Arisen Read online

  Liam dropped his backpack to the ground, kneeling down to rummage through its contents. He pulled out tape and a stack of papers.

  “What are those?” I asked, snatching one from the pile.

  Liam taped some within the room, and then we followed him out into the hallway where he slipped them into lockers or taped them to the walls. I scanned the paper, and smiled. Not only did Liam take the time to debunk the Terrorist Syndrome using a logical and scientific approach, but he also offered a brief explanation of the techniques—like propaganda—the Council was employing to brainwash Oportet’s youth.

  “You’re trying to jolt them awake,” I said when Liam returned. “It obviously won’t work on the kids who are deeply, for lack of a better term, unconscious, but for the ones who are on the edge—this will get them to think, maybe even to question. There are going to be a lot of new faces among the zombies after tomorrow.”

  “You’re a good writer, Liam,” Melanie murmured from behind me. “You have me convinced.”

  “Maybe some Outsider kids will open up after this,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Melanie said. “The reeducation process really shuts people up.” She shuddered, probably remembering what she and her mom went through four years ago to become citizens.

  “After Lancaster came into power, the process became even more threatening,” Liam said. “Let’s hope we reach some strong kids, some who aren’t afraid to go against the Council.” Liam smiled, nudging Melanie. “We got Melanie to talk to us.”

  “More like coerced me,” she muttered.

  Next we slipped into the Ethics classroom, and I headed over to the teacher’s desk once more. Oportet’s Official Rulebook rested on each of the student’s desks.

  This teacher was more organized than the last, and her filing system was easy for me to navigate. I reached into the assignments folder, flipping through writing prompts, worksheets, and guided notes.

  “Guys, look at this,” I said. “It’s a list of symptoms for Terrorist Syndrome, and what to do ‘if a loved one shows signs of the disease.’”

  Melanie and Liam came to stand next to me, reading over my shoulder as I read aloud.

  “Symptoms of TS include: Breaking the rules on a regular basis; disagreeing with the Council or anyone the Council appoints as authority figures, such as teachers or guards; questioning or undermining said authority figures or any principle of Oportet; showing improper reaction to pictures of rebels at assemblies; showing sympathy for rebels or rebellion in general; disobeying parents; and expressing a desire to leave Oportet,” I read. My heartbeat quickened as I read the next lines. “If anyone you know shows these symptoms, it is essential to report them to your teachers or to the OSD directly. We have the power to cure anyone in Oportet with TS.”

  “This is insane,” Melanie whispered. “It explains why Lacy’s sister was behaving that way, though.”

  The education reforms started from the bottom up, which was why the new classes hadn’t made it to the high school yet. The Education Department tested out classes like Ethics and Mission of Oportet at the middle school this year, and next year their equivalents would be implemented at the high school.

  “My mother told me that pamphlets like that were going to be handed out at the next assembly,” Liam said.

  I looked down at my watch. “Let’s head back to the front to meet the others.”

  A familiar buzz of energy coursed through my body—anger mixed with hyperawareness.

  “I left my bag in the room,” Melanie said. “I’ll meet you guys back at the main office.”

  When Melanie disappeared behind the corner, Liam was in front of me. He moved his body close to mine, leaning his head down so that our faces were inches apart.

  “Does rebellion turn you on as much as it does me?” Liam whispered, his gaze moving from my eyes down to my mouth. A smile played at the corners of his lips.

  “Not nearly as much,” I said, taking a step back. I instantly felt colder.

  My mind was split into two debating sides, each providing very good arguments for why I should or shouldn’t give in to the warmth Liam’s body promised.

  Screw it.

  In an instant, I closed the distance between us. I snaked my arms around his neck, connecting my lips to his. We fed off of each other’s pain yet again, and I latched on to the feeling of his body pressed against mine, our lips moving hungrily and desperately—as if the act could make everything else in the world fade away.

  I was vaguely aware of pushing into a classroom, my body being lifted onto a desk. I wrapped my legs around Liam, and he ran his hands down the sides of my body, resting them on my hips.

  It was one of those moments that I knew I would soon regret, and I didn’t care.

  “Seriously?” A voice screeched from behind us. “I was gone for thirty seconds!”

  I peered around Liam’s head to see Melanie standing in the doorway, her mouth wide open in disbelief. Her eyes were stormy.

  “Thirty seconds, Megan,” she said, her teeth gritted.

  I slid off the desk, staring down at my toes like a child caught reaching into the cookie jar.

  “You broke the pact again,” I mumbled.

  Melanie rolled her eyes. “Well I thought you were at least strong enough to handle walking twenty feet through a school hallway,” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

  “What is this pact I keep hearing about?” Liam asked.

  “Nothing,” I said the same time Melanie said, “I’m not allowed to let her be alone with you.”

  Liam stared at me for a moment. “Why the hell not? You make me sound like some kind of predator or something.”

  “No, it has nothing to do with you,” I said quickly. “I don’t trust myself, that’s all.”

