My thoughts wander to Linc. I haven’t seen him since this morning and I wonder if he is in trouble for killing that man before they could learn who he was. I think of the motorcycle ride home and my lips curve into a small smile that feels like a secret. My mood lifts.
I tinker with Authentic Raven’s stereo and switch it from the jazzy album she had playing to a moody rock sound. I am baffled by the radio and stand in awe of the talking voice coming though the speakers between songs. It sounds as if he’s talking in real time right beside me. Amazing.
Commercials are my favorite. The choices are endless. These people get to choose what food or clothing to buy. It shocks me how many different sorts of fabric there are for curtains alone. In Twig City, no one has curtains because no one has a window.
Out of boredom and then sheer delight, I spend an hour trying on the different clothes in the walk-in. And the shoes. My feet feel like princesses in the heels. As much as I dread more parties, I am willing to go if it means I can wear a pair of these shoes.
Gus comes to get me for dinner. He is his usual unsmiling self but there is something else. Caution. “Daniel Ryan is joining you for dinner. Dress accordingly and meet me in the dining hall in ten minutes. Don’t be late or I’ll have to come get you.”
The way he says it, menacing and certain, chills me. Despite the fact that he leaves the door unlocked, I know I won’t try anything.
I dress for dinner in a pants outfit that has a matching half-jacket and hope this is what Gus meant by “accordingly.” I have no idea what Daniel is like but if Taylor is any indication, he will notice something like a wrong outfit.
I make my way around the circular hallway, certain I’m being watched. I cannot see cameras but they are there. Titus is not so trusting that he would let me walk this far unescorted, especially after last night.
I see him as soon as I cross the threshold. Linc. Near the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back, head down as he concentrates on whatever Gus is whispering at him. He doesn’t see me, but I breathe all the way out in relief. My mind doesn’t register the twisted worry I’ve been carrying until it’s melting away at the sight of him.
Gus finishes what he’s saying and Linc straightens. He raises his chin and catches me watching. I feel my cheeks warm and I curse myself for it and look away—straight at Titus. He has risen from his seat at the head of the table to greet me. He stares at me with a hard set to his jaw and I know that I’ve made him angry with something as simple as failing to acknowledge him first. Behind his left shoulder is the boy who has come to see me.
“Good evening, Raven,” Daniel says. His expression is relaxed and easy but even from this distance, I can see how polished and manicured he is. From the perfect cut of his jacket to the precision of his mussed and gelled hair, I distrust him immediately.
“Good evening,” I reply, taking a tentative step into the room.
I look at Titus again, silently asking permission to approach. He sweeps his hand toward the seat on his right. “You look lovely, Raven. Come, sit with us.”
We take our seats and the meal is served. Daniel watches me curiously and I know that somehow, I’ve already done something wrong. Something Authentic Raven would not have. I think Linc is watching me too, and I have the urge to turn, but I don’t. Titus is close. I can feel my skin growing cold at his closeness.
“Your father told me there was another attack last night,” Daniel says when we have our soup. “I wish you would’ve called me. I worry.”
His voice is pleasant. Too pleasant considering the topic of conversation is my attempted murder.
“I didn’t think …,” I begin, unsure what else to say.
Titus pats my hand and I have to force myself not to recoil. “She really doesn’t think, Daniel.” He laughs and it’s harsh, unkind. “She’s too caught up in her own little world of clothes and shoes.”
He is baiting me, I think. Or testing me. I don’t respond.
Daniel laughs lightly, as if this is a familiar idea where I’m concerned. “This girl and her wardrobe,” he agrees.
The meal passes with small talk that I don’t quite understand. Daniel mentions “the business.” Titus replies it is booming and Daniel agrees. “Of course it is. The poor are growing more and more volatile. You’d think having nothing would crush their spirit, not the opposite.” Distaste coats his words.
“They’ll tire eventually,” Titus says. “In the meantime, our greatest defense is concealment of our … transitions.” He glances my way and then falls silent. They don’t want me to hear this.
