Breaker (Unmasked #3)

8. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Breaker

23 Years Ago, May, Age 5

T oday I learn how to be a soldier. My otets said that when I turned five, I was going to leave the little house I live in with Nanny in the village and go to school with my brothers. And today I turn five.

I don’t get a gift, not like the other kids in the village, but Nanny made me pancakes and stuffed red, hard candies in my pockets when she sang me happy birthday as she combed out my hair.

“He just pulled up, gentil garcon ,“ Nanny says, rushing toward me to make sure my uniform is tidy. She already pressed my gray pants and shirt and made sure my black boots shine.

“I’m ready enough,” I tell her, pushing her hands away.

She swats my bottom, and I laugh. I love Nanny. She’s not my mom, so Father told me I’m allowed to think she’s pretty when I asked. Nanny’s pretty because she’s not like the other women in the village. She talks sweetly and has clean hands and pretty dresses. My otets always smiles at her, so that must mean she’s good. I know she is.

She’s been my Nanny my whole life. I love her, even though sometimes she’s cross with me when I make a mess or don’t do my chores. Or if I get stains on my church clothes, or that one time, I cried so hard I threw up on her favorite dress. But I only did because I was scared when I got stuck in the confessional booth when the door wouldn’t open.

Not like Father. He gets cross, but it’s only ever about big stuff. Like if I don’t say words the right way, or if I don’t listen, or don’t finish my dinner. There was that one time last month I broke the vase in his big library when he took me to the school for what he said was a tour. He whipped my bottom then, but I know I deserved that lesson.

I broke the vase on purpose, and it was like he knew I did.

Sometimes I get mad and break things. I don’t know why. Nanny says there’s a monster living in my chest who makes me break rules and talk back, and it’s my job to tame him. Funny because I looked and looked and don’t know how a monster got in my chest. There’s no way for him to get in my body besides through my mouth. I know I would have remembered him crawling down my throat. But maybe she’s right. Sometimes I just feel bad inside and don’t really know why.

Sometimes I think he got into my chest because of the endless blue Father saved me from. The place my otets said he found me. The bad room where it was cold as ice. Because whenever I think about the endless blue, I get that bad feeling in the center of my chest and can’t breathe. Like the monster is squeezing my insides, and that scares me even more. Like maybe the monster’s going to kill me one day. And all I can picture is a blue monster with black claws and rotted sharp teeth sitting inside me, trying to get out and do bad things.

My otets told me that my real father, the man who made me, was a monster, so maybe that’s why I have the badness in me.

“Stop wiggling, gentile garcon !“ Nanny whisper-shouts. “Mr. Byrns is expecting you to act like a good boy, not a monster.”

Fisting my hands at my sides, I keep still as a statue like the soldats I saw in the school last month. The tour father gave me was just us walking across the front yard and into his office. He let me look at the books in his library while he talked with Commander Maxim. That’s when the gross feeling started. When I was alone, and it was quiet and all I could hear was my breathing. I didn’t like it. I tapped my chest over and over, trying to make noise, like I did in the blue room before Father came for me, but it didn’t help. So, I tapped the vase. I liked the idea of it breaking open the way my chest felt like it needed to. So, I pushed it over.

Or the monster did.

That’s when Father came in and he whipped my bottom. He said good soldiers didn’t give in to temptations like I just did. When I told him I felt like I needed to break it to make myself breathe better, he said soldats control those feelings. I felt bad then, but then Father told me if I work hard, and train even harder, I will be a good soldier. Maybe even the best because I’ve had him as my otets longer than my brothers.

I haven’t met my brothers yet, but I will today.

The sound of a car door slamming outside makes Nanny jump. She pats my cheek and rushes to the little window over the kitchen sink, leaning over the dirty pans and dishes from breakfast to look outside.

Her fingers tighten on the sink edge for a minute like she’s really excited, and then she fluffs her hair. Nanny always gets so nervous when Father comes to visit. She messes with her hair and pinches her cheeks. I want to tell her she’s pretty and that Father will still like her even if she doesn’t pinch her cheeks to make them pink, but the last time I did her whole face turned red and she told me to be quiet about things I didn’t understand.

“Put your dishes in the sink, gentile garcon ,“ she tells me, straightening the hem of her yellow dress with blue flowers all over it. Nanny glances toward the foyer. “And be sure to answer all Mr. Byrns’ questions respectfully.”

