The Other Side of the Island Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  PART ONE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  PART TWO

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  PART THREE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  PART FOUR

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Praise for ALLEGRA GOODMAN’S THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ISLAND

  A BEST BOOK OF 2008!

  LA Times The Washington Post The Village Voice

  “A powerful success . . . Thought-provoking and alarmingly relevant.”—PW, Galley Talk

  ★ “Goodman’s fiction proves that she can tackle big subjects with graceful and perceptive prose . . . a top-notch genre piece.”

  —PW (Starred Review)

  “A dark vision rendered in wonderful and imaginative detail . . . likely to be read in one sitting.”—LA Times

  “Gripping, beautifully written . . . A dystopian page-turner, The Other Side of the Island evokes other YA favorites—in particular, Lois Lowry’s The Giver—Goodman does a stellar job . . . Bracing, exhilarating . . . Big Brother better watch out.”

  —The Washington Post

  “Gripping and creepily prescient.”—The Village Voice

  “Chilling . . . A compelling science-fiction novel.”

  —School Library Journal

  “Fans of dystopic and speculative fiction will want to check this out—there’s certainly much material for discussion and debate.”—Horn Book Review

  “A satisfying and compelling read.”

  —Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books

  “The simple prose, clear message and timely topic make this a solid introduction to the (dystopian) genre for middle-grade readers.”—Kirkus

  “Offers readers plenty to consider.”—Booklist

  “A chilling vision of the future, written with imagination and flair . . . exotic and surreal.”—Alan Lightman,

  International Bestselling author of Einstein’s Dreams

  The Other Side of the Island

  RAZORBILL

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group

  345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland

  (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue,

  Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Copyright © 2008 Allegra Goodman

  All rights reserved

  eISBN : 978-1-101-05716-2

  [1. Science fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.G61353Ot 2008

  [Fic]—dc22

  2007050915

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not

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  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume

  any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For my children:

  Ezra, Gabriel, Elijah, and Miranda

  PART ONE

  ONE

  ALL THIS HAPPENED MANY YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE STREETS were air-conditioned. Children played outside then, and in many places the sky was naturally blue. A girl moved to a town house in the Colonies on Island 365 in the Tranquil Sea.

  The girl was ten years old, small for her age but strong. Her eyes were gray. Her hair was curly to begin with, and it curled up even more in the humid island air. She had been born after the Flood in the eighth glorious year of Enclosure, and like everyone born that year, her name began with the letter H. Her name was rare, and in later cycles it was discontinued, but at that time it was still on the lists. She was called Honor.

  The town house stood almost at the barriers near the beach. There was a downstairs with a living room and a tiny kitchen, and upstairs, a bathroom and two bedrooms, one big and one small. If you stood at the window in the smaller front bedroom, the ocean was frighteningly close, but there were protective bars on the windows.

  Honor’s parents were young and clever, and they loved to laugh. Will and Pamela Greenspoon did not wear brown or tan like most people, but old-fashioned clothes in strange colors: peach and gray and even black. They were both engineers. They had nothing to put in their house because their trunks had not arrived yet from the North. Honor’s parents had no coupon books for the Central Store, because they had not yet started their new jobs. They had never been to the Colonies, and they didn’t know anyone on the island, but they told their daughter that was part of the adventure.

  “That’s what you said last time,” Honor pointed out as she lay down to sleep on the bare floor with her father’s raincoat balled up for a pillow.

  “We won’t move again for a while,” said Pamela.

  “How long is a while?” Honor asked.

  “We’ll see,” said Will.

  “A year?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Three years?”

  “It’s late,” Pamela cut in. “You need to get your sleep. You’ve got the school interview tomorrow.”

  Even though the Greenspoons had no furniture, they had taken Honor for testing at the famous Old Colony School.

  The admissions tests for the Old Colony School took an entire day. There were tests in reading, copying, mathematics, science, and geography. If students did well enough on those tests, they were invited to interview. But interviews were not held at school. The interviewer came to the house to examine the whole family.

  Before breakfast, Honor heard the knock on the door. Her parents were nervous because the house was so empty. They had borrowed folding chairs from the neighbors, but they worried that the interviewer would mark them down for lacking a proper couch.

  Honor opened the door and saw a blue-eyed woman with soft curly hair under her sun hat. Her eyes were clear blue as marbles, her skin pale powdery white.

  “Good morning. My name is Miss Blessing,” said the woman.

  “Please come in,” said Pamela. “Come sit down.”

  “Would you like something to drink?” asked Will when they were all seated. “We have cold guava juice.”

