The Button Girl Read online

  "I haven't thought about Sober much. I'm not really afraid."

  Her little sister lifted her eyebrows in disbelief.

  "Really," Repentance said. "Now I'm going to leave you so you can get to work on my button present." She tapped the picture Comfort was working on. "Don't you dare give me a picture of Aggravation. He's a handsome fellow, but I don't want him hanging in my main room."

  Comfort laughed, her cheeks tinged with the rosy hue of embarrassment. "I didn't even realize I was drawing him. I do it without thinking."

  Repentance squeezed her tighter. "I'm glad you have someone to love, Comfort. And who will love you back. He'll take care of you."

  Comfort leaned against Repentance's shoulder. "He'll take care of me, and Sober will take care of you, and we'll have lots of little girls and they'll be best friends just like we are."

  Repentance kissed Comfort's head. Sweet, happy Comfort. It was just like her to imagine that they'd only give birth to girls. If only there was a way to have such a guarantee. The mothers in the village would give their milking pigs and their weaving hands, too, for a promise of only girl babies.

  Repentance shoved that little bit of hope down. She could not depend on Providence to give only girls.

  It wouldn't do any good even if he did. If he started giving only girl babies, the overlords would start taking girl babies instead of leaving them to breed.

  No, the only way to keep the overlords from stealing her children was to not have any in the first place.

  The girls are safely promised.

  The boys have all found mates.

  Slave carts shall stand empty.

  Come drink and fill your plates.

  Gather 'round. Let joy abound. We'll drink and fill our plates.

  ~From an old buttoning song

  Chapter 2

  Fire glowed in the village center, its smoke acting as a discouragement to the biting flies. Repentance wilted before it. If the fingers of flame had clawed a hole in the fog she would have embraced the heat, but the sticky mist clung as always, threatening to choke her.

  She sat on the ground with her back to the blaze—she and five other girls all in their sixteenth year.

  Repentance ignored the chatter from the others. She held a char-stick and hunched over her small parchment pad, trying to think of some way to explain to Comfort. Nothing came.

  People began to fill up the village center. They sat on logs facing the girls.

  She quickly wrote I love you, and I'm sorry, ripped the note off the pad, and tucked it under one leg. Later that night, or maybe in the morning, someone would find it and give it to Comfort.

  And Comfort would cry her eyes out.

  Repentance slipped her parchment pad and char-stick into the pocket of her blouse with a sigh. Nothing she could say would ease the pain.

  She looked up to see Confusion Pondside taking a seat up front. Cursed lot! Repentance had been born three days before Buttoning Day and Confusion had been born three days after. So, though Repentance was only a week older than Confusion, she was to be buttoned this year and Confusion would wait until next. Of course, Mother would say that was a kindness granted by Providence. Next year there would be no desperate fifth-year boys willing to take Repentance as a mate.

  Goodwoman Marsh would likely agree with her mother.

  Repentance scanned the audience. She found Sober's mother on the left, in front, leaning forward anxiously. Her features were fuzzy in the dim light, but Repentance could still make out a guarded look of longing directed toward her. If she would save Sober, she'd have Goodwoman Marsh's undying devotion. She lifted her eyes from the crowd, saw the dark slave cart hunkered just outside the circle of villagers, and a wave of nausea swept over her.

  She wouldn't be condemning Sober alone, though. She would share his fate. Boys had five chances to find a button mate. Girls had only one—they were either buttoned in their sixteenth year or they were sent off on the slave cart, never to see their families again.

  Often one or two were sent away. There were not enough boys one year and not enough girls the next. So button ceremonies were full of mixed emotions. The relief and joy felt by those who had found mates was tempered out of pity for those who had not.

  This year was different. The crowd didn't hold a single weepy face. All the boys and girls of age had been promised. Beads had changed hands and blouses and scarves had been sewn amidst a jolly feeling of wellbeing. The girls were especially happy. Buttonings made on years that took no slaves were said to enjoy special blessings from Providence.

