by Cheree Alsop
“What did he write?”
“Poetry.”
“Poetry!” The surprise on Brie’s face reflected how I had felt the first time I took a chance and read one of SR’s poems.
“He started to confide in me,” I remembered. “He said that the poetry filled his thoughts to the point that if he didn’t write it down, he couldn’t think anymore. He had a book of poems one of the teachers had snuck him and he hid it like it was gold.”
The well-leafed pages were soft with use, the lines faded with the number of times he had run his fingers over them in the faint light. I could see the dog-eared corners and creased leather binding, its worn gold title and acknowledgment of authors barely discernible on the cover and spine.
“What happened to him?” she asked quietly.
“One day I came back to find the room in shambles. The bed was overturned and pages were everywhere. I never saw him again.” I toyed with a string that hung from the sleeve of my shirt. “It felt wrong to leave the pages like that, so I picked them up and sat them on the desk. I stared at them for the longest time, sure someone would come and take them away. But it felt wrong that they would be destroyed and no one would know what he wrote.”
“So you read them?”
I nodded. “I memorized as many as I could. The guards came sooner than I expected and I sat on my bed and pretended like I couldn’t have cared less when they put the pages in a garbage can and burned them in the middle of the Arena for all the Galdoni to see.” The memory brought back a faint whiff of burning paper and dreams.
She looked up at me. “Do you remember any of them.”
I nodded. I quietly recited my favorite one.
“In its haunted hollow my heart screams softly,
Give me voice and I will tear this world;
But I dare not because the world is already torn.
In a fit of silence my hands plead,
Give me a weapon and I will be break you free;
But I dare not because the world is not my home.
In the prison cell my wings call my name,
Open me and I will give you flight;
But I would not because I have no dreams.
In its quiet slumber my spirit whispers,
Hear my words and I will give you peace;
But I could not because I have no soul.
In the Arena grand the sword beckons me,
Your life is mine and I will take what you owe;
But I prevail, because as nothing I cannot die.”
Brie sat in silence for a few minutes. “How old were you when he was taken away?” she asked softly.
“Not sure. We didn't really keep track of our ages at the Academy, but it was before my first kill.”
She shook her head and leaned back against me. A slight breeze stirred her hair and I raised my wings to shield us from the night.
She tucked her head under my chin and I felt her breathing slow as she fell to sleep. I was about to nod off as well when she whispered, “You promised.”
“I know,” I replied softly.
Chapter Twelve
I found Nikko the next day at the kitchen table before sunup. “What are you doing?”
He glanced at me sheepishly. “Looking for a way out.” He turned the computer and I saw the Arena from one of the inside cameras. It looked forlorn and empty in the low light.
“Whoa. How’d you get that?”
“I breeched their security site; a couple tricks I picked up from a friend.”
I watched as he switched from one camera to the next. It took us in an entire three hundred and sixty degree view of the Arena. “Guess they didn’t want to miss a good shot.”
“Guess not.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “The problem is, I can’t find a way out. I’ve studied every view and that place is tight.”
I glanced at him and saw the circles under his eyes. “How long have you been doing this?”
He gave a tired smile. “Since yesterday.”
I stared at him in surprise. “Through the night?”
He nodded as he tabbed through the screens again, faster this time. “But there’s no point. Everywhere I look there’re bars, electrified walls, laser security- it’s tighter than the White House.”
“Afraid to let their lab pets get back into society.”
He turned to see if I was joking, and gave a weary laugh when he saw I was. But his smile quickly vanished. “Kale, I don’t see a way out. We have to stop this before you get back there.”
“We’ll find a way,” I reassured him, touched by the urgency in his voice. “There’s got to be a way.” I turned back to the screen before he could see the doubt on my face.
“Kale?” He waited until I looked at him. “It’s wrong, you know?”
I nodded, but his brows drew together in frustration.
“No, I mean, it’s really wrong. My father’s a doctor, and he’s taken an oath to do no harm. Yet here are other doctors of medicine creating life in order for it to be destroyed for entertainment?” He shook his head. “If that’s not an example of doing harm, I don’t know what is.” He rubbed his eyes in agitation.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Nikko, you’re not responsible for this, and neither is ninety-nine percent of the rest of the world. You didn’t create it, and the people who actually watch this stuff probably don’t stop to think about what’s really happening.” At least, I hoped that was the case.
Nikko shook his head. “They know deep down that it’s wrong. They must. I hope that they have a conscience that tells them watching somebody die for their entertainment is wrong; otherwise, I’ve completely lost faith in humanity.”
I gave a small smile. “You know, when I first learned from Brie that the Arena battles were aired for gambling, it destroyed my vision of what life was like outside the Arena.” I gestured at Nikko’s house. “But being here and living a real life of my own with friends and,” I hesitated, then said, “Love. It’s like nothing I could ever have imagined.”
Nikko smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to have you here. There’s got to be a way so you don’t have to go back to the Academy.”
I shrugged. “Regardless of what happens, this has been worth a lifetime behind those walls.”
