by Jodie Kobe
~~~
I’m relaxed on the floor, staring at my noodles until a shadow passes over me.
I look up, expecting Piers or even Verity to stand there, a look of pity on their faces. Or even a smirk.
It’s my tour guide. “You look lonesome,” he says.
For some reason, I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Rian sits down next to me and my smile widens.
“I don’t like this place,” I say loud enough for Rian to hear over the noise of the cafeteria.
Rian nods. “It happens. That’s why some people chose to eat in their room instead.”
“That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t you want to make friends? Talk to your brother? His friends?”
I make a waving motion with my hand. “No. They think my hair’s too 19th century.”
Rian crosses his arms and rests his head against the wall. “Is that why you’re wearing a ponytail?”
“Yep.”
“Your hair looks fine.”
“That’s what my brother told me.”
“And it’s true.”
I peek at Rian but don’t say anything. I feel better already. Someone else telling me my hair looks fine means more to me than my brother saying this. But that doesn’t mean I’ll start wearing it down.
I look down at my right hand—the hand with the black swirl of tattoos painted on. “Rian?”
“Yeah?”
I show him my graffiti hand. “What does this mean?”
He holds his right hand up too. The same design is tattooed on. I gasp in shock.
“It’s a type of classification,” he says. “A few more people have these.”
I raise my eyebrows. “A few more people? Does that mean we’re special in some way?”
He hesitates. “It’s...nothing you should be worried about. Just know it’s a type of classification.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“Oh, and Vivian?”
I look at him. “Yeah?”
“Don’t talk about it with anyone else unless they bring it up, okay?”
I’m confused. “Why not?”
“Just don’t. They won’t answer your question.”
“Like who, specifically?”
“Doctors, scientists, Welds’ brother, Mr. Welds.” He puts air quotes around mister.
“His brother?” I ask. “Who?”
“Jack Welds. He’s in charge around here. Their father founded this place several years ago, and he passed it on to his oldest son, Jack.”
“Did you ever meet Jack Welds?”
Rian nods. “Several times. He likes to invite the few people with the tattoos on their hands to dinner sometimes.”
“What?” I’m baffled. The people with tattoos on their hands? That means we are special in some way. “Why those specific people?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried looking into it many times in the past year. I can’t seem to find anything. I’ve always wondered, though. What’s up with us?”
“Have you tried asking?”
Rian frowns. “Don’t ask them.”
“I’m not going to,” I say quickly. I’m expecting no answers from them so I’m not planning on asking them. Although I am a bit curious…
“Anyway,” Rian changes the subject. “One more member has been added to Jack’s dinner meetings. You. So be expecting an invitation. By the way, it’s a formal dinner. Wear something nice.”
“I don’t have anything nice,” I mutter as I scoop noodles into my hands, stuffing them into my mouth. “Do I have to wear a dress?” I start chewing while Rian answers.
“Yeah. And I have to wear a suit.”
A noodle gets caught in my throat, but I hold in my choking cough and swallow it down. “A white suit?” I cough a little afterward.
“No. They’re all black. It would look pretty ridiculous with all white.”
I gesture around the whole room, trying to emphasize the white colors. “You don’t say.”
Rian eyes my dirty hands and the bowl of noodles on my lap. “You should probably clean up. We’ll be heading to Janelle’s office again. You’ll have to do running tests today.”
I look down at my noodle-covered oily hands. What if I smother this all over Janelle’s hair? Smirking, I wipe them on my jeans, leaving faint yellow marks on the white material.
