Ash

by Shani Petroff

  “No. I just feel like dressing up, that’s all,” I lied as we walked on.

  “Sure,” she agreed between giggles. “It has nothing to do with how funny he is or popular… or what was it you said last week? Something about how cute guys with freckles are?”

  My answering glare just made her laugh all the harder as we approached Sol. He was still stretched out on the stone wall surrounding the school, busily tapping something into his wrist tracker. Ink black hair spilled down over one of his eyes, and he tucked it behind his ear as we approached.

  “Nice one out there,” he told me. “That was a Revenant move if ever I’ve seen one.” He karate chopped the air with a flourish.

  “Yeah, right,” I said with a grin. The Revenants were a myth, though times like today I wished they were real. I gave the air a few jabs of my own in response—a left hook, then a right, pretending it was Bastin Worthington’s head.

  “I take it back,” Sol said. “With moves like that, you couldn’t pay them to take you.”

  “Hey!” I said, but laughed all the same. Sol could be funny when he wanted to be. Especially for a guy who wouldn’t be around much longer.

  “Though while I have your attention, perhaps you’d be interested in a friendly

  wager on tonight’s race? I already have a grid going on speed, times, rankings. I haven’t been able to get anyone to bet on first place yet. Dax, how about it?”

  Laira rolled her eyes at him. Partially because what he was asking was ridiculous and partially because gambling was illegal. Not that Sol really cared about the rules; he had a whole side business hacking into the school’s computers to steal exams and change grades.

  “No thanks,” I said, fluttering my fingers in a wave as Laira and I turned to go.

  We all knew who tonight’s champion would be. And I knew better than to bet against destiny.

  “Be ready at four-fifteen sharp,” I told Bas as I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and ran toward Perse Manor. Times like this—the times that I’m off schedule even by a few minutes—my home can feel more than a little overbearing. It sits back several hundred yards from the road and all but the third story turrets are hidden by the surrounding hedges. I raced up to the front door, anxious to tell my father about my part in today’s arrest. I knew he’d be proud. I was taken aback to see him standing in the foyer waiting for me with folded arms.

  “You’re late,” he said.

  “I know, but—”

  “I don’t want excuses,” he said, before I could explain my tardiness.

  “If you’d just let me—”

  He cut me off again. “Look up there.”

  Above my head hung a crystal chandelier, and from that hung an old-fashioned sundial. Time’s shadow stretched over the purple veins in our marbled floor, stopping next to my feet. I was twenty minutes late.

  “I keep that in our entranceway as a reminder,” my father said. “A reminder of how important time is. You, of all people, should understand that.” His voice echoed through the large space.

  “I have a good reason,” I answered softly.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t looking for an explanation; he was looking for an apology. “You knew you were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. There is a schedule to keep. You have responsibilities to this country, as do I.”

  No kidding. He reminded me of them every single day. All that mattered to him was his precious schedule.

  “It’ll be fine,” I replied. “I don’t need a full two hours to get ready. I set my hair last night and Nora already laid out my dress.” I wanted to add that this conversation was wasting more time than it took me to get home, but I stopped myself. You didn’t mess with my father when he had that look in his eyes.

  “That’s not the point,” he said. “It’s my job to make sure you’re safe and where you need to be when you’re supposed to be there.”

  I studied a particularly wide vein of purple cutting through the floor. I wondered how he’d feel when he found out I’d had a run-in with a criminal. So much for keeping me safe. But I wasn’t going to say anything. Not now. He could find out from someone else. “It’s not like you didn’t know where I was,” I said instead. “My wrist tracker was turned on. You could have pinged me. You would have seen I was still at school.”

  “I shouldn’t have to ping you. You’re going to be one of the world’s most important leaders next year. You shouldn’t need your father tracking you down like some delinquent Ash. You are Madden Sumner, future Minister of the Seven.”

  His chest swelled as he said those last five words. It was like my destiny was all he cared about. Well, aside from his own.

  “I know that.”

  “Then act like it. You owe it to your people.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. He was always right. I had a responsibility. I shouldn’t have wasted time dealing with Dax Harris.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I won’t be late again.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now go get ready. The car will be by to pick you up shortly.”

  “Aren’t you coming with me?” I looked up at him in surprise.

  His eyes were cold and impatient. “I’ve given up my seat. Tonight’s race isn’t the only thing happening in this city. I have important business to attend to at the UV.”

  “You’re not coming at all?” I asked. We were finally going to do something fun together, and I’d been looking forward to it since last year’s championship.

  “My duty is to all the rings, not just you, Madden. Try to remember that.”

  “Of course,” I replied, biting back the words I really wanted to say. Don’t you remember what it used to be like? When you still laughed once in a while? When you thought of me as your daughter instead of a future minister?

  But he probably didn’t. The laughter had left the house right around the time my mother did. Vanders Sumner didn’t mess around with fun and games anymore. His destiny was to guard and protect, and since my mother’s death he took it seriously. He was the government’s Chief of Security. He would protect his country. He would protect his daughter. And at the rate he was going, he would protect himself from ever feeling anything, ever again. I was used to his approach to parenting by now. After all, it had just been the two of us for fourteen years, if you didn’t count Nora. But even after all this time, I still kept hoping he might warm up.