Nikko turned back to the computer, his brow creased with determination. “I’d rather give you a lifetime in front of them instead.”
After school, Jayce joined us with his own computer. Nikko helped him hack into the Academy security system, and he was able to single out cameras in the individual cells.
We watched a Galdoni about fifteen years old be thrown into a cell. His face was bruised and he limped over to the pallet on the floor that served as a bed. He sat in the corner with his arms around his knees and stared at the opposite wall, a blank expression on his battered face.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The pallet, the gray scratched, windowless walls, barred door, low ceiling, and a floor covered in filth that would never wash away no matter how hard we were pushed to scrub it. The solitary room, reserved for Galdoni who acted out, had been my home many nights. The regular quarters weren’t much better, but at least they had windows, even though they were barred and tiny. It was amazing how much the light of day could lift the heart.
The expressionless stare on the Galdoni’s face tore at my soul. My own face remembered it with an ache, the wall that kept all emotion in, that felt no pain, and that hid the only thing the guards could never take away. No matter how they tried to break us, I never let go of what it was that made me myself. No matter how many Galdoni let go of themselves and became mindless beasts, whatever essence that spoke through my bones would always be my own.
“How do they keep people like that?” Disgust filled Jayce’s voice.
“Not people,” I reminded him quietly. He opened his mouth to argue and I shook my head. “It’s how they justify it. It took me a long time to realize that by treating us like animals,
they could believe that’s what we were. It’s the only way I think they could sleep at night. The few teachers that acted out for us were never seen again, so the rest learned to rebel quietly by giving us books and things we could keep hidden. They taught us about the real world outside the Academy walls, hoping that one day we could see it.”
“It’s not right,” Jayce growled. “How are we supposed to have faith in a justice system when people,” he stressed the word in a tone that gave no room for argument, “Are treated like this without just cause?”
I fought back a smile and he glared at me. “What?”
I couldn’t help the grin that came to my face. “I might have deserved it once in a while.”
Nikko sat back in his chair, his brows pulled together. “What did you do?”
I shrugged. “I might have set a couple of fires on more than a few occasions.” I laughed at their stares. “The Academy still has to obey fire marshal law. Whenever the fire alarms go off, all Galdoni are forced to evacuate to the Arena. It gave us a chance to stretch our wings.” I chuckled, remembering, “It got to the point that whenever the alarm went off, they came immediately to my room to see what was burning.” I rubbed a hand on my chest at the remembered pain.
Brie came in with a plate of ham, cheese, and egg sandwiches, interrupting our conversation. Allie followed close behind her. Nikko and Jayce shut their laptops before they could see what we were watching. Brie eyed them both suspiciously, then shook her head. “I don’t know what you boys are up to, but you need a break.” She took a closer look at Nikko. “And some sleep. I don’t know how you plan to stop anything if your brains can’t even function properly.”
“So you admit that I have one,” Jayce pointed out with a grin.
She swatted at him and he jumped out of the way. “I never said how big it was.”
“Bigger than yours,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah?” She grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it at him. He ducked and it hit her books off the chair, spilling all her papers onto the ground. “Hey!”
“You threw it!” he argued. Allie giggled and hid behind me.
I bent to help pick up the papers when a knock sounded at the door. We all froze and looked at each other. My coat was in the bedroom. I had gotten way too comfortable without it.
I rushed to my room and threw on the coat before Jayce opened the door. To my surprise, I came back out to find Zach standing there with another student I had seen a couple of times around school.
Zach glanced around quickly and his face lit up when he saw me. “Kale,” he said, pushing past Nikko. “I figured it out!”
I glanced at the black bag he carried. “Figured what out?”
Jayce shoved the door shut behind him with a grumble as Zach tossed the bag onto the table. “The truth problem. You said that the way to stop this is to give the people a reason to question what was happening, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, so?”
“So we give them the truth. You know, a ‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free’ sort of thing.”
“Why is the jock quoting the Bible?” Jayce mumbled to Brie. She shrugged, her brow furrowed.
“I’m surprised you know the Bible,” Nikko whispered back to him. Jayce elbowed him in the ribs.
Zach ignored them. “Kale, this is Iggy, short for Iguana, which is short for whatever other foreign name he has.”
The other student looked me up and down with a frank expression. “So you’re the Galdoni, huh?” He said it as more of a statement than a question, and a not-very-impressed statement at that.
I saw Jayce bristle and held up a hand. “Yes, and you’re here why?”
“He’s the tech guru.” Zach explained offhandedly. “He’ll be the one making the movie.”
“Movie?” Brie asked.
Zach gave her an impatient look and said in carefully spaced words, “We’re making a movie about the Galdoni so that people won’t fear them. That way, they’ll see Galdoni as human and not as animals.” A slight frown crossed his face. “The only problem will be getting video from the Academy.”
“That’s no problem,” Nikko said. He spun one of the laptops around and opened it.
