In the After

. I finished tying the bow.
    What are you talking about? she asked, puzzled.
    That’s how I learned to tie laces . My dad taught me.
    But Baby wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in the feel of her shoes. She held out her foot and shook it.
    Feels heavy , she said, taking a few awkward steps. The shoes thumped dully against the linoleum floor. She looked at me and wrinkled her nose. Why is everything here so loud?
    I laughed, surprised it was the way I used to laugh in the Before, not careful to be silent.
    “What did she say?” Rice asked.
    “She wants to know the point of shoes when they make so much noise.”
    You don’t have wear them now if you don’t want to , I told her, wanting Baby to be as comfortable as possible in her new surroundings. She slipped the shoes off her feet and clutched them to her chest.
    “I told her she doesn’t have to wear them today. That’s okay, right?”
    Rice gave me an uncertain look. I got the feeling he had a hard time breaking rules.
    “What’s the next stop?” I asked to distract him.
    “School. You don’t have to go yet,” he assured me, “but I’ll show you where it is.”
    “Fan!” I smiled, trying to sound enthusiastic, but inside I was worried. Baby had never played with kids her own age and I didn’t know how she’d react.
    We reached another large, nondescript building that looked more like a prison than a school. Inside, each door was painted a color to correspond with the jumpsuit colors. The doors even had windows, so I peeked in a yellow one as we walked by. A cluster of children, all wearing yellow, were sitting quietly, while their teacher lectured from a chalkboard.
    “This is where all the kids go during the day. The bottom floor is classrooms for children under twelve, the second floor is for Class Five, and the top two floors are the dorms.”
    “Dorms?”
    “For children without a parental claimant.”
    A parental claimant? Those must be the kids who were found wandering around without their parents. Kids who had watched their families die.
    “How awful,” I whispered, looking at Baby.
    “They’re very well taken care of,” Rice assured me. “You shouldn’t be worried.”
    I signed to Baby everything Rice told me as we walked up the stairs.
    What if I don’t like it? Can I leave? she asked.
    No. You’re supposed to learn things, even if you don’t want to . She nodded, trying to understand, but clearly confused.
    “This is where the Class Five students study,” Rice said as we reached a set of red doors.
    “I guess I won’t be attending classes, since I’m not the right age.”
    “Oh no, you still can. Your mother said you were a wiz in school. We can test you in. You may even qualify for investigative study.”
    “Investigative study? Is that like college?” I asked, excited despite myself.
    “Sort of. You can do your investigative study in biological chemical engineering, civil and environmental engineering, advanced physics, nuclear science and engineering, genetics, aeronautics, medicine. . . .” He paused when he saw my blank expression. “The sciences are extremely important if we’re going to rebuild society. We need better equipment, better vaccines, people who can design buildings. . . .”
    “Not the people who like to study plays, poetry, and novels.” The truth of what I was saying had sunk in. The arts were probably pointless now that everyone was focused on survival. I thought back to all my time alone, reading, as the world crumbled around me. It was the only thing that gave me solace and hope.
    Rice seemed to read my mind. “That’s not true,” he insisted. “We need people with all kinds of talents. Under the director I’m learning how to engineer a society in which all the members are valued for their unique abilities.”
    “You sound like a propaganda poster,” I told him, secretly relieved.
    He looked embarrassed. “Sorry. I just want you to understand what we’re trying to do here.”
    “No, I get it. It’s just a little much,” I said, trying to hide my frustration. “Maybe we can skip the tour and just meet up with my mother?”
    Rice looked at his watch. “We still have some time to kill; it’s an hour before we meet the director for lunch.” But he cut short the lecture and took us around the side of the building to a playground. Small children sporting either blue or pink jumpsuits wobbled around, attended by several older women who all wore purple T-shirts.