The following morning Lysander spent in a lazy heap in bed with the pets. Bingley’s warmth curved into his side as Lysander stared up at the ceiling, thinking over the conversation from the night before. Having admitted to Red the circumstances behind his decision, he felt freer somehow, like half the weight of it had been transferred over to her in the process. He also considered the information that she had admitted to him about her own life and pictured her somewhere curled up, Noah snoring not far off. The existence of Noah still baffled him a bit, mostly because he couldn’t imagine anyone spending that much time with Red without losing their mind, though he admittedly didn’t know Noah well enough to ascertain if he had indeed gone crazy from the proximity. Chuckling to himself at the thought, Lysander turned over and flung an arm across Bingley. At the movement, the dog squirmed from under him in order to stand over him with a dopey doggy grin, presumably telling him it was time to get up.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” he stated. At the proclamation, Bingley hopped down to the floor and started herding him toward the back door. Letting the dog out, Lysander then made himself a quick bowl of oatmeal, cutting up an apple to put inside, the last of his fruit until next week. Shoveling the food down in record time, he then leashed up Bingley and slid on a pair of sneakers for a quick walk around the neighborhood. The fresh air sounded nice and he knew Bingley was itching to stretch his legs beyond the small backyard.

Leaving the apartment complex behind, the pair followed the cracked sidewalk further into the residential area, moving past the bustling train station. Passing the local cemetery, Lysander hunched further into his sweater, tightening his grip on Bingley’s leash. His parents had been buried there, in a conjoined plot near the back end. He rarely visited them but walking past their bodies left a chill on his skin that he couldn’t fully explain. Quickening his pace, he made it to the other side of the gated graveyard, the ground suddenly dropping into a gentle downhill slope that led to an old football field that had once been used by the local high school until they relocated to a more sophisticated one at a sports complex closer to the city after the Spread. Leaving behind the sidewalk, Lysander diverted to the grassy hill so that he could walk down to the old track. Unclipping Bingley from his leash, the dog happily sprinted away from him to chase a flock of geese that had taken up residence in the overgrown grass between the rusted field goals.

As Lysander stepped onto the track, the gravel and dirt mixture crunched under his footsteps. Weeds poked up intermittently through the compacted earth, dandelions just beginning to flower. He followed the track around the circle, hands in his pockets, keeping an eye on his dog as he happily barked and ran circles around confused geese and crows. Coming here usually soothed Lysander and helped him get a firmer grasp on his whirling thoughts, but today he felt too wound up to fully appreciate the exercise. The wooden bleachers on the home side had long been scrapped and repurposed elsewhere, but the concrete block cut into the hill that once housed them still remained, metal screws and posts sticking out sadly. The box that used to hold commentators and announcers sat at the very top, the red pitched roof now looking out at only emptiness. Hunching down against a sudden chill wind, he continued around hoping he might feel better the longer he went at it. Growing bored with the birds, Bingley trotted over to him with a rather long stick, placing it directly into Lysander’s path once he got close enough. Sighing, Lysander picked it up and gave it a halfhearted toss down the field. Bingley took off after it, leaving Lysander alone in his thoughts once more.

The conversation with Red the night before sat heavily over him now that he had had time to think more on it. Though he was happy to have told her the truth of his circumstances, he didn’t know how he felt about her concerns regarding his treatment of Miria. He never intended to treat Miria as anything less than a fully capable adult woman, but he could see how his actions might be construed that way. The problem was that he didn’t really see a way around it. While Miria was many wonderful things, she was hampered by her love for her father, and Lysander couldn’t justify placing such a burden on her when he could easily take care of it without her involvement. Red was also correct in her concerns that the whole plan could go painfully awry, in which case Lysander would much rather take the fall than have Miria at all implicated.

His thoughts then meandered to Joseph. He had considered going in and talking to Joseph just after the incident, but he couldn’t seem to force his feet to carry him back to that office. Joseph had even come looking for him a couple times in the days following it, but Lysander would duck behind corners and into bathrooms to avoid him, feeling foolish but also incapable of bringing himself to confront his foster father again.Anytime he even thought about it, his heart would race and he would break out into nervous sweats under his armpits and along the back of his neck. It took a monumental effort for him to push those feelings back, using a technique he had read about to list his favorite book characters internally in order to overcome the near panic attacks.

