He looked upset, or embarrassed for her. She bit her lip. Pity humiliated her more than outright insults.
Tears stung her eyes as she darted through the hallway and ducked into the small corridor to her bathroom. She called it her bathroom, because as far as she could tell, no one else used it. Today, she was grateful.
She burst into the room and slammed the door behind her, then covered her mouth with her hand. She hated crying but couldn’t stop the tears this time.
Most people in Pria loved to cry. Tears deepened their eye color and gave their cheeks a fresh glow. Some women even forced a good cry any time they wished to look more attractive. But when Alina cried, her eyes puffed up and her face looked splotchy for hours. She decided to spend the rest of school in the bathroom and wished she had skipped history altogether. She no longer cared about getting in trouble.
The hot tears fell for a long time, and the release soothed her. Jade told her tears must have a place to go, and the longer they collected, the greater the flood when they broke through. This confused Alina because no one else seemed to have a problem controlling feelings. She’d never seen Jade cry—except once.
She didn’t actually see her. But those tears forever changed Alina’s perception of Jade, who went from infallible one night, to fragile, weak, and defenseless the next.
After the Day of Genesis celebration, the same day Eris snubbed her, Alina lay awake in bed. She never rested well the night after the Sleep, and knew Jade didn’t either, as she was often reading her panel or watching the monitor when Alina tiptoed out of bed.
Despite her restless eyes, Alina had stayed in bed, thinking about the people Jade knew. Several greeted her at the celebration, but she didn’t talk with them long—except for Ellyn and Sasha, who joined them at the feast.
Alina smiled as she remembered how pretty Sasha was. They were all pretty, but the kind ones more so. Sasha called Alina’s dress lovely and gave her a small chocolate from the youths’ table.
Alina swallowed in the darkness of her room. Ellyn and Jade had whispered and laughed for a long time, and Sasha meant to be kind when she mentioned how much Ellyn loved Jade and how much she missed her—how much she missed the old Jade.
Who was the old Jade?
Alina once asked Jade about her age, and the answer surprised her—one hundred and six. Jade lived ninety-eight years before Alina came along, plenty of time to have a career, go to parties, and date, like the other women. But Jade didn’t do any of those things. Did the red-haired girl speak the truth? Did Jade no longer have friends because of her? Alina had tried to make friends her whole life. It made sense Jade didn’t have any either because of her.
Alina kicked off the blankets and crept into the hallway, her bare feet padding along the polished floor. She must find out. The question would make Jade uncomfortable, and Alina feared the answer, but she had to know.
She caught a faint sound as she approached Jade’s room, and putting her ear to the door, realized Jade was crying. Her sobs were intense but muffled, as if buried in a pillow. Alina grasped the doorknob to burst in and run to her, then stopped and bit her lip.
Jade wept because of the curse an ugly child had brought her. When she requested a ward, she expected a beautiful one like everyone else but received Alina instead. Alina saw the way Father Sampson glared at them during the Day of Genesis celebration. He didn’t like Jade, so he gave her Alina, a mistake of his own creation— perhaps an intentional mistake made specially to insult her.
Alina had slipped back to her room with tears dripping off her chin. For the first time, Jade wasn’t there to wipe them away, which brought the greatest sting to her heart.
And now, huddled on the floor of her school bathroom, was the second time.
The pain felt different from when she was eight. She’d longed for words then, for the gentle assurance of Jade’s love no matter how she looked or what regret she may have caused. But that pain eased over time as Jade’s constancy never wavered, as Alina felt certain of her caretaker’s love.
Now Alina knew the truth, and any words from Jade would confirm it. Those words would be the most unbearable pain of all.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stall the fresh tears pooling under her eyelids. She knew disappointment well; she anticipated and expected some letdown each day, the same way she expected the sun to darken each night. But she’d never known disappointment like this.
She blew her nose and stood up to confront the mirror. Her tears had washed the makeup from her face and the blemishes glared back at her. She touched them, feeling their rough texture against her fingertips. What a strange thing to have on a face. How much had Father Sampson experimented when he formed her?
