“But you’re that way. You’re as tough as I am.”
His eyes sweep over my face. “But who said I’m good?” Before I can respond, he raises his head and kisses me on the lips. “So,” he says into my ear. “Hunter.”
“Hunter?”
“Yeah.”
“What about him?” I ask. My bedside lamp glows a warm yellow, and it melts into his skin. It lightens his hazel eyes and his hazel hair. It makes his lips look more angular, his chin more square.
“You guys are close?” he asks.
“We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. So yeah, I’d say that’s pretty close.”
“Mm.”
I raise my head and frown. “What?”
“It’s nothing. It just seems kind of strange for you two to be friends.”
“Why? Because he’s a guy and I’m a girl, Grandpa?”
“No.” He smirks. “Because you’re so different.”
“Oh.” I stare at the far wall, plain and undecorated. Then I shrug. “I guess I never noticed.”
“Mm.”
“Wren?”
“Yeah?”
“Please tell me you’re not jealous.” I am laughing; I can’t hold it in.
His fingers that crawl along my bare arm are still now. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because Hunter and I are practically family—you can ask him—so it would be kind of ridiculous if you were intimidated.”
“That’s not really the point.”
“Well, what do you want me to say? I love him. He’s my oldest friend.”
“You love him.”
“Not like that.” I roll my eyes. Because the thought of Hunter being anything more than my best friend is laughable. Almost as laughable as thinking he would feel anything more for me.
He nods. “I know. I know not like that.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I watch the muscles in his arm engage with the motion. The fact that I can touch that arm, touch it and squeeze it and kiss it, makes something warm seep through my veins. It makes me never want to leave this spot, nestled beside him.
When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. “I’m not sure where I’m going with this.”
“You’re intimidated,” I say lightly.
“Very funny. I could kill Hunter with my eyes closed.”
I look up at him, and he looks at me. He brushes the stray hairs from my eyes.
It is a strange thing to say.
“You could kill him too, Eve,” he murmurs into my ear.
A strange thing indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Are there swings?”
Maggie smiles. “Of course there are swings…although if memory serves me, only half are operational. Don’t tell me you’re a fan.”
“Something like that,” laughs Connor. “Wait, is that weird to admit?”
“Not at all.” She pauses to straighten her ponytail. “I guess you guys had your own Preme playground growing up?”
He nods. “Are there any on the second or third floors?”
I scoff at the suggestion. Of course not.
“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing the Upper Mean one.”
“It won’t be nearly as nice as yours,” Maggie warns.
“That’s okay. The last time we were at ours, oh God. We were probably five years old, right?”
Wren shrugs. “I always went with your family, so you’d know better than I would.”
“Yeah, except you were always getting in fights, so we could never stay long.”
I glance at Wren and see him shrug. Hunter sits on the other side of the table beside Maggie, Emerald beside me. Lunchtime in the Mean cafeteria.
“So how do you guys get in?” Connor asks.
“It’s left unlocked once a month,” I explain as I push peas around my plate. But I am barely paying attention; instead, my eyes dart around the crowded cafeteria for signs of Daniel or Landry. It has been three days since the attack, and I haven’t laid eyes on them since. It is just a matter of time.
Making the whole thing worse is the knowledge that I have no way out. No ticket to freedom awaits in my back pocket. I am stuck down here, confined and imprisoned, battered and bruised, and with a giant red X painted on my back.
Worse yet, that X will become much more pronounced once Daniel and Landry are made guards. Before, I had to escape Eleven by the end of what civilization used to call summer because I couldn’t bear the thought of serving Commander Katz, or kneeling before a Preme, or being branded with my worst memories. Still can’t. But now it is doubly important that I go by then.
“For the cleaners,” Hunter adds, and I force myself to nod.
“Right. For the cleaners.”
Maggie twists the end of her ponytail. “Yeah, we sneak in after the cleaners are gone, usually ten o’clock. It’s usually us and, well, whoever else wants to come. Sometimes it’s a big group, sometimes it’s small. And always there’s booze,” she adds with a wink.
Connor laughs. “It’s this weekend?”
“Saturday night. Fourth floor, past where the admin offices are for the job tours.”
“We’re looking forward to it. Right, Wren?”
Wren nods.
“Don’t mind him. Like I said, he spent most of his time at the playground in a fistfight. It’s probably bringing back some pretty painful memories. So, any luck with the job search?”
I turn to Wren and drop my voice as our friends continue to talk. “Is there something going on there, or is it my imagination?”
“She’s seeing someone, isn’t she?”
I nod. “Treats her like shit, though.”
“Ah.”
I notice that his plate is largely untouched. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You don’t have to go, you know.”
He looks at me. “To the party?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of—”
“If you’re going, I’m there.” He fixes me with a stare. “Besides, I’ve never seen you wasted before.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Very funny.” But my smile evaporates as two figures push through the cafeteria doors. Daniel. Landry. The noise of the crowd seems to drown away into nothingness, a faint murmur at best, and all I can hear is blood rushing in my ears.