Zach and Iggy stared at the form of the young Galdoni in the tiny room. I heard Brie’s intake of breath and realized we hadn’t prepared her. I gave her a small smile and she dropped her eyes, her lips tight.
“Awesome!” Zach said.
“Let’s get started,” Iggy echoed.
***
After hours of running through images from the monitors and the storage databases Nikko managed to hack, I finally had to leave. None of them stopped me when I slipped out the back door and shut it behind me. The closed door felt like a barrier between me and the images on the screens. I took a deep breath of the rain-tinged air and fought the urge to fly.
Instead, I stepped down the stairs from the porch and let the rain fall on my head and shoulders. I lifted my face to the starless night sky and let the cold drops chase the thoughts from my head. I wanted to throw off the coat and stretch my wings, but I fought back the impulse.
A few minutes later, the door opened behind me and I heard the creak of footsteps down the stairs. “You’ll catch a cold getting soaked like that.”
I smiled at Brie’s worried expression. “I like it. We never got to feel the rain at the Academy, but it was always one of my favorite sounds.”
She nestled under my arm and we stood quietly for a few minutes listening to the sound of the rain falling around us. For that single moment, it felt like we were the only two people left on earth, like the chaos of the world had disappeared with the rumble of thunder through the trees.
Brie took a breath. “I love the smell of rain. It’s how I imagine heaven will be like.”
I gave her a small smile.
“What?” she asked quietly.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to ruin this.”
A little frown touched her lips. “You don’t believe in heaven?”
I gave her a half smile. “Oh, I believe in heaven.” I turned my face away so she couldn’t see my expression. “But the views of heaven are a little messed-up at the Academy and I'm starting to doubt what I used to believe. You have to have a soul to get there.”
Brie stiffened under my arm. “You have a soul.”
I frowned slightly and avoided meeting her gaze. “Where do souls come from?”
“From God,” she said without hesitation.
“Where do Galdoni come from?”
“From God,” she said again, but her voice was less certain.
I shook my head with a sad smile and looked at her. “Galdoni were created by men playing God.”
She gave a defiant shrug. “You wouldn’t be alive if you didn’t have a soul. A soul is what makes you who you are.”
“I believe I have a soul as much as a bird or a dog has a soul, but I’m not sure if there’s a place in heaven for them, either.”
She frowned. “Sure there is.”
“You’re a dreamer.”
“I’m a realist,” she replied.
“A realist dreamer.”
She shook her head with a laugh, the somber mood broken. “There’s no such thing!”
“There is now. You’ll have a heaven all to yourself; of course, you’ll have to share it with all the dogs and birds.”
She leaned against my chest. “It wouldn’t be heaven without you.”
I took in the scent of her lavender hair shampoo and the slight hint of floral perfume that defied the masking rain; my heart contracted. “I’m already in heaven.”
She hugged me tight and I wrapped my arms around her. We didn’t let go of each other until Jayce opened the back door and hollered for us to come see their rough draft.
Chapter Thirteen
Iggy clicked a button and then turned the laptop so we could watch. My heart slowed at the first picture. A pair of white-gloved hands held a newborn ba
by so small that with its feet tucked up it fit comfortably in the groove the cupped hands made. Beside the sweet, innocent, peaceful expression on the sleeping baby’s face, the thing that stood out most was the pair of delicate white wings folded about its shoulders. Brie’s breath caught and she leaned against me. I put an arm around her.
The next slide showed a toddler with his hands out as he took what appeared to be his first steps. Beautiful tan wings, the color of a mourning dove’s breast, were held open as he used them for balance. His face practically glowed with excitement and he looked normal and happy, but it was hard to ignore the lab equipment around him, the stainless steel tables, microscopes, and rolling chairs that would be a hazard for any baby so young. On one chubby wrist he wore a red armband, the kind used in hospitals to keep mothers and babies together. I could remember the feel of that band, and the first time I read the numbers and letters that became my name.
The next slide showed a room full of toddlers, each with beautiful wings so soft and downy and arms and legs so chunky and full it looked like a room of cherubs. The toddlers were sitting in rows on a gray carpet, and one had a smile on his innocent face.
In the next slide, a guard leaned across to the smiling toddler with a whip bearing down. Even though Iggy didn’t show the follow-up image, it was easy to read by the fear on the face of the toddler and the other children around him what was about to happen. I closed my eyes briefly but didn’t turn away.
The next slide showed a classroom of winged children sitting by age group, heads bent as they worked. The scene seemed innocent enough until one noticed the ankle bands and cords that secured them to each desk.
Brie gasped at the next image and turned her head into my shoulder. A young boy about six years old stood in the middle of a fighting circle. A katana dangled from his fingers, its tip resting on the ground. Dark blood ran slowly down the blade to the floor. The boy’s head hung low, and his wings, the tawny shade of a lion’s mane, drooped in dejected sorrow. At the boy’s feet lay another boy, his eyes closed tight against the pain of the life-stealing wound across his stomach. Blood pooled around them both, reflecting darkly off the bright arena walls.
