Under Different Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  Taking out a bedroll, Trey hands it to me, saying, “Here, try to get some sleep. We’re staying here until it gets dark. Then, we’ll head west.” I nod, spreading out the blanket. Lying down on the hard ground, every little sound makes my eyes fly open. When Wayra comes back from his patrol to report that the E-One and ALV have headed north, I see them all visibly relax. My eyes droop then, and even though I’m freaked, I’m also completely exhausted, so I sleep.

  **

  Waking up, Jax smiles at me from across the small fire, asking, “Kricket, are you hungry?”

  I sit, stretching my sore muscles. “I’m starving,” I admit.

  Jax hands me a wrapped package. It’s another small pie, but this one tastes like eggs. “It’s quiche,” he says, helpfully.

  “It’s good. Thanks,” I murmur, taking another bite. Trey watches me eat. “How long did I sleep?”

  “About six parts-and before you ask, a part is roughly an hour,” Trey replies. “But, we still have a few parts before we can leave.”

  “Okay.” I finish my food. “Any sign of the knob knockers?” I see Trey cringe, while Wayra smothers a laugh.

  “Kricket, ‘knob knockers’ is not proper language for a young female, such as yourself,” Trey says, sounding old. “And no, they continued north.”

  I grin at Trey. “You don’t think my saying ‘knob knockers’ is polar?” I ask, hearing Jax and Wayra crack up.

  “No, I don’t,” Trey replies, looking sourly at Wayra, who suddenly finds the ceiling interesting. “I think you’ll fit in better if you refrain from using those kinds of words.”

  “Who said I want to fit in—or that I even can fit in?”

  “Why wouldn’t you fit in?” Both Jax and Wayra look down because they know I won’t fit in.

  “Because I’m a realist and this is my life you’re playing with, Cavar,” I reply. “You think you’re delivering me home. I disagree.”

  “You can fit in, you just have to try,” Trey insists.

  “How do you propose I do that? Are you going to teach me etiquette?” I laugh.

  “Yes. Why not?” he responds, staring back at me like he has just agreed to a dare.

  Smiling at him, I ask, “What makes you think I’m uncouth?”

  “I didn’t accuse you of being uncouth, just easily influenced by others.” He glares at Wayra, who looks unrepentant.

  “Okay, this should kill an hour—uh a part,” I amend. “Where would you like to begin teaching me to be a proper Rafe citizen?”

  “Let’s start with salutations,” he says, standing up and offering me his hand to help me up. Ignoring it, I rise on my own, facing him. “How would you greet someone?”

  “Depends. Are you a friend, an acquaintance, a business associate, a teacher, a family member, or a boyfriend?” I ask.

  “A boyfriend,” Wayra says.

  Trey scowls at him, and then he turns to me and answers, “In a formal situation.”

  I hold out my hand to him. When he doesn’t take it, I take his hand in mine, shaking it firmly, saying, “Hello, Trey, it’s very nice to meet you.”

  Jax mimics me, taking Wayra’s hand and saying, “Wayra, it’s very nice to meet you.”

  Wayra pushes Jax away, saying, “Get off.” Then he shivers, like his skin is crawling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He touched me,” Wayra says, frowning.

  “So?”

  “So, he’s going to get hurt if he does it again,” Wayra replies and Jax grins.

  “You don’t shake hands?”

  “No,” Trey says. “Males rarely touch each other.”

  “Really?”

  “And females rarely touch males that they don’t know or that aren’t a part of their family,” he adds, making me feel awkward all of a sudden. I’ve been holding his hand all day, I think, feeling stupid.

  “Okay, so touching is bad. What do I do?” I ask, letting go of his hand.

  “If we are peers, then you incline your head, like a nod, but pause for a moment before you lift your head,” he demonstrates.

  I try to suppress a giggle, mimicking him. He sees it and grins, asking, “What?”

  “It’s just the opposite of the hood greeting. In the hood, you lift your chin up and say, ‘sup,’” I explain. “Do I say anything when I incline my head?”

  “‘Greetings,’ is standard. If you know my name, you may say it.”