Bingley’s return broke him from his thoughts, the dog bringing him the stick back. Giving the venture up as a loss, he clipped Bingley back up and headed for home. Bingley fussed about the loss of his impromptu toy for several feet, before getting distracted by a chipmunk rushing across the street. Tugging the dog along, Lysander felt his thighs just starting to burn from the uphill walk as the pair crested the hill, finding themselves passing the cemetery’s rusting metal fence again. A cloud lazily drifted in front of the sun, casting them momentarily in shadow as they passed under the boughs of the massive tree that grew between two graves near the sidewalk. He passed a few more houses, one with a couple children playing outside in the spring sunshine, their delighted shrieks following him as he crossed the intersection in front of the train station and moved diagonally to cut across the lawn to his apartment rather than follow the street.

As they approached his apartment, Bingley suddenly began tugging at his leash to pull Lysander along. As they got closer, Lysander understood why when he saw the long form of a man leaning against the wall next to his front door. It took him a moment to place the face as the one he had met last night, Red’s roommate Noah. When Lysander got close enough for Noah to notice, he unfolded from his position against the wall and turned to face Lysander.

“Yo,” Noah said in greeting, raising his hand in a brief wave. Bingley excitedly wagged in greeting, looking up at the visitor in the hopes of a pet.

“Uh, hi?” Lysander responded, a clear question in his voice, “Noah, right?”

“You got it,” he replied, giving Lysander a pair of finger guns with matching tongue clicks.

“Right then. Um, not to be rude or anything, but why are you here?” Lysander asked, gesturing to the area around his apartment with his free hand.

“Right into it then,” Noah said under his breath before continuing in a normal tone, “Well, Badeaux, I’m just here to have a little chat.”

“You can call me Lysander,” he said, “I know my last name can be a mouthful.”

“Not really. It’s two whole syllables. I think I can handle it,” Noah rebutted. Lysander got the impression that interacting with the other man would be a bit like trying to soothe an angry cat, largely fruitless and frustrating.

“That’s fine then,” Lysander said before offering hesitantly, “Do you wanna come in?” He wanted to give Noah the benefit of the doubt before forming any true opinions about him, but his initial impression was leaning toward negative.

“I wouldn’t be waiting here if I didn’t,” Noah responded with an eye roll.

Definitely negative then.

“Okay then,” Lysander mumbled while fumbling with the touchscreen. Bingley was still more interested in the new person than in being still and obedient, so Lysander’s task proved slightly difficult, fingers flubbing on the screen as Bingley tugged him. Noah simply watched the proceedings, hands still in his pockets. Once they had both scanned in--Lysander wasn’t even surprised by the fact that Noah also had a working barcode--the door clicked open and Lysander pushed into the apartment. After releasing the dog, who then bounded across the space to his water bowl, the two men entered. Silence quickly descended between them after the door closed with a click. Lysander wanted to offer his guest something to drink, but he also didn’t really want to encourage him to stay any longer. He felt off put by Noah’s presence in a strange way, as though the other man took up more space than he should, which probably had something to do with Noah’s generally bad attitude and snarky manner. Lysander had never done well with sarcastic people given how sensitive he could be, harmless jokes turning sinister in his anxiety riddled mind.

“I need you to watch out for Red for me,” Noah suddenly blurted. Lysander halted the movement he had been making toward the sofa, his arm slightly raised in an abandoned offer for them to sit.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, not sure he had heard correctly. Noah glared at him before focusing on the floor.

“You’re getting her into something dangerous. It’s only fair if you look out for her,” he said while looking back up at Lysander, gaze now direct.

“I don’t know what you could possibly think I could do to protect her. I think she has that handled pretty well on her own, frankly,” Lysander responded. Red seemed just as likely to need him to help her as a cheetah needing help from the antelope it hunted.

“I know what she’s capable of, but I also know that she can be reckless. I’m just asking you to try to curb that impulse. Is that too much, Badeaux?” Noah finished, a bite in his tone.

“Reckless? She’s taking two weeks to plan this thing. I don’t know a lot about any of this, but I definitely think that’s probably long enough.”

“You really don’t know shit, Badeaux.”

“I literally just admitted that, but fine. Also, I don’t think I’m the best person for this job.”

