In the After

“She did it herself.”
    Rice smiled widely. “She did an excellent job . . . very . . . even.” He gave Baby an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
    See, he likes it . I told her. Maybe you should get your hair cut just like me .
    Baby’s eyes widened, and she nodded her head vigorously. Then everyone will know we’re sisters!
    “And that?” Rice asked, echoing Baby’s excitement.
    “She wants her hair cut just like mine so people will say we look alike.”
    Rice’s amusement faded. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
    “Why not?” I touched my Mohawk self-consciously.
    “It’s just . . . not the style for children here. You wouldn’t want to make her too different. . . . I mean . . .” He struggled for the words to explain, but I understood.
    “More different than she already is?” I muttered.
    Baby was still looking at me expectantly. Well? When will you cut my hair too?
    Maybe later .
    Baby pouted, not understanding. She’d never had to deal with social norms. I wanted to cheer her up, so I turned to Rice.
    “There was mention of chocolate milk, for Baby,” I reminded him. I wanted some too. I hadn’t had fresh milk in a long time.
    Rice nodded and practically jogged over to the counter, returning with two glasses.
    Drink it , I told her.
    What is it? She wrinkled her nose. It’s very brown .
    It’s good . I took a sip to show her. As the sweet creaminess hit my tongue I was transported back to my childhood. Before the After. I gulped down the milk, not even pausing to breathe. The liquid added uncomfortably to my already full stomach, but I tilted the glass until the last drop trickled into my mouth. Rice and Baby stared at me as I put the glass down and wiped my lips on my sleeve.
    Baby took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened. She drank slowly, holding the glass with both hands, staring at the milk, unbelieving. Suddenly someone jostled her from behind and she dropped her glass. It hit the table before it rolled onto the floor and shattered. The noise startled her and she jumped up into the mess.
    Adrenaline filled my body and I was at her side in seconds. Are you okay? I checked her feet for cuts.
    “Why isn’t that child wearing shoes?” someone asked.
    “Is she all right?”
    “Where’s her Minder?”
    Baby crouched and put her hands over her ears.
    I was flooded with a sick panic. “Can you all just be quiet?” I pleaded. “Do you have any idea how loud you all are?” I looked around the cafeteria, overwhelmed. There were too many people, too much noise. I suddenly couldn’t deal with it.
    I grabbed Baby’s hand and we ran, desperate to escape the racket. Outside was the Quad, which I knew was very close to our building. I stumbled across the pavement, focused on getting Baby away from the noise. I found our building and yanked her up the stairs to our apartment.
    Inside, I put her on the floor and sat next to her, hyperventilating. Her face was wet with silent tears and she reached for my hand.
    I’m sorry, Amy .
    It’s not your fault. It was too much, too soon . I held Baby tight. Feel any better?
    Yes. It’s just, there’s this noise in my head. Ever since we got here, I hear it all the time. When everyone talks with their mouths too, I feel like my head is going to burst . She started to cry again, soundlessly. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
    Whenever you feel that way, you can come find me and we’ll come here, where it’s nice and quiet .
    She nodded her agreement and I let her cry herself to sleep, stroking her head with my palm. It wasn’t long before Rice appeared, looking worried.
    “Is she okay?” he asked loudly, opening our apartment door. Baby opened her eyes and glanced at Rice before closing them again and drifting back off to sleep. I put my finger to my lips. “Did she get cut?” he whispered.
    I shook my head. Baby’s feet were strong and calloused. He sat down next to me, with a loud thump . I was very aware of his closeness. I tried to relax, to lose my unease.
    “It’s kind of strange, but I think of things as Before and After,” I said at last.
    “Before and after the Floraes?”
    “Yeah, but now . . . this is something completely different. New Hope, I mean. It’s like the After is out there, in the unprotected world. New Hope isn’t Before or After. . . . I don’t know what it is.”
    “Maybe New Hope is the now,” he offered.
    I smiled. “That sounds like another crappy slogan.”
    “Hey, I’m just trying