The Declaration

one my parents lived in. The house is full of light from the sun, which shines through the front windows in the morning and the back windows in the afternoon because it’s spring now, even if it’s still very cold. All the walls are painted in warm colours, which I chose to remind me of Mrs Sharpe’s house. There are reds and oranges and yellows, and we have thick carpet on the floor and big sofas that are soft and covered in cushions.
    There’s a picture of my parents too, on the mantelpiece, to remind us. Because they saved us. Because they died.
    I used to think that my parents were Selfish, that they didn’t care about me. But they did care – about me and Ben. They cared so much that they sacrificed themselves to make us Legal. They left us a letter, telling us that they died because they owed us a life, and they wanted to give it to us. They said they’d always planned it this way, that they’d hoped to have had a little more time with us, but that you can’t always predict what’s going to happen, and that at least they knew we were going to be safe. And they said that we should look for Peter, and try to rescue him. That they wished they could have saved him too. The letter said the pink pills were always their last resort, when they knew that there was no alternative, when they knew that all other hope was lost.
    I wish they’d known about Peter’s grandfather. I think that would have made them much happier . . .
    ‘Anna? Where are you?’
    Anna looked up to see Peter walking through the sitting room door, and smiled.
    ‘How was work?’
    Peter grimaced. He worked in a local laboratory now, something that Anna found rather comical bearing in mind his lack of enthusiasm in Science and Nature. But he said it was better than working for his grandfather. His grandfather who made Longevity drugs. Peter hated his grandfather even more than he hated the Authorities. And nearly as much as he hated Mrs Pincent. Once Peter had found out what his grandfather did for a living, he had refused all contact.
    ‘All right, I s’pose.’ He bent down to pick up Ben, then looked at Anna and frowned.
    ‘What’s that?’
    His eyes were on the soft, pink suede book that Anna was holding, and she reddened. It still felt slightly illicit, writing down her thoughts for anyone to see.
    ‘I got my journal back,’ Anna said awkwardly. ‘They sent it to me. There’s a letter for you too, from Mrs Pincent, from the prison. From your mother, I mean . . .’
    She took out a piece of cream paper and handed it to Peter, who frowned and pushed it away.
    ‘Not interested,’ he said dismissively, then he looked at her curiously.
    ‘Are you still writing in that thing?’ he asked, his eyes taking in the pen Anna was holding.
    Anna looked at him defensively. ‘I was just writing about the house,’ she said, ‘and Ben, and life on the Outside.’
    Peter shook his head. ‘Anna, you have to live life on the Outside, not write about it. Come on, I want to go for a walk, and I want you and Ben to come with me.’
    Anna looked at him hesitantly. She loved going out – spent all her time out in their small garden, marvelling at the colour of the grass, at the flowers growing, thinking how beautiful and majestic Nature was, how lucky she was to be able to see the sky unhindered. She felt as if she could breathe in the entire sky. She loved pointing things out to Ben, like birds and clouds, knowing that he’d never be deprived of them. But then the garden was safe territory for Anna; walls and fences protected her. She’d physically left Grange Hall behind, but she still felt safest within boundaries, even self-imposed ones.
    ‘People always stare at us,’ she said quietly.
    ‘Let them,’ Peter said, with a shrug. ‘In fact I like them staring. I hope we terrify them. Young people. Scary teenagers.’
    He pulled a face, and Anna found herself laughing.
    ‘You’re not afraid of anyone, are you?’ she said, looking at him in wonderment. ‘Don’t you mind people whispering behind our backs? Don’t you mind that no one likes us?’
    Peter raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t like them either. Don’t have time for people who think they deserve to live for ever. Anyway, people do like us. The Underground like us.’
    Anna nodded awkwardly. Peter had already joined the Underground Movement. In spite of the danger, he spent most of his free time doing secret errands and sitting in on furtive meetings held in random places