Alina rarely paid attention to Father Sampson’s words, but this time they interested her. She tilted her head to Jade and asked, “What is blood? And what is death?”
Jade corrected Alina’s head and continued to braid, then answered in a fixed tone. “Blood is what flows through the bodies of mortals, and death is what happens to all of them. Their bodies stop working, their brains stop thinking, and they fall to the earth, never to rise again.”
The finality in those words stunned Alina. “Never? Will death happen to me? Or you?”
Jade’s hands paused. “No. Because of Father Sampson, all of us will live forever. No one in Pria can die.”
Alina felt relieved, not for herself, but for Jade. Nothing terrified her more than losing her caretaker. Perhaps Father Sampson deserved the praise he received. If no one in Pria could die, then she and Jade would always be together.
She listened with new ears as he spoke of the Last Great War and how he’d watched his loved ones die, including his beloved lover and their only child. The audience shed tears and Father Sampson choked on his words, allowing the despair to thicken the air.
Then he squared his shoulders and raised a clenched fist.
“I decided in that moment of ultimate suffering, I wouldn’t rest until I found the cure for death, and once found, I’d create a world where no one would ever” —his voice swelled— “know the meaning of pain, war, or death again!”
The audience leaped to their feet, clapping and crying, and Jade laced Alina’s hair so fiercely, her head jerked with each pull.
Father Sampson bowed his head, and as the applause faded, he paused for several moments before speaking again.
“It’s difficult to reflect on these things,” he said, as one long finger brushed a tear from his cheek. “But I know I must share my story. No one here has experienced such pain, such terror. For that I am glad. But there is a risk of forgetting how blessed we are because we have no painful memories to remind us. Our world is fragile. We cannot allow divisions of any kind to exist, or Pria will fall. We must all be vigilant in our loyalty to Pria, to me, if we are to avoid the fate of Carthem. We must pledge ourselves to preserve our peace.”
At these words every person stood up. Jade and Alina followed. They crossed their hands over their mouths, moved them to the heart, and directed one open palm toward Father Sampson. Alina heard the echoes of thousands reciting the Prian pledge: some shouting the words, others whispering through their tears. They swore fidelity to Pria and Father Sampson, their Creator, or be cast into Carthem to die.
Alina glanced at Jade, who went through the motions with a face of stone. Just as Jade didn’t sing the anthem, she never recited the pledge. But the last few years Alina noticed something she found the most peculiar of all. She waited to see if it happened again.
As the citizens chanted, Father Sampson turned his eyes to where Alina and Jade stood, by themselves, on the outskirts of the crowd. He never took notice of them at any other time, but on the Day of Genesis, and always during the pledge, he glared as if they were the only ones he could see.
Jade returned his glare with icy contempt in her eyes.
When they sat down, Alina leaned over to Jade. “Why does Father Sampson look at you like that? Have you offended him?”
Jade’s eyes widened for a moment. “He wasn’t looking at me.”
“I saw him,” Alina insisted. “Every year, he stares at you during the pledge and he seems angry.”
Father Sampson blew kisses from his pedestal and extended his arms as he descended, dismissing everyone for the Sleep. People began to stand, gathering their things.
Jade shot to her feet. “I haven’t noticed.” She bent over and picked up her bag. “Hurry, let’s go claim our spot for the Sleep.”
“But—” Alina started, then sighed. When Jade closed down, there was no way to press answers from her.
Alina stood up, and as she gathered the blanket, a spot of red caught her eye. She stretched out the heavy cloth. “Jade, look! Where’s it coming from this time?”
Jade looked at the blanket and gasped. “Are you—” She grabbed Alina’s shoulder and whipped her around. When Alina looked back, Jade’s face was white.
“What is it?” Alina’s heart sank. “Is it on my new nightgown?”
Jade tried to smile. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal. Good news—now we can enjoy the Sleep at home!”
“What? But I thought no one was allowed to spend the Sleep at home.”
“We are,” Jade rushed. “Father Sampson permits it for special circumstances, and this is one of them.”
“But I thought you said it was normal,” Alina puzzled.
“Don’t you want to go home?”
“Yes‚ of course,” Alina replied.
“Then I’ll explain later. Hurry, or we’ll fall asleep on the way.”
Alina grabbed the blanket and followed Jade to the street, clasping her nightgown behind her to hide the stain. They darted between men in silk pajamas, partially buttoned to flaunt their pectoral muscles, and women in frilly robes with long trains trailing behind. Children danced around in their slippers, giggling as their caretakers set up sleep stations with mounds of blankets, deep pillows, and furry pets.
Father Sampson shut off the sky and lit the stars, and everyone stopped to look up, a chorus of oohs echoing around them. Jade quickened her steps.
“That was fast,” she murmured. “I hope we make it in time.”
“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” Alina fretted as she skipped to keep up with her.
“I’m sure,” Jade answered, and her confidence put Alina’s mind at ease. Jade seemed to relax as they distanced themselves from the crowd.
“So why am I leaking? I didn’t fall down or touch anything sharp,” Alina whispered.
“Sometimes it’s just the way our bodies work. Like when your teeth came out and you grew new ones.”