“Look, Badeaux, I’m not asking you to solve world hunger, here. I just want you to act like a partner to Red for this job. Then we can all go back to pretending the others don’t exist.”

“I mean, I can try? I really don’t know what you want me to do,” he said lamely.

“I just said what I wanted. Your brain is the size of a pea, I swear.”

Lysander cringed. “You guys really like to insult me, huh?”

“Probably because you’re an easy target,” Noah said with a shrug.

“Red did say you were a bit of a shitter,” Lysander said, the words flung from the deepest corner of his mind where irritation overruled the anxiety he felt constantly.

Instead of getting angrier, Noah simply started to laugh. “Yeah, that’s not surprising. She’s not exactly a warm piece of apple pie herself. Anyways, Badeaux, just keep an eye on her alright? I’m not gonna beg you or anything, but I have a bad feeling about all this and I would rather you take the fall than her.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lysander said in resignation.

Noah shot him a mildly surprised glance. “Does it?”

“I mean, yeah. She’s practically your sister and I’m just some dude.”

“Exactly. Maybe you’re not such an ignoramus then. Glad we could have this moment together.”

A thought occurred to him and then he was talking before he could fully consider it, “Why are you even trusting me with this?”

Noah took a deep breath into his nostrils and expelled it as he spoke, “Because she trusts you.”

Lysander felt as though he would be less surprised if the moon suddenly crashed into his living room. “She does?”

“God knows why--you’re like a walking, talking potato--but yeah. It’s not like she spends time like this with all of her clients.”

Lysander briefly wondered if Noah went to every one of Red’s clients and offended them like this in their own homes but figured that would be too much effort. He almost felt special.

Rubbing a hand against his forehead, he questioned, “Is that all then?”

“Yup.”

Several beats of silence.

“Can you leave now?”

“Wow, rude.”

Lysander’s patience nearly snapped until he saw a hint of a smirk on Noah’s face.

“You’re a dumpster of a person,” he grumbled.

Noah burst into full on laughter then. “Harsh, Badeaux. Harsh but fair. Anyways, I’ll catch ya later.”

Lysander opened the door for him, happy to be rid of him, and then Noah was gone without even a goodbye, though Lysander barely cared at that point. His quiet contemplative afternoon now ruined, he stomped into his room to take a long relaxing shower.

He spent the entirety of the next day cleaning his apartment, digging between the tiles in his tiny kitchen and bathroom with an old toothbrush and scrubbing the scuffs from Bingley’s toys off the wall. By the time night rolled around, he barely had the energy to cook for himself, slapping together a quick cheese sandwich before falling into his bed.

The next morning he found a scribbled note on his living room floor that someone had slid under his door.

I’ll forgive you for sleeping through our meeting just this once, friend. Don’t forget about Tuesday.

It wasn’t signed, but Lysander had no doubts as to the sender and he cursed himself for allowing her to slip from his mind after promising Noah on Saturday to work with her as her partner. Her handwriting swooped prettily, needless loops and flourishes lining the words, making him feel as though she wrote more than he thought she might. Then again, she had to have some form of communication with clients other than popping in on them unannounced like she seemed to do for him. Shrugging those thoughts off, he placed the note on his desk and got ready for work.

When he arrived, Miria greeted him with a cheery wave from the lobby. She chatted at him during the elevator ride up, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on her words.

“Hellooo, Lys, you in there?” she asked, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Guiltily, he tugged himself from his thoughts about Red and focused on Miria.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Mir. Just sleepy,” he said.

“That’s fine! I was just asking how your weekend was,” she brushed off. Her smile had slipped minorly at his apology, but she hitched it back up as she continued, “Though I don’t think you heard anything about mine, huh?”

“No, I’m an ass. I’m so sorry,” he apologized again.

“I’m just teasing! Anyways, I left you another apple on your desk. I’ve got some stuff I gotta get done, so we’ll talk more later,” she said as she waved goodbye to him and disappeared down the hall to her own office.

He figured he had a few moments to eat his apple in his own office before Sam and Blair got there, and he decided to take the time to finally look over the plans they had left on his desk the week prior when his mind had been too unfocused to really absorb any of it.

