Sovereign (Sovereign Series)

by E. R. Arroyo

  When I meet Nathan’s eyes, he whispers, “You should ice your cheek.” Then he winks. Winks! And I can’t shake the feeling that something awful is coming. For a moment, a brief moment, I wish he would go ahead and put me out of my misery. If he wants me dead, I’d be easy to kill, what with all the soldiers and weapons at his disposal.

  When he leaves, I wait about two minutes then bolt for the door. Alyssa calls after me, but I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe, and I need to think. I need to process.

  After I bust through my bedroom door, I slam it then sink to the floor. When I draw my hand to my face, I realize for the first time that it’s sore. I poke around to figure out how big the mark must be. Most of my cheek hurts, as well as both sides of my jaw. I guess he gripped me harder than I’d realized before he hit me.

  I close my eyes remembering his cold fingers on my skin. I shudder and can’t help the tears that overwhelm me. Two days ago, I was in control and untouchable. Today I'm nothing. I’m a vapor. A little girl who cries when someone puts on a little pressure. Savagely wiping my tears away, I drag myself out of my pity party. How am I going to face the dangerous world on the outside if I can’t even hold it together in here?

  No more tears, Cori, I tell myself.

  A light tap on the door startles me, and I jump to my feet as the knob turns. Dylan slides through the door. Although I’m relieved it’s only him, I can’t believe he’s on the girls’ floor. He shouldn’t be here.

  “What are you doing?” I hug my chest, gripping my waist, and I feel myself blush. I doubt it shows, though, since my face is probably already red.

  “Everybody is still eating,” he whispers.

  “How did you get up in here?” I glance at the door, thinking of the guard at the end of the hall.

  “Bathroom break.” I’m glad he’s being cautious. He should be. “What happened to your face? Are you okay?” Holding his hand awkwardly in the space between us, I can tell he wants to touch my wounded face, but refrains. I’m thankful he’s so respectful of me. Alyssa is a lot less considerate. She often throws an arm around my shoulder, giving me a good squeeze before I can squirm free.

  I try to sound okay, casual even. “Oh, you know. Just another night in the slammer.”

  His nostrils flare and his eyes widen. “Who hit you?” There’s an edge to his voice now. Less tender. I can’t place it, but from the fists at his side, it might be protective.

  “Nathan.” I look away, ashamed. Scared.

  “I knew it.” He turns his back, and all the muscles are tensed beneath his shirt. When he slams his hand into the wall, I jump. I can’t figure out what he’s thinking and it’s driving me crazy.

  A knock at the door sends both of us into panic. All I can think is to hide Dylan.

  “Under the bed,” I hiss. Once he’s hidden, I sit on the bed and try to look casual. “Come in.”

  Ginny steps inside, her arms full of clothing. She closes the door and lets out a little exhale, seeming tired. Ginny is my beloved caretaker. Has been ever since I was seven, when I first arrived at the colony. She’s a little cold, but she has to be. Still, the coldness never reaches her eyes and that’s how I know she cares. Honestly, she could pass for my mother; we have almost the same shade of strawberry blonde hair. But her eyes are blue, not brown like mine.

  She drops the clothes beside me. “We need to get you presentable.”

  I look myself over and wonder if that’s even possible.

  “Up, up,” she beckons me to stand. When I’m up, she takes my place. I wince a little, hoping to God Dylan doesn’t make a sound. If I get caught with a boy in my bedroom, I’m a goner for sure. They don’t tolerate mixing company like this. Even once we’re grown, we can’t engage in romantic or intimate relationships. Reproduction is strictly sanctioned by the Population Division.

  “Off with them,” she says, gesturing to my clothes.

  Close your eyes, I think even though Dylan can’t hear me.

  I turn my back to the bed and drop my cotton pants, and strip off my gray t-shirt. I try to cover myself as I look back at Ginny.

  “Oh, great. You’re finally aware you have breasts. Just in time,” she chirps.

  I feel a heavy blush all over, but I guess I haven’t had much regard for the changes my body has undergone these past couple of years. Ginny holds up a small piece of fabric that confuses me, as it’s not large enough to be a shirt. I hold the thing with one hand still covering my chest, and look it over.

