“Yeah.” I tear my eyes away from Riska. “It would be nice to hit something.”
“It’ll make you feel better. I promise.” He gives my hand one last squeeze and releases it.
“Do you think …” I take a breath. “Do you think you could be my training partner? I don’t have a sparring partner anymore.”
“Yeah.” A smile flickers across his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Something in the way he says this makes heat creep up my cheeks. I turn away and gather up the photos. Taro helps. He doesn’t say a word when he sees my naked baby pictures. My esteem of him ratchets up several notches.
11
Real-World
When I step outside the next morning to head to the cafeteria, I find Taro leaning against the side of our pale blue house.
“Hey,” I say, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought we could walk together to breakfast. That okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I’m more than a little happy to see him. Though I’d never admit it aloud, I feel cleansed by last night’s crying. Taro’s friendship in that fragile moment meant a lot to me.
He pushes off the wall and takes a step toward me. As he does, Riska glides off my shoulder and lands on Taro’s.
“Woah.” He shifts his balance as Riska settles into place. He lifts a hand to pet him. “Hey, boy.”
I don’t know how to react. Part of me feels betrayed. Another part of me is embarrassed. It was okay last night, considering what happened, but Riska shouldn’t still be snuggling up to Taro.
Ignoring the uncertain fluttering in my stomach, I cock my head and say, “I guess he likes you.”
“Guess so.” Taro smiles at me as he scratches Riska under the chin. Riska’s eyes narrow into contented slits as he purrs.
It’s almost more than I can stand. “Do you know how to get to the cafeteria?” I look away. As if the gravel road under my feet is really, really interesting.
“Yeah. I studied the maps Dad has of the Dome. It’s this way.” He gestures to our left.
We set off through the Village, passing dozens of adorable pastel bungalows and pristine front yards. We merge onto a main boulevard and join a stream of people, all of them on foot and heading in the same direction. There are people in gray, green, blue, and burgundy polo shirts, and mercs, who stand apart in their sleek black jumpsuits. Taro and I get lots of stares.
“Are they staring at us because they know who we are and what we did to the League, or are they staring because of Riska?” I whisper to Taro.
He shakes his head. “Don’t know.”
I crane my neck, scanning the blue polos and hoping to catch sight of some of my classmates from Virtual High School. I do spot a few kids from VHS, but they’re all younger first-year kids I don’t know well. Daruuk Malhotra is out here somewhere. He’s my only chance of getting into Vex and seeing Gun.
We follow the crowd, which leads us to the Village cafeteria. It’s as cute as all the buildings in the Village, if considerably larger. It’s a wide structure painted yellow with white trim. The huge double doors are a cheery bright red, the only patch of vibrancy on all the buildings.
It’s so strange to be outside, walking around freely, even if that outside is technically in a huge biodome. I was never allowed outside our apartment in San Francisco. It was too dangerous. The only outside time I had was in Vex.
“What is that smell?” I ask. Riska glides back to my shoulder, nose twitching as he sniffs the air.
“Smells like food,” Taro replies.
“Food?” I echo. “What kind of food?” It doesn’t smell like anything I’ve ever eaten before.
“Could be real bacon,” Taro says. “Dad bought some once for my birthday.”
“Was that before or after you became a vegetarian?”
Taro’s expression is flat when he answers. “After. He can’t stand the fact that I don’t eat meat.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that why you became a vegetarian? To piss off your dad?” It’s the sort of thing I would have done to get even with my mom, when she was still alive.
“Maybe.” His expression doesn’t change, but I see a glimmer of amusement when our eyes meet.
As we near the cafeteria, the crowd around us condenses. People push in on all sides as they funnel toward the large double doors. Strangers press against me as they jostle by. A myriad of smells assault my nose, the jumbled scents of all the different people.
The close proximity of so many makes my hands sweat. I stop in the middle of the road and wipe them on my pants. My heart beats harder than necessary considering I’m not even moving. People grouse in annoyance as they stream by me on both sides.
“What’s wrong?” Taro asks.
