Messenger - Lois Lowry [16]
"I got up my nerve and asked Ramon what his parents traded for the Gaming Machine. But he didn't know. He said they wouldn't tell him, and his mother turned away when he asked, as if she had something to hide."
"I don't like the sound of it." The blind man stroked the strings and played two more chords.
"The sound of your own music?" Matty asked with a laugh, trying to lighten the conversation.
"Something's happening at Trade Mart," Seer said, ignoring Matty's attempt at humor.
"Leader said the same."
"He would know. I'd be wary of it, Matty, if I were you."
The next evening, while they prepared supper, he told the blind man he was planning to go.
"I know you said I was too young, Seer. But I'm not. Ramon's going. And maybe it's important for me to go. Maybe I can figure out what's happening."
Seer sighed and nodded. "Promise me one thing," he told Matty.
"I will."
"Make no trade. Watch and listen. But make no trade. Even if you're tempted."
"I promise." Then Matty laughed. "How could I? I have nothing to trade. What could I give for a Gaming Machine? A puppy too young to leave its mother? Who'd want that?"
The blind man stirred the chicken that simmered in a broth. "Ah, Matty, you have more than you know. And people will want what you have."
Matty thought. Seer was correct, of course. He had the thing that troubled him—the power, he thought of it—and perhaps there were those who would want it. Maybe he should find a way to trade it away. But the thought made him nervous. He turned his thoughts to other, less worrying things.
He had a fishing pole, but he needed that and loved it. He had a kite, stored in the loft, and perhaps one day he would trade it for a better kite.
But not tonight. Tonight he would only watch. He had promised the blind man.
7
It was early evening, just past supper, and others were hurrying, as Matty was, along the lane to the place where Trade Mart was held. He nodded to neighbors as he passed them, and waved to some he saw farther along. People nodded back or waved in reply, but there was none of the lighthearted banter that was ordinarily part of Village. There was an intentness to everyone, an odd seriousness, and a sense of worry—unusual in Village—pervaded the atmosphere.
No wonder Seer didn't want me to come, Matty thought as he approached. It doesn't feel right.
He could hear the noise. A murmur. People whispering to each other. It was not at all like Market Day, with its sounds of laughter, conversation, and commerce: good-natured bargaining, the squealing of pigs, the motherly cluck of hens with their cheeping broods. Tonight it was simply a low hum, a nervous whisper through the crowd.
Matty slipped into a group that had gathered and was standing nearest to the platform, a simple wooden structure like a stage that was used for many occasions when the people came together. The coming meeting to discuss the proposal to close Village would be held here, too, and Leader would stand on the stage to direct things and keep them orderly.
A large wooden roof covered the area so that rain would not prevent a gathering, and in the cold months the enclosing sides would be slid into place. Tonight, though, with the weather still warm, it was open to the evening. A breeze ruffled Matty's hair. He could smell the scent of the pine grove that bordered the area.
He found a place to stand next to Mentor, hoping that perhaps Jean would join her father, though she was nowhere to be seen. Mentor glanced down and smiled at him. "Matty!" he said. "It's a surprise to see you here. You've never been before."
"No," Matty said. "I have nothing to trade."
The schoolteacher put his arm affectionately over Matty's shoulders, and Matty noticed for the first time that the teacher had lost weight. "Ah," Mentor said, "you'd be surprised. Everyone has something to trade."
"Jean has her flowers," Matty said, hoping to turn the conversation to Mentor's daughter. "But she takes them to the market stall. She doesn't need Trade Mart for that.
"And," he added, "she already promised the puppy to me.