by Ramona Finn
“You don’t know that.” I watched the street below me, the people scurrying about their business. They weren’t so different from the Outsiders—a little grayer, a little wearier, but still much the same. “Lazrad’s letting us Ascend,” I said. “Me and Lock and Ona, the day after tomorrow. I’d be in Sky, close to Lazrad Corp. Close to what Lazrad has that the Decemites don’t. I could find Ona a cure.”
“Or you could die trying.” Gran got to her feet. She looked ancient in that moment, pale and brittle as ivory. “If Ascension’s just a funeral, why wait? How do you know you won’t step off that elevator into an incinerator?”
“I don’t, I suppose. But Ona—”
“Let me tell you about your mother.” She came up beside me and drew the curtains shut. “Faye was a bright girl, and curious just like you. She taught herself how to read, how to figure, how to knit her own sweaters, all before her first day of school. She grew herbs in a windowbox from cuttings from the mess hall. In another world, she’d have been a doctor, or a botanist, or a wife. She’d have carved out her own happiness, but instead—” Her voice cracked, and she coughed. “Lazrad took everything from her.”
“Gran—”
“Faye wanted one thing for herself—the simplest thing of all. She wanted to watch you grow up. Instead, she kissed you goodbye, and she never came home.”
I made a hurt little sound. My chest felt hollow. Gran pulled me back to the table, grip tight and insistent.
“I can’t watch that happen to you.” Her eyes were huge and watery. “They chipped away everything she was, everything that brought her joy. Stay here, and you might live, but what kind of life would you have? The Lofties’ cage is gilded, but it’s a cage all the same.”
I sank down on a cushion, heart hammering in my chest. “So you think I should go?”
“I think you should run. Run and keep running, and never look back. Forget all of this and find a way to be happy.” Gran sighed. “It’s never been my way, telling anyone what to do. But you’re my granddaughter and I love you, and I’m terrified for you.”
I closed my eyes. Fifty Decemites at once, bearing down on the caves. I’d seen what just five looked like, smoke in the air and bodies underfoot, terrified children huddled in the dark. Fifty would be a rout. I had to warn Ben—but warn him of what? A Decemite attack? He’d be expecting that already. I had nothing new to offer him, no when, no where, no how. Maybe they wouldn’t attack. For all I knew, they were digging a mine.
I’ve got my battle to fight, Ben had said, and you’ve got yours. Maybe the Outsiders had moved on, now the Decemites had found their base. They had others, I knew, places to run to. They knew how to stay safe, far better than I did. Ona, on the other hand—
“I should go,” I said. “Mom and Dad’ll be waiting. I don’t want them to worry.”
“You’re a dear, kind girl.” Gran’s face contorted. “But this isn’t a kind world. If you don’t look out for yourself, who will?”
“You always have.” I got up and kissed her on the top of her head. Her shawl had slid down, so I nestled it around her shoulders to keep out the chill. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if there’s time.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, if it meant you were free.”
I had nothing to say to that, so I let myself out. I kept my ears pricked heading home, but nobody else mentioned the Decemites or any great foray Outside. Dad was dishing up dinner when I got home, piling our plates with steamed carrots and Ona’s favorite onion pies. He’d made me a treat, too, a tray of fluffy cornbread, baked with caraway seeds.
“Hurry and wash your hands.” Mom pointed me to the sink. She was smiling too brightly, cheeks flushed with exertion. Dad ushered her to the table and pulled out her chair.
“Stop hovering,” she scolded. “I’m fine.”
“Then why’s the oven still on?”
I turned the tap on full blast to drown out their chatter. They were trying too hard, playing at normal. I felt awkward, unmoored, like bumping into an acquaintance fresh off bereavement leave. I was caught in that same dilemma—offer my condolences, or don’t? Acknowledge their loss or pretend it never happened?
“I’m getting my ears pierced,” said Ona. She elbowed in next to me, thrusting her hands under the spray. “Lady Lazrad had earrings. Did you see?”
“You’ll stretch your earlobes,” said Mom. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you can tie them in a bow.”