But as he entered the office, he was met with the sight of Anthony Campbell eating the apple that Miria had left for him and sitting casually in his chair, facing the door and waiting for him. His crisply starched grey Barrier Patrol uniform looked off putting in Lysander’s mundane office chair, one of his legs crossed over the other at the ankle. His feet immediately stopped all forward movement and the breath escaped his lungs in one last audible exhale.

“Howdy, Lysander. Good to see you again. It’s been a long time,” Anthony said before picking at a piece of apple skin caught in his teeth.

Watching the other man fidget with his teeth, Lysander still felt overwhelmingly terrified. “Yeeees, yeah, it has,” he managed to get out at last. “What, uh, what brings you here?”

“What, I need a reason to visit family now? That’s what we are, isn’t it? Practically related and all,” he said, pitching the apple core into the waste basket under his desk and standing to his full height. As Joseph’s younger brother, Anthony dwarfed his older brother and indeed stood just as tall as Lysander himself at six foot five inches.

“O-of course,” he stuttered out. He had no real reason to fear Anthony Campbell, but he had always seemed deeply resentful of Lysander’s existence for reasons he didn’t understand. He had guessed it had something to do with his clear disdain and dislike for his parents, but he had never wanted to ask. Joseph had gone out of his way to keep his brother away, only allowing him over to the estate for holiday dinners, but Lysander figured that had more to do with normal brotherly squabbles, though he had no basis as an only child.

“Excellent. Then, from uncle to nephew, let me just give you some advice,” Anthony began, walking over to where Lysander still stood frozen in the doorway, “If you ever come across any Shifted, you let me know, okay?”

Lysander’s heart thudded painfully behind his rib cage, “W-what? Why would I ever meet any Shifted?”

“Why indeed. They’re a pestilence, Lysander. You wouldn’t sully the family name like that, would you? You’re a clever lad,” he said, patting Lysander’s cheek. The contact shot panic into his veins and he swayed away from the other man. “Ah ah! None of that!” Anthony pulled Lysander back to his original position in front of him, the two of them now practically nose to nose. “Just watch your back, okay? I’d hate to make my brother sad again.” These words he whispered into the air between them and Lysander swallowed around the lump growing in his throat.

“Good lad,” he said after several moments of screaming silence, pushing Lysander aside under the guise of a friendly pat on his shoulder. Anthony whistled a jaunty tune down the hallway, leaving Lysander standing half in his office, legs trembling and anxiety coursing through him like toxic electricity.

“Anthony? What are you doing here?” came a voice from the end of the hallway. Lysander’s neck creaked as he turned his head to see Joseph Campbell cutting off his younger brother at the corner that led to the elevators.

“Ah! Brother mine! I just came to give Lysander some friendly advice about moving home. You told me you wanted the whole family together again, yeah?” Anthony crowed with a laugh, his voice ringing unpleasantly in Lysander’s ears.

Joseph glanced down the hall behind his brother and saw Lysander frozen in the doorway of his office. Joseph’s eyes narrowed noticeably as he gave Lysander a scathing once over, his gaze hot on Lysander’s already frazzled nerves.

“Hm, so I see. I had also come down to speak with him, but that can wait now. Why don’t we chat more in my office, Anthony?” Joseph stated, sweeping an arm back toward the elevators.

“Ah, no can do, gotta get back to work. The wicked never sleep and all that,” Anthony said, but still followed the suggestion of Joseph’s arm and moved down the hall, “By the way, I heard your secretary stopped showing up to work last week. Shame. She was a nice girl.” Joseph replied, but Lysander couldn’t hear him both from the distance and the rushing in his ears. The two men disappeared around the corner and Lysander finally forced himself into his office, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Blair and Sam found him five minutes later on the floor next to the door, curled around his knees and hyperventilating into his own lap, forehead pressing roughly into his kneecaps.

“Oh god, Lysander, you scared me!” Sam said, pressing a hand against her chest.

“Sam, go get some wet paper towels,” Blair instructed, immediately kneeling next to him on the floor, black tights becoming sheer against her folded knees.

“Of course,” Sam muttered before fleeing the office for the bathrooms.

Blair’s cold hand pressed against the back of his neck, the feeling of it bringing some clarity to his jumbled thoughts. At that moment, he noticed his cheeks were soaked with panicked tears, the salt from them sure to leave white spots on his black work slacks.

