Julia Karr - Truth

After Dee left, Miss Maldovar said, “I used to love Holiday. Up until I was a Pre, my parents would always buy my brother and me matching sweaters. After twelve, though, you don’t necessarily want to look like your twin.” She gave a wistful laugh. “Teddy and I were always close, though.”

“You have a twin?” I said. “I’ve never met twins. Do you look alike?”

“No. We’re fraternal.”

“Does he live in Chicago?”

“No. He lives in the suburbs.”

I hated small talk, but I kept on chatting. Something told me there was more to Miss Maldovar’s story. I wasn’t sure what, but I wanted to find out. “Do you see him often?”

“I used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while.” A disturbance crossed her face, so quickly I might have missed it if I hadn’t been looking closely.

“I bet you miss him. I would be lost without Dee.”

She gave me the oddest look. “I do miss him. Although as siblings grow older, they are not always as connected as when they were young.”

I was running out of things to say. “Thank you again for coming to the hearing and giving us your support.”

“I was glad to do what I could to assist Dee. Families should never be torn apart.”

The ensuing silence lasted for what seemed like forever, until Dee walked in. “I want to wear one of my new outfits for dinner.” She beamed at Miss Maldovar. “And I almost forgot the Holiday bread I made yesterday. It’s my present to the Jenkinses.”

Following her lead, I changed into my new TTs and the sweater, and upstairs we all went.

Dee and Chris’s dinner was delicious. There was seitan roast stuffed with a nut-and-veggie mixture, mashed potatoes, the most delicious gravy (I’d never tell Gran it was better than hers, but it was!), fruit sauces, and a whole tableful of exotic foods I’d never heard of. And to top it off, Chris had baked two pies—cherry and Gran’s green-tomato mince pie.

It was the first time I’d ever met Wei’s older sister, Angie, and her husband, Leo. Angie and Leo were originally supposed to have our apartment, but they had turned it down. It didn’t surprise me, now that I’d met them. They were so different from the rest of the Jenkins family. It was obvious that Angie didn’t fit in with her family.

“We’re going to Leo’s parents’ at four.” Angie picked at her food.

While Miss Maldovar engaged Leo in small talk, Angie, who was sitting next to me, said, “Nice sweater.”

“Thanks.”

“And your sister”—she nodded toward Dee—“good taste. She looks like a XVI Ways vert.”

Angie was right. Dee did look exactly like a Pre was supposed to, which bothered me. But she loved the clothes. Just because she was dressed that way didn’t mean she thought like a Pre, or was going to act like one. People like Wei wore ultrachic, and she was about as far from being a snob or a sex-teen as anyone I knew. As full as I was, my belly felt suddenly empty. You can’t figure out who’s who by appearances. No matter how much the government or the Media, or even your friends, say you can. You can’t know who a person is unless you get to know him or her. That was the truth.

Wei snapped me out of my philosophical reverie. “You could take some of this food to your grandmother, if you want. Please?” She bent toward me conspiratorially. “Or we’ll be eating leftovers till New Year’s.”

After dinner, Angie and Leo offered to give Miss Maldovar a ride home on their way to Leo’s folks. Wei sent Dee and me downstairs with bags of leftovers.

Dee and I made a quick visit to Gran with some of the food. She was in good spirits and ready to move to the rehab center. We didn’t stay long because Maddie’s mom was bringing her, and most of her Holiday bounty, over for the afternoon.

After Maddie arrived, I filled two bags with the rest of the leftovers Wei had insisted I take. My plan was to give them to Joan and the other homeless women. Chris was coming in as I was leaving. “You want a ride wherever you’re going?” he asked. “That’s a lot of stuff to carry on the transit.”

“No thanks.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, have fun.” He held the door for me.

I was as eager to carry out my tasks alone as I was to stay away from Chris’s twinkling eyes and ultra smile. Whenever I was with him, I felt a freedom I couldn’t quite explain. He didn’t try to save me or do things for me; instead, he treated me like I was equal to the tasks in front of me. That made me feel powerful. It was nice to know someone trusted me to take care of myself.

The bags full of food bumped against the transit steps as I got off in front of our old apartment building. I lugged them along the riverfront. There was no sign of life, except for me. Clouds scuttled across the bleak, winter sky, and a brisk wind swept down the choppy waters. My arms were killing me. Stopping at the DZ oasis, I pulled my coat collar tighter. “Maybe I’ll use those credits at Mars 9 to get a new scarf.” I’d taken one of Ginnie’s from among her things, but it was too thin to provide much protection from the Chicago winds. I hoped my old scarf was keeping Joan warm.

No sooner had I thought that than I caught movement between two buildings. Grabbing the bags, I headed across the street, slipping into the shadows along with the homeless women. “Joan?”

She separated herself from the group and drew near to me. A gust of wind blew her hair back, and I noticed her neck was bare. “Where’s the scarf I gave you?”

She flipped the collar of her tattered coat up and shook her head. “Why are you here?”

“Today’s Holiday.”

The other women circled around us. I felt, more than saw, their eyes rake over me. “She’s the one that keeps coming around,” said the woman who’d acted as Joan’s protector earlier. “Get us in trouble with the checkerheads for sure.”

I gave Joan a questioning look, but she cast her eyes down, toeing the snow with her worn shoes.

“I brought some food.” I held out one of the bags to Joan.

She stuck her hand inside and pulled out a container of leftover roast and potatoes. The woman who seemed to be in charge snatched it away from her.

“Trying to poison us?” She waved the container in front of me.

My mouth fell open. “Why would I do that? I’m Joan’s friend.”

“Homeless got no friends. Cleanup Committee sent you, didn’t they? Been trying to get rid of us for months. Don’t like us dirtying up their precious waterfront park.” She swung her arm in the direction of the river. It was then I noticed my scarf around her neck.

“What are you doing with—”

Joan touched my arm. “I gave it to Svette,” she whispered.

“Look.” I pulled a plasticene fork from inside the bag, popped the lid off the container, and took a bite. “See? It’s not poisoned.”

That was enough to do it. The women swarmed over the food. Not bothering with utensils, they silently wolfed it down.

“I’ll bring more soon,” I said.

“You’ll get caught,” Joan said. “If the police see you doing this, they’ll arrest you.”

“They don’t care,” I said with much more confidence than I felt. Could I get arrested for feeding homeless? I supposed it was possible.

The women dispersed into the shadows, and I gathered up the bags and empty containers.

“You there,” a voice called me to a halt.

I turned around and found myself face-to-face with a Chicago policewoman.

“Yes, Officer?” I kept my voice as steady as I could. After what Joan had said, I was terrified.

“ID.” Her voice was sharp as the cold that cut through me.