“I’m trying to decide how hungry I am.” I swallow a lump of anxiety. “They’re … too many people here. I think I’d rather be hungry.”
“You don’t like crowds?”
“I … don’t know. I’ve never been in a real-world crowd before.” I fight the desire to extricate myself from the mass. Riska meows and flattens his ears.
Taro gives my upper arm a squeeze. “It’s okay. You just need to get used to being around real-world people. Come on. It’s not that bad.”
I nod. Taking a deep breath, I grit my teeth and take several steps with the mass of bodies moving through the double doors. That’s when I spot Nichomas Youngblood and Crystal Lark.
“Hey, I know them!” I say to Taro, pointing. “Those are my friends from Virtual High.”
He smiles at my enthusiasm. “Let’s see if we can catch up with them.”
I keep my eyes pinned on my friends as Taro and I weave toward them. For the first time in my life, I’m grateful minors aren’t allowed to alter Vex avatars; if we’d been allowed to tweak our avatars with Axcents, I wouldn’t have a chance at finding my friends. As it stands, both Nichomas and Crystal look like they do in Vex. Nichomas is tall and broad-shouldered with shaggy black hair. Crystal is slender with blue eyes and pale skin.
“Sulan!” Crystal spots me and waves her hand. She taps Nichomas on the shoulder, who grins when he sees me. The two of them push through the crowd in my direction.
In almost the same instant, the smiles freeze on their faces. I barely register the change in their expressions when a baritone voice from behind draws me up short.
“Hudanus,” the voice drawls. “I see you decided to grace the Dome with your presence.”
I sense the sudden change in Taro. His dark eyes become hooded and distant. All expression vanishes from his face.
Through the shifting mass of people, I see Crystal tug on Nichomas’s shirt. She mouths the word sorry at me. They both duck into the crowd and disappear.
Beside me, Taro turns around slowly. Though his stance is casual, I see the slight shift in his balance. Every muscle in his body is poised for a fight.
“Van Deer,” he replies, voice flat.
A teenage boy in a merc jumpsuit saunters forward. He has cropped blond hair and the chiseled face you’d find on a Greek statue. He’s good looking and clearly knows it. He oozes confidence and charm, which immediately sets me on edge. Riska rumbles, shifting into a crouch on my shoulder and flicking his wings.
Fanning out in a semicircle behind the boy are five other merc kids, all of them in black jumpsuits. They are clearly part of Van Deer’s posse, his backup. From my experience with Gun in the Cube, only bullies need backup.
“Hello,” Van Deer says, making eye contact with me. He extends his hand. “I’m Jason Van Deer.”
Taro tenses beside me.
“Hey,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest. If Taro doesn’t like this guy, I have no interest in making friends with him.
“You must be Sulan Hom,” Van Deer says, as though he’s just figured it out. “You’re too pretty to come from Virtual High.” He gives me a winning smile, as if this is supposed to be a compliment.
I scowl in response. Riska
hisses.
“You do realize,” I reply, “that you just insulted every one of my friends from VHS.”
“Spunky,” Van Deer replies, glancing over his shoulder at his friends. They all chuckle in approval at his comment. “That’s cute in a girl.” He smiles at me again. “Has anyone given you a tour of the Dome yet? My friends and I are sparring this afternoon next to the amphitheater. Come by and watch, and we can go for a walk afterward.”
My jaw falls open.
This cocky muscle head is hitting on me. Like I’d want to stand around watching him and his buddies spar? Do I look like a cheerleader?
“Sorry,” I say. “I’ve already got plans with Taro.” As if for emphasis, Riska steps off my shoulder and onto Taro’s, wrapping his tail around Taro’s neck for good measure.
“I see,” Van Deer drawls. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where we’ll be. Swing by if you like. My friends and I fight better when we have a cute audience.”
Taro takes a step closer to me, standing close enough that our arms touch. He looms a few inches taller than Van Deer, though I have to admit, I’ve never seen Taro loom before.
“She said she’s busy,” Taro says, ice in his voice. “Move along, Van Deer.”