  “Ah, just like Kyon, but he touched me,” I murmur. Trey frowns at my words. “How do you greet someone who’s not a peer?”

  With his eyebrows still together, he answers, “If you’re greeting royalty, then you drop to one knee and incline your head, bringing your right arm up to your shoulder.” He demonstrates, looking extremely elegant and poised.

  I follow his lead, asking, “How do I know the difference between a peer and…urr…royalty?” I try to match the refined sweep of his arm with mine.

  “You should be introduced to royalty. You will not greet them unless you’re introduced,” he explains as we both stand again.

  “Ah ha—snobs. So, you’re royalty, right?” I ask, and his eyes go wide, not understanding how I know this about him. “Victus is the one to inherit, but you’re minor royalty—no one seeks your favor,” I repeat almost verbatim what he’d said in the limousine.

  “You were listening to us…in the car,” he states, frowning.

  “I’m always listening—chameleon, remember?” Sinking to my knee again, I incline my head, while bringing my hand up to my shoulder, saying, “Greetings, Trey Allairis.”

  “How do you know my last name?” Trey grasps my upper arm and pulls me to my feet.

  “Kyon mentioned it,” I reply, looking at his hand on my arm. “Uhh, no touching. It’s impolite,” I scold him prudishly. “Now, how would you greet an Alameeda priestess? Would you take a knee for her?”

  “You mean, how would I greet a delegation from Alameeda?” he corrects me. “She would be accompanied by an entourage and I would kneel. Victus would not. He would incline his head. But I wouldn’t kneel if I was a Cavar in the capacity of protection.”

  “Interesting.”

  “You’re a Rafe citizen, Kricket. Your affiliation with the Alameeda will only make you seem less like one of us,” he warns.

  “I’m both. To deny my mother would be wrong.”

  “There may be some who will want to see you crawl because of your heritage.”

  “I’m stone, remember?” I ask, quirking my brow. “I can’t be afraid to fail, or I’ll be stuck wherever you leave me. I can’t hide what I am and there’s always a way around those people—or through them. Don’t worry about what I’ll do next. You won’t be there to see it.”

  “She’s got you there, Trey,” Jax says. He stands up. “You’ll be at the swanks with the blushers. I need you to get me into one.”

  Trey is silent for a moment, not taking his eyes from mine. Then he says, “I don’t know, Jax…I’ll be responsible for you, if I get you in. Do you even know how to comport yourself at a swank?”

  “Yes,” Jax replies. He goes down on one knee before me. Rising up, he asks, “Would you care to comport with me?” He stands at my side holding his arm out in front of him with his other arm behind his back.

  In my most arrogant tone, I say, “Indeed.”

  Jax raises his chin. “You may lay your hand on my arm and I will guide you to the floor.”

  “The floor? Like the dance floor?” I ask, laying my hand on his arm.

  “Mmm,” he agrees with an arrogant nod, looking straight ahead.

  “How does one dance on Ethar?” I ask, extremely curious as he leads me a few steps away from the fire. “Is there touching involved?”

  “Some.”

  I bring my fingers to my lips. “Scandalous,” I reply. I drop my hand. “Are you going to break it down for me?”

  Jax looks a little less arrogant. “Well, I could use some instruction, too. Trey, can you demonstrate?” he asks
.

  “But, you were comporting so well,” Trey replies sarcastically.

  “Oh, you gotta show us your moves, Trey,” I say.

  “Why must I?”

  “Because…you’ll ruin my first kidnapping if you don’t,” I reply, quirking my eyebrow challengingly. “How will I be able to compare it to any future abduction if you don’t at least attempt to show me how you dance?”

  “You’re not being kidnapped. You’re being remanded,” Trey replies, but his eyes soften in the corners.

  “Well then, the least you can do is entertain me before I get remanded..”

  Trey holds up his finger and says, “I will show you one dance, if you promise to show me one that you know.”

  “Deal,” I agree immediately.

  He positions me to face him. Then, he asks, “Do you know any music with stringed instruments?”

  “You mean, like orchestral music?” I wrinkle my nose.

