Children of Exile Read Online Free Page A

came to a stop and lowered a set of stairs. The engine noise stopped, too. Maybe there were still kids crying; maybe Bobo was still wailing at the top of his lungs right beside me. But I didn’t hear any of it. It felt like the whole world had gone silent and still and frozen, waiting for what came next.
    A man stepped out of the plane, and—
    He wasn’t a Fred.
    I’m not sure how I could tell, in that very first split second. He was dressed in dark pants and a loose white tunic—nothing a Fred wouldn’t wear. He was an adult, and every adult I’d ever seen was a Fred. He had two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears, one nose, and one mouth.
    Maybe it was silly, but I checked these things, because I was trying to figure out what was different.
    Was his face too rough? Were his eyes too hard? Was the curl of his lip a little too surly?
    How could I look at a man and know right away that he wasn’t a Fred?
    The man at the top of the stairs held up something in his right hand—a piece of paper.
    â€œThere’s been a change,” he announced. He sounded triumphant, gloating. “We’ll be taking only the children. All the Freds have to stay here.”
    Several of the Freds began protesting: “No!” “That’s not fair!” “That’s not what we agreed to!”
    The man waved the paper at us as if it had magical powers to silence Freds.
    â€œIt’s what your leaders agreed to,” he said. “They had no choice. You have no choice but to obey.”
    Someone must have scrambled up the stairs to check itout, but I couldn’t really see. Something had gone wrong with my eyes. Or maybe the problem was my brain. All I could think was, I’m going to a place with no Freds. No Freds at all.
    I didn’t even know what the difference was between Freds and the type of adults my parents were. No one had ever explained. But I knew it had to be something big. The thought No Freds, no Freds at all . . . kept spinning in my brain, tangling my mind in knots.
    And then I started noticing the hubbub around me again because Fred-mama was shouting in my ear: “You’re going to have to watch out for Bobo and all the other little kids! Please, please, take care of them all . . . and yourself. . . .”
    Fred-daddy thrust Bobo into my arms, and then we were all swept forward, shoved toward the airplane.
    My arms wrapped automatically around Bobo, but I was so dazed and numb that Fred-mama had to help me hang on. She had to place one of my hands on Bobo’s shoulder and one under his rear so he didn’t slip out of my grasp.
    â€œMake sure you put Bobo’s seat belt on when you get on the plane!” Fred-daddy urged me. “Make sure you put on your own!”
    Around me, other Fred-parents were telling their children, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth every night!” “Remember to share your toys!” “Remember everythingwe’ve taught you!” “Remember to be good little children!”
    Good little children, good little children, good little children . . .
    I saw children crying and clinging to their Fred-parents’ legs. I saw men yanking babies from their Fred-parents’ arms. I turned back to my own Fred-mama and Fred-daddy—maybe to grab onto them as hard as I could—but the crowd surged just then, pushing Bobo and me up the stairs. I couldn’t see my Fred-parents anymore. I hadn’t even had a chance to tell them a proper good-bye.
    â€œWait!” Bobo screamed, squirming in my arms. “Have to tell—”
    I couldn’t even hear what it was that Bobo wanted to tell our Fred-parents. But it was too late. If I let go of Bobo, I might lose him too.
    â€œThey know you love them!” I yelled at Bobo, the crowd carrying us farther and farther away from our Fred-parents. “They understand whatever you were going to