“You never did have any style,” Van Deer says to him. To me, he says, “When you get bored with this guy, come find me. I’ll show you a good time.” Then he winks at me.
My mouth moves, but no words come out. Indignant rage tangles my tongue. Van Deer saunters away, his posse smirking at us as they follow in his wake.
“Does that crap really work on girls?” I splutter, staring after him.
Taro raises an eyebrow at me. “Honestly, Sulan, I’ve never seen it not work.”
“You’re kidding, right? He doesn’t get girls by being a cocky creep, does he?”
“Ummm … yeah, he does.”
“Gross.”
A smile pulls at Taro’s lips. I like the way he looks at me. Riska rubs his cheek on Taro’s ear.
“I have to admit,” he says, “it was pretty refreshing to see him get turned down for once.”
“How do you know him?”
“Underage merc circuit. We always seem to end up in the sparring ring together.”
“He ever beat you?”
“No.” Taro makes a poor attempt at hiding another smile.
“I hope you keep beating him.”
“I have no doubt we’ll have plenty of opportunities to … spar. Sulan, don’t take this the wrong way, but Van Deer may have only hit on you to get at me. Not that you’re not cute.” His words tumble out. “I mean, you’re beautiful and smart, but Van Deer—what I mean is, he only wants—” He breaks off, red creeping up his neck.
My eyes widen. Did Taro really just say I was beautiful? No one has ever said anything like that about me. Well, Mom and Dad have, but that doesn’t count.
The two of us stand there, a sea of people parting around us as they pass into the cafeteria. I take a sudden interest in my shoes, feeling my face heat with embarrassment.
“I—” I say, just as Taro says, “Sulan—”
We laugh nervously, some of the strange tension dissipating.
“You know I’d never tell you what to do,” Taro says. “Just … be careful around Van Deer, okay? He’s … got a mean streak.”
I stare up at him. “You think I’d ever go for a guy like that?” I shake my head. “I ran into jerks like him in the Cube all the time. Stuck up and full of themselves. Not my thing. Besides, I don’t want a boyfriend. I—”
“Sulan?” A hand taps me on the shoulder.
I turn around and find Hank standing there, her little brother Timmy clinging to her hand. Hank’s polo is an awkward fit on her tall frame, emphasizing her thin shoulders and barely covering her belly button.
Several moments of silence hang between us. All my anger at her from yesterday comes rushing back, along with a flood of remorse and anxiety.
Is she still mad? I wonder. What should I say? Should I—?
“I’m sorry,” Hank says, words coming out in a rush. “I’m sorry for those things I said yesterday. I was being insensitive.” Her eyes are sincere. Her words touch a part of me that is still tender from the loss of Mom.
“I’m sorry, too,” I say, feeling a surge of relief. “I know how important it is for you to take care of your family.”
We hug each other. It’s not as awkward as it was yesterday, though there’s still a triangle of space between our bodies. Why is it so strange to hug Hank, who I’ve known for years, but not Taro?
“I want to officially introduce you to my little brother,” Hank says, breaking away from me and beaming down at Timmy.
A broad grin splits the face of the freckled, eight-year-old boy who already stands eye level with me. No doubt he will be as tall, if not taller, than his sister someday.
“I’m a Normie,” Timmy says, shaking my hand with enthusiasm. “And you’re a Brain.” He looks at Taro. “And you’re a Muscle. I’ve heard all about both of you. My Normie friends all want to meet you. Can I introduce you? Will you tell them about the League kidnapping? Will you—”
“Woah,” Hank says, smiling as she rests a hand on Timmy’s shoulder. “Enough, kiddo. Let’s go eat.”
“But Susan and Frank are dying to meet them. They said they’d take my compost duty if I—”
“Move.” Hank gives him a gentle shove toward the cafeteria doors.
“Aww, Hankie!” Timmy screws up his face, then lets out a dramatic sigh and marches away.
“Hey, guys.” Billy sidles up to us in his customary slouch, hands shoved into the pockets of his khakis.