“Yes, Nanny,” I say as the doorbell chimes. Then I hear the front door open and close. Nanny scurries out of the kitchen. I open my mouth to tell her not to run, but I clamp it shut and turn to my plate.

Before I can pick it up and put it in the sink, I hear my otets behind me.

“ Gentile garcon, “ he coos. Forgetting I’m not supposed to run inside, I turn and sprint to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, but he doesn’t get cross. He just peels me off and sets me back. Father leans down, hands on his thighs and smiles. “Are you ready for your first day at the school?”

“Yes, sir,” I tell him, my belly feeling all squiggly like happy caterpillars are dancing inside me when he nods his approval, and I see Nanny smile behind him. “I’m ready to learn to be a good soldat .”

Father touches my hair as he stands upright, still smiling. “You’re a good boy,” he says. “And to be a good soldier means you have to leave your past behind. Do you understand?”

I don’t. But I nod and grin, because I like it when Father smiles at me. He always does if I smile first. He says my smile is infectious, which I think means he’s catching my smile like a stomach bug.

“Emilia, get the scissors and the clippers.”

I don’t know why Nanny starts crying, but she does. “Do you have to?” she asks, wiping her eyes. “His hair is so pretty.”

Father casts her that mean look he gets when someone doesn’t listen, making me wonder if he’s got a monster, too. “Emilia, get the scissors.”

“Yes, sir,” she says and scurries away.

Father points to the center of the kitchen. “Stand there, son.”

“Yes, sir,” I say and do my best to keep still when Nanny returns and hands him scissors, then sets the clippers on the table. Father grips one of my curls and pulls it straight. The sound of metal slicing through my lock makes my stomach sick. Like when I sneak extra cookies and then my belly groans and churns.

Father takes another lock and pulls it straight, then cuts again.

That bad feeling returns, not in my stomach, but in my chest. The monster. I want to kick Father’s shin to make him stop cutting my locks off because I like my hair. No one else in the village has hair like mine. Nanny uses oils that smell like almonds and smokey wood, along with a comb at night to keep my locks clean and untangled. Now father is chopping them away, and it makes my chest feel tight and angry. The monster in me wants to break free and break the scissors.

So, I do.

I grab the scissors and drop them to the ground, using my new boots to smash them, but they’re metal and don’t break. Nanny gasps. When I look up, I see Father’s ice eyes watching me in a way that makes my legs feel like running and me feel like hiding.

Instead of taking the belt to my bottom like he did when I broke the vase, Father picks up the scissors without a word and cuts my hair again.

“Do you remember the story of the day I rescued you?”

My lip trembles as another black curl hits the green and white tiles by my boots. “Yes, otets .”

“Tell me then,” Father says.

“You saw me in a blue room. I was cold and hungry. I had sunken cheeks and tears and snot and looked so sad that you knew you had to rescue me.”

“And I did,” Father says. “I unlocked the door and let my son out of that room.”

My eyes follow as another lock hits the floor. My belly squiggles, but not in a happy way.

“And I told my new son he was going to be a soldier. He was going to be my best son. You. You were going to grow up and go to school and learn from me.”

I nod, my finger tapping my thigh like it will stop the tight feeling that’s growing in my chest again as he pulls another lock. The snipping sound snips through my chest and more hair falls.

“Do you remember why I chose you?” Father asks, setting the scissors down on the table next to my empty breakfast plate. He leans down, propping his hands on his thighs to look into my eyes. “Why I rescued you?”

I rip my eyes from the plate, wishing I’d had enough time to clean up before Father got here. He doesn’t like messes when he comes to visit. “Because looking at me was like looking in a mirror.”

Father taps his cheek, right under his eye. He stands upright and Nanny hands him the clippers she uses to shave Fallon’s hair sometimes. The click followed by the buzz of the motor makes my heart jump. The cold metal teeth scrap my scalp and more hair falls in short clumps. Father runs it over my head, shaving it clean like the sides of his hair.

When he turns the clippers off, my body jolts at the sudden quiet.

“Why tears?” Father says, brushing clumps of hair from my gray uniform. “It’s just hair, my son.”

