Difficult. No question. It will require some consideration, some thought. But the slight uptick in my pulse alerts me to the fact that I am onto something. It is the start of a plan, a real one, to turn my dream into reality.
I pick up my fork and glance around. Eighteen long tables jammed into a plain rectangular box with a ceiling too low and a crowd too rowdy. I won’t miss it when I go.
“Is everything okay, Eve?” Hunter asks as I pick at a gray, glutinous mound of mashed potatoes.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course.” I force my back straighter and clear my throat. “Emerald, how was your fight this morning?”
She has a puffy eye, but otherwise her spirits are fine, and she looks none the worse for wear. “Easy as pie,” she says with a grin.
“A guest fighter?”
“Nope, it was a Red Circuit pro. The one with the spiky red hair, you know her? She’s solid but slow as hell. Not to brag, but she never stood a chance.”
I force myself to laugh. “You’ve been racking up a lot of wins lately. Bruno must be happy.”
“He is. He mentioned me going pro today after the fight.” Her eyes light up with excitement.
“Really? That’s great! You deserve it.”
“Yeah yeah,” says Maggie with a wave of her hand, “that’s awesome and everything, but don’t think you’re cutting the rest of the job tours, because I don’t want to be the only one—”
She freezes, her eyes glued to someone or something over my shoulder. I’m willing to bet I know who it is.
“Get away from me, Daniel, or I swear to God I’ll break your knee, too,” I say without turning around. The look on Maggie’s face makes me glance over my shoulder, and when I do, I freeze in my own right.
It isn’t Daniel standing there, and it isn’t Landry, either. It is Wren.
“Too?” he asks as he looks down at me. His gaze flicks off mine quickly, like he is just a little nervous or self-conscious, neither of which could be true. “Whose knee did you break?”
“What are you doing here?” I ask instead.
He shrugs. “Eating lunch. Is that allowed?” He sets his tray down next to mine and takes a seat. Hunter stares at him like he is from a different planet. Emerald scowls.
There is no sense in telling him that Premes don’t exactly eat down here in the Mean cafeteria. He already knows that. A few others sitting nearby glance at him, but I don’t think they can tell from looking at him what he is, especially with his hands resting under the table. They can’t understand how peculiar his presence is.
“I’m Wren,” he says as he glances around at my friends. He adds darkly, “I’ve come to realize Eve isn’t one for introductions.”
The others silently switch their gaze from Wren to me. I know exactly what they are thinking. As far as they know, I haven’t seen the Preme since our fight, but here we are, having lunch together like old pals. Me and a Preme. Yet another secret I have been keeping from them. Is it normal to keep so much from your friends?
After several uncomfortable seconds, Maggie leans forward. “Nice to meet you. I’m Maggie. This is Hunter, and this is Emerald.”
I watch as he picks up his fork and turns it around in his hand. Probably it is flimsy compared to what he is used to. I don’t say anything, though. I just watch a muscle in his forearm tick up and down with the movement.
“Are you two friends or something?” Emerald asks slowly, her dark brown eyes shifting back and forth between us.
I shake my head. “Of course not.”
“She’s right,” he adds. “Of course we’re not friends. You know, because I’m a Preme and everything.” He gives me a look, then returns his attention to Emerald. “Nice black eye. I take it you’re a fighter like Eve?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she mumbles.
I give myself a shake, try to focus on the rationed portions of unpalatable food sitting in front of me. But Hunter is watching us closely, and a pang of guilt stabs at my stomach. How could I not tell my friends that Wren and I had seen each other since the fight? Why did I feel the need to keep that of all things secret?
Emerald shrugs. It looks as though she is the first of our group to accept Wren’s inexplicable presence. “So anyway, before the fight, I was hanging in the training room, and Erick mentioned that you and Bruno had a spat. If you want to fight pro, you realize you’re going to have to apologize to him, right?”
“I’m not going pro.”
“You’re not? Then how come you’re barely doing any of the job tours?”
Too many lies—it is hard to keep them straight. “Okay, well, maybe I am going pro. I just—I guess I don’t know yet, okay?”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Well, like I said, if you think you might want to pick that as your job, you need to apologize. Pronto.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Who’s Bruno?” Wren asks.
“He’s one of the pro fighters for Blue Circuit. He practically runs the team.”
“Why’s he pissed?”
“Long story,” I mumble.
“I’ve got time.”
I turn to him. “What are you doing here, again?”
He thrusts his fork in my direction. “Eating.”
“Come on, Wren,” I start. But I can feel the eyes of the others, and I stop. I sigh. “My last fight, a couple of days ago. I beat this guy Zaar, one of Daniel’s friends—”
“Daniel…the one who introduced himself.”
“Yep. Anyway, Bruno wasn’t happy with my…ethics.”
“Any chance you broke his knee?”
I nod. “That’s the one.”
“Highly unethical, Eve,” he says with a shake of his head. “Quite disappointing, frankly.”
“Yeah, almost as unethical as headbutting someone in the face,” I retort, and I nudge him in the ribs. Both of us are smiling, but mine evaporates when I see the look on Hunter’s face.
