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AMITY

Rather than gothrough the house and get sucked into another home improvement project, we cut through the side yard.

“Ami,” Ren calls, hurrying off the porch. I brace myself to say no to more window hanging, but they gently pull me aside and slip something into my hand.

“What’s this?” I feel a small piece of paper, folded twice.

“My brother’s name and the name of the camp,” Ren whispers to me.

“Ren—” I start but Ren cuts me off with another whisper.

“I’ll be honest, kiddo. I have a bad feeling about this.” Their eyes sweep up my girlfriend clothes. “If something happens and you don’t come back, if you end up back in the PS...well, he needs help. If there’s anything you can do...” they trail off.

I gaze at Ren steadily, thinking they may have guessed more than they let on this whole time. Then I swallow.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours, Ren,” I assure them and try to hand the paper back. Ren pushes my hand away.

“Ami, please, I’ve tried to help you. If you have the chance?—”

“Of course,” I reassure them, giving Ren a quick hug. “If I have the chance to help him, of course I will.”

I turn and Vale is waiting. Without comment he turns south, away from the Forge. I follow, glad for my boots at least, and that it’s warm enough I’m not shivering in this outfit.

When we get out to the main road, it’s still bright outside. The sun hovers over the horizon. Vale holds his hand out. I take it and we hold hands. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, his backpack slung on his back. I’m in this get-up trying to figure out the trick to walking in a skirt.

There’s a car waiting by the side of the road and Vale heads straight for it. It’s one of the old cars they have up here, with an engine that makes a lot of noise. It smells too, the exhaust. This one is shiny and black. We slide into the back and a man I’ve never seen before is driving. He and Vale exchange a glance and the car starts.

I settle into my seat, not sure what I should say in front of the driver, who Vale has not introduced.

“Your seatbelt,” Vale says to me quietly.

“Where?” I check around. He’s looking at something behind me.

“Put your seatbelt on, Ami,” he grumbles. The driver turns a sharp corner and I slide on the seat, leaning to regain my balance. It’s different from the slow, self-drivingcars and e-buses back in the PS. I poke my hand down around the seat, feeling for a safety belt.

Vale blows out an exasperated breath and scoots over in the seat, right next to me, his leg pressed against mine. Then he reaches over me.

“Vale,” I protest and press my back against the back seat of the car. His face comes closer and closer to me. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss, but I notice the driver’s eyes are flicking to the rearview mirror.

Vale grabs something next to my ear, pulling a strap across my body and under my other arm. There’s a clip next to my hip that he grabs with his other hand and he clips them together. Then he takes my hand.

“This button releases it,” he says, touching my fingers to the clip.

I roll my eyes.Clearly.

“All safe now.” He sounds pleased.

A little shy to look him directly in the eye, still hovering over me, I half close my eyes and watch him in my periphery. He tugs the belt once, twice. I’m strapped in tight now. Then he moves back to his side of the car. When I glance over, he’s still watching me.

“You need to wear your seatbelt up here,” is all he says. The man driving is glancing curiously in the rearview mirror but Vale says nothing else, only reaches over to take my hand again. Is he nervous? His hand is warm in mine. My stomach growls and I realize I didn’t eat dinner.

The car turns onto a crowded road. There are lots of cars and trucks waiting in line, and people grouped everywhere. A crowd, in clusters, is waiting to go through a door. Most of them are men but I see a few womenscattered around. I’m glad Vale brought these clothes for me. I would have stood out in my other stuff. The girls are dressed like me, in dresses and skirts.

I cringe a little. They look so helpless. How can they defend themselves in these outfits? I shudder, thinking that the women up here seem so vulnerable, there’s no other way to describe it. They don’t look strong; it’s like they don’t train at all. I think of the weightlifting classes back home, the hours with the swim team.

My mom says our Peace is not a product of weakness, that women had to become strong enough to demand it. It’s for these women I need to follow through with the orders from the PS, even if it means I won’t see Vale again.