Margaret Haddix - Among the Betrayed

Nina didn't have time to lose herself in such questions. The man was talking again, explaining what he meant for her to do.

"We have a group of illegals that we've arrested," he said. "Shadow children with fake I.D.'s—"

"I thought you said that was impossible. Shadow chil' dren can't get fake I.D.'s," Nina interrupted.

"Well, not good ones. Not ones that would fool anyone in authority," the man said. "That's why these kids got caught. I wouldn't be surprised if these kids made the fake I.D.'s themselves. But they're not talking. I have a duty, to the Population Police, to find out who made those I.D.'s, if there's anyone else involved in this evil. And we need to know who's been harboring these illegal children all these years. They were all found out in the street, and they refuse to reveal their parents' names or addresses. You see our dilemma? If we execute the children immediately, other criminals — the ones who hid them, the ones who made their I.D.'s — will never be caught. But if we put you in the same prison cell as these kids, and you get them to trust you and tell you the truth, then you can tell me, and we can get rid of all the criminals. And society's needs will be served. Do you understand?"

Nina understood, all right. That was why she was shiv^ ering violently. Even her braids were shaking.

"And if I refuse?" she asked. Her voice shook, too.

The man raised his eyebrows. "You would dare even to think of that as an option?" he thundered. "If you refuse, you join your wonderful friend Jason. You die."

The sandwich that had tasted so good only a few min^ utes ago was now churning in Nina's stomach. How could she possibly agree to do what the man was asking of her?

But how could she not agree, and let them kill her?

Jason had betrayed her. Her friends had not defended her. It was the way of the world to look out only for your^ self.

"Why would any of these shadow children trust me, anyway?" Nina asked.

"Because," the man said, "we'll make them think you're an exnay, too. Surely you can act the part."

Oh, yes. I can do that, Nina thought.

But can I live with myself if I get these kids to trust me, and then I betray them?

The man was already standing up, brushing crumbs off his pants.

"So, it's settled," he said, as though the conversation was over and Nina had agreed to help. "We'll move you into their cell in the morning."

He turned around and walked slowly toward the door.

It seemed to take him a good five minutes to get his key out, put it in the lock, turn the key so the door sprang open. Nina kept telling herself to call out to him,

Wait! I won't do it! I'd rather die than work for the Population Police! I am an exnay! My name is Elodie and I'm proud of it….

But Nina couldn't get her mouth to open, her tongue to move.

And then the man was out the door. He flipped a switch and Nina's cell was plunged into darkness again. She heard his footsteps echo down the hall, a lonely sound in the bleak prison.

I belong here now, Nina thought.

I am a betrayer. I am evil.

By morning Nina was thinking about a fairy tale. But this time it wasn't one about a beautiful princess falling in love with a handsome prince. It was "Rumpelstiltskin."

I'm like the miller's daughter, Nina told herself.

The king told her she had to spin straw into gold or die. Given that choice, of course she didn't speak up and say, "Oops, sorry, I can't do it. Kill me." I'm not going to say that, either.

But the miller's daughter wasn't supposed to hurt anyone else. She was just supposed to do something impossible, not wrong.

What Nina was going to do was definitely wrong.

Maybe these other kids will be horrible and nasty, and I'll be glad to betray them, Nina thought.

Maybe they deserve it.

She couldn't make herself believe that.

Nina was still sitting wide awake in the dark when she heard the door of her jail cell scrape open. A guard came over and yanked on her arm.

"Come on with you," he snarled.

"The handcuffs — I'm chained," Nina protested. "I'm chained to the wall."

The guard swore and kicked her in the stomach. Nina doubled over in pain.

This was how the Population Police treated people who worked for them?

The guard stalked out of the jail cell and came back moments later with a key. He unlocked the chains on the wall, then jerked Nina to her feet. Nina hadn't stood in two days. Her legs felt stiff and useless beneath her.

"Come on\" the guard commanded, pulling on her arm.

Nina stumbled after him. They went down stairs and through long corridors, past dozens of barred doors. Nina wanted to peek in some of them, but it was too dark, and the guard was rushing her too fast. They descended a final set of stairs, and the air got clammier. Nina tripped and fell, and her bare knee touched standing water before she could right herself. She ran her fingers along the stone wall, and it was moist, too.

They were in the basement. Maybe it was even a cave.

They reached yet another door — this one solid wood— and the guard gripped her arm tighter. With his free hand he unlocked the door, then propelled her forward.

"And if you make any more trouble, you'll get even worse!" he yelled as he released his grip on her arm. Nina flew forward, landing in a heap. The door slammed shut behind her.

"Hello?" Nina called tentatively. She peered into the darkness around her but couldn't make out anything. For all she knew, the walls could be inches from her nose, or miles away. "Hello?" she called again. "Is anyone there?"

There was a rustling off to her right. Nina wondered if it was just rats or mice, and this was all a cruel trick. But in the next second a match flared in the darkness, and someone whispered, "No, I've got it…."

And then a candle glowed. In the dim light Nina could make out two — no, three — faces. These were the kids Nina was supposed to betray. In horror she cried out, 'Are any of you older than five?"

All three faces stared resentfully back at Nina. She had never seen such filthy, ragged children in all her life. After two days in prison — with her dress torn and blood-soaked, her face streaked with tears and dirt, her braid ties lost — Nina knew she wasn't exactly a fashion plate herself. But these kids looked — and smelled, come to think of it— like they'd been born in one of Aunty Lystra's precious garbage dumps. They had dirt caked on their cheeks. They had smears of who knows what dribbled down their patched, baggy clothes. Their matted hair hung in ragged clumps into their eyes. It was impossible to tell if they were boys or girls. Nina wouldn't even have been surprised to discover that they were neither, but some sort of strange humanlike animal she'd never heard of.

Then they started talking.

"We're all older than five," the one in the middle said. "We're just small for our ages."

The smallest one nodded vigorously. "Matthias is ten, Percy is nine, and I'm six."

"And what's your name?" Nina asked gently.

"Alia," the child answered.

Alia. So the littlest one was a girl.

How can I betray a little girl?

Nina asked herself. When Nina was six, her aunties had taken turns holding her on their lap, teaching her to read. Gran herself was in charge of math lessons, and Aunty Rhoda taught her how to spell. Nina could still remember how it felt to snuggle so cozily in an aunty's lap, in the big armchair, with a book balanced on her knees. No matter how cold it got in their apartment, Nina always felt warm, when she was six.