They look perfectly relaxed, perfectly at ease with life. My eyes watch them until they sit at the far end of the table. They can’t see me, and I can’t see them. But I can feel their presence, feel their viciousness suffocating me, pushing down my esophagus, closing in around my neck like Daniel’s fingers did. And now I can’t leave Eleven. I have no way out. No way to escape—
I feel like I could vomit. But I’m not doing a good job of hiding it, I know that, and if I’m not careful, then Wren and the others will begin to suspect something. I think Wren already does.
“Did you guys hear the protests this morning?” I hear my voice say. It sounds higher than usual.
Maggie nods. “I had to take a different route from Mom and Dad’s. They were dragging some guy who got killed a few days back. Half the Lower Mean hallways are streaked with blood. Really disgusting.”
“A few days?” asks Hunter. “Usually they’re pretty quick to get rid of bodies.”
“I’m guessing the authorities didn’t even realize there’d been a death—”
Emerald’s fist slams down on the table, and we are silent. “Can we please talk about something else?” Her eyes are bloodshot, and I know without asking that she hasn’t been sleeping.
“Sorry, Emerald,” Maggie says. “I didn’t even think…”
“It’s fine. Just change the subject. Please.” Her plate, too, is untouched.
The cafeteria door swings open once again, and this time i
t’s Kyle. A moment later, his hands land on Maggie’s shoulders.
“Let’s go,” he says, and I see her body tense up. Beside her, Connor stares at his plate. After a moment’s hesitation, she stands, and Kyle gives her a look. “What did I tell you about wearing your hair up? It looks terrible like that. Do you want to date an Upper Mean or not?”
She mumbles something—probably an apology—and I glare at him.
But as he notices my discolored face, his mouth breaks into a sneer. “Looks like you met someone who was a bit bigger than you, huh? Hopefully they taught you some manners.”
“Be very careful,” Wren says to him before I can speak. His voice is level and restrained—everything mine wouldn’t be, if I could pass air through my teeth.
Kyle’s eyes flick back to Maggie. “Hurry up,” he spits at her.
I want to tell her to stay here, with us. Stay here where she is treated with respect, where she is safe. But I can’t, because that would only make things worse for her.
Besides, I am too agitated right now to say much of anything. They are here, they are here. My attackers. My foot twitches, and I can’t stop chewing my thumb.
When Daniel stands, when he leaves the cafeteria a short time later, I notice two things. The first is that Wren’s back straightens. He is watching Daniel as closely as I am. The second is that there is a splint on his finger, one that makes me smile, just a little. Hopefully it is slow to heal.
With Daniel gone, I allow myself a deep breath. Landry, though, remains behind, and I will have to pass him on my way out. I feel his fingers on my stomach, and I want to rip him to shreds. So I focus on breathing in and out until the feeling passes. It wouldn’t be smart to pick a fight right now; I am not fully healed. It wouldn’t be smart to pick a fight, period. More than anything, I think, I want Daniel and Landry and Zaar to leave me alone. I want peace.
Wren is close behind me when we go, and his presence is steadying.
But when my eyes latch on to Landry’s blond hair, he must feel me staring, because his head swivels as I near and his gray eyes come alive with recognition. Recognition of the pain he and Daniel put me through. In an instant, he is grinning and standing, and his arm wraps around my shoulder, and my legs go numb. I am cold all over. Can’t move.
“Wow, Eve. Looks like you took it hard, and right in the face. What a shame.” Then he moves his mouth to my ear. “Next time I’ll see to it that you take it hard somewhere else, too.”
The words make me nauseous, but before I can even think of puking or responding or whatever it is my warped brain wants to do, I am thrown forward and onto my hands and knees. I see why a second later.
Wren has Landry by the collar of his shirt, and he is shoving him forward, to the edge of the cafeteria where the tables don’t reach. Landry’s eyes are wide with surprise, his grin gone, and already his palms are open. A gesture of peace.
Wren’s hands unclench and release him; they rise and mimic Landry’s. Peace. And then the muscles in Wren’s back twitch like they are connected to electricity, and his fist connects with Landry’s eye socket.
Landry is thrown backward, but he manages to stay on his feet.
I blink, and once again, Wren’s hands are raised, and I can see that he is saying something to Landry. Probably I should do something. Probably I should go over there. But I don’t move. I am rooted to the ground.
The second punch breaks Landry’s jaw. I can hear it from here; I can see the shock cut through his eyes. And then Wren’s free hand wraps around Landry’s skull, and he is punching him quickly now, again and again until Landry’s knees are buckling and Wren lets him go. He drops to the ground. Calmly, Wren examines his bloodied knuckles; he examines his opponent, who begs for mercy on the floor.
Now my legs are moving, they are propelling me forward, and I can see that Wren is smiling. His chest may heave from exertion, but as he bends over Landry, I know he is not finished with him; he won’t be finished with him until the light leaves Landry’s eyes for good.
This is why I lied in the first place. This is something I need to stop, even if part of me doesn’t want to.