“Let the girls have their moment.” Dad raised his glass. “Come on. Let’s toast to them. This is everything we’ve dreamed of.”
I pushed past Ona, nearly bumping her into the sink. “My shirt’s soaked,” I said. “I’m going to get changed.”
“Wait. Let’s all—”
I fled to my room and slammed the door behind me. Plaster drifted from the ceiling and settled at my feet. I looked up and saw cracks, the same familiar roadmap I’d stared at for years. In my mind, I saw it spreading, and the Dirt crashing through, all the weight of my prison grinding me to dust.
I think you should run. Forget all of this and find a way to be happy.
Outside, Ona laughed. I sank to my knees. If I ran, she’d be lost to me. Sky would swallow her up, and I’d never know if she lived or died.
Fifty Decemites. All fifty.
I buried my face in my hands. For all I knew, they’d shipped out already. I could run all I liked and still be too late. Ben would die, then Ona, and where would I turn? I could never come home. I’d be an outcast, a wanderer, drifting from camp to camp. I couldn’t settle, couldn’t feel for anyone, knowing I’d just lose them.
“Myla? Where’d you get to?”
“Just a minute.” I heaved myself upright and stripped off my wet shirt. In or out—I couldn’t choose. I grabbed a fresh blouse instead, one Mom thought looked nice on me, and buttoned it up to the collar. For now, I wouldn’t choose. For now, I’d smile and celebrate, let Mom and Dad remember me happy.
Tomorrow, I didn’t know.
Chapter Six
Ona was up and dressed, clomping about the kitchen in her boots when I emerged the next morning. She started when she saw me, and the tips of her ears turned red. I smirked, amused.
“What are you doing, stealing leftovers?”
“Not stealing. Just eating.” She snagged a hunk of cornbread and stood eating it over the sink. “I didn’t mean to wake anyone. I thought I was being quiet.”
“I was up anyway.” I took some cornbread for myself, though I’d lost my taste for it. It wasn’t as savory as I remembered, or as rich. I took a bite anyway, chewed and swallowed. Ona finished hers and ducked past me.
“Where are you going?” I snatched at her sleeve. “It’s moving day, remember? We’ve got to help pack.”
“I know. I’ll be back for that. I’m just dropping by Sky Station.”
“Sky Station? Why?”
“To say goodbye.” Her face fell. “It just hit me, I’m Ascending, but my friends... it’ll be five years till I see them again. I’ll be a whole different person. What if they don’t like me?” A note of panic crept into her voice. “What if they hate me already? I only went on one mission, and now I’m jumping the line. What if they won’t even talk to me?”
“They’re your friends, right? You’re being paranoid.” I grabbed my coat off its peg and shimmied into it. “Wait up. I’ll come with you. I’ve got some folks to see too.”
Ona bounced impatiently as I pulled on my boots. She looked like she had to pee, and I told her so.
“Just hurry,” she said. “There’s some exercise today, some big training thing. I heard they might be out all night. If we don’t make it now—”
“O-kay.” I finished lacing my boots and got to my feet, scowling to hide my unease. Out all night—all of them? Was this Ben’s death, already? I jogged after Ona, feeling sick. “That training thing—”
“I don’t know. I’m off duty. No one’s given me any details.” She bounded up the stairs, boots po
unding on the metal. I could hear her frustration in the hiss of her breath, sharp little huffs through her teeth.
“Could you find out? Ask around, maybe, if—”
“What do you care? It’s a training mission. But if it’ll make you happy...”
“It will.”
Nobody challenged us as we charged past the refinery and the sorting station, all the way to the surface. I braced myself for the glare of Sky Station, but no sunlight greeted us as we pushed through. The sky above was dark, just the palest flush of dawn along the horizon. It was earlier than I’d thought, but still, the platform was crowded. The remnants of A-team had congregated by the exit, B-team and C-team along with them. The bench by the wall was elbow-to-elbow Decemites, some chattering, some eating, a few trying to sleep. One of them clocked us and peeled away from the rest. She was E-team yellow, same as Ona. I spotted fresh blaster burns on her vest, shiny patches where she’d had it mended.