  “What is it?” I ask, feeling silly that I don’t know.

  “A bra. You’ll be needin’ to start wearin’ one. You’re almost a woman now.” Her voice isn’t like the rest of ours. She has a different dialect that she won’t tell me how she came by.

  “Every day?” I hold it as far away as I can.

  “For the rest o’ your life, dear.”

  She shows me which way it goes, and I slide it on over my head and shimmy the elastic band at the bottom into place. I’m actually grateful I’m semi-covered now. Dylan had better not be looking.

  “Just be glad it’s not the kind with wires, like mine. You shouldn’t need them,” she says, obviously attempting to lighten the mood. I’m so tense, I know she can tell I’m uncomfortable.

  “Metal wires? In your bra?” I ask.

  She nods. I can’t help but look at her chest now, wondering why hers warrants something mine does not. The obvious answer is size, but maybe I’m wrong.

  “Wear this dress for the funeral. I don’t want to hear a word about it. Your pants’ll be right here waitin’ after dinner.” With that, she leaves.

  I slip into the dress, which is black and comes just below the knee. It doesn’t have sleeves and for some unimaginable reason the neckline is cut like a “V” that lands way too close to my new bra. I feel naked and hate it.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Dylan whispers. Dylan! For a moment, I’d forgotten he was there. Now I’m blushing all over again.

  He starts to slide out from under the bed, when another tap comes at the door. I can’t imagine how anyone else could possibly need to see me. Dylan drags himself back under the bed as Nathan steps through the door.

  If I felt naked thirty seconds ago, it’s nothing compared to now. One corner of Nathan’s mouth turns into a crooked grin as he looks me over, apparently pleased with my dress. I’ll have to remember to kill Ginny for this later.

  “Ah, Cori. There you are,” he says, pushing the door closed then crossing his arms.

  “I hope you didn’t have to look too hard to find me right here in my room.” Before today, I could tell when my digs were getting to him. Now, he’s cold as ice. Hard as stone.

  He strides over to my bed and sits right where Ginny had. I’m even more nervous now than when Ginny was in here. I tell myself there’s no reason for Nathan to look under the bed, so long as Dylan stays quiet, we’re safe.

  Nathan rubs his serpentine fingers across my pillow and I cringe, hoping my revulsion doesn’t show. I remember, again, when those fingers were on my face, and his threat that accompanied them. But he’s wrong. I’m still ten months from eighteen. We don’t join our Divisions until eighteen. I have ten months to get out. If I don’t, I will be one of his soldiers and won’t even have a choice. None of us do. My examination results showed I’m cut out for one thing: violence. By default, I’m pledged to the Guard.

  He takes a deep breath and stares at me. He can’t touch me for ten months. I push away the fact that he already has touched me and shove it far into the darkness somewhere.

  “You’re a mystery to me, you know,” he says. “And you frustrate me.” His eyes scrutinize me again, and I feel sweat beading on the back of my neck. “You seem to continually find new ways to frustrate me, actually.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “You see, that’s just it. I can’t decide.” He tilts his head to the side, wrinkling his nose. “There’s a part of me that wonders if I could somehow harness all
that rage, all that energy--the skill even--and put it to good use. If you could channel your passion toward the good of the colony instead of petty mischief...well, you’d make a hell of a soldier.”

  “The other part?” I ask, regretting it almost immediately. Why can’t I keep my trap shut?

  He stands, clasps his hands, and takes a few steps toward me. “The other part,” he starts as sweat drips down my back. “The other part wants to make you suffer. To punish you for your blatant disrespect for my rules. Your disregard for the well-being of this colony and how it must operate.” He’s beginning to yell now, “The other part wants to squeeze the life out of you and parade your body around as a trophy, so that everyone will know that I alone am sovereign, not some punk kid with an attitude problem.”

  I don’t know how long I’ve been holding my breath, but I exhale at the same time he does.