  The button girls wore blouses with different colored buttons. Repentance had gray buttons. A large heart-shaped one at her breast, a round one at her wrist, and a square one at her hip. To her right, Blamed Backwater had the same shapes in brown, and to her left, Sovereign Gumtree had green. It was supposed to be a surprise—the identity of the button mate—but that tradition had long passed out of practice. Each girl knew which boy would carry the scarf that matched her buttons. Some had known for years; others had only just found out. In the end, they were all promised and they were all happy.

  All except Repentance.

  Drums began to play and the crowd hushed. The buttoning ceremony was officially started. Repentance gave her sweaty forehead a swipe with the heel of her hand.

  Angered Springside came out from behind the fire. He danced along the line of button girls swirling his tan scarf in and out around their heads. Up the line he went, weaving a tan trail in and out, in and out, while the drums beat and the trees dripped and the fire flared. And back down the line he went. Slowly, rhythmically, dancing, weaving, keeping beat with the flames and the drums and the dripping.

  Time slowed down. The air felt heavier than ever.

  Repentance thought she might throw up.

  Or scream.

  Or both.

  Couldn't they hurry? She sent a quick prayer to Providence, begging him to keep her from fainting. If she lost consciousness, she would wake up to find herself buttoned to Sober Marsh. Destined to live in the clinging fog until she choked to death on it.

  Of course, Providence probably wouldn't listen to her prayer. She was a malcontent, after all. And lacking in mercy. What she planned to do to her family and to the Marsh family was by no means merciful. Why would Providence listen to any prayers she offered?

  On Angered's third trip down the line, Benefit Underfall, grinning flirtatiously, caught his scarf. She hung on while he pulled her into a standing position. Then she pushed the heart-shaped button on her blouse through the first hole on the scarf and began her vows. The round button at her wrist went through the second hole and the square button at her hip went through the third. She buttoned herself without looking—all the girls had practiced this maneuver for weeks and could easily do it by feel—so she could gaze into Angered's eyes as she recited her vows:

  With my heart, I'll love you,

  With my hands, I'll serve you,

  By your side, I'll abide, forever and always.

  Angered then buttoned the scarf onto the corresponding buttons on his shirt and, looking deeply into Benefit's eyes, he answered:

  With my heart, I'll hold you,

  With my arms, enfold you,

  Beside you, I'll guide you, for now and for always.

  Using the scarf, Angered drew Benefit close and kissed her.

  The crowd erupted into cheers. Repentance added hers, halfhearted as they were. One down, five to go. But maybe she wouldn't have to wait until the end. Maybe Sober would come out next.

  Angered and Benefit moved behind the fire.

  The drums picked up the beat.

  Repentance held her breath.

  Consternation Mossybank came out trailing a green scarf. On her left side, Sovereign emitted a little squeal of excitement. Repentance sagged a little—torn between disappointment and relief.

  Why did Providence make her wait? Was He giving her time to change her mind?

  Too late.
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  She closed her eyes, remembering Trib with his chubby arms outstretched. "Pentace, Pentace."

  And she couldn't save him.

  He called to her because she was the one he could see. His mother—their mother—had hidden in the cave.

  A mother and father were supposed to protect their children.

  If they couldn't protect their children, they shouldn't have any. No, she wasn't going to change her mind. She'd never breed for the overlords.

  When Consternation headed up the line for a second time, Repentance dug her elbow into Sovereign's side. "For the love of Providence, don't keep him in anticipation," she whispered. She was feeling sicker by the minute and didn't know how much longer she could hold on.

  And then Sovereign was reciting her vows and Repentance, trying to calm down, studied the audience. Her father sat tall and proud with his family gathered around him—his first daughter about to be buttoned. Her mother wore her ever-present look of contentment. But they were no better at obeying Providence than Repentance was. They were not merciful or honest. It was not merciful to give your first two sons to the cruel, pale-eyed overlords without a fight. Nor was it honest to pretend to be content about it later.