“Hey, Ona.” Her gaze darted to me, and she frowned. “Is that your sister?”
“Yeah. I’m Myla.”
“You can’t be up here.” She shooed us back, away from the others. “Not to be a jerk, or anything. Just, if Prium sees you—”
“I know. I get it.” I turned to go, but Ona grabbed my wrist.
“Come on. She’s Ascending. Just this once?” She pooched out her lower lip. “C’mon, Nina.”
“I can’t.” Nina’s tone turned pleading. “It’s different for you. You’re a hero. I’m still earning my place, so please.”
Ona’s grip tightened on my arm. I shook her off, as gently as I could. “I’ve got my own friends to see,” I said. “You two have fun. I’ll be downstairs when you’re through.”
Ona looked torn, but she didn’t try to stop me. The rest of E-team clustered around her, peppering her with questions. I hurried back the way I’d come, catching my breath as I passed the big Outside door. The guard was the same, regular watch, half-asleep. It was the door that had changed, cutting off any hope of escape. A shiny new panel gleamed in its frame—a biometric scanner, like Lock had used to get in. I’d have to force the door if I wanted out, or force some Decemite to let me out. Either way, it wouldn’t be quick or discreet.
The stairwell was the same, now I was looking, cameras at every landing, freshly installed. They swiveled to follow me, gears whirring. I didn’t speculate on who was watching, but I found out anyway, halfway down.
“This floor’s Lofties only,” said Miron. He blocked my path with his body, elbows jutting wide. “Well, Lofties and Decemites, and I know you’re not either.”
“I’m just leaving.” I waited for him to move, but Miron stayed put. He licked his lips, shuffled his feet, and I realized he was nervous. Had Prium rebuked him for rubbing gum in my face? Or had our positions reversed, somehow, now I was Ascending? I glanced at the nearest camera, and back at him.
“I’m going to Sky,” I said. “Did you hear?”
“I heard.” He went tight all over, like his skin had shrunk two sizes. His Adam’s apple bobbed and twitched.
“Maybe we’ll be neighbors.” I smiled, sweet as honey. Miron went purple.
“You’ll be—you and me—”
“Yeah?”
“Get out of my stairwell.” He stepped back at last, and I swept past him. I felt dirty doing it, like I’d stooped to his level, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I beamed all the way down, straight into the cameras. I didn’t care who saw.
My glee faded slowly as I waited for Ona. Despite what I’d told her, I didn’t feel like saying goodbye. I wasn’t close to anyone the way she was, and besides, goodbyes sucked. I’d come to scope out my exit, and there was none—not through Sky Station, not for me. Even here, patrols were up. A lone watchman passed me as I bought water from a vending machine. Ten minutes later, he passed by again. He had a blaster, I noticed. That was new.
Miron came off his break and stalked past me without a word. Ona joined me soon after, bubbling with good spirits.
“Nina promised she’ll find me,” she said. “The minute she Ascends. We made a pact, me and her and Sarah. We’ll move in together, some place above the Stars. That way, when Mom and Dad look up, we’ll be right there.”
“Yeah? That sounds nice.”
“You’ll be there too, of course.” Her expression turned worried. “I didn’t mean we’d leave you out.”
“’Course not.” My chest went tight. Ona was a kid, still, in every way that mattered, just a kid eager to please. “Hey, your friend up there, Nina. Is she okay?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“She had blaster burns on her vest.” I patted at my own ribs, where Nina’s patches had been. “Did something happen out there?”
“Oh, they took out some filcher camp, a day or two back. She’s fine, though. Her vest caught the worst of it.”
The air went out of my lungs, leaving me breathless. “Filcher camp? What’s that?”
“Just where the rebels sleep, when they’re out stealing gretha. Like where they kept Lock.” Her lip peeled back in a sneer. “They kept him in a landfill. Did he tell you?”
I clenched my fists. My legs felt weak. “Only after he tried to get away.”
“I don’t get how you defend them.” Ona made a disgusted sound. “They shot me. Did you forget?”
