EMBER
Sleeping in a stranger’s room is like wearing someone else’s clothes. It feels awkward and uncomfortable, even more so considering whose room it is. Stein. Lex’s girlfriend. Correction: Lex’s dead girlfriend. I stare down. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m honestly wondering if my brother has ever been in this bed. Gagging, I tear the pillow off the bed and toss it onto the only clean spot on the floor. Under the pillow, a strip of film flutters. I pick it up. Lex and the girl with the top hat from the World’s Fair are smiling and making faces in the four tiny squares.
I can’t believe it. She’s the same girl who almost killed me. Does that mean he was there too? I can’t help but wonder how many times we’d been that close, missing each other by minute tricks of fate. I toss the photos aside.
The room itself looks like a tornado has blown through, depositing scraps of clothing on every possible surface. I have to physically restrain myself from tidying up. When I kick a lone boot under the bed, it hits something with a clunk. Curiosity gets the better of me. I get down on my hands and knees, tugging the metal box free.
My fingers hover hesitantly over the latch on the metal box. There’s no lock, just the remnants of a hinge. I know I shouldn’t open it. It’s obviously private, but I can’t help myself. Setting my jaw, I open it slowly to find my brother’s face staring up at me. I lift the fragile scrap of paper where a rough sketch of Lex smirks in hard, lead lines. There’s another beneath it. This time, it’s just his eyes, but it’s undeniably him.
I wonder if she drew them. They are really good, I admit reluctantly, biting my lip. I don’t want to like her, this girl who has worked her magic on my little brother. I really want to hate her. If not for her, we could have been long gone from here by now.
I toss the pictures aside and dig through the box. Pieces of fabric, drab costume jewelry. Feathers. A set of brass knuckles. I spread the items out around me, trying to use them to somehow piece together a mental picture of her, to see someone other than the girl who served me a major league beat down at the World’s Fair.
I don’t like what I see.
After I put the items back, I kick the box underneath the bed. I should try to sleep, but the call of curiosity is too strong, so I walk over to the closet. There are maybe three pairs of black leather pants, a couple of black satin corsets, and one black trench coat hanging from a rope strewn wall to wall. I’m about to mumble something nasty when I spy a scrap of pink poking out from the very back. I grab it and pull. The dress in my hand can only be described as “Bubblegum Barbie Goes to Prom.” The laugh that escapes my throat is bordering on hysterical, I realize, and I slap my hand over my mouth.
It’s too much. I don’t want to be here. Somewhere down the hall, a train whistle blows, and I jump, throwing the dress back in the closet and slamming the door. Curling up in a little ball on the floor, I pull the Tether off my arm and twist my hair under me. My heart is racing.
After tossing and turning for what feels like hours, I crawl out of my makeshift bed and open the door. A random, dark-haired girl in goggles is sitting cross-legged across the hall from my door.
“Hey,” I say, feeling awkward as she stares at me. “You my babysitter or something?”
She looks at me quizzically. “No, why? Do you need one?”
I sigh and fold my arms across my chest. The lights are low, but the air is hot and thick. Nothing about this place feels like home to me.
“Then why are you sitting out here?”
The girl shrugs. “It’s quiet.”
She’s petite but really toned. She’s wearing a black tank top under scraps of brown leather pieced together to form a sort of corset under her bust. Her grey cargo pants have been haphazardly patched over with what I assume are pieces of the Hollows’ common room sofa.
“I’m Ember,” I whisper, not wanting to wake anyone else who might still be sleeping.
“Sisson,” she answers, pulling at the fraying hem of her pant leg.
“Do you know where my brother’s room is?”
She points down the hall. “Around the corner. Third door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
“But he’s not in there,” she adds as I move to step away.
I rotate back to her, trying not to be irritated. “Then where is he?”
She jerks her head down the other hall. “Half-pipe.”
“Well, thanks again, I guess.”
She doesn’t say anything else as I walk away, but I can feel her watching me.
Somehow, I manage not to get lost making my way back to the main room. True to her word, I find Lex sitting on top of the half-pipe, his legs hanging over the edge.
“Gimme a hand,” I say, taking a run at the wall. I get more than halfway up when he grabs my hand and pulls me the rest of the way.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” he asks as I sit beside him.
“Nope.”
He pulls a dingy jester’s hat off his head and stuffs it in his pocket. “No offense, sis, but I think I’m all talked out.”
I lay my head on his shoulder. “Yeah, me too.”
We sit like that for a while. Neither of us talks. The room is lit, but there’s no one else around. Finally, I straighten, ready to leave him to his thoughts. But when he turns to look at me, his face is red and tears have left trails down his face.
Instantly, I’m crying too. There’s no sound, just the gush of emotions too fast and confusing to hold onto. He leans over, laying his head in my lap. I stroke his hair like I used to when we were little.
Our first night in captivity, after the soldiers had taken our family, my sisters and I had to share an old mattress. Alexei was supposed to be sleeping with Mama and Papa, but in the middle of the night, he’d come to me, crying silently so he wouldn’t wake them. I’d held him all night, stroking his hair just like this, while a soldier glared at us from the corner of the room.
We never talked about it, and Alexei never let Papa see him cry. But during that long year, we shared many nights just like this.
“Baby, are you asleep?”
“No. And don’t call me that. I’m thirteen now,” he mumbles with his back to me as we lay across from each other in the dark room. The floor is cold under me, and I’m sure it must be worse for him. I at least have Olga curled next to me. He’s all alone under the threadbare old quilt.
“Do you want to come over here with us?”
He’s quiet. For a second, I think he’s fallen asleep. But just as I’m about to roll over, he stands, wrapping his only blanket over his arm. He folds it out across Olga and me, curling in beside me. “I know you aren’t a baby anymore, Alexei. But you’ll always be my baby brother. No matter how big you get.” Exhaustion rolls over me, and I yawn. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”
“Promise?” he asks, only a slight tremble in his voice. Down the hall, the sounds of heavy boots march down the stairs. The guards are ending their shift. It’ll be morning soon.
“I promise.”
It feels so strange now, those memories. I wanted them so badly, but at the same time, part of me wishes I could forget. How pathetic is that?
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