conferred on her call, then turned to Lise. “I don't know if we can do anything about getting back your scrip. The driver has already checked out for the day, so it would be your word against his.”

“I know how much weight a novonid's word carries in such a case.”

“I registered a complaint.” She faced Lise. “Lise -- If I could afford to replace that scrip card, I would. I won it in a pool at the factory, so it was like found money for me.”

“I understand, ma... I understand.” Lise replied. She bit her lip. “I was planning on using it to buy a mediascreen -- a portable one like the one Klarissa showed me from your bedroom.” Tears began flowing down her face. “I wanted it for my mother. She likes to keep up on the news. We don't have electricity where I live, but I thought I could bring it here to recharge ... if it would be all right with you.”

“Of course, Lise. They don't use much power. I think having a media screen is a good idea. That way I could send you messages.” Megan smiled. “I'm not as young and pretty as you are, but I won't rule out being invited for a night on the town now and then. I'll need a baby- sitter and you'd be my first choice. You'd do that, wouldn't you Lise?”

“Yes...”

“It could be our little arrangement. No need to involve Ramina, don't you think?”

“No...” Lise sniffed back tears.

“Well... It was a good idea while it lasted.”

“I know,” Lise replied. “Klarissa and Geddes are home, safe and sound. That's what matters.”

“Yes, that's what matters.”

“If you hadn't given me that scrip -- I don't know what we would've done.”

“I have one question, Lise. Why didn't you call?”

“Call?”

“Yes, call.”

“It ... the thought never crossed my mind.”

Megan nodded. “I understand. You've grown up learning to rely on the one thing you have -- your own wits. Lise -- you and I are a team with these kids. Don't ever hesitate to call for help.”

“I ... I've never used a call box. I don't know how. And, now I have no scrip for the toll.”

“THAT we can fix...” Megan rifled through a drawer and handed Lise a scrip card. “This has one unit left on it -- enough for a couple of calls.” She jotted numbers on the card with a pen. “This is my number and this is the factory. Hang onto this for an emergency.”

“I will.” She slipped it into her pocket.

“There's a call box on the corner. Let's walk down there and I'll show you how to use it.”

The sun was setting as Lise stepped off the streetcar's platform and headed toward the Zone. What-ifs kept swirling in her mind. What if she had held onto that card. What if she hadn't taken Klarissa and Geddes to the park. What if she had had the foresight to make a call... She remembered what Grott had said: Scrip can be taken away from you. She grew angrier and angrier with herself.

Lise stepped into the courtyard and stubbed her toe against a chunk of concrete that had broken loose. She kicked it across the pavement. Her mother was lighting a lantern as she descended into the basement.

“Lise! Where were you? It's late.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” She sat on a bench, turned her head and pressed her knuckle into her lips.

“Are you all right? Lise -- what happened?”

“Oh, mother!” She exploded into tears and sobbed out the day's events.

Rayla held her and caressed the back of her head. “I don't know what to say,” she said as Lise wept against her.

Lise regained her composure. “Crying it out helped. I'll be all right, mother.” She looked around the basement. “Where's Grott?”

“Another meeting, They're talking of a green strike.”

“Isn't there always talk?”

“It's serious talk, this time.”

“Mother -- I don't want to strike. I have a chance at making some real money.”

“Time will tell if it's a chance or only a dream. Lise ... Ramina owns you. The money you earn is hers.”

She heard footfalls on the steps and saw her stepfather.

“Well?” Rayla asked.

“A strike.”

“When?”

“Sometime.”

“There was a green strike before,” Lise said.

“Yes, and it didn't end well. Many of us were killed. It was before my time, but I've heard tales. This one will be different -- so they say.”

“Different, how?” Rayla asked.

“Last time, only those of us living in the Zone struck. Only a third of us live here -- there are many more scattered around the city. This time, we'll be organized. The pomma farms will go out, too. Our workers will sit down in the fields. It won't take much to disrupt the pomma crop. The plants will shoot into seed and go dormant for a season. The whites won't permit that to happen. We'll be a force to be reckoned with -- so they say.”

“They think their runners can convince the fieldworkers to strike?”