I shake my head, swiping at my wet cheeks. He doesn’t understand. Everyone in the village looks like Father. I’ve only ever seen a few delivery drivers or the girls from the traveling gypsy vans with hair like mine. I like having different hair. It makes me feel special, like Father says I am, but now that it’s gone, so I won’t be anymore.

Father squeezes my shoulder and leads me to the small sitting room. When we reach the fireplace, he picks me up so I can see my face in the mirror with the gold frame. I blink, taking in the sight of my shaved head. It gleams, the bright morning light coming through the open curtains, making my scalp look like smooth polished wood.

I run a finger over my bald head and Father smiles.

“I don’t look like me,” I tell him as tears leak down my cheeks.

“You look just like your otets ,“ Father says. He holds up his hand. “See? I have five fingers, like you.”

I glance at his fair skin and long fingers, then hold up my hand next to his, palm facing the mirror.

“See, son? Five fingers and two arms and legs, a mouth, and nose, and two eyes.” Father hikes me up higher. “And I see my son’s eyes that look just like his father’s.”

My light blue eyes meet his in the mirror. Father always does this when I tell him someone from the village says something about me looking different. He’ll hold me up in front of the gold mirror and tell me we are the same. That we have the same number of fingers and toes. That we have arms and legs, and if we get cut, we bleed red, and if anyone ever tries to tell me differently, I punch them in the gut. Father always pretends to hit my stomach when he says this and I always laugh, which I think may be infectious too because he laughs with me. He never mentions we don’t have the same skin, just that we have the same eyes, silvery blue, he says, like ice over a lake on a bright winter morning.

Now that I don’t have my hair, I can see that I look like my otets .

We have the same eyes.

I smile at him in the mirror, and he smiles back, showing white teeth just like mine.

Father sets me down. He grips my hand and pulls me to the door. “Come, my new soldat . Let’s meet your brothers.”

Nanny cries as we walk through the door, and I want to hug her, but Father won’t let me.

“Soldiers don’t need hugs and kisses, my son.”

When we reach the shiny black car, Commander Maxim opens the back door and I climb in, making sure not to scrape my boots on the leather seat.

As Maxim drives us to the school, I remember to sit still and not kick my feet against the back of his seat. Maxim gets cross when I do, and Father has to remind him I’m not a soldat yet and to be kind. The times he’s said this to Maxim, I always feel sick after because Maxim will look at me and smile big, like a wolf. But it’s not infectious, even though it makes me feel like I have a stomach bug.

As we pull to the front of the school, a loud beep blasts through the open car window and I sit upright, trying to see. The front gate grinds open, and after we pass, it closes, slamming hard enough that my heart punches into my ribs. Like the monster in my chest is excited we’re here.

I’ve only been to the school two times. Last month and then right after father rescued me, but I barely remember that day. I just remember the color blue. Blue like the chipped paint on the statues at church where the nuns teach me how to talk like Father, and where Nanny will leave me sometimes when Father comes to visit her and not me. She always says it’s to cut his hair, but sometimes he doesn’t look any different, so I think they may be secretly eating the red candies she keeps under her mattress, and she just doesn’t want me to know.

“Are you ready, my syn ?”

My eyes move from the large lot filled with work trucks and supply crates. “ Oui ,“ I tell him, but then remember he wants me to speak English like my new brothers, so I say, “Yes, sir.”

Father doesn’t smile as he opens the car door and waits for me to step onto the dirt ground. When I do, Father leans down and says, “When we are here, in training, I am not your otets . I am Commander Fallon. Do you understand?”

I shake my head, then say, “No, sir.”

He stands upright and glances around the yard, then back down at me. “You are going to be a soldier now. I cannot be your father and your commander. When we are training or in classes, you call me Fallon.”

I nod and tell him I understand, even though it feels weird to lie.

Father, no, Fallon, nods and says, “Once you show us your skill set, you will earn your name.”

I frown again. “But my name is Sin.”

That makes Father smile. “ Syn means son. It’s something that a father calls his boy. Your name must be earned. It is picked based on your wits, your strengths, and how well it suits your personality.”

I nod, but my head is muddled from all his words.

Fa— Fallon turns to Maxim. “Take him to class.”

The silky black eye patch gleams, like black water in the sunlight when Maxim turns to me. My skin feels gross, and my legs feel like they want to run again. They always do when Commander Maxim looks at me. He reminds me of that pirate in the book Nanny reads to me at night.

