Chapter 33
"How's the week been with Barstowe back?" asks Miguel as I throw the boomerang.
"Okay. It's almost too quiet in that house. I know that Betsey is busy trying to scheme against me."
"Maybe she's given up," he says hopefully.
I shake my head. "Someone like her never gives up."
"She knows Barstowe adores you," he states dryly. "What can she do?"
"There's a lot of damage people like her can do."
"I guess you'll have to keep your eyes peeled for anything."
"I have to watch my back," I mumble, remembering Helga's words to me.
"On the bright side," he says, smiling, "Barstowe isn't moving things to marry you next week."
"I have a few more weeks of freedom."
"How much do you remember of when you were really free?"
"You mean before I got here?" I ask.
"Yes."
"I remember a lot."
"Tell me about it," he entreats.
"I will if you tell me what you remember of your past."
"Okay, it's a deal."
I put down my boomerang and sit next to him. It's a pretty day today with sunshine and birds flying around. It's the kind of day that in my previous life I would've been out with my mother at some park with the entire family of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and so on and a colorful piñata.
"I remember my mama," I tell him. "She was smart, courageous, and pretty."
"Do you know anything about your father?"
I smile at Miguel. It surprised me that he had remembered the one time I had mentioned that my father had died when I was a baby. "My mother said he was a great man."
"You must've missed not having a father," he murmurs.
"When I'd see the other girls with their daddies I felt very bad."
He eyes me pensively. It's hard to tell what he's thinking with so much intensity inside him. "You haven't had much luck with guys in your life, have you?"
"My uncles on my mama's side were pretty cool."
"Thank goodness for at least that," he mumbles, still pensive.
"But my mama made up for me not having a father. We did everything together. What about you? How much do you remember?"
"I've got to admit that I barely remember stuff."
"Well, we're very young when they take us," I offer.
"But you seem to remember things pretty clearly."
I shrug. "It's just one of those things. And besides, instead of praying every night, I go over my memories and what I learned from my mama. It helps a lot."
"I never thought of doing that. In fact, I wanted to forget so life could be more bearable here."
"I think that's what happens to most of us here. What do you remember, Miguel?"
He gets quiet as he thinks back. "I remember only snippets of my life."
"What kind of snippets?"
"Playing ball with my parents, eating my grandmother's ranchero eggs--stuff like that."
"Is Miguel your real name?"
"Yes, the Elders don't usually bother to change our names. We're not as important as the destiny-brides."
I give a loud snort. "We're so important that they abuse us every day. What else do you remember, Miguel?"
"I remember that we were very poor. We used to be migrant workers and went from place to place working in the fields."
"That must've been hard."
He smiles. "Not as hard as being here."
"You know, Miguel, a thought just occurred to me."
"What is it?"
"They took me from a homeless shelter my mama volunteered in and you say your family was very poor."
"Right," he says with a quizzical expression, not knowing where I'm heading with this conversation.
"It seems to me that they take the children who are poor, so no one has the money for an intense search."
"That makes sense!" he says bitterly. "The Elders and Masters consider us throw-a-way children!"
"Yeah."
"They really think we were born to serve them."
"Yep," I agree.
He puts his face in his hands. "They talk about the evil creature, but it is them who are the evil ones on this earth," he hisses.
"True. Very true."
When the church service is over the next day, Grinder steps up to me and several of the other girls and tells us we have to clean the place. After we sweep the sanctum, he hands me and only me a toothbrush.
"Scrub the floors!" he demands. "And you'd better do it right!" He sends the other girls to clean the rest of the rooms of the church while I get on my hands and knees with a soapy bucket of water next to me.
This is payback for having cared for Beatrix when she was sick, I tell myself. Of course, he hasn't forgotten. Even if the Mister had tried to protect me from Grinder's wrath by teaming me up with Miguel, he can't protect me from everything. He knew that Grinder would carry a grudge which is why Miguel is still around me so much. There is nothing much I can do but do as I'm told or be punished even more horribly. I start scrubbing fiercely with the small toothbrush.
When I get about halfway, I realize that it's not so bad. I may volunteer to do it in the future. Other than my knees and back aching like crazy, it's peaceful to be in the sanctum with no one around. Grinder is in his office, and the place really is beautiful with the sun streaming in from the stained glass ceiling. If I can put out of my mind the horror that usually goes on here, I can pretend I'm in a spiritual place of good. If I can ignore the statues of the Elders, I can actually feel a certain peace.
As I'm finishing, Grinder stomps in with a smirk on his face. He's clearly enjoying seeing me toiling away.
"Next, scrub the toilet with that thing," he snaps gleefully.
The sanctum door swings open. I peer up from the floor to find the Mister striding in with a furious face.
"Monica, stand up right now!"
"She's busy cleaning, Alcott," Grinder retorts.
"Get up! I don't want to repeat myself."
I stumble up, my knees weak and my body aching deeply. Balancing myself is a challenge, but I finally do it.
"You'd better get back down and finish," Grinder demands of me.
I'm not sure what to do, but the Mister makes that decision for me. He grabs me by my collar and shoves me behind him.
"She's my girl, and she's got lots of work to do in my household!"
"Her responsibility is primarily with the church!"
"No, it isn't! It's with me!"
I can't believe the scene in front of me. I had never seen anything like it except when Smythee confronted Bledsoe that time I was hiding behind the isolation room. Was the Mister going to end up like Smythee? Somehow I doubted it.
"How dare you speak to me like that, Alcott!"
"How dare you take my girl away from her responsibilities with me!"
"I'm the Highest Holy person here! You're just a Master!"
"Watch what you're saying, you idiot!"
I can't believe what the Mister just said to Grinder.
"What did you just call me," Grinder snaps, flares firing from his eyes.
"I called you an idiot!"
"I'm the son of the Great Master!!! How dare you?!!!"
""Don't try that nonsense on me!"
"Nonsense?!!!"
"Yes, nonsense."
"I'm not putting up with your disrespect of me. I'm the leader here."
"You're in the Highest Holy position because I allow it," snorts the Mister.
"The Great Master has chosen me--"
"Cut the nonsense," he snaps. "Monica, let's go," he orders me as starts leading me to the doors.
Grinder rushes in front of us and pulls out his discipline club. "You're not going anywhere with her until she finishes," he menaces with the small bat pointed at the Mister.
"If that's how you want to play it," the Mister sneers, pulling out
his own club. "Let's see who's the strongest."