  Peace washed over her. She was making the only decision she could make. Surely Providence wouldn't fault her for that.

  Applause erupted for a second time and Sovereign and Consternation, beaming at one another, slipped behind the fire.

  The drums picked up their volume; the crowd fell silent once more.

  Sober Marsh came out, a gray flannel scarf in his hands.

  You've rushed into trouble again.

  And Providence frowns.

  You'll never be free among men.

  And Providence frowns.

  And Providence frowns.

  And Providence always frowns.

  ~Repentance Atwater, Slave Cart Compositions

  Chapter 3

  The peace Repentance had felt only moments earlier fled as quickly as a swamp-slinker on fishing day. Once again the heat and the drums and the dripping fog weighed down heavily.

  With his loose, shoulder-length curls scrubbing his collar, Sober danced up the line and down, weaving his gray scarf around the girls.

  Repentance, studying him with a sideways glance, was suddenly aware that he was not only five years older than most of the other scarf boys. He was also five years stronger. Maybe he had a bad temper. Maybe he'd kill her.

  No, he wouldn't. Two overlord slavers stood in the shadows behind the crowd, dragon sticks at the ready. They wouldn't let Sober kill her. Live slaves were as good as beads in their pockets. Dead slaves were worthless.

  She needed to get on with it.

  Way back, a provision had been made for a girl who chose not to button. Such a girl would turn her back on the audience and on the scarf boy, signifying her choice to never button but to go into a life of service to the overlords instead. In refusing to give the overlords her first two sons, she would forfeit herself.

  And if the scarf boy happened to be a fifth-year boy? She'd forfeit him, too.

  She was sorry about that. But Sober was grown. Much better for him to ride the slave carts than for the babies they'd have if they buttoned. He was a big man. He'd have to look after himself.

  Sober wove by her for a third time. She glanced up, mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," and turned her back on him.

  A gasp went up from the crowd and for the first time in her life, the incessant dripping of the trees faded from her consciousness. She searched for the familiar sound, but couldn't hear it above the moanings and the groanings of the people.

  Someone shrieked—probably Goodwoman Marsh.

  Repentance heard her father's voice rise above the din, "It's a mistake, a mistake. She doesn't understand. It's a mistake, a mistake." He kept repeating himself, the words churning in place like a cart wheel stuck in mud.

  "No, Father," Repentance whispered toward the fire, "repeating a thing over and over does not make it so."

  "Why have you done this?" Sober leaned over her, livid. "You are cursed. And now you have cursed me! When did I ever wrong you?"

  She offered another prayer, this time asking Providence to let her faint. She couldn't bear their anger. Never mind that she didn't make the rules. Never mind that Providence put them in a swampy hole and forgot them. Never mind that the overlords enslaved them. Never mind all that. With Providence they were content and with the overlords they were resigned, but with Repentance they were angry. Come the morrow, when what she'd done had fully sunk in, she'd be the most hated person in the swamp. They'd all blame her for any sorrow that came their way for the next ten years.

  Comfort, her sister, was crying. Wailing.

  A weeping and a wailing.

  Her mother she did not hear. She was humming to herself, no doubt.

  Strong arms lifted her from behind. One of the overlord slavers set her on her feet and prodded her toward the waiting slave cart. Beside her, Sober stumbled, going down on one knee. The slaver grabbed a handful of hair and dragged him up.

  Goodwoman Marsh grabbed their captor. "You cannot take him. I've given two sons already. He's all I have left."

  The man's fist made a cracking noise as it connected with her face.

  Repentance's legs went weak at the awful sound.

  Wisdom Marsh hit the ground and lay still. Maybe alive. Maybe dead.

  Repentance went numb. Did she kill Goodwoman Marsh?

