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Different Kind of City

Where we live in like-minded communities

I sigh as the breeze blows through my short, dark hair. I close my eyes and savor the feeling. I want to stand and stretch, but the risk is too high, so I lean my head back as far as I can, trying to make the most of this moment.

“Morgan? Are you up here?”

“Over here Kendall.”

I open my eyes in time to see Kendall creep around the massive air-conditioning unit. Kendall is taller than me, so she always looks awkward trying to creep. I scoot over to give her room to sit next to me. We meet here every other day or so. It’s one of the few times we get to truly be ourselves.

“Oh my god, if I have to wear this wretched thing one more minute…” Kendall says.

I watch her reach up and begin flinging bobby pins everywhere until she can jerk the blond wig off and then shakes it like a disobedient puppy, as she ruffles her short, blond hair.

“Your mother will kill you if you throw another one off the roof, or stomp it to death or anything else.” I say quietly.

“Uhg. Fine. Then it can be right there.” Kendall drops the wig on the roof-top between us. “Oh, my god that feels amazing.” Whether Kendall was talking about the breeze or the lack of wig, I didn’t ask. I figured it was both. It usually was.

I close my eyes again. Kendall and I have been friends since we met in our community basic education class. Maybe we recognized the same something in each other, or maybe it was that we both loved chocolate chip cookies. I sigh, remembering our first meeting in this very spot, and the stunned amazement we shared when we saw each other without our mandatory long wigs. We were best friends instantly, sharing our secret with only each other for many years.

“Morgan, I saw a van in front of Sarah’s building on my way up here.”

“Who do you think snitched?” A van always meant bad news. They only showed up if a neighbor had reported a social violation, like having short hair, or being a single parent beyond the thirty-day grace period.

“I dunno, maybe Brit?”

“But why?” I open my eyes and look at Kendall.

“Money. Her parents split.” Kendall replies. There is a curl to her lip that I’m sure is in disgust. I look back out over the city.

I love how the city looks as night falls. That half-light, where the sky is a mish-mash of colors and the lights below glitter. I wonder for the millionth time what it had been like before. What it would feel like to be able to walk around freely, with no wig and no escort.

“Oh wow. Like split-split?” I finally say.

“Yeah, like her Dad left the city split.”

“I wonder why he left?”

“My mom heard he left for another city, a different type of city.” Kendall replied in an awed, hushed voice. Talking about other cities was another one of those social no-no’s.

A different type of city. I chewed my lower lip as I let the words sink in. We’d both grown up in this city, where girls had long hair, and boys had short hair. Girls were supposed to be curves and soft, while boys were expected to be trim and muscular. There were never exceptions. In fact, to make sure there were no exceptions, neighbors were encouraged to report suspicious things, for a substantial reward.

“But if her father split-split, then…” I stopped, unwilling to voice the rest of the reality. That Brit’s mom would have thirty days to find another male, to provide the continued nuclear family that was expected. I counted myself lucky that both my parents were my originals. So many weren’t any more.

“Yeah, she will.” Kendall said quietly, her usual vibrant voice lacking any emotion.

“Oh… right. Sorry Kendall.” I leaned over and rested my shoulder against hers. One of the first things Kendall had confided in me was that her parents weren’t her originals.

“It doesn’t matter, I didn’t really know them anyway.”

I shifted the subject back to Sarah. Talking about Kendall’s family usually ended up with Kendall being moody and it was just too nice a night for that.

“I didn’t know Sarah was one of us.” Us being a small group of girls that preferred shorter hair. I looked at Kendall’s short hair. If we were allowed to have it openly, hers would have been spiked all over. Not for the first time did I think the look suited her. Kendall could be kind of prickly.

“I knew, but just recently. She dropped a bobby pin.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know if I was hurt or not. Dropping a bobby pin was a sign of trust. Those of us with short hair used it as a way of identifying each other. That Kendall hadn’t told me about it stung. I decided I was a bit hurt. “You could have said something.”

“I just did Morgan. When I say recently I mean just that. Like literally yesterday. So, don’t get all boo-hoo, okay? First time we’ve seen each other since she dropped one.” Kendall retorted.

“Still, could have dropped me a linked pair. Something.” I grumbled. The nice evening was getting less nice.

“When Morgan? When exactly? I didn’t even see your mangy ass yesterday, so how the hell could I drop a pair?” Kendall’s voice rose, a sure sign she was getting prickly.

“Shh. Okay, okay. I dunno. Forget it, okay?” I hated arguing with Kendall. “So… what do you think will happen with Sarah?”

“What do you think will happen Morgan? Three options, just like any of us, force her to grow her own hair, re-train her or… death.” Kendall snapped.