  “These people admire me. If you kill a seventeen-year-old girl for some ego boost, they’ll revolt. You’ll make a martyr of me,” I say as boldly as I can.

  “There are many ways I can punish you.” He rubs the bottom of his shirt to wipe off dirt that isn’t there, smoothing it over a few times, casually.

  “Well, you have ten months to decide.”

  A cold, billowing laugh escapes him and sends a shudder through my bones.

  “Cori. Little girl.” He’s in my face now. “In ten months, you’ll already be a model soldier, or you’ll be dead. Your delinquency has given me no choice but to expedite your pledge. I’ll see you at the funeral.”

  Just like that he’s out the door and I’m staring at the wall, listening to his footsteps falling farther and farther away. I can’t be sure but I think he just told me I’m joining the Guard early.

  The Guard means a chip in my neck, and living in the military sector of the underground facility. Under the same roof as Nathan. The Guard means security cameras, locked doors, and no windows. The Guard means I cannot escape.

  I jump when two hands grab my shoulders, and I jerk away from the touch immediately, even though I know it’s just Dylan and he means well. He always means well. I wait for him to tell me it isn’t true. I wish he would tell me Cornelius is still alive, and I still have ten months to escape. I wish he would tell me I’ve just woken up from a nightmare. But he doesn’t.

  “I’ll make you a new set as fast as I can. I’ll start tonight,” he whispers. We both know it’ll take at least a week to forge a pair of wings without being caught. Somehow I doubt we’ve got that much time.

  “We’ve got to get you out of here,” I say as I walk to the door. I push him behind it as I peek outside, finding the hall is bustling with girls. I close the door. I point at the air vent and walk over to it. He doesn’t follow. “If you crawl inside this vent, go left and take it all the way down, it will lead you to a return vent in the girls’ room, where the laundry chute is. Go down the chute, climb into the vent directly above it, and go right. In ten yards you’ll reach the vent in your room.”

  He rubs his brow, looking completely baffled.

  I try to assure him, “It’s okay, I replaced all the screws on the vent covers with magnets.”

  “Cori?” he mumbles.

  “It’s going to be fine. I promise, I use the ducts all the time. You’ll just have to be careful...”

  “Cori,” he says, more assertively.

  “What?” We’re wasting time. I look at the door, nervously, afraid someone else will come through it.

  “You know how to get to my room?”

  And now I’m blushing again, but I try my best to play it off, adjusting my dress. “You know how I can’t sleep sometimes. I just...worry, and I like to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I check on Alyssa, too.” I hope the last bit will comfort him. I know he cares for her.

  He seems to be mulling something over, but I can’t read his expression. “Cori, there’s a problem.”

  I immediately start to backpedal, certain I’ve just offended him. Not respected his privacy. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore, I promise.”

  “The problem is there’s no way I’ll fit through that vent.”

  I soak him in, then eye the vent. When I return to him, I realize he’s well over six feet tall and quite bulky. Though his waist is narrow, there’s no way his shoulders will fit through the hole in my ceiling. I barely fit through. I have no idea how I’m going to get him out of here.

  I pace the floor, trying to think of something. I check the hall one more time. Besides the scores of girls, there’s a guard on constant duty at the end of the hall. They rotate twice a day, twelve-hour shifts of nothing but sitting still, and keeping watch, probably watching for things exactly like this--a boy in my room.

  I decide there’s nothing we can do until the hall clears out and Dylan doesn’t seem to mind. I’m not concerned with afternoon classes since my life is being put on fast-forward.

  Dylan crawls under my bed in case someone comes in, and I lay on top of it figuring I might as well rest before the funeral. Maybe the gate will magically be opened while everyone is distracted with the service and no one will notice me running as fast as I can to freedom. Unlikely, but a girl can hope.

  I set my watch alarm for 4:30 so we’ll have plenty of time to get him out of here before the girls come back from classes to change clothes for the funeral. My eyelids flutter and I allow sweet sleep to come over me.

