Page 14 of The Chain House

And thinking now, as she looked out the same window next to her bed at the morning sunlight and green leaves on the trees, that she definitely wasn’t free.

And it was a mistake to come here.

She couldn’t believe the rest of the kids had been here for almost two years, and they weren’t frightened, or even complaining.

The morning bell chimed three times for breakfast. Unlike her three roommates, she didn’t run toward the door of their barracks, even though she was starving and her stomach had been growling all night. She was too busy spying across the compound toward the main house, where the man with the beard lived. There was a boy up there in the window. She’d taken her gaze from the woods, which was where she stared every morning waiting for her mother to come back, when movement in the upstairs window of the main house had caught her eye. From her distance and vantage point, he wasn’t much more than a shadow. She waved. The shadow—no, it was a boy, it was definitely a boy, and he looked their age too—raised his hand to the glass and waved back.

And then he was gone.

She imagined someone must have told him, Get away from that window, boy, somebody might see you. Or something like that.

And that somebody, she thought, was me. Jennifer. And her middle and last name had once been Rae Hamilton. Jennifer Rae Hamilton. Except once they entered the gate at Freedom, their names had gone away. All remnants of their past had to be eliminated, all ties to family and friends completely severed.

At least that’s how her mother had explained it, right before she’d informed her that her new name was Red, which made complete sense to Jennifer, because of her hair. Although the kids were stripped of their surnames, they got to keep their first names, for now. A young, auburn-haired women who went by the name Yellow said it was because kids weren’t old enough to have chosen The Collective on their own, so they weren’t ready for new names. A young, dark-haired man whose name was The Raven, or simply Raven, said it was because he didn’t like kids on the ranch at all, and that kids didn’t deserve new names.

As Jennifer watched the main house, hoping the mystery boy would reappear in the upstairs window, she recalled what else The Raven had said that afternoon as a warning: Steer clear of the main house. It isn’t a place for kids.

Jennifer had asked The Raven at that point, If the main house is so bad, then why did I see you going in and out of it several times today?

Business, The Raven had said bluntly, with enough sadness in his eyes to keep her from pushing for more truth.

She wondered now if the boy in the upstairs window had a name.

And what was he doing inside the main house if it wasn’t a good place for kids?

Did this mean there were five kids on the ranch and not only four? But if so, why wasn’t he with them in the barracks? And why was she only now seeing him, after four weeks on the ranch? And, most importantly, why hadn’t her roommates told her there was another? Maybe they were liars. Unless they didn’t know, in which case, she looked forward to being the bearer of interesting news at breakfast.

“Jennifer, are you coming?” Iris asked in passing.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said without taking her eyes off the upstairs window of the main house. The boy had yet to reappear, which made her wonder if indeed he had been a figment of her imagination. But she didn’t think so, and she made a mental note to sketch him on her drawing pad before she went to sleep, just a quick picture of the boy standing at the window.

The door to the barracks opened and closed.

Seconds later, Markie, Iris, and Peter ran past her window outside toward the Kitchen House. Peter was last because he ran with a limp. But what he lacked in speed he made up with goofiness. He flashed Jennifer a funny face and then disappeared from her view at the window, just as the door to the barracks creaked opened again and an adult voice said, “Jennifer, you coming?”

It was Yellow.

“Yes.” She hurried along to the door, grabbed Yellow’s outstretched hand, and together they walked out into the warm morning sunshine.

Yellow often acted like her new mother, and Jen was grateful for it, especially now that her real mother was gone. She’d picked the name Yellow because it was her favorite color and it reminded her of sunshine. The name was fitting because Yellow was bright and cheery and warm, and even sometimes burning hot when she got mad, which wasn’t often, and mostly at the men on the ranch, who seemed to make the rules. One of which was: It was wrong to show anger toward another member of The Collective. So, Yellow had to bite her tongue a lot.

Yellow was an adult but still a kid at heart. Together they skipped and swung their arms as they approached the Kitchen House. But underneath Yellow’s smile Jennifer saw the same worry she’d been seeing for weeks now. The same worry Yellow only seemed to speak about to The Raven, and in whispers, and always in the shadows. Jennifer considered bringing it up, but instead stayed quiet, and stole frequent glances at the main house as they skipped along; it was the only house on the ranch that had any color other than gray. The clapboard siding had been painted deep blue but was already peeling under the sagging gutters.

The man with the beard, the man who called himself the Breaker of Chains, Jennifer thought, apparently never did any touch-ups. Maybe he wasn’t even handy. And then because she couldn’t hold it in, she asked, “Is there a little boy living in that house?”

“What house?” Yellow asked in return, although Jennifer knew she knew what house. She was just stalling. “The main house,” Jennifer said. They’d stopped skipping. They’d stopped swinging their arms. But they continued walking with their hands locked.

“No,” Yellow said, squeezing Jennifer’s small hand. “No little boy lives in that house.” But then, as if genuinely curious now, she said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because I saw him standing in the window a few minutes ago.”

“Maybe it was the sunlight playing tricks.”

“It wasn’t,” Jennifer said. “He waved at me.”

They walked a few more steps. Jennifer felt Yellow’s hand growing sweaty and warm. And when she said, “Jennifer,” it sounded like she had a frog in her throat.

“Yes,” Jennifer said. Yellow was still holding her hand but had stooped to eye level. Jennifer saw tears in her eyes. “Why are you crying?”