The August 5 by Jenna Helland

Author:Jenna Helland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macmillan Children's Publishing Group

17

END OF BREAD SUBSIDY CAUSES GRIEF

The end of the bread subsidy has triggered riots among the hungry populace of South Sevenna. “People are unable to feed their children,” said one shopkeeper who refused to give her name. “I feel their pain, but I can’t afford to give the bread away.”

—JFA Bulletin, October 6

Later that night, Tommy sat in the Estoria, a smoky cabaret near the marina. Squeezed between Kristoph and Dennett, Tommy was miserable. The red-light lanterns cast a disturbing glare on the black walls, and the weird shadows distorted people’s faces into creepy masks. The other lads—including Bern—were smoking reets and drinking some sickly sweet wine out of long-stemmed glasses. A fake floral scent hung in the air, and it was making Tommy nauseated. Onstage, performers draped in pink tablecloths warbled in falsetto while the crowd—an odd mix of students, professors, and Zunft officers—laughed uproariously at the bawdy jokes.

The painted actors finished their tune, bowed, and shuffled off the stage. Another group of lads stumbled onstage wearing wigs and dresses that resembled the traditional garb of cottager girls from Aeren. The jests in the last skit had made Tommy uncomfortable, and he wasn’t interested in hearing them make fun of cottager girls. Tommy stood up abruptly and mumbled something about finding the washroom, but Kristoph grabbed his wrist.

“Grab me another of these, would you, old boy?” Kristoph said, pushing his glass into Tommy’s hand.

At the back of the crowded cabaret, there was a smoking lounge with a bar. It was quieter in there, and the tables were only half-full. The server was taking a tray of drinks to a table, so Tommy waited at the gilded bar for her to come back. In the background, he could hear the performers’ mocking tone. There were small brass flamingos placed along the bar, and Tommy picked one up, fiddling with the tiny hinged wing.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked from behind the bar.

When Tommy saw her face, he dropped the flamingo. It fell with a thud and pockmarked the shiny wood surface of the bar. The woman’s long red hair was pulled back in a thick braid, but her face was unmistakable. Even in the dim light of the bar, Tommy could see the shadows of the burn marks above the collar of her dress. It was the girl in the lavender dress that he’d seen in the forest the day of the August Rising.

“You,” he said in disbelief. “I remember you.”

The girl’s eyes grew wide and she glanced around quickly. Tommy wasn’t sure if she was looking for an escape or if she was afraid that someone would hear them talking. But they were the only two people at the bar.

“Wait,” Tommy said, leaning forward and talking softly. “I was the one who helped you. I mean, I think I did. I thought the porch would be safer than the forest.”

The girl had regained her composure. She stared at him, her face expressionless.

“I’ve been worried that you were all right,” Tommy said.

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