Daniel seems to understand and they change the subject, discussing a party for a senator. They speculate about elections and polls and the hot topics being shouted from soapboxes. I catch the words “city segregation” and lose my appetite as I remember the stumbling man Linc and I narrowly avoided the other night.
Titus wants to ban people like that from this part of the city. I can’t help the small sliver of relief that brings—the prospect of not bearing witness to such wanting. But then I realize how completely opposite of compassionate that would be, and my appetite vanishes. I set my utensils aside and fold my hands in my lap. I will not eat. I will not be party to this conversation, even through acquiescence.
After dinner, Titus leaves us alone and Daniel and I go into the parlor. I am nervous. Not because of Daniel but because Linc shadows us. I want to speak to him, to find out where he’s been or if anything new has come to light about my attackers, but I know that would be a mistake.
I sit primly on the edge of a high-backed chair, but Daniel immediately waves me over to the small space left on the loveseat beside him. “What are you doing all the way over there, kitten? Your daddy won’t bother us for a while.” He says the words slowly, suggestively, and every nerve ending jumps as I settle next to him.
Invisible insects crawl over my skin as he slides his arm around me and pulls me close. He is smiling down at me, his lips twisted in a way that belies any warmth behind the gesture. “Come here.”
I swallow but it lodges in my throat and I can feel Linc watching us from near the doorway. I know then I cannot do this. I cannot be this version of Authentic Raven.
I shove Daniel away and straighten my back so that our bodies are no longer pressing together from hip to shoulder. “I’m not feeling very well,” I say.
He frowns but looks more angry than concerned. “What’s the problem?”
I rack my brain for a good-enough reason to bolt from the room. When I don’t answer, he says, “You’re not still thinking about that incident from last night, are you?” He leans closer and winds his arm around my shoulders again.
That incident. Someone tried to murder me, and Daniel has referred to it as that incident. My chest burns with indignation. My fingertips tingle with it. I jump to my feet and stare down at him, uncaring what the correct response is or if I am out of character.
“I think you should go now.”
He stands too and smiles slyly. “I love it when you make me work for it, Rav,” he says. His voice is rough with desire. Before I can react, he grabs and yanks me against him. His mouth is hovering over mine and I know what he intends to do. I refuse to let him.
The anger is hot, spilling out. I shove him. “Get away from me,” I hiss. From the corner of my eye, I see Linc take a step toward us. Daniel doesn’t notice. He’s too busy accepting my rejection—something he’s probably never experienced, judging by the expression on his face.
“Seriously?” Daniel gapes at me. “Is it your time of the month or something?”
I concentrate on breathing in and out slowly because this stupid boy is not worth blowing my cover. He is not worth dying over.
I speak through clenched teeth. “I will not ask you again.”
Before Daniel can respond, I hear Linc say, “The lady asked you to leave. I think it’s best if you comply.”
Daniel whips his head around. For the first time, he seems to notice ho
w Linc has positioned himself. His shoulders stiffen. “Are you threatening me, GI Joe? Because that wouldn’t be very smart.”
“I’m simply reiterating the lady’s request.” Linc’s tone is even, giving nothing away, but I see his fingers curl slightly inward.
Linc and Daniel regard one another. The air is heavy with tension. Finally, Daniel blinks and mutters under his breath. I catch the words “replaced” and “early” before he grabs his jacket off the arm of the sofa and stomps out.
I don’t move until I hear the outer door—the one that will take him to the elevator—opening and closing behind him.
When I move to leave, Linc steps into my path, blocking me. I don’t want to look at him. If I see pity in his expression, I think I’ll lose it. All of the layers I’ve stacked so carefully between me and the rest of the world feel cracked and broken. My wall is close to crumbling in this moment and I refuse to let him see that. To let Titus hear about it. He is not worth dying over, either.
“Are you all right?”
