Khe Read Online Free Page B

forgot to lock a door.
    I ruffled the downy feathers on her head. She looked up at me and cooed.
    “Are the feeders full in Hatchling House?” I asked. If my sisters had forgotten to lock the door, one could have forgotten to make sure the hatchings had food while they were gone.
    Han nodded, then grinned. “Treats, too. Kiiku squares. My favorite.”
    Usually the hatchlings ate with the doumanas. During Resonance, when no doumanas would be in the commune, food was provided in Hatchling House. Except that I was here. Next Resonance, I’d ask Simanca if the hatchlings could be left in my charge.
    “And the water lines?” I asked. “Are they working?”
    She nodded again. Then she hunkered down, thrust her butt out behind her and shook it.
    “Look!” Han said, and began dancing in an erratic circle. “I’m a preslet!”
    I had to laugh. Preslets are stupid, quarrelsome birds and I didn’t much like them. Han had their dance down perfectly.
    I bent my knees, shoved my butt out, and wriggled around with her.
    Han giggled.
    “Ack! Ack! Ack!” I cried, still dancing.
    ”Ack!” Han squawked back in her thin, hatchling voice.
    Han stopped dancing and sighed. “I wish you tended us instead of Gris and Freneel. They never laugh. Gris says Simanca won’t let you because you’re broken. I wish they’d fix you, so you could always be with us.”
    I turned away so Han wouldn’t see how my spots had lit gray with sorrow and brown-green with shame. To turn away was no different than lying, but I couldn’t bear for Han to see my hurt.
    When I felt my spots quiet, I turned back around to Han. She was watching me with wide eyes.
    “Come on,” I said. “Let’s gather those roots and I’ll make us a feast.”
    When we walked outside, a soft rain was falling.
    ***
    The fifty-three members of Lunge commune were gathered in Community Hall to hear the results of the season-end crop weighing. The doumana who’d left the door to Hatchling House open when she’d rushed off to Resonance stood alone, just inside the door, her head hung in shame, ignored even by her own unitmates. The planet would travel a full quarter around the sun before any of us would acknowledge or speak with her again. Resonance had taught me the horror of solitude. As we filed in, I brushed my fingers across her neck, to say that she was not forgotten.
    Stoss, Thedra, Jit, and I took our places near the front on the left side. I’d been assigned a row-end seat. Did that seat mean I’d be coming to the riser to receive an award of merit? Simanca had seemed pleased when I showed her the extra crops I’d gathered while my community had been gone. “Good work,” she’d said and touched my throat, which was a great show of approval and affection from her.
    At Simanca’s signal, we all stood and sang Praises to the Creator and then The Song of Togetherness. Thedra’s sweet, high voice sailed through the air. My own voice cracked and once I started on the wrong verse. A jab from Thedra’s sharp elbow told me of my mistake. Singing helped soothe my nerves and I felt calmer when we sat again.
    But calm didn’t last. My eyes felt stuck on the small, wooden awards box near Simanca’s feet. The awards of merit—small glass orbs with the winner’s name, unit and accomplishment on a continuous holographic loop inside—were handed out to individuals who’d made special contributions to the commune. Lager prizes—bolts of cloth, vision stages, artwork—went to outstanding units. It wasn’t humble to want , but I’d worked hard for more than four years and won nothing. I wanted to win.
    "I am pleased to announce,” Simanca said, her voice ringing out, “that for the first time in seven years, Lunge commune has surpassed the yearly quotas in the production of aromatic plants.”
    We all began stamping our feet. The sound welled in the hall, rising to a loud crescendo that almost hurt my ear holes. Simanca stood on the riser, her lips crinkled in a