  “No thank you,” said Miss Blessing. She didn’t look at Will and Pamela at
all. She was looking straight at Honor. “Your test scores are excellent,” she told Honor. “I have a few simple questions for you today.”

  Honor glanced at her father. He smiled at her encouragingly.

  “Tell me the name of your old school,” Miss Blessing said.

  “I didn’t go to school,” Honor said.

  “Why don’t you tell me some of your favorite activities,” Miss Blessing said in a friendly way. Honor didn’t answer immediately, so Miss Blessing said, “Pottery, for example. Music, gardening, sewing . . .”

  “Climbing trees,” Honor said.

  “Oh, you’re interested in forests?” asked Miss Blessing, smiling. “Do you like to study trees?”

  “No, I just like climbing them,” Honor said. At that time she still remembered the great trees in the Northern Islands, the oaks and pines, the white birches, the carpet of pine needles underfoot. She remembered weeping willows. She remembered lying for hours in the branches of the willow trees.

  “Do you love the earth?”

  Honor nodded.

  “Who leads us and guides us?”

  “Earth Mother,” Honor said.

  “What are Her watchwords?”

  “Peace, love, and joy.”

  “And who guards the earth?”

  “The Corporation.”

  “Very good,” said Miss Blessing. Honor was happy because she thought she was done. “Please recite the Corporate Creed for me.”

  “Our Councilors who are seven,” Honor began softly.

  “A little louder,” said Miss Blessing. “Please speak clearly.”

  “Our Councilors who are seven. Corporation is your name. Your plan to come, Enclosure done—on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day . . .” She hesitated. Her family was not religious. She did not recite her prayers every night. “Give us this day our daily bread. And correct all our trespasses. As you correct those who trespass against us.” She was stuck again. Anxiously she looked at her mother.

  “And lead,” Pamela whispered.

  “And lead us not into Inaccuracy, but deliver us from lies.” Honor recited fast, racing to get to the end. “For ours is the planet and the power and the glory. Amen.”

  Miss Blessing said nothing. Then she said to Honor’s parents, “We ask our students to work without any hints or help.”

  “I think Honor is a little nervous,” said Will.

  “I’m afraid she is deficient,” murmured Miss Blessing. “What was Earth Mother’s Five-Year Plan?”

  Honor hesitated. Miss Blessing was looking at the bare living room walls. “Where is your picture of Earth Mother?” she asked Will and Pamela.

  “Our things haven’t arrived yet,” Will said.

  “What did She achieve in the first Five-Year Plan?” Miss Blessing asked Honor.

  Honor panicked. She tried to think, but she had no idea.

  “She is enclosing the Earth,” Miss Blessing said quietly. Her face was gentle and pitying, as if she were saddened that a big girl of ten did not know. “She is making the world Safe and Secure. Isn’t that right?”

  Honor nodded.

  “May I speak with you alone for a moment?” Miss Blessing asked Honor’s parents.

  “Go ahead upstairs,” Will told Honor.

  Slowly, Honor climbed the staircase to the second floor. Then, when she was out of sight, she sat down on the top step to listen.

  “She was terribly nervous,” Pamela was saying.

  “She is terribly deficient,” said Miss Blessing. “She does not know what every little child should know. She would have catching up to do in her Earth and Weather classes.”

  “If you gave us a book, then perhaps we could tutor her at home,” said Pamela.

  “I think you’ve been tutoring her enough,” said Miss Blessing. “I’m afraid that’s the problem. Now, about her name.”

  “It’s on the list,” said Pamela.

  “Yes, I’ve brought the list with me,” said Miss Blessing.

  Honor heard papers rustling as Miss Blessing took out the Approved List of Girls’ Names.

  “The trouble is—and I’m sure you realize this—the H in Honor is silent. If she walks around with a name like that, people will think she belongs in year O. She won’t fit in with her peers.”

  “But here it is on the list,” said Pamela. “Right between Honey and Hope.”

  “Hope is a lovely name,” said Miss Blessing. Her voice was sweet and gentle. “Hope is simple. You can hear the H. Honey is also pretty.”

  “But her name is Honor,” said Will.

  “It sticks out,” said Miss Blessing.

  “We don’t mind,” said Pamela.

  “Yes, I’m sure you don’t,” said Miss Blessing, “but you should consider your daughter’s feelings—and her future.”

  “Are you suggesting she can’t go to school because you don’t like her name?” Honor’s father asked.

  “Will,” said Pamela in a soft, warning voice.