It is anger I hear in his voice, not concern, and that intrigues me. I raise my face to his. There is more anger there. And something else, but it is not pity or suspicion as I feared. I exhale.
“I’ll be fine,” I manage.
“Are you sure? Because you’ve never—” He breaks off, his expression clouding.
“I’ve never what?”
He is silent and unwilling to look at me. Suddenly, I need to know what it is Authentic Raven has never done. And why he’s noticed.
“You’ve never turned down a boy,” he says quietly.
My cheeks heat but this time it is not from anger. “Oh.” My face burns with an emotion that feels foreign. I sidestep him and make for my bedroom. By the time I’m inside, I realize what it is that made me flee from his words. It is shame.
I am ashamed for something I’ve never done.
Chapter Seven
Titus is not at breakfast the next morning. It is a welcome relief until the maid brings me the note he’s left in his absence:
Your early dismissal of Daniel last evening leads me to believe you are not yourself after all the excitement of the past few days. Gus will escort you to the gym after breakfast. Exercise is paramount to mental health. –Titus
I read it over three times before I am convinced there is no hidden threat. Titus doesn’t know what happened last night. Not truly. But the last line is a stark reminder of what I am. The fact that it’s written here gives me pause. It is the same slogan painted in block letters above the gym doors and on multiple walls throughout Twig City. Again I wonder how Titus knows so much about where I come from.
I am no longer hungry but I’ll need the calories now, so I fold the paper and lay it aside while I finish eating. The routine of exercise is nothing new, but I’m still weak from the hit I sustained on the rooftop. Plus I haven’t been sleeping well. I doubt any of this will matter to Gus. I dread what sort of activity awaits me.
I swallow the rest of my eggs without chewing and chase it with juice. Gus is there before my plate has been cleared. I rise and follow him out. He leads me down a hall I don’t recognize and we take a flight of stairs down to a lower level I didn’t know existed as part of this apartment. I pay close attention to details like doors and exit signs before I curse myself for the futility. Although I know I’m imagining it, I swear I can feel the GPS in my arm pulsing to the beat of my heart as I walk. Taunting me. Reminding me there is no escape. Only duty and purpose.
“You can change here,” Gus says, stepping back and ushering me forward.
Gus leaves me alone in a small room with a cabinet full of sports bras and Lycra shorts. There isn’t enough material on either for my taste, and when I emerge, I feel naked. Gus gives me a cursory glance but the other two guards who’ve positioned themselves near the exits give me a thorough once-over that makes my skin crawl. I do my best to ignore them and follow Gus to a wall-mounted cabinet that contains fencing equipment.
My experience with this particular sport is limited. The equipment in Twig City is second-rate because the women get the men’s hand-me-downs. The foils are all dull by the time they reach us, dangerous in their disrepair. Lonnie loves it, though, so I am often talked into it against my better judgment. I usually walk away with some bruise or another when we abandon the foils and it deteriorates into a wrestling match.
Ida always fusses at that.
I grit my teeth and force my concentration back to the equipment Gus is handing me. I slide the gloves on and then the mask. My injured cheek smarts as I slide it over my face. It smells stale, not of sweat but as if it hasn’t been used in a while. I wonder if Authentic Raven is a skilled fencer. I am tempted to ask Gus so I know what level of skill to strive for, but I keep silent. I remember my encounter with Titus and how Gus stood by and watched in silence. I don’t want to talk to him any more than I would Titus.
The door opens and a girl enters. I’ve never seen her before. She is young with dark features and reminds me of the kitchen staff with her olive skin tone and full lips. She spots Gus and then me and begins to make her way over. She is dressed like me, although she has a shirt covering her torso where my halter leaves my abdomen bare. Again, I feel naked.
“Raven, this is Sofia. She is your fencing partner,” Gus says.
We nod at each other, matching dips of our chin, and then Gus shoves a foil into my hand and walks off. Sofia pays me no attention as she goes about adorning herself with protective equipment. She is all business, absorbed in her preparations.