“They think they can.” Grott paced the room. “I think it's a crazy idea. The farms will never go out. It's perfect work for us. I'd give anything to be back on a farm right now... These young people see the lives of the whites and get envious. They want ... things. We don't need ... things. We're better than them ... stronger.”

“Father,” Lise replied, “you wear our poverty like a badge of honor. What would be wrong to have a home with water and power? To have mediascreens? To have real beds and comfortable chairs? To have pretty things?”

Grott's eyes narrowed. “You've been spoiled already by that white home where you work.”

“Megan's home isn't luxurious. It's comfortable.”

“Comfortable... That's the problem with those of us living outside the Zone. They're too comfortable. They won't go out either.” Grott shook his head. “It'll be like the last one -- just the Zone going out. And, it'll be a massacre.”

“Is this real or someone's bright idea?” Rayla asked.

“I think,” Grott replied, “it's somewhere between real and a dream. No date's been set. Right now, they're recruiting.”

“Lise... Lise...” She heard a voice calling from the courtyard.

“Tagg -- come on down.”

Tagg descended the stairs. Grott regarded him and approached. “What did I tell you?” he growled. Tagg swallowed hard. Grott lifted his fist and Tagg stepped back.

Lise stood between Tagg and her stepfather. “Father... Now I'm a woman. I can choose the company I keep.” She turned to Tagg and kissed his cheek. “Don't worry -- he won't hurt you. Come in.”

Grott slunk to a bench and sat with his back turned.

“I sold the sketch of you.” Tagg pulled a yellow card from his shorts. “Here...”

Lise examined it -- a new, five-unit scrip. “Oh, Tagg! We'll have to get this broken down, so we can each have our share.”

“No, Lise -- that IS you share. I sold it for ten units.”

“TEN?”

“Yes -- to a white man. I figured out how to do it. I put the sketch at the bottom of the stack. He came along and started looking through my drawings. He found the one of you and wanted to know how much. I told him it wasn't for sale.”

Grott turned his head and looked their way.

“He offered me four and I said no. He told me when he wanted something he was accustomed to getting it. Then, he kept asking me my price and I kept telling him it wasn't for sale. He kept offering me more and when he offered ten -- I very reluctantly agreed. He gave me two fivers. I told you it would sell.”

Grott approached them and took the card from Lise. He held it to the lamplight, looked it over and handed it back to her.

Tagg stepped backward from Grott. “Well... I ... I had better go. I wanted to tell you about it and give you your share.” He headed for the steps, turned and looked back at Lise and Grott and left.

“Now, what do you think, Father?”

Grott snorted. “He might be worth something after all.”

VII

Lise waked before dawn, thinking of scrip. She reached under her mattress, retrieved the yellow card and regarded it. If she had four more like this one -- she could buy that mediascreen after all.

She rose, bathed and headed across the courtyard to Tagg's building. Up the stairs she trotted and rapped on the door to his apartment. An older man opened the door. “Hello, Lise.”

“Is Tagg here?”

The man nodded toward the corner where Tagg's mattress lay. The boy jumped up, pulled on a pair of shorts and approached her.

“Tagg -- let's do more drawings.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“Don't you have to work?”

“Not today -- it's a rest day for the whites. Megan is home with the twins, so I have the day off. The laundry is open, so my mother has to work; and it's cleanup day at the construction site, so Grott had to go in. He'll be back by noon. We can go to my place and sketch.” She smiled and wrinkled the bridge of her nose. “And, afterward ... if there's time, we can...”

“I'll get my sketchpad.”

Tagg followed Lise across the courtyard. “Wait,” he said. “I don't feel comfortable doing this in Grott's home.”

“He's warming up to you, Tagg. And -- he'll be gone 'til noon.”

“But if he comes home early and finds us... Why don't we go to the old park -- at the other end of the Zone? We could do some outdoor sketches.”

“Outdoors? No, Tagg...”

“The place is deserted. I used to wander over there with my friends.”

“What if someone else's friends wander over there?”

“We never saw anyone else.”

Tagg tucked his sketchpad under his arm. Lise took his hand and they began walking along a street. The pavement was cracked and tufts of vegetation had sprouted. They walked past decaying buildings in a direction away from the city.

The buildings became more dilapidated as they walked. Some had roofs that had caved in, and any were stripped of doors and windows. “This was a rich part of the city, once,” Lise observed.