Donor 23 by Cate Beatty Page B

with Tegan’s heart, and she needs mine…this’s the way the System works. She’s my benefactor. This is what I’m supposed to do. Evade?! I have a lot of money saved up. It was for my citizenship, for my dad and me. But this way my dad can inherit it, and maybe some day…”
    Donors used to be prohibited from leaving money to their heirs. Years ago, there had been a minor revolt in one of the ghettos, which spread to other ghettos. Recognizing the danger and wanting to placate the donor population, the Alliance changed some laws, giving more civil rights to donors. Kaleb criticized the changes, complaining they were minor and served to maintain the status quo. Joan’s mother calmly reminded Kaleb that the Alliance had slowly chipped away at their rights, and perhaps they could be returned the same way. Now, donors could leave their money to their immediate family members. But if Joan became a tax evader, all her money would be forfeited to the Alliance.
    “Joan,” he said, as he took a deep breath, “Tegan doesn’t need your heart. Nothing’s wrong with hers.”
    “What?!” she exclaimed, not comprehending but trying. She jumped off the table and paced around the room.
    Jack reached for her arm, and she pulled away.
    “No,” she was confident now, “it doesn’t matter. This is the way it works. This is the law—the System. An evader?! You want me to become an evader?!”
    Jack studied her. They didn’t have to discuss this now.
    “I never said anything about evading, Joan,” he kept using her name. “Let’s take one day at a time, shall we, Joan?”

10
    J oan did not tell her father. She didn’t want him to worry. Nor did she tell Reck or Kaleb, which wasn’t easy. The three of them were so close. She did her best to avoid them, but she had to tell Kaleb that Nox was watching him.
    A couple days after the medical tests, she made her way down the street to Kaleb’s apartment. Looking up at his apartment window, she saw a hand hanging out the window. The weathered, dark brown hand extended over the sill and held a small, thin, wooden pipe. Smoke slowly curled up out of the pipe, dissipating quickly. The hand disappeared back in the room and momentarily reappeared. Joan could just make out a flash of Zenobia’s wispy, dull hair as the old woman leaned over the sill, blew smoke and leaned back. Joan smiled. She knew Kaleb good-naturedly complained to his grandmother about the smell of her pipe in their home.
    “Hey,” Joan yelled up to her.
    The woman looked out, squinting but not seeing Joan.
    Joan waved. “Here! Down here.”
    Recognition flashed on her wrinkled visage, and a smile brightened her watery eyes. “My girl,” she called, her voice cracking.
    “Is Kaleb home?”
    “What?”
    Joan cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled louder, “Kaleb—is he there?”
    Zenobia nodded, seemed about to say something but was wracked by a coughing fit. After regaining her breath, she motioned at Joan indicating Kaleb was on his way down.
    Minutes later, he strolled out the front door.
    “Hey Joanie! What’s up?” Kaleb smiled.
    “Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.” She glanced nervously around.
    “Well . . . Hi. Don’t you have to work out today?”
    She paused. “Yeah.”
    “It’s a little late, isn’t it? Are you slacking off?” he joked.
    Without smiling, she motioned him towards the alley and spoke quietly, “Just wanted to give you some information. The TEO is watching you.”
    His placid demeanor turned serious.
    Nodding, she continued, “I heard Captain Nox is looking into the meetings you go to.”
    Kaleb breathed deeply and stared at the ground. “How did you—”
    Joan sighed, “It’s a long story. Just be careful.”
    “I thought I was.” He ran his hand thoughtfully through his hair. “You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you?”
    Joan shook her head.
    He chuckled and nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey, remember that time I let the air out of a tire on