I look to Gus and the unnamed security guard who stands to his left. I wonder where Linc is. I haven’t seen him all morning and his absence always makes me nervous. My fears are infinite. That he’s somewhere else, fighting and killing for Titus, or otherwise in danger. That he has been removed from my protection detail against his will—or that he’s asked to be reassigned. After our conversation last night, I think it is likely his choice to avoid me.
A thousand different things could be keeping him away. None of them should matter. He shouldn’t matter but I can’t help that he does. It’s a problem I haven’t quite figured out yet.
Soft footsteps behind me alert me that Sofia is ready. I turn and find her watching me through the screen of her mask. Her expression teeters on boredom but I can feel Gus watching and I know this is a test, one of a million small things that mean nothing—unless I botch it. I face Sofia and press my teeth together, determined to show myself at least capable.
I swing down and then up and around with my foil, testing the weight of it in my hand. I focus on how it feels, how I feel with it in motion. Gus and the security guard are no longer on my radar. Sofia is nothing more than an oncoming blade. I stare just past her temple, allowing my peripheral to capture abstract movement rather than specifics. My reflexes take over and then I am moving, our thrusts and steps a tandem and spontaneous dance.
I shift my weight from front to back. I parry and cross, driving Sofia back as she advances. Perspiration dots my lip. Inside my mask, it’s stuffy. Several minutes pass, and it isn’t obvious that I’m losing, but I am. I know it and by the certainty of her movements, Sofia knows it too.
I am winded. The rise and fall of my chest has graduated from rhythmic and deliberate to a lung-screaming necessity. I feel Sofia’s jabs begin to change. She is more aggressive, sensing my exhaustion. It won’t be long now.
“That’ll be all, Sofia,” Gus calls, ending my defeat inches early.
Sofia immediately steps back and lowers her foil. I do the same. She nods primly at me and retreats, already stripping her mask and gear. I remove the mask and shake my hair out behind me in a move I hope is practiced enough to appear confident of my imminent victory had the match continued.
Gus frowns at me. “You do not fence?”
“My experience is limited.”
“Hmm. What do you do?” he asks in a way that implies he doesn’t expect anything worthwhile. It grates on me. I want to pro
ve him wrong.
“Tennis,” I say finally, knowing it will make me think of Lonnie and Ida but it is easily my best sport.
“Tomorrow you play tennis,” he says. “For today, just run laps.”
He’s already walking toward Sofia. She’s removed all of her gear and now stands near the exit watching me in concentration. When Gus catches her eye, her expression clears and she gives him her attention.
“Laps? Where?” I ask.
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Through there is the track,” he says without looking back.
I head for the door where a lone security guard stands. He holds it open for me as I approach. I look up to nod him thanks, but he is looking so far through me, I wonder how he even knows I am here. I pass by without a word and fresh air, crisp and cold, hits my face in a blast of wind.
My elation is so sharp it hurts my chest. I had no idea I was so close to outside or I would’ve tried harder to get here. Set before me is a track, exactly as Gus said. The far side juts up to a railing and then a drop-off where this portion of roof ends. To my left are giant air handlers. Their purr reminds me of the humming pipes of Twig City. To my right is a set of stairs that leads up to the next level of rooftop. I can just make out the net of a tennis court as I pass by onto the track.
It takes me a moment to realize I am alone. I’m so used to a shadow. Between a room full of Imitations in Twig City or my full escort of guards and cameras at Rogen Tower, privacy feels foreign. Out here with the wind blowing, the expanse of blue sky so big I feel dwarfed under it, the aloneness is so amazing I can taste it on my tongue.
My feet hit the black rubber of the track and immediately I pick up speed. My head aches from the strain of the fencing match. The security guard watches me through the small window in the door, but I am alone out here. The only warm body, the only heart beating on this roof, and it makes me want to run.
Imitation Page 7