Alina cringed. She never understood that about her teeth. They took so long to grow back, while everyone else seemed to get theirs immediately. But she learned long ago her body didn’t work like theirs.
“Why do we need to go home?”
“You need something to absorb it, so you don’t feel embarrassed.”
“I see.” Alina’s face softened. “People are good at hiding when they leak. It’s not something we show in public.”
Jade nodded. “Exactly. I should’ve been better prepared for you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. No one saw.” Alina smiled at her. “I’m glad, because now we get to sleep at home in our beds.”
Jade grinned back. “Yes, if we make it that far. But tell me—are you feeling okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t feel strange? Like the time you rode the air coaster at the park?”
“No. I feel fine.”
Jade sighed and squeezed Alina’s hand. “Good. Let me know if you start feeling different, okay?”
“Okay.” Alina scratched her chin. She had leaked many times before, but never like this. And Jade seemed more worried this time. What could it be?
A block from home, the Sleep overcame them. With blurry eyes and sluggish legs, Jade threw their pillows on the lawn of an empty house as they collapsed. As Alina’s eyelids closed, her last aching thought was how they didn’t make it home in time, and her nightgown—the only beautiful thing about her—was likely ruined.
“Alina.”
She heard the muffled voice again, and her eyes popped open. Jade stood above the couch, her dark eyes narrowed with concern.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Alina rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I’m fine. I just saw something gory on the monitor.”
Jade dropped her shopping bags to the floor. Alina peeked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face.
“Well, I hope you learned your lesson. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Do people really die that
way?”
“What way?”
“This girl in the movie—some psycho stabbed her in the throat, then her eyeballs turned black and her skin melted off. She dripped and oozed this bubbly red stuff.”
“What on earth were you watching?” Jade put a hand on her hip.
“Sorry,” Alina mumbled. “I had a bad day.”
Jade sighed and sat down next to her. “Remember how I told you how obsessed people are with death? They seem to think it’s always morbid and traumatic, and movie makers go overboard in depicting it. As for myself, I believe some mortals die peacefully, like in their sleep. I’ve always been an optimist, though.” She smiled, but it faded as she cleared her throat. “Now about this bad day you had—”
Alina groaned and covered her face with her hand. “I know, I know. You don’t have to lecture me. I should’ve ignored Eris and stayed in class.”
Jade’s eyes widened. “What—you didn’t stay in class?”
Alina cringed. “I thought you’d heard.”
Jade shot to her feet and paced the room, rubbing her forehead. “Alina, you can’t skip school! You know that!”
“I’m sorry! But you were wrong about no one noticing these bumps on my face! Thanks to Eris—she announced it to the whole class, and of course they all came over to look. And then she started teasing me about the friends I don’t have and how you and I never talk—” Alina broke off. She hadn’t meant to say that part.
Jade spun around, her face full of hurt. “What?”
Alina regretted the slip. She didn’t like to hurt Jade, but she couldn’t take the words back—they had too much truth in them. So, she became defensive instead.
“Why are you so surprised? We don’t talk! You never say anything to me—nothing worth talking about anyway—and you don’t answer me when I ask questions about myself. You know what? I found out today why I’m different. I found out the same time everyone in my class found out.” Alina’s voice grew louder. “And it hurt that I found out from a teacher, and not from you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What did your teacher say?” Jade whispered hoarsely.
Her soft tone set Alina off. “AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW! I’M A FREAK! A MISTAKE! FATHER SAMPSON’S WORST EXPERIMENT GONE WRONG!” Alina screamed.
Jade’s face lost all of its color. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“It’s true then! Even you can’t deny it—thanks for not telling me!”
“Alina,” Jade begged, reaching out to her. “Listen to me, please. I never told you that because it’s not true.” Jade bit her lip, as if she said something she shouldn’t have. But the sincerity in her voice gave Alina a spark of hope.
“What do you mean? Why am I so different then?”
Jade hesitated, then shook her head. “It’s—I can’t—I don’t know.”
Alina’s nostrils flared. “See, there you go again—avoiding my questions! I’m not stupid, you know! If I’m not a failed experiment, then what am I? Because I’m certainly not like the other girls at school, and YOU KNOW WHY!”
Jade’s eyes faltered.
“You know why. Don’t you,” Alina repeated, this time in a whisper.
Jade was near tears. Alina glared at her, and when she said nothing, Alina put her face in her hands and screamed. She bolted for the door.
Jade stepped in front of her. “Stop, please. Don’t go anywhere—I know you’re upset, but let me explain. Oh! You’re—” Jade hesitated, staring at Alina’s face. “Let me get you something for that.” She dashed into the kitchen.
“What?” Alina asked, turning to the mirror by the door. A red stream trickled from the cluster of blemishes on her forehead. She was leaking.
“Here you go,” Jade said, placing a wet cloth on Alina’s brow. Alina’s eyes were glued to the mirror. She narrowed them as the stream oozed between her eyebrows.
“Jade, what is this?”
Jade averted her eyes. “Um—”
“You told me everyone leaks, but that’s not true, is it?” She met Jade’s eyes through the mirror. “I’ve never seen it on you before.”