The bell rang, jarring through her body, and she panicked. Her choice to skip class had been rash, and now Jade would suffer for it. She snatched her bag and fled the bathroom, ducking her head to hide her face.
Students poured into the hallway. Alina dashed around the corner and slammed into a tall, solid figure. She lost her balance and started to fall, then felt strong fingers wrap around her forearm, steadying her. She recognized the faded blue t-shirt she’d seen earlier. Zaiden.
Her skin felt warm under his touch, and she cringed as he viewed her swollen eyes and red cheeks. “Thanks,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.
His grip around her arm tightened. She glanced up and found him staring at her.
“I’ve been looking for you, Alina. I’m sorry about what happened—I should have said something to them. It must be hard for you to be so different from everyone else.” His hand trembled, and with a small shake of the head, he looked away. Alina’s heart picked up in her chest. What made him so nervous?
He lifted his head and held her gaze, his brown eyes intense and anxious. He didn’t look at the blemishes on her face, but deep into her eyes. Then he released her arm, swung his pack over his shoulder and turned to go.
“Zaiden,” she rushed. He looked back at her.
“Thank you.” She paused. “It must be hard for you as well.”
“For me?”
Smiling, she said, “To also be different from everyone else.”
He stared at her for a moment before returning her smile—gentle and knowing. As he walked away, she hid her crimson face.
Something in his smile inflamed her, stirring her disappointment into hope. He seemed to be searching, even longing, for meaning behind her words.
Why haven’t I noticed him before?
Alina reflected on this as she walked home, though she knew the answer. Prian boys blurred together in her mind, with their tall, muscular bodies and chiseled features. Tan, fair, or dark-skinned, it didn’t matter—they were all bullies she feared and avoided. Girls were cruel, but nothing like the boys. Girls insulted each other because of competition, which meant their words could be false. Boys’ insults were always true.
For this reason, she took the long way home. She’d arrive fifteen minutes sooner if she walked on Emrys Street, but that meant passing the thrill park occupied by loud, lecherous boys who believed a girl’s worst crime was to be unattractive. Emrys also crossed an upscale section of Pria with homes four times the size of Alina’s. Swimmers in bikinis on every deck made her feel two feet shorter and wider.
She preferred the back trail that twisted through rows of symmetrical, six-petaled flowers. No flower had the same color or pattern, and they extended for miles over the green hills in the distance.
When she reached the homes on her street she often saw Cecilia, an aspiring aerial dancer, practicing a routine between her front trees. Three doors down lived Roger, who switched careers so many times over the decades he finally gave up and spent his afternoons drinking on his front porch. He wasn’t friendly, but occasionally nodded at Alina and sent Jade his regards. Otherwise, the street was empty. Most people who lived on Evergreen Loop stayed hidden.
But today, Alina didn’t notice the flowers, Cecilia, Roger, or th
e pink fleecy kitten that followed her, purring for attention. Her thoughts were fixed on Zaiden.
He’d been in her history class all year, but he sat in the back—perhaps this was why she overlooked him. Who were his friends? She couldn’t recall seeing him with anyone. He’d never been rude to her—she knew that much. Maybe he was a transfer student from the opposite side of town. A dip in social status sometimes drove people to the outskirts of Pria, and a change in schools concealed this downgrade at least for a while. But he didn’t seem like the type who’d care about that.
Their history teacher called on him often in class, and he knew the answers as if he’d memorized every historical fact about Pria. Alina paused her steps. She had noticed him before. He sat on a bench in front of the school each morning, reading his panel. She entered through the front door on occasion, and once he glanced up when she passed. Their eyes had met. But they hadn’t spoken until today.
She smiled as she skipped up the steps to her door, until the memory of Miss Rhonda’s lesson washed over her like a cold shower. Her hands shook as she tapped the code on the lock-screen and slipped inside. Jade had surely been notified she’d skipped class. Alina hoped the repercussions wouldn’t be too severe, for either of them.