  Instead he gave me a formal nod, then turned and walked away.

  “Dad,” I called after him. “Sorry again.”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t even turn back around. He just continued down the hall.

  I bit my lip and marched up the curving staircase. Today was not going the way it was supposed to. Instead of being proud, my father was mad at me. And to make matters worse, I’d lost control of a conversation in front of an audience. All because Dax Harris had decided to make a point that no one cared about.

  I walked down the long hallway leading to my wing. I stopped to adjust one of the series of Monet paintings hanging from the wall. They were some of the only original artworks to survive the Event. I stared into the water lilies and gave myself a chance to compose myself. I wasn’t successful. Hot, salty tears still pricked at my eyes as I entered my bedroom.

  “There you are, Madden,” Nora said. “Let’s get you dressed. We don’t have much time.”

  I tossed my schoolbag onto the floor as Nora bustled around the room. The book that Laira had asked me to sign peeked out from one corner. It was a symbol of everything that had gone wrong today and I took a deep breath, trying not to lose control.

  Nora made her way to me and began tugging at the laces that tied the bodice of my day dress. “Here we go. Free at last. Now, let’s—” She grabbed my face in her hands. “Honey, what happened? Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not,” I protested, plastering on a smile. Ministers of the Seven did not cry and definitely not in public. “Just something in my eye,” I said, composing myself.

/>   I hoped Nora would leave it at that, but she knew me too well. She sat down on the edge of my bed and patted the seat beside her. “Come tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s nothing. Honest.” I walked over to my closet instead. A dark purple silk gown hung outside my closet door. “Wow. Willa outdid herself this time.” My stylist definitely knew how to provide the perfect outfit for any occasion. My championship dress was no exception. The top was fitted and flared down into a fringed organza A-line skirt that reached the floor. Although I could have added accessories in black or white, I always felt for a future minister a full purple ensemble was the way to go. Aside from my signature zone bracelets, of course. Today’s outfit would be game-stopping. There were going to be just as many eyes on me as on Aldan Harris. “Help me put it on.”

  Nora got up and lifted the dress over my head. “Don’t try changing the subject. You can’t fool me, Maddy. The others, yes. But I know better.”

  I smiled at that. Nora was the only one who called me anything but Madden. Well her and Link. But he hardly counted any more. Nora only used the nickname when I was upset. She always knew if something was bothering me, even if no one else could tell. After all, she’d practically raised me. My family moved from the Crimson to Purple zone, and straight into Perse Manor, when I was born. My mom and dad were both Crimson, but my birth, my destiny, made the zoning council reevaluate. My parents were quickly bumped up to Purples, both in status and living situation, and Nora kind of came with the house.

  Her destiny was to serve those higher than her, and in the government’s book that meant serving Purples. But while she won’t say it to anyone, I know that’s not how she sees it. Nora believes in a higher power that goes beyond science, but I don’t say anything. I wouldn’t want to get her in trouble.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, smoothing out the bottom of my dress. “You know you can always talk to me.”

  “It’s just my dad being my dad. It’s like he doesn’t see me anymore. All he sees is my destiny.” I wanted to say more, but I felt myself getting choked up. “Never mind.”

  Nora sat me down into a rocking chair in the corner of my room and kneeled before me. “Now you listen to me. Your father loves you very much. Do you understand me?” I twisted my colored zone bracelets, and Nora put her hands over mine. “He just has a hard time showing it now.” My eyes darted to the cube on my dresser and Nora followed my gaze. Pictures of my mother filled each side, changing shots every ten seconds. Nora went and picked it up. “You look just like her, you know. Same chestnut hair. Same wide smile. It makes it harder for him.” A younger Mila Sumner—everyone always said that, but I didn’t see it. We looked similar, I supposed, but my mother had this energy, this fire that you could see even through a photo. I had nothing like that. Maybe she could have taught me had she lived longer, but I was only three when she died. My father wouldn’t talk about her or any of her family now. Sometimes it felt like Nora was all I had. I stood up and gave her an impulsive hug.

  “Thanks, Nora,” I said.

  “Of course, sweetheart. Now it’s time to cheer up. You hear me?” she said grabbing on to my chin. “You have a big function to go to, and more than one boy to impress, am I right?”

  “Just Bas,” I told her.

  “Mmhmm,” she said and gave me a wink. “But let’s make Link jealous all the same.” I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t told anyone that I was nervous, and admittedly a tiny bit excited, about seeing Link again tonight. But Nora sensed it.