  “I just don’t understand any of this,” Liam said. “I never have.” He moved to stand in front of me, blocking my view of Melanie. “You barely offer up any explanation for why you broke it off this winter, and now it seems like you want nothing or everything to do with me—both at the same time.”

  “Since when did I owe you an explanation?” I put another foot of distance between us.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “How about since you spent more time with me than you did alone?”

  “So? You would never acknowledge me in front of your friends, let alone your family, and—”

  “Now you’re just making up excuses. You hate those kinds of people, why do you care what they think of you?”

  “Because if I mattered to you at all, you’d make me feel like I mattered to you when we were around anyone, not just Melanie.”

  Liam let out a breath, turning away from me. That’s when I noticed that Melanie had left us alone again.

  “That can’t be why you broke up with me,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a very strong reason to break up with someone, especially someone who knows you better than anyone else ever will. You’re just using it as an excuse to cover something else up.”

  I shook my head, walking to the door and holding it open for Liam.

  “We have to go,” I said. I didn’t owe him anything. It wasn’t my fault he felt so entitled to everything in life. That was his disturbingly wealthy parents fault for giving in to his every whim. If something about our relationship felt off, then I had every right to end it.

  Liam brushed past me, moving towards the front office without a single glance over his shoulder.

  The rest of the group was waiting on me as usual. The air was tense, and I silently cursed myself, then Liam, then myself again for ruining the energy rush I’d felt before.

  “We threw Liam’s papers all over the hallways, and we stuck them in lockers too,” Amelia reported. Her hand was wrapped around Harry’s. That was new.

  “We painted messages all over the gym and cafeteria,” Lacy said. “We also did that.” She pointed over my shoulder.

  I spun around, for the first time noticing the large, black letters etched on the trophy cases. The Awaken Society, it read. The cases were in the very center of the front hall, visible from the parking lot. It would be the first thing anyone saw the next morning.

  Liam was watching me, and when I met his eyes he didn’t back down.

  8

  Luna

  Ash and I were going to visit Ash’s and Drea’s grandfather, who was showing early signs of Alzheimer’s. He was living on his own for now, but Ash had already secured a place for him at a retirement home when the time came. Mr. Burnes was going to teach me about what happened to the American government.

  “I think it’s really cool you’re going with Ash today,” Jasper said, kissing my forehead. “It’s about time you wrote a sequel.”

  I smiled, hoping Jasper wouldn’t notice how forced the action was. I had the worst case of writer’s block imaginable, and I was nervous I’d never be able to break through it.

  “Guess who has a date tonight,” Drea called from the kitchen. She was holding her cellphone in front of her, smiling down at the screen.

  “That’s the second time this week,” I said. “When do we get to meet her?”

  “I’m not letting her anywhere near you nutjobs,” Drea scoffed. “You want me to have a chance, don’t you?”

  “Rude,” Ash said. He dangled car keys in front of my face before heading towards the door. “You ready?”

  I backed away from Jasper. “See you tonight.”

  It was time for my first history lesson.

  “He was really a teenager when the revolution started?” I asked. We had been driving for about ten minutes. My mind raced with thoughts of interviewing Mr. Burnes.

  “Witnessed it all,” Ash said.
“He’s got some good protest stories.”

  “He was an activist?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He started with an animal liberation group, and then an anti-economic inequality collective, but eventually he joined Rise Up.” Ash was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “What are those?” I asked.

  “The animal liberation group was an underground animal rights organization that started back in 1976. They took part in illegal direct actions, kind of like the Underground Railroad did for slaves in the 1800s—but for animals. They rescued animals from fur farms and laboratories, and arranged for veterinary care and safe houses. They were one of the first groups to be labeled terrorists by the United States government.”

  “You said they broke the law,” I started. “Did they ever hurt anyone? I get why they would be called criminals, but why terrorists?” I pulled out my notepad, scribbling down more things to discuss with Mr. Burnes.

  Ash smiled. “They were causing animal agriculture, fur, and pharmaceutical industries to lose money. A law was passed through congress soon after the 9/11 attacks in 2001 called the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act. It claimed that activists who caused a loss of profits, through any means legal or illegal, could be labeled domestic terrorists,” Ash explained. “And to answer your question, no. They never once injured any human or animal. Although some members committed illegal acts such as arson or theft, many activists of different groups simply picketed or exorcised free speech.”

  “And they were labeled terrorists?”

  “If they caused a loss of profit.”

  I didn’t understand. I thought the twentieth century was far too early for signs of governmental corruption. Why did it take so many years for people to start caring about the encroachment of free speech?

  “Tell me about the anti-economic inequality group,” I said.

  “It was a truly global movement that fought against the widening gap between the rich and the poor. They started receiving international attention in 2011. Their slogan was, ‘We are the ninety-nine percent.’ This was referring to the huge amount of concentrated wealth among one percent of the United State’s population, which was creating social and economic inequality and instability. Basically, the rich were getting richer, and the poor were getting poorer.”

