“Nobody’s going to change their vote,” says Mercy, aware that she’s pouting. “And then what happens?”
“Someone will change their vote,” her mother says. “Someone always changes their vote. You’ll see.”
“How about you change your vote?” Mercy suggests, knowing she’s wasting her breath.
Her mother raises her eyebrows. “Or how about you do?”
“Not. Happening.” Mercy’s footsteps turn to stomps. “We’re needed out there. The contents of that note are only further proof of that.”
Her parents look at each other in that frustrating way they do when they’re communicating without words. Sometimes Mercy swears they’re two parts of the same person.
“Answer me one question,” says Mercy when they reach the hut.
Her father’s hand pauses on the door.
“If I weren’t a Seeker, how would you have voted?” She glares at them. “Be honest.”
Her father opens the door without answering and goes inside. But her mother grips Mercy by the hand.
“There’s no point asking what if,” she says. “Your dad and I can’t pretend we’re not your parents.”
“I know you’d vote for the Seekers to go,” says Mercy, seeing her mother’s eyes widen just enough to know she’s right. “Dad wouldn’t. But you would. It’s the right thing to do and you know it.”
“I voted no.” Her mother lets go of her hand to go into the hut.
“And you hesitated before you voted,” says Mercy, going in after her. “I saw it!”
“Where’s Charity?” her father asks, walking out of Mercy’s room and looking around. “We asked her to wait here.”
Mercy shrugs. “Maybe she went to meet Seb? I told her I was going to introduce them before I left.”
The door bursts open behind Mercy and she turns to see Sam’s younger brother. He’s out of breath and sweating like he’s run a marathon, even though it was likely only a few paces.
“Speak of the devil,” says Mercy’s mom. “Have you seen Charity?”
Seb nods, trying to speak but having trouble getting his words out. “Mom sent me here to tell you.”
They wait for him to catch his breath so he can explain.
“I saw Charity run into the forest while you were at the vote.” His words come out in a tumble now. “I tried to follow her, but she was too fast. I got puffed and had to stop. So, I went home to wait for Luca. He can find her for you. He can find anyone.”
“Not anyone,” says Mercy, thinking of Luca’s mother in the Outlands, and wishing everyone would stop giving him more credit than he deserves. The guy voted against letting them go! He of all people should understand how important it is that the Seekers be allowed to leave. His vote would’ve made all the difference.
“Mercy and I will go and look for her,” her mom says.
“I’m coming, too.” Her dad goes to the door.
“We need you here.” Her mom holds up a hand and shakes her head. “In case Charity returns. There needs to be someone she trusts here so she doesn’t take off again.”
Mercy nods. “She’s right, Dad. And no offence to Mom, but it shouldn’t be her.”
Mercy’s mom has asked too many tough questions of Charity since she arrived.
“She can’t have gone far.” Mercy’s mom tugs on her sleeve. “We’ll be back before you know it, Dex.”
“Well, if you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming after you.” He sighs as he plonks himself into a chair.
“I have my rocks, Uncle Dex!” Seb pulls a handful of well-worn stones from his pocket and dumps them on the table. “We can play rocks! If Charity comes back, we’ll teach her how to play, too.”
Mercy’s dad pats the chair next to him. “Let’s play rocks, my friend.”
And that, right there, is exactly why Mercy loves her father so much. Playing rocks is the last thing in the world he would want to do. And yet, just look at him. At least it will keep him occupied for a while.
“Which way did you see Charity heading?” Mercy asks.
Seb points. “She disappeared behind the syrup tree.”
Mercy nods. There’s a large maple near their group of huts with a tap and a bucket attached that produces the most delicious syrup. According to Sam, it’s not as sweet as it would be if they had a cooler climate, but Mercy still thinks it’s one of the best things she’s ever tasted. She should’ve looked if they have a maple tree in the Newlands. Not that it matters if she never gets to go back there…
“Mercy!” Her mother is already out the hut and walking away. “Come on!”
Mercy rushes to her father and kisses his cheek before chasing after her mother.
They head for the maple tree and into the forest.
“Charity!” they call over and over. “Charity!
Mercy’s mom walks slowly, studying the ground. Surely, a skinny young girl’s footsteps wouldn’t be visible out here?
Dread grips Mercy around the chest like a vice. “Why would she even run off in the first place?”
“Leaving your family and everything you know isn’t easy.” Her mom squats down and trails her fingers over a patch of dirt. “She just needs time to adjust.”
“Do you think she got spooked being left at home alone?” Mercy asks.
“It probably made the situation feel more real.” Her mom picks up a broken stick, looks at it like it can talk to her, then turns to the left and walks on with Mercy trailing behind. “I don’t think she’ll be far. It’s not like she can swim home.”
They walk further into the trees, eyes scanning, voices calling until Mercy’s mom grips her arm, pulling her to a halt.
“The footsteps end here,” she says, pointing to the ground.
Mercy frowns, not seeing anything different about this patch of dirt than any other in the forest.
“Up there,” her mom whispers, tilting her face to look into the tree beside them.
Mercy follows the line of her finger, her jaw falling to see Charity perched on one of the high branches.
“Charity!” they both call at once.
Charity tilts her face down to them. There’s no hint of a smile and even at this distance Mercy can see her cheeks are streaked with tears.
“I’m going to jump,” says Charity. “Don’t try to stop me.”
The color fades from Mercy’s mom’s face. Nobody would be able to survive a fall from that height. But that seems to be exactly the point.
“Don’t jump!” Mercy shouts. “Just climb down one branch at a time. We’re right here.”
But Charity shakes her head. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s hopeless.”
“We need to go up there,” says Mercy, already steeling herself for what she knows she has to do.
“I…I can’t.” Her mother shakes her head.
“You totally can,” says Mercy, remembering how she scaled the dare tree during the Proving. If she can do it, her mom can, too.
But her mom has fallen silent, her head still shaking, her face pale with sweat beading on her forehead.