“I think I’ll be going,” he says as he pushes back from the table.
“Don’t, Hunter.” But I don’t know what else to say. He has a right to be mad. I told him on the kitchen tour to go easy on me because of my brutal fight with the Preme. It was a lie, an excuse, and he can see that now.
The look he gives me makes my stomach dive. “I’ve lost my appetite,” is all he says before disappearing into the crowd.
Wren’s eyebrows draw together. “Something I said?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter as I push my plate away. Emerald, who is always ravenous, scoops up the rest of Hunter’s lunch and my own. And then, before I can say anything more, I am shoved hard into the table. It catches me under the ribs, and for a second I am breathless.
A moment later, I am on my feet and face-to-face with Daniel. Landry stands behind him with his lips curled up at the corners. “If you think you’re going to take the last slot from Zaar, you’re crazy,” Daniel spits at me. “Even with a busted knee, they’d rather have him than a Lower Mean nobody like yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” I shout at him.
“He must think you’re going after a guard job,” says Maggie from beside me. “That you did that to Zaar on purpose, to push him out of the running!”
I laugh a cruel laugh. “You’re being ridiculous, Daniel. You think I want to work in the same organization that would hire scum like you and Landry?”
“Watch your mouth, Eve,” says Daniel, and his hand grabs the shirt from my chest.
There is no time to react. Wren has him off me before I can raise a hand to defend myself. “Touch her again,” he says coldly into Daniel’s ear. “Just try.”
“Got a bodyguard, Eve?” he shouts as he pulls himself free of Wren’s grasp. “Good, because you’re gonna need it!” And then he is gone; Landry, too.
“What
was that?” I yell at Wren above the noise of the cafeteria that reenters my brain like a switch has been flipped. It seems to buzz louder than before.
He smiles, but it isn’t a friendly one. It’s a sneer, and I am reminded that he is dangerous and cruel like me. “Let me guess, Eve. You didn’t need my help—is that it? You don’t need anyone’s help, right?”
“Something like that,” I say, my voice suddenly level.
“What about with the guard. Did you need my help then?”
I don’t want to be reminded of my moments of weakness; not by anybody, and especially not by him. So I turn, push through the crowd in the direction of the exit.
But he follows me, and once we’re in the hallway, his hand lands on my shoulder.
“Look, it was instinct, okay?” he says into my ear. “You see someone get grabbed like that, and you react. It has nothing to do with you needing help. Or you being a girl. Or me thinking you’re weak or something. It was instinct.” He stares at me and raises both palms. “Okay?”
I shake my head, but it is only to clear the burning sensation that suddenly stabs behind my eyes. Why I feel like crying right now I do not know. All I know is that I don’t need defending. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.
“Why are you even here, Wren? You know as well as I do that Premes don’t eat down here. And they don’t give a shit about feeding the Noms, either.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you serious? Come on, you’re not that naive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
“Come on. Why do you think I’m here? Yeah, obviously Premes don’t eat down here. They don’t help serve food to the Noms. Obviously, Eve.”
I stare at him. I am at a loss, but this seems to anger him more than anything.
He shakes his head as he pushes by me. “I’m getting a little sick of waiting for you to clue in.”
Chapter Seventeen
The next day, my muscles ache worse than ever. It is because I headed straight for the Blue Circuit training room after my eventful lunch with Daniel and Wren yesterday, and I passed the afternoon there, sparring with Erick and hitting the punching bags until I couldn’t lift my arms any longer. The tears that wanted to fall when I was speaking with Wren—fighting with him, to be accurate—dried up, and I managed to make things better with Bruno, too. It took only a simple apology; my skills as a liar are improving constantly.
Hunter wasn’t at dinner last night. And I can’t really bear to see him—not now. It was bad enough to have him mad at me when I felt I didn’t deserve it, but now…it is worse when I do. Shame leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
The low ceiling of the second floor skims my fingertips as I reach to touch it. My sore muscles scream in protest, but I ignore them. I am headed for the Oracle. I know I shouldn’t go; I can’t make a habit of it. Every time I venture there, I venture getting caught. But I can’t stay away, especially now that I have a plan to take my exit. I may not yet have the gun in my palm, but it is just a matter of time before I do.
Besides, I need to keep clear of Hunter until he cools down.
The stairs are empty, and I take them two at a time even though the movement makes me wince. It’s a good pain, though. The kind of pain I like. Worn muscles are stronger muscles. Strong body, strong mind.
My father’s words.
The fifth floor is still, just like the rest of the compound. Protests down below are scheduled for today, but right now it is quiet. I walk past the library, my fingers grazing the glass walls. It is one room I will miss when I go.
I turn through the hallways just as I always have, muscle memory carrying me forward. How I used to long for the right passcode to get into the Oracle. It is strange to think those days are over. That Eve is dead. Now I know the code, now I’ve seen aboveground, now I’ve decided to escape—I even know how to do it. I am a different person. Perhaps that’s all life is. A series of deaths and rebirths, over and over until we can be born again no more.