  Yes.”

  “Um…‘Ode To Joy’…Beethoven,” I reply, unsure. “But, I only know the refrain…”

  “How does it go?” he asks.

  Humming the classical music as best I can, he smiles. “Yes, that’s good, keep humming. Now,” holding his hand toward me above our heads, he continues, “Touch your fingertips to mine…no, left hand to left hand. Doing as he instructs, he adds, “Make sure you keep eye contact with me. Now, we will turn so that you will be standing where I am and I will be in your position.”

  “Half turn…got it,” I back around as he moves forward.

  “Now, we switch hands and repeat the same movement.”

  After we do, he says, “Now, we drop our hands and you curtsy and I bow to you.”

  “Curtsy?” I falter, grinning. “How does one curtsy?” Jax, standing by us, demonstrates a curtsy, which I attempt to imitate.

  Wayra chimes in, “Why are you so good at curtsying, Jax?”

  Ignoring him, Trey says, “Then we both face the far wall. I will extend my hand up to you again and you will meet it with yours, just allowing our fingertips to touch again.”

  “Then, what?” I feel the heat of his fingers on mine. A slight blush begins coloring my cheeks while I gaze in his eyes.

  Trey’s expression is serious. “Then we drop our hands and look straight ahead, taking a step.” We do as he says. “Then, we turn our heads toward each other again, make eye contact and our hands touch again.”

  “So, this is a weird kind of line dancing,” I say, continuing to follow his moves.

  “Hmm?” he asks, raising his brow.

  “Never mind,” I wave my hand.

  “Those are the basics for that particular dance.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “The revel.”

  “Well, no one will accuse you all of being b-boys,” I murmur, smiling at him. “I’m almost afraid to show you how we dance. You might have a heart attack.”

  “Why? Is it dangerous?” he asks, looking confused.

  “Uhh…you could say that. What can I show you that won’t totally freak you out?” I ask rhetorically, thinking. “OH! I know. I’ll teach you salsa! My roommate, Bridget—her real name is Brigida, she’s Cuban-American—she changed it to Bridget because she thinks it helps on job applications,” I explain. “She makes me dance with her all the time.”

  Spinning around him, I show Trey how to turn and then to shift me in his arms so that I will spin away from him. “Once I’m out here, pull my hand to bring me back to you,” I instruct, feeling him pull me back. Winding inward on his arm, I end up pressed to his chest. Smiling and looking up at Trey, I say, “And that’s basically how…you…salsa…” I trail off, my fingers curling on his chest at his intense expression. He drops his chin down, his face coming close to mine.

  “I’m next,” Wayra says behind me, coming closer.

  “No way. I’m next,” Jax counters.

  Trey freezes with his face very close to mine. “No one’s next. It’s time to go,” he says softly, letting go of me and turning away. “Pack up the gear and put out the fire, I’ll scout the area before we leave. We’ll move silently tonight. No talking once we exit the cave. Do you understand?” Trey asks in a tight tone, turning back to me. He looks angry, like I did something wrong. “We need to complete the mission so we can get back to our lives.”

  Raising my chin a notch, I say, “Got it.”

  Trey nods, leaving immediately for the mouth of the cave. I follow more slowly, mentally kicking myself for being so stupid. These guys aren’t my friends, not even close. They're being paid to do a job. They’re delivering me to some kind of scary institution where I’ll be subject to someone else’s whims. My heart twists inside my chest, because I can’t help feeling as if they’re betraying me. I’m stone…nothing touches me…nothing, I repeat in my head, while putting on my night-vision glasses and walking into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 9

  SPLIT THE WORLD IN TWO

  Running through the night, I’m dodging between trees and over terrain that’s as magical as it is dangerous. I’m directly behind Trey; he’s blocking branches for me while maintaining an easier pace than before. We stop before a clearing that’s carpeted with wildflowers and singing insects and I accept the canteen from Jax.