  She whisked me over to my vanity and got to work, and I watched the transformation with my usual amazement. “You get prettier every day,” Nora said when she completed her handiwork. “I can’t believe you’re almost seventeen. You look so grown up.” Nora had done my makeup to perfection. The liner made my brown eyes look sultry and mysterious, without looking sooty. And that was just the start. My cheekbones appeared razor sharp, my lips the perfect bow shape, and my skin clear and dewy. My hair tumbled in waves, softly framing Nora’s work. I thought about giving her another hug, but it was getting close to leaving time and my father would walk in any minute. He didn’t approve of friendships with lower rings. While Nora wasn’t an Ash or even a Slate or Brown, she was a Yellow—and the help. He’d just yell at her again for treating me like a child instead of an up-and-coming leader. Plus, it was my fault we took so long getting ready. Portia and Lavendar wouldn’t stop pinging me, and I had to coach Lavendar through a wardrobe crisis. After all, it wouldn’t have been very minister-like to ignore a friend in need. Portia’s pings, however, I let sit unanswered. She’d laughed at Dax Harris’s prank, which I wasn’t going to forget any time soon. My lack of response said more than any message.

  “One last finishing touch,” Nora said, reaching into my closet. “You said you wanted something a little different for your hair tonight, so I had Willa make something special.” She took out a hatbox and opened it up, revealing a wreath made of fresh lilies, my mother’s favorite flower.

  “Nora, it’s ultra. Thank you!” She carefully placed the halo on my head and the sugar-sweet smell of the flowers washed over me. I truly felt special.

  “Your Aunt Maeve loved flower wreaths. When she moved into the house with your parents, she had Willa design her one every day, even if she wasn’t going anywhere fancy. Maeve was—”

  “What is that?” my father said. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed in front of him, and glowered at Nora.

  “Oh hello, Mr. Sumner,” Nora said in surprise. “We’re just finishing with Madden’s hair. Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

  He shook his head, ignoring the question. “You know better than to bring that woman’s name up in my home. I will not have my daughter made up to look like her. You and I will speak about this later, Nora.”

  “Oh, sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way. We just wanted to try something new tonight for the occasion.”

  My dad just glared. “Take it off and have her downstairs in five minutes. The car is waiting, and she cannot be late.”

  Nora bobbed her head. “Yes, sir.”

  My father left, slamming my door shut behind him.

  “I’m sorry, Maddy,” Nora said, rushing to my side and removing the wreath. “I should have known better.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I watched Nora gently place the wreath back in its box with a twinge of sadness. “He was overreacting. If it wasn’t about Aunt Maeve, it would have been about something else, I’m sure.”

  Although Maeve really was a touchy subject. The last time I’d seen my mom’s sister was when I was five. My father refused to even speak her name, let alone tell me anything about her. There’d been rumors about her being crazy and fleeing New City to live in the woods. That was before it had become illegal to go off grid. No one had ever told me the real story.

  “Was Maeve really that bad?” I asked Nora.

  Nora glanced at the door, then lowered her voice. “At the end, I suppose. But once upon a time, she was very wise, very brave, like your mother. Like you.” She patted me on the back. “You should get going. You don’t want to keep your father waiting.”

  I certainly didn’t feel very brave, but it helped that Nora believed in me. It reminded me that, if nothing else, I could fake it better than anyone.

  I reached the tree at the end of my street and checked my wrist tracker. Thirty-eight minutes-fifteen seconds. A personal best, and I wasn’t even out of breath. By the end of the year, I was sure to shave my run home down to an even thirty. The thought gave me an extra burst of energy, and I almost sprinted to my door, but a sea of red dresses blocked my path. As luck would have it, a gaggle of Crimson girls, no more than ten years old, were gathered on the pavement near my home.

  My family lived in one half of a two-story aluminum duplex, identical to all of the others on the block. This time of day, the sunlight hitting the solar panels made the area’s rooftops sparkle. The girls didn’t seem to know w
hat to do with all of the uniformity. Crimson neighborhoods weren’t pre-fab like mine. They were giggling to themselves as I made my way around them.

  “I’m pretty sure this is where he lives,” the tall one with bushy eyebrows squealed. “I was able to track him this far, but he’s not in my ping circle, so I don’t know which house is his.”

  While it wasn’t typical to see this many Crimsons in my area, it wasn’t exactly out of the norm. Aldan’s fans—especially the girls—had a tendency to hunt him down, even if it meant coming to the Yellow ring.

  “You can ask her,” the tiny one said when she spotted me watching them from the doorway. She sucked the end of her cherry red braid as she waited for her friend to answer.

  For a second I actually thought I’d help them. Give them the thrill of their life and call my brother down to say hello. That was until I saw their expressions.

  “Are you nuts?” Bushy eyebrows asked. She lowered her voice in disgust. “She’s an Ash.”

  “But I really want to see Aldan,” the little one whined.

  “Fine,” Bushy eyebrows relented. “Everyone put out a fist.” They did as she instructed and she began that old childhood rhyme I detested. “Purple, Crimson, Green, Yellow, Brown, Slate, Ash, touch one from the outer rings and you’ll get a rash. You are out. Ha! Rose, you’re it, go ask her.”

  A skinny Crimson with tight blonde curls and a red pleated dress to match her ring affiliation took a few steps toward me. “Ash,” she said, giving me a condescending look, “where does Aldan Harris live?”

  “A few buildings that way,” I replied, pointing down the street, toward the garbage dumpster at the end of the block. It would smell particularly ripe with the warm weather we’d been having. “Can’t miss it – it’s the one with the metal door.”

  I closed our own metal door behind me just as Rose exclaimed, “But, wait, they’re all metal.”