As a unit, we rejoin the crowd converging on the cafeteria. I do my best to ignore the press of bodies. Taro is right; I’m going to have to get used to this.
“What’s a Normie?” I whisper to Hank.
“Everyone in a green polo,” she whispers back. “Kids in blue polos, like us, are called Brains. Kids in merc jumpsuits are Muscles. Timmy was going on and on last night about how weird it is to have a Brain for a sister since he doesn’t hang out with other Brain kids.”
I look around as we enter the cafeteria. I hadn’t noticed before, but people in like-colored uniforms are clumped together—both the kids and adults. There’s a little mingling among families, but most kids and adults sit with others in their class. Something uncomfortable slithers through my belly. Every last person in this place is pigeonholed by the Winns. Since everyone has to wear the uniforms all the time, there’s no way to escape or blur boundaries.
“What about the burgundy and gray polos?” I ask.
“Gray polos are tech specialists in the Fortress. Burgundy polos work directly for the Winns, like Kerry.”
“Does this public branding bother you at all?”
Hanks shrugs and makes a face. “No place is perfect.”
“I guess, but—”
“No buts.” Hank shakes her head. “The Dome is the best place my family has ever lived. I don’t like the uniforms, but I can take it if it means my family has a safe place to live and plenty of food to eat. It’s that simple.”
Hank’s words echo in my head. It’s that simple. Can life really be that simple? Take the lumps if the getting is good enough? Trade the basic right to choose one’s destiny in exchange for a warm bed?
It doesn’t sit well with me. I wish it would. I wish I could be a good company girl like Hank. But I’ve spent my entire life railing against forces that want to control me and the direction of my life. When I look around the cafeteria at the color-coded human beings, I know I can never truly accept this place.
12
Bread Rolls
“Wait till you see the food!” Timmy gushes, hauling Hank toward the buffet on the far right side of the cafeteria. They rest of us follow, joining the long line snaking around the room.
I stand on my toes, trying to get a look at the offerings, but there are too many people in front of us. As I
scan the crowd, I spot my dad. His back is to me. In line next to him is Aston.
“Do they look like they’re talking?” Taro gestures with his chin at our dads.
I open my mouth to reply, but Timmy’s excited shout cuts me off.
“Look, look!” the boy cries. “There’s the food!”
All thoughts of Dad and Aston flee my brain. I stare as we draw abreast of the buffet. Never in my life have I seen so much food in one place. Most of it is stuff I’ve only seen in old movies, or food I’ve only had on a few special occasions in my life.
There are platters of fruit, toast, pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, potatoes, sausage … so much food I barely know where to start when Timmy shoves a plate into my hands.
“That’s bacon,” Taro says, nudging me. He points to a platter piled high with stiff, reddish-brown meat. A woman in a green polo stands beside it, doling out one slice per person.
“Have you had real bacon before?” Billy asks Taro. “Is it good?”
“Never tried it,” Taro replies. “My dad says it’s the best food on Earth. Says it’s one of the things he misses most from pre-’Fault days.”
“If Black Ice likes bacon, I’m definitely trying it.” Billy holds up a plate to receive his allotted piece. He pops it into his mouth and chews. “Oh yeah,” he says around a mouthful. “This is good stuff.”
“You all have got to try it,” Timmy says. “It is, like, the most amazing stuff ever. It’s only the second time we’ve gotten bacon. It’s only for special occasions.”
“What was the last occasion?” Hank asks.
“Our first day in the Dome. We got bacon and cake that day.”
“What’s today’s occasion?” I hold up my plate to receive my piece.
“You guys,” Timmy says. “See?” He points to a large screen I hadn’t noticed before.
On the screen are scenes from last night’s press conference. It’s too loud to hear anything, but large subtitles roll along the bottom. Now that I’m looking, I see screens all over the room. And I see people whispering and pointing at us.
The unwanted attention makes sweat prickle along my spine. Billy and Taro seem to share my discomfort, both of them casting their eyes downward, but Hank smiles at the pointing fingers and curious eyes.
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