  “Her math score was perfect,” said Miss Blessing. “Reading, excellent; copying, fair. I am sorry to say she failed geography. Her map skills are poor.”

  “It’s our fault,” Will said quickly.

  “I realize that. It’s clear to us, however, that with support, Honor could succeed. She is a bright child. We are selecting her for Old Colony.”

  “Thank you,” said Pamela.

  “She’s a quick study,” said Will.

  Honor could hear the relief in her parents’ voices.

  “We think she will do very well with us,” said Miss Blessing, “and in time, she’ll change her name. We’ve seen it in the past.”

  Honor peeked over the banister. Her parents were not smiling.

  “You’d force her?” Pamela asked.

  “No, no, of course not,” said Miss Blessing. “She’ll decide on her own. One day, she’ll become, for example, Henrietta.”

  “Why do you say that?” Will demanded.

  “Because,” said Miss Blessing, “we will educate her. We will train your daughter properly. She will know instinctively that her name isn’t right. Our mission is overcoming difference, and a Colony education is comprehensive. We teach the whole child.”

  TWO

  SCHOOL WAS FREE OF CHARGE, AS WERE LUNCHES, uniforms, and transportation. This was fortunate. While Honor’s father had begun his new job, her mother had not. Honor’s parents bought her a cot to sleep on, but they could not afford beds for themselves. Will and Pamela were tired and stiff from trying to sleep on the bare floor.

  Will rubbed Pamela’s shoulders as the family stood together at the bus stop on Honor’s first day of school.

  There were no other families at their stop, only a couple of workers in white jumpsuits collecting recycling bins. The workers looked strange, like grown-up living dolls. They all looked alike, with blank faces and bald heads. They didn’t make a sound. “Who are they?” Honor asked.

  “Orderlies,” Honor’s mother told her. “Don’t stare. It’s not polite.”

  “Where are the other kids?” Honor asked.

  “The other children come from different neighborhoods,” said Pamela.

  “They’ll be getting on later,” said Will. “You’ll be alone at first, because you’re the first stop.”

  “Are you sure the bus will come here?” Honor asked. Their neighborhood was desolate. DO NOT ENTER signs and barbed-wire fences marked the barriers near the shore, where ancient hotels stood submerged in water. A stench of rotting kelp and mildew filled the air. The only clean new thing in the neighborhood was the Corporation watchtower, which stood tall and slender on stilts. Honor could just make out a man with binoculars inside.

  “Look,” said Honor.

  “Never point at a Watcher.”

  Honor was startled by the fear in her mother’s voice. She had never lived in a city and had never seen a Watcher before. “He could probably see the bus from up there,” she ventured.

  “He sees everything,” he
r mother said, as she touched up Honor’s sunscreen.

  Honor looked down at her new sandals and book bag. These were part of her uniform, as were her broad-brimmed sun hat, her khaki skirt, and her white shirt with the letter H embroidered in green on the pocket. She felt strange in the uniform.

  “Don’t worry,” Pamela said, but her voice trembled.

  “There’s the bus,” said her father.

  A blue school bus pulled up to the curb. The doors opened with a whoosh of cool air.

  Honor looked up at the open doors, and for a moment she was overcome with dread. She felt suddenly that once she got on the bus she would be leaving her parents for good.

  “We’ll be waiting for you right here at the end of the day,” Will said.

  “What if I don’t know the answers?”

  “Let’s go,” ordered the bus driver.

  Honor ducked her head down and ran up the stairs.

  “If you don’t know, don’t say,” said Will.

  “Be careful, sweetie,” Pamela called after her.

  Honor sank down into a seat and clutched her book bag to her chest.

  “Buckle up,” said the driver.

  As the bus lurched to the next stop and then the next, students of all ages crowded on. The big kids from years F or E boarded cheerfully, but some of the little children were crying. The embroidered letters on their shirts were N and M and L and even O. The youngest were just three years old and didn’t want to leave their parents. Some even tried to run back down the aisle of the bus and escape, but the bus driver was a strong, burly man, and he scooped up the littlest children and strapped them in with special locking seat belts. The windows were unbreakable as well. Children could pound with their fists, but they soon discovered that the glass was stronger than they were. Then all the little ones could do was scream. The bus driver didn’t mind. He wore earplugs.

  Honor covered her ears and gazed out the window as the bus drove up a steep road through great iron gates wrought in the shape of long trumpet flowers. She began to see a whole fleet of buses entering terraced school grounds. A great field spread before them, framed by whitewashed buildings, ocean view, and sky. Teachers stood on the grass holding white pennants painted with class letters.