Wildings by Eleanor Glewwe

Author:Eleanor Glewwe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-09-29T18:22:09+00:00

On Firstday morning, as I walk to Firem under the bright spring sun, I imagine Arik hurrying through the streets of Horiel District, gripping his violin case as he makes his way to Kazeri. I feel close to him even though I can’t see him.

Can Arik and I meet at your apartment again this Seventhday? I write on Caleb’s slate in the library after first period.

It should be fine, he writes. He asked me the same thing yesterday.

I glance up sharply. “You saw Arik yesterday?”

Caleb seems startled by my reaction. He came over in the afternoon. I wasn’t expecting him, but I was glad he dropped by.

The shock wears off quickly, leaving in its wake a kind of gnawing anger. For Caleb to see Arik without me feels like a betrayal. It isn’t fair that they can spend time together so easily when I cannot meet my brother without the utmost caution and subterfuge.

Caleb is watching me with concern. He lifts his eyebrows in a question. I shake my head. I know I’m being ridiculous, even if I can’t help feeling left out.

On Seventhday, I arrive at the Levis’ in a drab cello skirt and blouse. When I knock, Marah answers. Arik and Caleb are sitting at the kitchen table behind her, passing Caleb’s slate between them. The sight sends a spasm of jealousy through me.

I pull myself together and force a smile. Somehow it brings me to my senses and becomes a real smile. I’m being silly. I’m with my brother again. All is well.

“Rivka!” Arik pops up from his chair and envelops me in a fierce hug. “It’s so good to see you! How was your week?”

“Too long,” I say, laughing. “Yours?”

“Good! We started rehearsing this new piece. . . . Come, you have to try this rhubarb crisp Caleb made.”

He pulls me to the table, where Caleb serves me a huge portion of crisp. He and Arik both have sticky plates in front of them. The crisp is delicious, the oats and brown sugar tempering the puckery tartness of the rhubarb. After I’ve polished it off, Arik makes to help Caleb wash up, but he waves us away to his room.

“Our father doesn’t suspect anything, does he?” Arik asks as he sinks onto Caleb’s rumpled bedding.

I drop into the desk chair. “No.”

“Where does he think you are?”

“At Firem, studying with a friend.”

Arik perks up, as though happy to hear I have at least one friend. “What’s their name?”

“Hilah Menachem,” I say. “Her mother’s the governor of Orev County.”

“Does she know—?”

“No.”

Arik looks reassured. “So where does she think you are?”

“Um . . . she thinks I’m seeing Caleb in secret.”

At first, Arik looks confused. Then he bursts out laughing. “Well, you are, aren’t you?” If he weren’t all the way on the bed, I would shove him.

My brother sobers. “She thinks you’re seeing a halan boy and is still willing to cover for you?”

I shrug. “Hilah’s funny. She grew up in the country, and there weren’t any kasir children for her to play with, so her friends were halani.

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