“Breathe, please,” Blair said matter of factly, as though she was asking him to pass her a pen. He tried to regulate his breaths to match the exaggerated ones she was taking to show him, he really did, but every inhale got caught on what felt like a tumor lodged deep in his throat, making every breath shorter.

Sam rushed back into the office then, thrusting a wad of wet brown paper towels into Blair’s waiting hands.

“Thank you, Samantha,” Blair said as she pressed the paper to his cheek and patted at the tears still leaking uncontrollably from his eyes. The cold of the water--Sam must have been in too much of a rush to wait for the sink water to warm--and the scratchy feeling of the cheap paper towel settled some of the adrenaline still pumping into him, warning him of a non-existent danger. He then noticed he was rocking slightly and stopped the movement in favor of leaning against Blair. She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders, running her long fingers through the short hairs on the back of his head. Sam took that opportunity to join them on the floor, taking a seat on Lysander’s other side and putting her head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek. The sheer physicality of their bodies pressing against him further calmed him and he could finally match their breathing, their chests all rising and falling in tandem.

Her story began as many stories about magic do, with an apple. Clutching the hand of her mother, Alexandria Wells strayed through the aisles of the grocery store. Having turned seven years old six months ago, she felt the injustice of being ripped away from her crafts and forced to attend her mother’s errands. It was unfair in every way, especially when she had been making decorations for their Thanksgiving dinner, but her mother had simply brushed all of her complaints and concerns aside and dressed her in her puffy green coat and winter boots, snow falling gently outside.

The pair circled through the whole store, collecting all the food they needed for the upcoming holiday and beyond, her mom frequently checking the paper slips she had started carrying to the store a year ago. Lexi couldn’t really remember when the papers had appeared, only that they hadn’t been there before the big barrier had been built when she was six. After gathering everything else, her mom directed her back to the produce section, wanting to save it for last because it was Lexi’s favorite, the colors of all the fruits and veggies and the gentle spray of the water over them to keep them fresh making the trip more exciting than it had been only five minutes prior.

They were passing the stand of apples to reach the rows of celery when Lexi saw it, an apple so perfectly shaped and colored that it should be in the dictionary next to the listing of the word. The color matched the shade of her hair--not too light or dark, just a deep, complex shade of red--and Lexi was entranced. She finally maybe understood why Snow White would take the apple from the ugly hag if it looked like that. It had to be delicious, and she could almost feel the skin crunching under teeth, flavor exploding into her mouth.

“Mommy, mommy, can we get any apples?” she asked, tugging on her mom’s coat sleeve. Her mother set down the bag of carrots she had been examining and looked down at her paper slips, frowning at them.

“Mm, not this time, sweetie,” she said, regretfully, “We don’t have enough vouchers for that with everything else we need.”

Lexi looked back at the apple, perfectly situated at the front of the display, just in her reach, and her lip started to quiver. Mommy and daddy rarely told her no, her dad’s job punishing bad guys keeping them comfortable and happy. She didn’t want to cry in the store, that would feel embarrassing, so she bit on her lip and plotted, as much as a seven year old can possibly plot. Her mother led her back the way they had come to look at onions, but she got distracted by the front page of a newspaper on a stand just next to the produce section. Lexi couldn’t really see what the words said, but her mother sounded sad when she said, “That poor boy,” and she released her grip on Lexi’s hand to get a closer look at the paper.

It was then, between one breath and the next, that Alexandria Wells committed her very first crime. Backing up to the apple display, she slipped the perfect one into the pocket of her puffy green coat, the edges of her fingers still stained from the hand turkeys she had been drawing before coming. She patted the pocket protectively and joined her mother by the news stand, feeling proud of herself, sure that if her mom found out (and she was definitely going to find out, her mom had eyes on the back of her head, Lexi was sure of it) she would just laugh and they could share the treat together, the color of it also matching her mother’s hair.

The next ten minutes were extremely confusing. They checked out, her mom passing over the paper slips to the woman behind the counter, who smiled down at Lexi and said she looked cute in her winter coat. She thanked her like she had been taught and they left, heading out to their car.

She was mid-step, her foot hovering over the snowy asphalt, when a man came from what seemed like nowhere and stopped them.

“Is there a problem?” Mom asked, confusion lining her brow.

“You’ve taken more than the allowed amount, a punishable offense under new city ordinance,” he said.