  In a semi-conscious state, I dream of nothingness--just black in every direction. I don’t see any faces, but I hear someone’s voice, and I have the sensation of holding someone’s hand. I remember the last time I held someone’s hand and the memory jars me awake. My alarm is beeping, and Dylan is sliding from under the bed. I shut the alarm off and sit up, feeling groggy.

  After a few deep breaths, I slide my boots on over a clean pair of socks. The boots make the dress look even more ridiculous, and I’m glad. I’m running out of ways to rebel.

  I check the hall--it’s all clear except the guard. I can feel Dylan’s breath on me as he leans over my shoulder to see. “Ready?” I whisper, without looking up at him.

  “Yep.”

  At that, I step into the hall, immediately drawing the guard’s attention. I stretch my arms and fake a yawn as I walk to the restroom. Once I turn the corner into the restroom, I count to five then let out a blood curdling scream. When I hear the guard running down the hall, I come out and meet him at the door.

  “Miss?”

  “There is a huge bug,” I say.

  He grumbles something under his breath then follows me into the room. I point to the far corner by the showers and yell, “Over there.” He walks to the corner, looking around.

  “Where? Are you sure?”

  “Right there by the drain,” I say, walking towards him. I peek into the drain. “Ew, did it crawl in there? What if it’s poisonous?”

  “I doubt there’s a bug, but if you see it again, let me know. I’ve got to get back to my post.”

  “Man, that was a gross bug. I’m going to run some water down that drain. Maybe I’ll drown it.”

  “Good luck, miss,” he says as he pulls the door open. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  “My caretaker excused me, had a fever this morning.” I smile a little, trying to look innocent.

  He nods and leaves the room. I run the shower for a moment and shout into the drain, “I hope you die.” I suppress a laugh and shut off the shower.

  When I get back to my room, Dylan is gone and I assume he made it downstairs and to his room without trouble. I won’t know until I see him at the assembly later.

  The hall begins to fill up again, even more than it had on lunch break. I head toward Alyssa’s room. On the way, I notice about half the girls are already dressed up for tonight, and of those, not a single one is dressed like me. No one’s collar bones are exposed, nor their shoulders. I can feel innocent eyes fixed on me, and I pretend I’m perfectly comfortable in this absurd dre
ss.

  Alyssa finds me near her door, clearly amused by the sight of me.

  “Have you seen Ginny? What are you wearing tonight?” I ask.

  “I’m wearing this,” she says, looking down at a longer, dark gray dress with long sleeves and a well-covered chest. I can’t help but notice (thanks to Ginny) that her chest is also bigger than mine, and wonder if she wears a wire bra, too. I shake the thoughts away and follow Alyssa into her room.

  I plop onto her bed as she looks herself over in the mirror behind her door. I don’t have one, but if I looked like her I’d consider it.

  “Why’d you get the pretty dress? I would think he would have noticed me, too,” she exclaims, envying this stupid rag.

  “He, who? What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Nathan,” she grumbles. “He chose that dress for you. I helped Ginny sort the pile they dropped off.”

  I rise and stand face-to-face with her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Nathan handed that dress to Ginny and said it was specifically for you. Something about a ‘big day.’”

  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I’m quite surprised to find the dress is a perfect fit, but I hate the way it hugs my chest and hips. I hate that in just a small way, Nathan’s made a decision for me.

  I stare at myself a moment longer and can’t help but think how much nicer this dress would look on Alyssa. I think she would be more than happy to put her curves on display. Her arms and legs are actually feminine, too, instead of skinny and toned like mine. I look like a thirteen-year-old boy. I’m taller, though, and I’m happy for that.

  I sit beside her on the bed and try to relax like she’s doing. Normally, I’m more careful about spending time with her, but this could very well be our last chance to hang out. Soon I’ll be in the Guard Division, and next year she’ll be in the Population Division. I honestly think she’ll be happy there. She was chosen for reproduction based on her superior genetic makeup, that and her lack of other specific proficiency. She took it as a compliment.

  She’ll be a mother some day, though that doesn’t quite mean what it used to. I only know different because I wasn’t born here, so I had a real one. Here the mothers only breed. To prevent strong maternal attachments, caretakers like Ginny do the raising.