Jade’s face was calm, but Alina could see the panic in her eyes.
“Tell me what this is, or I’ll never speak to you again,” Alina ordered.
“It’s bl—,” Jade cut off, catching herself.
“Blood?” Alina finished. She knew that word. Where had she heard it?
Blood flowed through the streets…
Blood is what runs in the bodies of the mortals…
Alina whirled around, her eyes wide.
“I’m mortal, aren’t I?” she whispered.
Jade didn’t answer.
“That’s why I’m different.” Alina stared at her. “Father Sampson messed me up so completely, I became mortal. That’s why he’s ashamed of me. He wants everyone to hate me because of it. Jade,” she demanded, her voice rising, “how long have you known?”
Jade shook her head. “Lina, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not mortal. You’re upset because of what happened today, so you’re jumping to conclusions—”
“You’re lying!”
Jade pursed her lips together. “It’s not what you think—”
“WHY DO YOU LIE TO ME?”
Alina burst into tears and lunged for the door. Once again, Jade slipped in front of her. With a hint of pleading in her voice, she said, “Go for a walk down Infinite Way. I hear Rex is putting up decorations for the Harvest Feast. You could watch—or talk with him to help you feel better.”
Alina stormed past Jade and slammed the door as she left. She bolted across the lawn, pounding her feet on the pavement as she walked. Why was Jade such a fraud? Like everyone in Pria, she pretended life was perfect and sweet when it obviously wasn’t.
But through her anger, Alina’s heart felt lighter.
I’m mortal.
I will die someday.
The thought of death, so mysterious and terrifying to others, comforted her. There was an end. She wouldn’t live forever as an outcast in a perfect world. Tears came to her eyes and she lifted her head, expressing gratitude, though she wasn’t sure to whom. Father Sampson? If his mistake made her mortal, she’d have to thank him one day.
Even Carthem didn’t frighten her anymore. Though a miserable place, her life couldn’t be any worse there. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with this new freedom.
She had no place in mind to go and hesitated when she reached the crossroads to Infinite Way. How strange for Jade to suggest she go see Rex. Alina had never spoken to him before and felt certain he didn’t know she existed. Did Jade know him? They didn’t speak to each other. She must have mentioned him for a reason, because as much as Jade concealed her feelings, Alina knew their quarrel had distressed her.
Curious, she turned down Aiona Avenue toward Infinite Way. She rarely, if ever, walked this road. It ran the length of Pria, intersecting the circular streets. The neighborhoods near Evergreen Loop were modest enough, but the closer she got to the center of Pria, the more lavish the homes became. Most of the popular kids, including Eris, lived on Aiona, but Alina had no idea which home was hers.
Today, she didn’t care. She half hoped to run into Eris because, armed with new knowledge about herself, she was ready for a fight and indifferent to the consequences. Nothing Eris said or did would hurt her now.
She stormed down the street, glaring at the homes as they became larger and flashier. She stared into each sprawling window without caring how rude it looked. These garish homes exceeded the ones on Emrys Street, which she sometimes passed on the way home from school. Instead of mid-sized swimming pools on front decks, these mansions concealed their infinity pools on rooftops and backyards, complete with waterfalls and elaborate balconies for diving. Pristine flower gardens adorned the front grounds, paved with sleek stones in every color—browns, greens, blues, and even pinks. The homes matched the yards in extravagance and luxury, each one competing to be more awe-i
nspiring than the next. They were nothing compared to the estates she’d soon see on Rex’s street, but she hated them just as much. In Pria, the value of a person mirrored the value of the home in which they lived.
A few people lounged outside, stretched out on chaises with panels in hand, eyes never moving from their screens as they sipped from crystal goblets. One woman on her balcony spoke so loudly into her panel, Alina overheard every word as she passed.
“I won’t forgive him this time. I’ve caught him with other women too many times. I’m going to tell him at the feast tomorrow that it’s over. He’ll come crawling back because he knows I can turn people against him. Anyone worth associating with, that is.”
Alina stared up at the woman in disgust. She didn’t notice Alina but leaned against the decorative railing of her balcony and scrunched her glossy ringlets. She placed a hand on her hip under a silk robe, her painted fingernails matching the hot pink of her negligee. Music blared from an open window below her, and as Alina glanced at the lower room, she did a double take. She’d found Eris’s home.
Eris stood before an enormous three-sided mirror, sweeping her flaming red hair into different styles and admiring herself. After each pose, she broke into a smile and giggled, then said something to the mirror. She shook her curly mane around her shoulders and turned up her nose, puckering her lips with air kisses. Alina watched, amused, then planted her feet directly where Eris would see her when she looked out the window.
“Girl!” a high-pitched voice squeaked out. “Why are you laughing and staring at my house?” Alina glanced up at the woman on the balcony. She crossed her arms over her pink negligee. “Why are you on this street, anyway? You don’t belong here. Off you go, or I’ll call Social Enforcement.”
Alina ignored the woman and glanced back at the window, hoping Eris would look. But she was busy dancing to the music, whipping her red curls from side to side as she tossed her head.
The Perfect Outcast Page 3