  We pulled into the driveway of a quaint home in the middle of downtown Portland, complete with a porch swing and bird bath in the front yard. I scribbled down questions on my notepad, my mind moving faster than my hand ever could. I felt like there was far too much information I needed to learn, and not enough time in the world for me to learn it—let alone process what it meant.

  Before I could push open the car door, Ash was doing it for me. Fat rain droplets fell from the sky. I pulled the hood of Jasper’s sweatshirt over my head.

  “Arctic Monkeys, huh?” Ash asked, reading the band name from my chest. “They go way back.”

  We hurried to the front door, managing to get soaked in the process as the torrential downpour began. Ash rang the doorbell.

  A wrinkled man with kind eyes made his way to the door, his face lighting up when he saw us behind the glass.

  “Asher, my boy. Right on time, as usual,” Mr. Burnes said, his voice booming and regal.

  I shot Ash a smirk when Mr. Burnes turned to lead us into the house. I mouthed Asher, and he gave me a playful shove in return.

  We entered a living room. “Who is this beautiful young lady you brought along for our Tuesday afternoon visit?” Mr. Burnes asked, reaching out to shake my hand.

  “This is Luna Beckham. I told you about her on the phone. She’s the writer,” Ash said.

  Mr. Burnes’s forehead creased. “Ah,” was all he said.

  Ash cleared his throat. “Maybe I forgot to mention her,” he said quickly.

  “Regardless, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Luna.” Mr. Burnes had us sit across from him on a pale green couch, and I couldn’t help but stare at the rows and rows of books that lined the walls.

  “That’s quite a collection, Mr. Burnes,” I said, offering a smile.

  “Oh, enough of that. I insist you call me George,” he said. “You wouldn’t want me to feel old now, would you?”

  My smile widened, shaking my head. “Of course not.”

  “Luna wants to interview you,” Ash said. “She wants to know about your rebellious teenage years.”

  George laughed. I wasn’t sure how, but even his laugh sounded British. The space around his eyes was marked with laughter lines, and I could easily imagine what he might’ve looked like as a teenager. Even now, he looked healthy—and happy—for someone with a brain disease.

  “You’d better cancel any plans you have for tonight. You could be here for a while, young lady,” George said. “I rarely stop talking once I start.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I said. “Let’s start with the early twenty-first century, just before The Fall.”

  “My favorite years,” George murmured, looking off into the distance. “What a time to watch the world evolve.”

  Ash leaned back on the couch, clasping his hands behind his head. I could feel his eyes on me.

  “Social unrest was approaching its peak, and it wasn’t just one issue. My generation was so fed up with the way our predecessors had run the world for so long, and we were starting to recognize the pure insanity of it all. You know how one defines insanity, Luna?” He didn’t wait for me to respond before continuing. “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

  “Our planet and its inhabitants were being abused, exploited and tortured by the same culprits, and they had been doing it for centuries. It was the same story with different characters.”

  I made a note, trying not to smile at the fire in George’s voice.

  “You know California had a major drought back in the early years, and almost half of the state’s water shortage was caused by the meat and dairy industries. You know what the government did? Instead of telling people to cut back on their sodding cheeseburgers, they told homes and businesses to cut their water use. They told everybody to speed up their showers and turn the water off when they brushed their teeth. Californian homes only used somewhere around five percent of the state’s water.”

  “But why?” I asked. “If it was the animal agriculture industry’s fault, or at least partially their fault, why weren’t they held accountable? Did people know these facts?”

  George shook his head. “Those were major business enterprises they’d be messing with,” he said.

  “So? If it was such a serious drought, wouldn’t they do everything in their power to fix the problem?”

  “In a perfect world,” George sighed. “Big businesses had money invested in almost everyone in the government. Corporations owned our government, there’s no denying it. You needed money to run for office, and you needed money to stay in office. The corporations provided these funds, and in return, they gained protection.”

  “So there were other businesses who did this? Not just in agriculture?”

  “Well, of course. We had all kinds of companies getting away with pollution and exploitation that affected all life forms.”

  I dropped my pen on the note pad. “I’m trying to understand, but I still don’t get the why part of all this. Why didn’t people care about any of it, I mean, until the later years? And why was money so much more important than the exploitation and pollution that you keep talking about?”

  “You really are sheltered, aren’t you?” Ash said from beside me. Of course his first words of the entire interview happened to be insulting me. “It wasn’t entirely the money, but more the power that came with it.”

  “I just can’t imagine being in that kind of mindset. What’s more important than life itself, you know?”

  George smiled. “Spot on, Miss Beckham. You would’ve fit in well with my generation.”

  “Okay, so corporate control of the government was a big issue. What were some other forms of social unrest?” I asked.

  “I think a huge turning point came with the wave of police brutality that started around the ‘10s. We had begun the process of becoming a fully militarized police state,” George said. “When a country like China, with more than a billion people, had a total of twelve fatalities by police in 2014 compared with more than a thousand in the United States, there had to be something dreadfully wrong. In the United Kingdom there was only one person killed and three shots fired, that entire year.”