ELISE ROE:
I would do anything for my family. Anything to reunite us.
Even lie.
I promised Andi I wouldn’t join the Corps, but the papers were signed, the training schedule set. My name on that list.
He didn’t know how empty my promise was.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
I woke before dawn, grabbed the push-button from my nightstand and pressed it. One beep.
Joseph would be at the bus stop in an hour.
Silently, trying not to wake anyone else up, I crept out of my room, down the stairs.
A bowl of rice sat out for me. I guess Andi had woken up early, too. A voice in my head: liar, liar, liar. I ate half, grabbed my bag, and I slipped out into the foggy morning.
It’s not that long of a walk. Maybe half a mile? A little more? After a few minutes, the bus stop appeared out of the fog, wobbly bench, sun-bleached sign. A few sparrows fluttered away as I stepped under the overhang. I tugged my beanie so it covered my eyebrows, the tops of my ears.
Andi’s voice in my head: Promise me you won’t do this.
I said aloud, “I wish I could.”
Something was balled up in my pocket. The flyer. I stared at it for a second. Maybe I can get that information. Keep my promise. I folded it, placed it back in my pocket, and it pressed against my hip. A betrayal.
When I was in second grade, way before any of this happened, Mom used to wait with us at this bus stop. Andi held one of her hands, and I held the other. Mom would make us choose: Would you rather write or sing everything you say? Or: always have the same lunch, or never repeat a meal again?
Two headlights turned the corner, and a car pulled up to the bus stop.
“I’m right on time,” Joseph grinned.
I held up the push-button. “You two do such a good job.”
“We need a raise.”
I stepped into the car. Joseph made a half-hearted joke about getting up early, and I forced a laugh.
Then silence.
The car bumped over broken asphalt. Abandoned buildings blurred past my window. When the road smoothed out, I knew we were close. Joseph stopped in front of the bridge’s gates and typed in his passcode. A tiny beep, a blinking green light, and the gates slid open.
What a view. The dark river below us. Tall marble statues and skyscrapers ahead. Every window bright.
Here, they had wine shops, and gown fittings, and restaurants, and golf courses. In the rearview mirror, everything was dark.
We pulled up to my building, the tallest one. The one with dark blue rings on each door, and marble columns. Joseph dropped me off at the steps.
I covered the frayed strap of my bag with my hands, and I walked through the entrance. I set my card over a scanner.
Things started normally. Paper after paper. You scan them, file them away. Drawer fifty six: financial budgeting. Drawer twelve, at the very bottom: printed emails.
Part of me wanted to cry. Six months and nothing to show.
Then, through the crack between filing cabinets, I saw my boss unlock a confidential door. He slipped something inside, left the key in the lock. A dozen keys hung from its elastic band. They swung, light catching the metal.
Each room had a different key. I needed the one in the lock and three small silver ones.
Six months, nothing to show, but I always watched him closely.
This was it.
The hum of fluorescent lights. The click of someone’s heels. Andi and his shaking hands. Promise me you won’t do this. You have one second to choose. Act.
I’d do anything for my family.
Even commit a felony.
I stepped away from my row of filing cabinets. Held my stack of papers in front of me. A shield. Breathed in once, twice.
Then, with my back straight, I walked over and pulled open the door.
I scanned the labels. Letters A through F. No. Wrong room. My breath came in and out, in and out. I pulled out the key from the lock—clink—my pulse soared.
The trick is to act calm. Confident. Even when you’re terrified. People don’t question you when they think you’re doing what you always do.
I slid the next key into the lock. Twisted the handle, and maybe it was the right room, maybe I was so close, but I’d never know.
“Elise!”
My boss’s voice.
Something like ice fell through my body. The keys bit into my palm.
He walked over. Grabbed my wrist. His fingers dug into my skin, and he plucked the keys from my sweaty hands.
“What were you doing?”
My entire body shook. “You left them out, sir. Against protocol. I thought I’d give them back—”
He cut me off. “You do not touch these keys. Ever.”
I said, “Yes sir.”
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I spent the next few hours filing, leaning against the cabinets. My legs felt wobbly. You failed you failed you failed. My boss was suspicious. I could lose my job. Be questioned. No. Don’t think like that.
During my lunch break, I sat on the carpet in an empty hallway, tried to eat an apple, but my stomach hurt. So, I just stared at my hand. Ink on my fingers, paper cuts on my palm.
Out of the corner of my eye, someone turned down my hallway. I almost jumped up.
Nik. It was just my coworker walking down the hall.
He called out my name, walked over to me. Briefcase slung over his shoulder. Duct tape over a worn hole in the bottom.
“You okay? That was kinda rough.”
I shrugged.
“I saw your name on the list. For Corps training.” He made a face. “Guess we’ll be doing that together.”
“You?” If I’d been in a better mood, I would’ve laughed.
“Same could be said for you.”
I scowled. I was hoping he’d leave.
I was hoping he’d leave, but he pulled out a bag of chips. “Do you want this? Two fell out of the vending machine.”
Barbecue. My favorite flavor. I almost reached out but thought better of it.
I tore my eyes away from the chips. “No. Thanks, though.”
He walked off.
I let out a long exhale.
One shot. That was all I had.
And I ruined it.
Now the Corps were my only option.
Andi. Chaos. Ivy. I’m sorry.
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and then Add to home screen.