I sighed. Lately Kendall got prickly a lot quicker. I wondered if it was the new parental units. All I knew was that Kendall was now a lot easier to inadvertently goad. I reached down and picked up my wig, absently straightening its dark curls. The soft sound of a shoe scuffing on the roof had me tensing up. I could feel Kendall tense as well. Nobody else came up here, just Kendall and me. It was our spot.

“Kendall..”

“Morgan..?”

I looked at Kendall and sighed. Our designated protectors, referred to as our brothers, but neither of them was related to us. Someone must have seen us come up here and told them, I thought. Great, now we’ll have to find another safe place where we can just be us.

“Ever wish this were a different kind of city?” I asked Kendall quietly as we shoved our wigs back on, and brushed ourselves off.

“All the damn time.”

I didn’t have a chance to say anything more as our protectors rounded the massive air conditioning unit. I ducked my head under their scrutiny, taking the opportunity to double check that my hair was straight, and brush at a small spot of dirt on my long skirt.

“What are you doing up here Morgan?” My protector Donovan asked, looking around.

“I..” What possible, plausible reason could I come up with to cover both Kendall and me? “I wanted to see nightfall.” I was a horrible liar. I could almost hear Kendall groan at how bad at lying I was.

“Well, now you’ve seen it. Mother sent me. You’re late for dinner. We have been waiting for You.” Donovan was soft spoken, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t learned to chastise. His emphasis on the last word told me a lot.

I sighed, glancing at Kendall, and then at her brother, Mason. She didn’t look any happier about whatever Mason had said to her. I knew she despised her brother, but she hadn’t said why, and at the time I hadn’t bothered to ask.

“If you’re quite done mooning over departing Morgan..?” Donovan prodded me verbally.

“Of course Don…onvan.” I caught myself almost too late from using the shortened version of his name. Another one of those social things that was frowned upon. As I moved to follow Don, seemingly meekly with my hands folded neatly in front of me, I turned ever so slightly so Kendall could see and crossed the first two fingers on my right hand. I knew Kendall had seen because she appeared to trip and nodded at me.

Dinner was cold by the time Don and I got back to the apartment. It had been an emotionally chilly and silent walk back. Four whole city blocks, with Don on my right, shielding me, while holding my elbow; in theory to guide me, but, I would probably have a bruise by tomorrow. A bruise that nobody would ask about because nobody would see it beneath the long sleeves of the required dress. I wondered again about different cities and what freedoms they would allow. Did girls in those cities have bruised right elbows?

I didn’t even have the luxury of pulling out of his grasp when we reached the apartment. I had to wait until he released me. Before he did, he leaned close to my ear to whisper.

“You and Kendall Cooper are both on To Watch lists.”

His words sent a chill through me. To Watch lists were names of citizens who were suspected of being in violation of more than one of the civic, social or legal precedents set by the city Fathers, who were completely autonomous. I followed protocol by greeting my parents, who were sitting at the table, waiting.

“Mother…. Father…. My humblest apologies for my lateness. I was inattentive of the time.” I said, moving to my usual chair and starting to sit.

“Where did you find her Donovan?” My mother asked softly, which is really the only way we could ask anything.

“She was up on the roof of Building F… with Kendall Cooper.” I could hear the sneer in his voice. For whatever reason, Don had taken an instant dislike to Kendall. I slowly sat, fighting to not stick my tongue out at Don. He was state assigned, but there was no requirement to like him, just put up with him.

“Interesting.” My father spoke up, “The roof. Outside?” The last half was addressed at me.

“Y-yes Father.” I groaned inside. Of course, Father would pick up on the small detail of time and being outside. I stared at my cold, congealing meal. Pot-roast, fresh spring peas, and red potatoes are one of my favorite meals, but not cold.

“I see.” He said decisively, “Well, we’re all here now. Bow heads.”

Quickly I sat and bowed my head while Father intoned the blessing. I thanked whatever was out there that I still had my natural parents. I knew Father could make it seem like I would be chastised, but he wouldn’t actually do it. No, he’d talk to me tonight, alone, him and Mother, and remind me about safety and how much they loved me.

It wasn’t until blessing was over and I picked up my fork, after placing my napkin in my lap, that I thought about Kendall, who didn’t. I was pretty sure that her arrival home was not at all like mine.

As I lay in bed that night, I turned my head so I could see out the window and sighed. I imagined that my sigh was echoed softly across the city by thousands of girls. My thoughts drifted back to Kendall, trying to imagine what her return must have been like. I knew there wouldn’t have been shouting, or hitting. Both of those had been banned twenty years ago, to rein in child abuse. Laying a guilt trip however was still fair game. No, Kendall wouldn’t be in tears, she’d be seething and it would be a couple of days before she could vent, and a couple of years before either of us reach our majority of eighteen.

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