  Sober dove toward his mother.

  Repentance twisted against the overlord. His grip tightened. "I've changed my mind," she said. Her words melted, unheard, into the chaos. She tried again, "I want to stay here."

  The overlord lifted her and threw her into the slave cart.

  Goodman Marsh squatted on one side of his fallen button mate, with Sober on the other side.

  One of the overlords pointed his dragon stick toward the sky and pressed the ignition. A fountain of fire, six feet tall, whooshed from the stick, followed by a loud boom.

  Repentance threw herself flat in the bed of the cart, and covered her head with her arms. When the echo from the explosion subsided, the world was silent.

  "As Providence is my witness, I am on the edge of hauling you all away for rioters." The slaver spoke loudly enough to be heard, but softly enough to let them know that he was in complete control. "There are three more couples waiting to be buttoned. Proceed with order or forfeit them to me."

  Repentance peered over the edge of the cart. Without a whisper of complaint, the people pushed themselves off the ground, brushed dirt from their sleeves and stomachs, and faced the remaining button girls. The overlord aimed his dragon stick at Sober's face.

  Sober, keeping his gaze on his mother, climbed into the cart.

  A drumbeat began. In front of the fire, three rumpled button girls sat, angry tears cutting tracks down their dirty cheeks. Wrathful Mudflat stepped from behind the fire, streaming an ochre scarf.

  Repentance scooted close to the overlord who stood next to the cart. "I want to change my mind," she whispered. "Please, may I change my mind?" She had made a mistake. Her mother had always told her that she'd come to no good end if she couldn't learn to be content with her place in the world.

  She'd finally done it. She'd come to no good end.

  She'd thought through what would happen when she refused Sober, but the reality was so much worse than the way she'd imagined it. "I change my mind," she said a little more loudly.

  Sober turned his attention away from his mother. Repentance couldn't see his expression in the dim light, but she could feel him looking at her.

  He stood and moved toward her end of the cart. "She wants to change her mind," he said. "She was afraid. She knows better now." Standing in the cart, he towered over the slaver on the ground.

  The man pointed his dragon stick at Sober. "Sit!"

  He sat. "She wants to button."

  The slaver swung the butt end of the dragon stick out, catching
Sober on the side of his face. He landed in the bed of the cart like a clubbed catfish.

  "Too late," the slaver said to Sober's unmoving body, his cold, pale eyes full of disgust. "She made her choice."

  That button ceremony concluded more quickly than any Repentance had been to. The girls grabbed hold of the scarves right away, as if desperate to be buttoned before their scarf boys could change their minds. Less than half an hour later, the crowd dispersed, women keening, men cursing, and Comfort sobbing like a weanling. Wisdom Marsh groaned as men picked her up to carry her to the healing cave.

  "Chain them," one of the overlord slavers said to the other before he headed down the road toward the gatehouse.

  The man clamped heavy iron shackles to her ankles and chained her to the driver's seat.

  Sober moaned and rolled over. He cried out, grabbing his head.

  Repentance scooted back into the corner of the cart, making herself small, not wanting to face Sober's wrath.

  The slaver pulled a leather pouch from his pocket. "Give me your hand," He said to Sober.

  He dumped some powder into Sober's palm. "It's healing powder. Your head will feel better and you'll sleep."

  Sober hesitated.

  "I'm not going to kill you. You're worth nothing to me dead. Eat the powder."

  Sober licked up the powder and lay down in the bed of the cart.

  Repentance let out her breath, relieved. She could face him later. After he slept. When his head wasn't hurting so much.

  The slaver sat under a tree to keep watch.

  They would pull out as soon as it got light enough to see the road. Repentance had watched many carts depart. She was always half afraid for the poor villagers being taken and half excited, wondering what they would see outside the fence that surrounded the village.

  Her father came and tried to talk to her during the night, but the watchman warned him off. "The girl has made her choice. Go home and forget her."