The confusion on her mom’s face deepened, “No, no, I’m sure I followed our vouchers to the letter.”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. It seems your daughter smuggled out an apple. We caught it on the body scan feed as you left,” he replied, not sounding very apologetic. Lexi’s hands started to sweat and she shifted behind her mom’s leg. She hadn’t thought it was a big deal.

Mom’s hand came to rest on her head and she looked down at her. The look on her face scared Lexi, a spark of wild fear lurking behind her eyes.

“Please tell me that’s not true, Lex,” Mom whispered. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to do as her mom wanted, but she couldn’t lie, it would be wrong and she would get punished.

She pulled the perfect apple from her pocket and showed them. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. Mommy always said that an apology was the best way to move forward after doing something bad, so she felt that everything would probably be okay now, but instead of relief, the fear on mom’s face only became more pronounced.

“She’s only seven, it was a mistake! Surely there’s something that can be done. My husband works as a lawyer for the Committee, so I know that it’s bad, but she’s a child, she doesn’t know any better,” she explained frantically.

The man only sighed and shook his head. “I have to report this. You know that.”

“Then it was me! I put her up to it!” Mom said suddenly, pushing Lexi farther behind her legs protectively.

“Doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. You’re both gonna have to come with me,” he said, beckoning them forward with a flick of his fingers. Her mom remained frozen, and Lexi could see the tendons in her neck straining. Lexi didn’t understand anything that was happening, but she was scared, even more scared than the time she woke up from a nightmare and saw a tree branch tapping against her window. She started to cry.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think it was that bad. I’m sorry,” she babbled out, and the sound of her voice seemed to unfreeze her mother. Mom leaned down and smoothed a piece of hair behind her ear.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m gonna fix this, okay? It’s all going to be fine,” she promised, a trembling smile on her face.

For the first time in Lexi’s memory, her mother had lied. Nothing was ever really fine again.

It only took the powers that be a week to decide they were guilty, or rather that her mother was guilty. One of the guards had a habit of playing the radio loud enough for the two of them to hear, and Lexi heard a lot of words she didn’t understand, like “none can be exempt from the letter of the law”, and some she did, like “example to the city”. During shift changes, the guards would complain to each other about the amount of protesters outside the building and murmur that someone named Anthony Campbell would be coming to fix the mess.

Lexi’s father only appeared once at the holding facility during that time. Her parents argued in whispers in the corner the entire time, gesturing toward her with angry hands. Finally, her mother deflated and nodded before hauling back and slapping him across the face, the sound of it ringing in the small space. He glared at her, hand firmly against his cheek and left, not even looking at Lexi once the whole time.

The following day was their trial, though it was more like a sentencing. They stood at the front of a cavernous room, the panel of Committee judges seated in a long row in front of them, the five of them spaced equidistant and giving the pair looks of varying degrees of pity. The only other person present was a tall man in the back corner, a gray uniform on, casually leaning back in his chair looking amused by the proceedings.

“Anatasia Wells, you are being sentenced today with exile for the crime of exceeding the amount of resources allowed to your family. Typically such a punishment would pass to the entirety of your immediate family, but your husband Mr. Gregory Wells has publicly denounced his relationship with you in order to be spared the same fate. He has also accepted responsibility for your daughter, Alexandria, in the event that she does the same,” said the man in the middle directly across from them. Lexi looked up at her mother and her eyes were closed, head tilted to the floor, breathing deeply through her nose. None of what the man had said made any sense, but Lexi understood her own name, as well as those of her parents.

“Step forward please,” the man called. Her mother pressed a firm hand against her back and they shuffled forward, closer to the long bench that curved around the front half of the room. “Alexandria, if you do not wish to share your mother’s punishment, you must tell her you do not love her.”

She looked sharply up at her mom. Maybe this was a test of some kind? Something to teach her never to take things that weren’t hers ever again?

“It’s okay, Lex, just say it. Daddy will take care of you,” her mom whispered to her. So that meant that if she said it then mommy would go away? And she would have to live with just Dad? She loved her dad, but Mom was the one who was always there, reading to her, tucking her in, singing silly songs with her, helping her do crafts, and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t say that. It was a lie, and lying was bad.

She shook her head, ponytail whipping back and forth, strands slapping her cheeks. Her mom closed her eyes again and sighed out, then she grabbed Lexi’s arm, hard.