The house was empty, so Alina made a sandwich, sank into the couch, and clicked on the monitor. Jade didn’t let her watch until she completed her homework, but she didn’t care. I’m in enough trouble already. I may as well live it up.
She clicked aimlessly through the streams and stopped when a man, dressed in black, peered through a window at a girl lying in bed. A long knife glistened in his hand.
Jade once told her that because no one understood death, they had an extreme fascination with it. The obsession seemed silly to Alina, but now she found herself unable to pull her eyes from the screen.
The man opened the window, crept into the room, and peered down at the girl. Her blonde hair flowed over her pillow in the moonlight. He flashed a cold smile, then lifted the knife and plunged the edge into her throat. Alina screamed and covered her eyes, fumbling with the controls until the screen went black.
She curled up on the couch and squeezed her eyes shut. The sandwich churned in her stomach. Think of something else, anything else. No, not Miss Rhonda’s lesson, something happy. Jade. No, she’s angry with me. Something nice. Zaiden.
She took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. No boy had looked at her that way before—past her blemishes as if he didn’t see them. He didn’t care if anyone saw them together—in fact, he seemed to like it. For the first time in years, she felt someone wanted to be her friend.
She had a friend once—Pierce. He’d lived next door and didn’t mind that she looked different. They scaled trees together and threw the squishy fruit at the ground critters, where the flesh bounced off their fur and hit the ground with a splat.
With Pierce, Alina first noticed she couldn’t run fast or do tricks. Once, after climbing the glossy trunk of a rainbow tree, Pierce leaped from a top branch and did two flips before landing on his feet.
“Try it!” he called to her. “You think you can’t, but that’s only ’cause you haven’t tried! It works for everyone, I promise.”
Alina shuddered as she reached the top branch, her body crying a warning to her.
“Do it!” he called again. “I didn’t know how it was going to happen either, but it just does!”
She swallowed, bent her knees to push off, closed her eyes and then—
“Alina, no!” a frantic voice called.
Jade’s panicked face appeared above the fence of their yard. Alina cowered and climbed down, muttering goodbye to Pierce as she ran home.
He and his caretaker moved the following day. He lived somewhere in Pria, but she never saw him. She might not recognize him if she did. They had grown up.
But she had a friend once; that’s what mattered. And now, perhaps, she had one in Zaiden. She stretched her arms above her head and smiled, then masked a lengthy yawn with her hand. The emotions of the day had drained her, and she closed her eyes. Sleep came as a welcome relief.
Alina awoke to a crystal bird twittering outside her window. She parted the blinds and found its clear feathers among the satin leaves of the rainbow tree. The crystal bird differed from the other flashy birds, and its translucence brought rest to her overstimulated eyes.
Outside, the street swarmed with people, though the sun barely peeked on the horizon, and Alina fell back on her bed and groaned. She despised large crowds. Jade hated the Day of Genesis too, but attendance was required for all citizens. Each year was the same: the dancing, the eating and drinking, the long, emotional speech by Father Sampson, and the Sleep. Children snuggled with their fluffy pets, grown-ups dressed in their finest nightclothes and clasped their lovers, if they had one—and everyone fell asleep for a night and a day. Big deal.
The Sleep was a big deal. Alina didn’t understand why everyone loved sleeping under those blinding stars. She suspected some didn’t sleep but did something exciting instead, and only those who stayed awake knew about it. Each year she vowed to stay up no matter how tired she got, but she never kept that promise. She admitted she dreamed her best dreams on the night of Genesis, but still, why did everyone make such a fuss over sleeping?
She heard Jade in the kitchen, singing softly, opening and closing the cupboards. Alina left her room in her nightgown. She didn’t care to get ready for the day.
Jade wore stretch pants and a slim top and kept her raven hair swept back in a messy bun. She looked up from the fruit she was slicing and smiled.
“You’re not excited for today, either,” she noted, handing Alina a plate of fruit. “You won’t have to eat much this morning. You know how much food there is at the feast.”
“Thanks.”