Wren is on top of him, and his eyes flash with danger, and I am screaming his name. But it is no good; the attack continues, and blood splatters over his olive arms, and Landry’s eyes are closing. And so I do something I probably shouldn’t. I grasp at Wren’s fist; I wedge myself in front of him, into his field of vision. His eyes barely register my presence, they are so wild.
“WREN!” I scream. “STOP! STOP!” I slap him across the face, and his eyes latch on to mine, and for a fraction of a second, I am scared for my own life…but then it is Wren who is looking at me, and I know he can hear me. “Stop,” I repeat, and I say it as firmly as I can. “Please. Stop or he’s going to die. Stop or you’re going to be sent aboveground.”
And then, before I can process whether or not a Preme would actually be sent out for killing an Upper Mean, I freeze, and I have forgotten about Landry, even about Wren. I have forgotten everything around me and before me. For now I have a solution. Now I have a way out, a proper one. It was there in front of me all along, and now I can finally see it, and I see it firmly within my grasp.
All I must do is kill a person.
And then I am free.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
My fist strikes the bag, and the dull thud it makes reminds me of my heel on Landry’s chest. And thinking of Landry makes me think of Wren, of Wren nearly killing him yesterday. Maybe he has killed him; I don’t know. Landry wasn’t moving when I finally forced Wren away. Someone took him to the nurse’s station. I haven’t gotten word since.
I punch the bag again and feel the wetness of blood.
Maggie is watching me, sitting along the wall in the cylindrical tunnel that connects the training rooms to the Bowl. There are no fights scheduled today; we have the place to ourselves.
“Are you feeding the Noms anymore, or are you done with that?” she asks. Her voice is heavy, not like her normal self.
I finish a set of fifty punches before I answer. “Going today, as a matter of fact.”
“So that guard’s been reassigned?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“From?”
“Jules. Apparently he was filling in for Melissa for a couple weeks while she did breakfast duty.” I look at her and shrug. “Now Melissa’s back to lunches, so I’m good to go.”
She picks at her thumb. “You know, you really should apply for a guard job, even if it is a long shot. Especially after what Daniel said about never giving you a moment’s peace. Remember?”
“Yeah, of course I do. But I’m not interested,” I say between strikes. “Besides, it’s an Upper Mean job. They wouldn’t hire a Lower Mean in a million years.”
“That’s ridiculous. If you’re a guard, they’ll leave you alone, plus you’ll be armed. And don’t tell me the guardship won’t at least consider your application. With your fighting record and all the volunteer—”
“Maggie, I’d rather—”
“Die than be a guard? Yeah, I know. So you’ve said. But maybe you need to start thinking more seriously about what’s at stake. Daniel tried to kill you, Eve. This isn’t the same old shit as when we were kids.”
I attack the bag with fury at her words, picturing Daniel’s face instead of thick hide, and I feel beads of sweat form along my brow. She’s right; it isn’t the same old shit at all.
Everything has changed.
“So yesterday sounded pretty wild,” she says after a while. I turn and watch her as I catch my breath. Her arms wrap around her knees, and her brown hair falls loosely around her shoulders. She has a black eye, one that is partially swollen shut. “I just can’t believe it was Daniel and Landry who did that to you. I knew they were scum, but still. And I can’t believe Wren.”
Her eyes me
et mine.
“Wild,” I agree. My voice is disinterested by design.
“He’s…frightening.”
I shrug.
“You trust Wren?”
I give her an exasperated look and then turn back to the punching bag. I attack it with a fresh burst of energy.
What I really need to do is focus. Not on form, not on building muscle, but on the task at hand. I have to kill someone, and in order to do that, I need to decide who I am going to kill. Daniel or Landry are the obvious choices, although possibly Wren has taken care of one of them already.
The thought makes me shiver. His eyes flashing with danger, his calm resolve, that smile—all of it makes me shiver. But mostly because I am not sure I have it in me. Maybe that cruel monster inside me is smaller than I realized. Maybe I am not a killer.
Focus, Eve.
Daniel. Or Landry. But there are other options, too. Other people who deserve to die. That guard with the black bead eyes, for one…
“Can we drop the lies yet, Eve?” Maggie says loudly from the wall. “Or does our lifetime of friendship mean nothing?”
I turn to her, the bag instantly forgotten. My thoughts forgotten, too. “Excuse me?”
“You and Wren are together,” she says simply.
“What?”
“Come on. Don’t play that. It only makes it worse. I’m your best friend, and you kept it a secret. It’s pretty huge, you know—you haven’t exactly had a boyfriend before. Why you felt you couldn’t confide in me of all people, I’ll never know.”
I stare at her coldly. “Save the lecture on secrets, okay?”
Her arms cross over her chest, and she leans forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look at your face,” I spit at her, and my voice sounds loud and hot. “You think I haven’t noticed the bruises? You think the others haven’t?”
She blinks at me, frozen, and then she stirs. “I ended things with him.” Her voice rings through the tunnel; it vibrates with emotion. “Last night. It’s over.”
Escaping Eleven (Eleven Trilogy) Page 22
