Page 91 of Privilege

36

AMITY

Half an hourago I felt a fire burning inside me. I felt more energy, more righteous anger and aggression than I ever remember feeling.

Now my body feels heavy, each leg swinging out of the car at a crawl.

I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open. My body has decided the best way to deal with the prospect of meeting my mother at the airport is to shut down.

When the car stops, the young Officer gets out behind me and slips an arm under my shoulder, bracing me up. I’m too tired to cringe away from her touch. I sag against her as she flashes me a worried glance.

“Come on, Amity, perk up,” she mutters to me.

My head rolls and hangs. I’m not trying to be dramatic, my neck just got overwhelmed holding it up.

The girl bumps her hip against me sharply and bends forward to put her face right in front of mine.

“Amity!” she whispers, loud and furious and sharp.

I jerk upright.

She widens her eyes at me significantly. “You are Amity Bloome,” she begins. “You just completed your mission. Now sell it.” Like we’ve all been trained to do, like I’ve done with my little brother, Ethan, and my mother has done with me, she exaggerates her breathing. Slows it, straightening upright.

By force of habit and years of training I follow along, pulling the breath longer and deeper into my lungs, finding the strength to copy her and stand up straight.

Now we’re upright, facing each other. I scan around us, at the front of the black car next to scrubby grass and gravel stretching out to pine trees and white-capped mountains in the distance. A high chain-link fence with razor wire towers next to us. I glance along the fence and see there’s a wide gate behind us and next to it the paved edge of one of the runways.

The young CSO uses an entirely different voice now. “Ms. Bloome, follow me, please.”

I follow her to the gate. It’s not morning yet, but the sun is about to come up.

I move through the opening, feeling like a tiny speck in the wide valley. Everything is so big up here. Am I getting nostalgic for Anchorage? I think suddenly of Ren and wonder how they knew. Maybe my mother will let me send them a message. I think of the pile of clothes they gave me, and my knives in the bag Tessa confiscated. Inside my jacket pocket sits Ren’s folded note.

We walk across the pavement to a small cluster of people. My mom’s not in white for once; instead, she’s indark flight clothes, standing next to a couple of other women.

“Amity, come here,” my mother greets me warmly, holding her arms out for a hug. The young Officer has gotten me upright, but the numb, heavy feeling is still there inside me.

“Mom.” I can’t put the same warmth in my voice. I move forward, letting her hug me. As she reaches out to take my hand I’m vaguely aware I should seem happier to be here, to be going home. That I should be glad to be done with this mission, but I can’t pretend.

A shadow of worry passes over her face but she smooths it away immediately.

“Amity, this is Officer Taylor and Officer Reed,” she says, stepping back, still holding my hand. The helicopter looms out behind them, painted in camouflage, sitting on tiny wheels.

“This is my daughter, Amity Bloome.”

“The arrest has been made?” Officer Reed asks.

“Yes. All facets of the mission have been successfully completed,” my mother tells her, a hint of pride in her voice.

“His detention is confirmed?”

They’re talking about Vale. Was this whole mission about Vale? I thought I was coming up here for Zeph. I thought they wanted me to get that laptop for the PS, but maybe Vale was the target all along. I played right into it, getting to know him, getting him to trust me.

A wave of cynicism washes over me and I realize they’re still talking. He’s in “secure transport,” probably passedout and chained in the back of the van, the way I last saw him.

“Congratulations, Amity.” The Officers are shaking my hand. Then they step aside and give a sign to the pilot of the helicopter.

“They’re ready for you. We’ll see you back in Maryland,” Officer Taylor says to my mom. I don’t know if there is something else I’m supposed to say or do so I give them a tight “thanks” and follow my mother to the door, awkwardly grasping a handle and copying her, pulling myself up into the cab.

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