But I won’t get any more silly books read to me now. I’m going to be a soldier.

My boots make loud clomping sounds as I follow Maxim across the yard to the second set of gates. I glance back at Fallon, and wave, but he doesn’t wave back. He just turns away and walks toward the other building across the yard. My stomach falls.

“Pay attention,” Maxim says. “After today, no one will guide you around the school. It’s up to you to remember where to go.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, biting my lip to stop it from trembling. I will not cry . Father tells me crying is for weak men and if I’m going to be a soldier, I can’t be weak. It doesn’t matter that Father didn’t say goodbye, even though he always does.

It’s hard to focus, but I try my best to remember the way as I follow Maxim. The second gate squeals open and we walk through a dark, wet area that reminds me of a castle doorway before we stop in the middle of another yard. It’s a big square, with dirty gray walls that have little dark boxes for windows all lined up, one on top of the other. A set of rusty metal steps is on one side of the yard. I remember Father telling me they were called bleachers. A bunch of wooden crates, stacked taller than me, are on the other side of the square, which isn’t really tall, since I’m not. Not yet. Father says I’m going to be tall, and I believe him.

“That’s the pit,” Maxim says, slipping back to using the coarse words Father uses sometimes, which I have a tough time understanding. He points to the circle at the center of the yard. I know it’s called the pit because Father told me last month. “You’ll learn to fight there when you’re older.” He points to the wall with all the windows. “That’s the sleeping quarters.” He lifts his chin to the black open doorway on the opposite side. “That’s the school.” When he points to the blank wall with only one doorway, he says, “That’s everything else.”

“Yes, sir,” I tell him, and follow as he leads me through the doorway he said takes us to the classrooms.

As soon as we step into the building, a gross feeling settles in my belly. I don’t like the way this school looks. Father didn’t take me to this part of the school last month, so I never saw the walls are painted blue. The color blue I don’t like.

Before I can start feeling too sick, Maxim opens a door, places his hand on my back, and shoves me through. The door clicks loudly when he closes it behind me. I scan the room, and my stomach feels better when I see it’s not blue but dusty green, like a tortoise’s shell.

A large man, younger than Father with angry eyes, tells the class that I’m going to join them for lessons every day and to take me to the yard for recess.

A big boy with hair the color of embers jumps up from his desk. The metal chair he was in scratches across the tile floor, almost falling over he’s in such a hurry to reach me before anyone else.

He stops in front of me and places his hands on his hips. He’s older than me and has skin so pale it reminds me of Nanny. He’s got a bit of a belly, and some freckles on his cheeks, but his eyes are so pretty I can’t stop staring. They’re blue and for the first time, I really like the color. They look like the pictures of the satin dresses in the magazines Nanny looks at. She said one day she was going to have enough money to buy the dress that was the color of Marie Antoinette. Blue.

When he smiles, my shoulders relax.

“I’m Viper,” he says, scanning me again like Nanny does when she dresses me for church. Like he wants to make sure I’m decent enough to talk to.

“Like the snake?” I ask, scanning him too.

“Like the snake,” Viper says, nodding seriously. “Because I’m fast and mean.”

Father told me I’d get a name here, something other than Sin. I wonder what it will be. I glance from his blue eyes to his boots, then back to his face. I like his face. “Do vipers have Marie Antoinette eyes too?”

His mouth turns down. His lips remind me of Nanny when she paints hers pink, but then he smiles, and they remind me of the sweet candies she shoved in my pockets. I dig one out, offering it to him. He takes it, inspects it, then puts it in his pocket.

“You’re weird,” he says. Viper grins again and hooks an arm around my shoulders. I stumble a little but let him lead me to my other brother’s. We stop in front of a boy that’s not much bigger than me.

I dig out another candy and give it to him.

His brows knit, and he looks from the candy in his hand to me. I see now his eyes are gold. Not shiny like metal things, but hard like the gemstone in Nanny’s necklace. Like he’s not sure if he likes me.

“You have eyes like a lion,” I tell him.

He cocks his head to the side. “And you have eyes like Fallon’s.”

“That’s because I’m just like him,” I tell my new brother, but I don’t like the way he frowns at my words.