  Gazing around, everything is clear to me, almost as crisp as daylight. My night-vision glasses allow me to see the colors of the flowers: brilliant vermilion and fuchsia, with intoxicating fragrances. I lean down and bring my face close to the beautiful red bloom near me. Inhaling its scent, the petals brush against my cheek; it feels like the silk of a scarf my mother once owned. I pluck the bloom, tucking it behind my ear.

  In seconds, Trey grasps my arm, tugging me to him and pulling the flower from my hair, throwing it on the ground. Grasping my chin painfully, he turns my head as his fingers sweep the place where the bloom had rested. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” Trey asks in a low, harsh tone. Turning my chin so that I’m forced to look at his face, his eyebrows shoot together as he scowls at me. He points his finger in my face. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “What?” I ask feebly.

  “Don’t you know what lives on those flowers—what kind of poisonous insect inhabits them?” I can’t read his eyes, because his glasses are blocking them, but his mouth is stretched in a grim line.

  “Uhh—” I breathe, not able to think because he’s right in my face, looking furious enough to hit me. My heart jumps into my throat. I want to run, but I can’t because he’s still holding my chin. “I won’t—touch anything. I’m sorry—” I stutter in a low whisper, feeling all of the color leaving my face. I hate myself in this moment. I misjudged him. He’s more dangerous than I gave him credit for.

  His tirade is far from over as he continues to question me. “Why would you put something like that in your hair, so close to your ear?” His grip tightens on my chin. I try not to flinch or pull it away from him.

  “I…thought it was…pretty.”

  His hand on my arm tightens, “You think a turbine worm, drilling in your ear would be pretty?” he asks me, like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever met.

  “SIR!” Jax yells in an agitated tone behind Trey. “Can I speak with you?”

  I hold my breath, hoping he’ll let me go. Slowly, Trey’s grip eases as he drops his hand from my chin. “Report,” Trey barks, still glaring at me.

  “In confidence,” Jax replies, frowning at me, too. Trey lets me go completely and I immediately back up from him, putting some distance between us. Trey continues to scowl as he gestures Jax toward the woods behind them.

  I perch tentatively on a large rock and wrap my arms around my body. I scan the ground for anything that could possibly resemble a turbine worm. My chin aches a little, but I refuse to rub it or show any sign that what just happened had hurt me in the least. Never show weakness.

  “Kricket,” Jax says my name and I duck my head like a guilty criminal.

  “What?” I answer, rising from my rock to
face him. Trey is only a few steps behind.

  “How often do you see flowers growing wild in Chicago?”

  “Uh…” I clear my throat because it feels tight all of a sudden. “Well, corporate buildings sometimes have small terrariums…” I mumble.

  “Are those flowers wild?” he asks, frowning.

  “No,” I reply, feeling like an idiot as my face gets redder.

  “And if you picked one of those flowers, what would happen?”

  “Um, I’d probably get fired and security might escort me out of the building.”

  “You wouldn’t be worried that it could kill you?”

  Shaking my head, I drop my chin a little more, feeling stupid again. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to give into them, forcing them back down.

  “Because you’ve never seen any flowers that can kill, right?” he asks in a gentle tone. “And there has been no one in your life who stood by you—protected you by warning you about things like dangerous plants?”

  I try to appear casual as I shrug. “My friends weren’t concerned with botany.”

  “No, it was all about urban survival and if we were in Chicago, you could show us what not to touch.” He smiles at me.

  I shrug again. “That, and maybe a free meal at happy hour—I know a place in the loop that serves free pasta marinara and you only have to buy a coke.”

  “I’d bet a thousand fardrooms that you do,” Jax says sadly. “We should go. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  I nod, keeping my shoulders back and my eyes averted as I walk by Trey. We move slower through the open fields, Trey and Wayra are both leading the way now and using the scopes on their recurves to scan the surrounding woods. Skirting a herd of what looks like horses, my skin prickles, noticing that each one has two long, wicked horns growing out of its head just behind its ears. Shivering, I ask, “What are those?” because I’m learning that everything here should be treated with the utmost caution.

  “Spixes,” Wayra answers me.

  “Friendly?”

  “Not particularly. Those are wild ones,” Wayra replies, nodding toward the herd. “But they can be trained and ridden.”