Taken (Erin Bowman)

something after this?”
    “Do something?” Her face is a combination of shock and disgust.
    “Yeah, like go to the pub or for a walk. I’ll take anything really.”
    “My best friend loses her child, you’re about to lose your brother, and all you want to do is take me to the pub?” When she puts it this way, it does seem somewhat despicable. “You’re nothing like him, you know that?” she adds. “You two may look alike, but you’re very, very different.”
    It hurts, those words, but they’re true.
    “Emma, sweetie, he’s not that bad,” Carter interjects from the doorway. “People cope in different ways.” I’m not sure why Carter’s coming to my defense. Maybe she can’t stop fussing over me, even now, years after I’ve needed her care. Or maybe it’s because she was close with my mother or the fact that I remind her of my father; she’s told me countless times how much Blaine and I look like him. Either way I am grateful.
    “Did they put you guys up to this? The Council?” Emma asks. “You’ve been slated to me, haven’t you?” Her eyes cut into mine.
    “No,” I admit. “No, not at all. I’m not slated to anyone. They’re going light on me because of Blaine and the Heist. I haven’t had to see anyone for a week, and I doubt I will for another few.” My head is starting to swim now. It wants to sleep.
    Emma scowls. “So I should feel honored that this is genuine? I should be happy you’re trying to woo me of your own accord and not the Council’s?”
    Her eyebrows are furrowed and she holds her hands on her hips. I’ve never seen her look quite so angry.
    “Forget it then, Emma, okay? I was only asking. No one’s twisting your wrist.”
    I slump farther into the bed, exhausted. Emma leans over me, her wide eyes focused on my jaw. The needle approaches my skin, but there is no pain. It is just her, stitching me together as though I am a quilt, and then darkness, as I fall asleep.

THREE
    WHEN I COME TO, MY head is foggy. I touch my jaw and find delicate stitches sewn into my skin. The Clinic is empty except for Emma, who is tearing old clothes into bandage-sized strips by candlelight. I’ve slept through the entire afternoon, through dinner, through—I sit up, panicked.
    “Did I miss it?”
    Emma jumps. “Gray, you scared me half to death,” she says, clutching her chest.
    “Did I miss it?” I repeat. “Blaine’s ceremony? The Heist? Is it over?”
    “No, it’s still under way. But you needed rest. I think you had a mild infection, and after the treatment we let you sleep. They started without you.”
    “Well, I’m fine now,” I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I try to stand, but my vision ripples. Emma is beside me quickly, pulling my arm over her shoulders and wrapping her free hand about my waist. It takes a moment, but I feel strong with her at my side.
    “I have to be there, Emma,” I say, turning toward her. She’s closer than I anticipate and her eyelashes nearly brush my chin. “Please? Help me get there?”
    Her eyebrows rise slightly, as if she is surprised by my obvious desire to attend the ceremony. Of course I have to be there. This is the last of the lasts, the final good-bye. Emma waits for me to find my balance before leading me from the building.
    It is dark outside, and late. Blaine’s birthday is moments away. In the glow of the moonlight I can see the schoolhouse ahead. It’s fairly large, even if it doesn’t look it, broken down into three rooms. I used to spend my mornings there, scribbling on parchment with ink and reading from scrolls, all while leaning on a desk that wobbled if you applied too much pressure to its right side. It always made my script unclean. I got poor marks in writing because of the sloppiness, especially when compared to Blaine, but what did it matter? Having neat writing doesn’t protect you from the Heist.
    We are slow at first, the ground seeming to swim beneath me. The farther we walk, the stronger and more confident I become, but it’s so nice having Emma beside me that I don’t admit when I can continue alone.
    In the town center, the ceremony bonfire burns brightly, illuminating the Council Bell, which is used to call meetings to order. Blaine stands beside it, receiving the individuals who line up to say their good-byes. He looks untouched by the entire affair, no fear or worry creeping into his eyes or escaping from his body in a nervous twitch. Kale lies on a mat beside him,