They said nothing else through breakfast, but it was more words than usual. Alina had long given up asking questions, as they caused Jade to drop her heavy eyelashes, run her fingers through her hair, and pretend she hadn’t heard. If she answered at all, she said the same thing each time:
“Don’t tell anyone these things, or they might be mean to you. It’s best to keep them secret.”
“They’re already mean to me.”
“I know, and I don’t want it to get worse.”
Then Jade pressed her lips and furrowed her brow, a look Alina had seen many times before. For some reason, these questions troubled Jade. But in spite of how little they spoke, Jade seemed to sense Alina’s emptiness and wrapped her arms around her or rubbed her back when they were together. Her strong palms were a salve to Alina’s aching heart.
They ate slowly, trying to delay when they would have to join the masses outside. When the excitement grew so loud they could hear it through the closed windows, Jade met Alina’s eyes and gave a small sigh.
They slipped into their dresses and fixed their hair, then walked across the manicured lawn to the bustling street. Pria was a perfect circle of continuous round streets, smaller circles set inside larger ones, connected by long, intersecting avenues. Gordian Palace, Father Sampson’s home, sprawled over a high hill in the center. The bull’s-eye.
Jade and Alina lived on Evergreen Loop, the outer ring, where the small houses all looked the same except for their crisp, candy-colored exteriors. The kids at school teased her for living on Evergreen, so she avoided speaking of it. Sometimes she overheard the neighbors gossiping, discussing who had moved to a ‘better’ street. There was always something better out there. No one on Evergreen stayed for long, if they could help it. But Alina had known no other home.
The important people lived on Infinite Way, near Gordian Palace, in sprawling estates with massive grounds. Alina used to love the turrets and balconies that glittered like fairy castles, even in daylight—but she hated them now. They reminded her of what she and Jade couldn’t have.
This was her twelfth Day of Genesis, and the celebration had long lost its appeal. She watched with glassy eyes as ch
ildren tapped their feet in unison for the Forever Pria performance and throughout the Last Great War reenactment. She didn’t scream with the crowd when Father Sampson stood and waved from the stage with his sumptuous girlfriend at his side. In the evening, after a brief adjournment to change into their sleep clothes, the people gathered in the outer gardens for Father Sampson’s speech. Jade and Alina always sat on the edge of the gardens during the speech, isolated from the congregation. Jade spread a soft blanket under them and brushed and braided Alina’s hair, whose eyes grew heavy at the gentle tugging of her hands.
Applause broke out, signaling the beginning of the speech. Father Sampson ascended into the air where his voice carried to all twenty thousand citizens of Pria. Alina knew a pedestal raised him, but he appeared to be standing above the ground as if by magic. Large screens transmitted his face up close for all to admire. He bowed and blew kisses for a long time, basking in the flattery. Women screamed with their hands outstretched, tears rolling down their cheeks, and men stood upright in a stiff salute. One man rolled his eyes back into his head and bellowed Father Sampson’s name in a loud, rhythmic chant. His expression frightened Alina until she caught Jade covering her mouth and shaking with silent laughter.
“Dear citizens of Pria,” Father Sampson’s voice boomed. “Welcome to the annual celebration of our Genesis!”
The audience cheered, then broke into Pria’s anthem, “O Hail, Fair Pria.” Alina’s voice embarrassed her, so she didn’t sing. Jade never sang the anthem either, though she sang and hummed plenty at home. By the eighth verse, she fidgeted and rolled her eyes.
When the song finally ended, Father Sampson nodded and continued. “As you all know, today we celebrate the establishment of our world. Many hundreds of years ago, before Pria existed, I was born in Carthem and grew to adulthood in its savage environment.”
Father Sampson paused, his broad chest heaving with emotion. “In Carthem, violence overshadowed peace, hatred destroyed love. Wars were fought in succession, the intensity increasing with each one. In its final, bloodiest war, of which I fought many battles, nearly all inhabitants were destroyed. Friends turned against friends, lovers against lovers. Men betrayed their own kin. Women were ravished and slaughtered. Orphaned children cried from their demolished homes and blood flowed through the streets, carrying the rancid smell of death.”
The Perfect Outcast Page 2