“Did you forget they fed you? Let you out of your cell?” I spun her around to face me. “What about Jasper? What was wrong with him? He let you play with his radio. You babysat his kid. You ate his fruit every day, hung out in his lab. What’d he ever do to you? What’d Ben do, or Jetha?”
“Jasper was okay,” said Ona. She fidgeted with her cuff, avoiding my eye. “He reminded me of Dad. But anyone can be nice when they’re getting something in exchange. I was his guinea pig, so he was nice to me. But if it was just me and Jasper and the last tank of gretha...” Ona shook her head. “You knew them a few weeks, and you knew them at their best. Us Decemites, it’s different. We know things you don’t.”
“Like what?”
Ona turned and walked away. I grabbed for her again, but this time, she dodged me. “I don’t want to fight,” she said. “I just—Nina’s not just my best friend. The way you are with Ben, that’s me and her. I can’t act like I’m fine with her getting shot at.”
“Fair enough.” I fell in beside her, and we headed back across the catwalk. I didn’t want to fight, either. Mom and Dad would be up by now and wondering where we’d got to. The least we could do was come home smiling.
“Oh, that training thing, with all the Decemites?” Ona paused at the top of the stairs. “I heard B-team talking. It’s something to do with rigur. So whatever you’re thinking, relax. It’s not that.”
I smiled to keep from screaming. Every Decemite in Echelon, hunting down rigur, and Ona thought that was good news? Whatever Lazrad had planned, she was ramping up her efforts. Soon, the Outsiders would have nothing to offer her, and she’d exterminate them like rats. I was sure of it now, more than ever. Prime and subprime, she’d called us, and she’d looked right through us. She’d promised us rewards and snatched us from our home. She might’ve been human once, but she was something else now, something cold and empty.
I couldn’t let Ona Ascend alone.
Ona stood in the middle of the street, head tilted back, arms out to the sides.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, and she did a slow spin. The stars lay scattered at her feet, sunlight dappled on stone. They blinked in and out as she caught the light in her hands. Not so long ago, I’d have joined her, but today I hung back. I watched her dance under the grate, and I felt my heart breaking.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, thinking of Ben. Mom shot me a narrow look.
“What?”
“Nothing. She’s so happy.”
“Aren’t you?” She set down her bags and took my hand in hers. “You’ll be together,” she said. “That was always our worst fear, the two of you losing each other. Your father
and I—we love you, but Ona’s your sister.”
“She is.” I willed myself not to cry. Whichever way I looked at it, I couldn’t run to Ben. The risk was too high, the reward too uncertain. At best, I’d arrive in time, and warn him of... what? Decemites hunting rigur? A brewing attack? I had nothing but rumors, nothing he couldn’t guess for himself. Worse still, I couldn’t help much. I couldn’t harvest gretha, not without Lock. I couldn’t fight off an army, or keep one alive.
“Myla! Get over here.” Ona held out her hands. I ran up and joined her, and she spun me around. “That’s ours, up there. Well, Mom’s and Dad’s.” She pointed behind me, at a long, cloistered balcony. “They can almost touch the stars. If we stood up there and sang to them, I bet they’d hear us.”
A wave of despair washed over me. Somehow, I knew we’d never stand on that grate. They’d never let us near it, near our parents or our past.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I said.
Ona laughed. “What could happen to me?” She let go of my hands and rubbed at her middle. “Even my rash is getting better. It’s from Outside, like I said.”
I couldn’t look at her. I turned my head toward the house. “Should we go in?”
Ona bounded ahead of me, a bundle of energy. Dad was already inside, puttering about in the kitchen. He looked small, standing there, dwarfed by his surroundings. Our whole place could’ve fit in the kitchen, with room for a dog. A big window opened over the sink, looking out on a neat square of grass. A tree stood in the center, an actual tree, and I wondered if it was the kind that bore fruit. Ona bumped up against me, craning to see.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said.
We thundered up a spiral staircase, wrought metal overgrown with ivy. The upstairs was airy, four rooms on our left, the balcony to our right. It stood open to the hallway, letting the sounds of the square filter in.
“Those would’ve been our rooms,” said Ona, peering into the smallest one. “If we weren’t Ascending.”