“Just say it, you little brat. I never even wanted you to begin with,” she said harshly, shaking Lexi. Mom had never talked to her like this before and tears immediately welled up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I told you I didn’t mean to take the apple. Don’t be mad, I’m sorry,” she said. A pained expression crossed her mom’s face before resolve once more settled over her features.

“I don’t care about the stupid apple, Alexandria! I’ve never loved you, you utter waste of space. Just tell the judges you hate me so I can finally be rid of you!” she shouted, spittle landing unpleasantly on Lexi’s face. The tears came faster now, sobs racking her little chest.

“I love you, mommy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she gasped out between choking breaths.

“That’s enough,” the head judge called above them. At that, her mom collapsed next to her, pulling her in and hugging her, tears now also falling from her face, her hands roughly petting her hair. Lexi tucked her head into her mom’s neck, still crying hysterically and repeating a refrain of “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to,” into her neck.

“I know, love, I know. It’s okay, shh, shh. I’m sorry, it’s all okay,” her mom said into her hair.

“Take them away,” the head judge said, waving a dismissive hand at them. The man in the gray uniform now stood next to them. He leaned over.

“C’mon now! You heard the man! Time to go,” he said, sounding inordinately pleased with the results. “You tried your best, mama, but you failed, so here we are.” At this, he shrugged, shoulders heaving a sigh before he placed a hand on her mom’s shoulder.

Her mother carried her the entire way to the car. As they exited the building, cameras started flashing in her eyes and she tried to hide her face deeper into her mother’s neck. Large groups of people being held back by people in gray uniforms shouted and waved signs, but Lexi could barely understand what they were saying, the voices overlapping and the signs blending together in riotous colors. Once they got in the car, the man from the courtroom gave a signal to the other people in gray and chaos broke loose as they started to shove into the crowds with force. Loud pops sounded and suddenly people were falling to the ground and not getting up and Lexi’s mother shoved Lexi’s face into her chest while covering her ears. Normally being restricted like that would make Lexi crazy, but she was too scared and confused by all the noise that having the hands on her head felt soothing.

Finally the car started moving and it took them to the outskirts of the suburbs, a drive that took them almost an hour. When they arrived, the same man directed them out of the car to the edge of the Barrier. The grass extended to the other side, but Lexi knew that it couldn’t be the same over there given how scared people were of it, and she wondered why they were there until Gray Uniform started giving them little shoves closer to the Barrier itself, and Lexi finally, unerringly understood what was happening, what the real consequences of her actions were and she felt sick and she felt guilty and she felt the weight of her decision on her small seven year old shoulders. She wanted to run back to the car and go to gymnastics practice and do her crafts and help her mom get everything ready for the holidays, but instead they stood in the frost covered grass, cold seeping into her boots.

The Barrier loomed in front of them, though it was difficult to tell given that the Barrier itself only appeared as a slight disturbance in the air, a wobble where there should be nothing at all. Far to their left and right towered the pylons above the tree line, and Lexi could just make out the jutting of a balcony near the top that wrapped around the entirety of the structure of each where guards must keep watch over the other side. A line of people in gray uniforms stepped out of what seemed to Lexi like thin air. She had been so focused on the immediacy of her situation that she hadn’t noticed they had been transported to the edge of the city by a convoy of soldiers, all members of the Barrier Patrol. They formed a wall behind Lexi and her mother, separating them prematurely from the society they had always known. As her eyes travelled down the line, she saw that they all carried weapons, most armed with large guns, but she also noticed a very few who wore a box on their hips made of a confusing blend of what seemed to be glass and a black metal of some kind inside which swirled an indefinable something. These same few didn’t have guns, and instead held long, wide tubes made of the same glass metal combination, which were connected to the boxes. The man who had driven them had to be in charge, he stalked in front of the other soldiers giving stern glances and making sure all was in order before turning back toward Lexi and her mother.

She remembered the pirates from Peter Pan, and Wendy having to walk the plank of Captain Hook’s ship and she suddenly hated that story.

Wendy hadn’t been nearly scared enough.

The walk through the Barrier felt like nothing, she didn’t even realize they were past until Gray Uniform shouted at them, “Don’t come back now, y’hear!”

And so Alexandria Wells’ world was forever ruined because of an apple.