“Going somewhere?” rings out a voice.
Something drops in my stomach. Not fear, no. Just dread. I want to be left alone. I want to walk and move freely without being questioned.
“You don’t look like you belong up here,” the voice continues, and when I turn, he adds, “what happened to your face?” His voice is full of genuine curiosity, and I am reminded that I still sport residual bruising from my match with Wren.
I blink at him, at hair that is yellow, skin pink.
“Wait a second—I’ve seen you before. You were in that fight, weren’t you? With a guy from up here? I was working the Bowl that day. Remember your hair.”
Automatically, my fingers start to reach toward my messy waves. Just in time, I remember the tattoos on my hands and fold them away.
“Yeah, I know you had it pulled back and everything, but still. A guy remembers a pretty girl. Long blond hair, nice face—yeah, I remember.”
I frown. Not often do I hear such things, especially from an Upper Mean, like he undoubtedly is. His voice sounds relaxed, but there is something greedy stirring behind his eyes. Something I don’t like. Maybe he is a bigger threat than I thought. I try to smooth my eyebrows and lift my voice to an octave considered friendly. “Oh?”
“Looks like it should be fine, though. Eventually. When I watched the fight, I thought that pretty little nose of yours would be coming out your ear.”
He laughs loudly, and I blink.
“I’m Ben, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Eve.” Deep breath, in and out. I still don’t know the fifth floor well enough to lose him in a footrace. And I don’t trust my fists now that I’ve seen the power of guns. The feeling of vulnerability makes me lightheaded.
“You’re from Floor Two, is that what your hands say?”
I nod.
“Mind if I ask where you’re headed?” He takes a step closer.
Another breath. In, out.
“She’s looking for me,” comes a new voice, and I see Wren turn the corner. His black T-shirt is faded today, and it pulls tightly over his chest. It is an odd thing for me to notice. His eyes don’t look into mine, but he walks in my direction, stands beside me before glancing coldly at Ben the guard. “Anything else?”
Ben twirls his baton, then grabs it. His eyes slide pointedly down my body. “Head on downstairs where you belong, save me some paperwork, huh?”
“Sure.”
“And take care of that face, okay?”
I swallow a grimace that pulls my lips from my teeth.
“Really nice meeting you, Eve,” he adds under his breath. He squeezes my wrist as he passes, and then he is gone.
I glance at Wren. “Are you following me or something?”
He makes a noise of disbelief. “Get over yourself. Oh, let me guess. You didn’t want my help there, either, right?”
My arms cross, and I glare at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Right, Eve? Because the way he looked at you there was no big deal, right? There wasn’t something on his mind?”
He moves closer, and his head lowers so we are almost eye to eye.
“I can take care of myself.” Defiant and stubborn I definitely am.
“Next time I’ll wait until he’s finished with you, then.”
I bristle at his words. Then I shrug. “How’d you know I was here?”
“I saw you walk past the library.”
My eyes narrow. “Little early for the library, isn’t it?”
“Little early for this, isn’t it?” He nods in the direction of the Oracle.
“That’s an evasive answer.”
“What’s it to you?”
I shrug. “Just curious. Not many people spend much time there.”
“You do.”
“You know what? Just forget I asked, okay?
Thanks for helping me out with the guard. Happy? I’ll be seeing you.”
I walk quickly past him, but he follows. “You’re not the only one interested in things, you know. I was reading about a concept called democracy.”
“Democracy? Why are you interested in that?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about life down here. Down there. The Noms, the Means. I was curious what other models of governance they had before the compounds were established.” One corner of his mouth tugs up as he glances at me. “I was also reading about combat, but I didn’t think you’d find that as impressive.”
I don’t know what he means by that. I don’t know what to make of this Preme, period. Why would he care about impressing me?
A door opens at the end of the hall, and a girl who looks a couple of years older than me emerges. I wait for her to walk by before I respond. But she pauses when she sees Wren, and her eyes widen. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
He shrugs. “Walking around. You?”
“Getting this from Father’s office. I forgot it yesterday when he was giving me a tour.” She holds up a purse, one that is completely superfluous, one that would never be allotted to someone beneath the fifth floor. “Please, Wren, please, please, please tell me you’ll be touring your mother’s operation? Father’s office and hers collaborate all the time, you know.” She wraps her fingers around his forearm. “Think about it. I would be in charge of security; you would be in charge of energy—what an unstoppable team that would make us.”
I string my hands behind my back as I consider her. Those delicate features, that red hair—hair that is so long it could be used as a noose—
I shake my head to clear the inexplicable image flashing through my mind, but it draws her attention. “Who’s this?” she asks. Disdain rests heavily across her brow as she eyes me.
“This is Eve,” Wren says. His voice is level, as it always is.
“She doesn’t even look like an Upper Mean.”
“She’s not. Not a third-floor Mean, either. And for the record, I won’t be touring my mother’s operation. Not interested,” he adds before pulling his arm free and walking past her. Not even the courtesy of a goodbye.
Escaping Eleven (Eleven Trilogy) Page 12
