The world remains, p.14
The World Remains, page 14
“Lil Sis,” said the color-armed, pin-faced Croix. “We’re leaving tomorrow night. That’ll give you a chance to . . . now, you can’t really say ‘goodbye’, but it’ll give you a chance to gather your affairs and such. Don’t do anything nilly – like tell anyone where you’re going, got it?”
Olté came to my defense. “Of course she won’t.”
“That would require me to know where I’m going, wouldn’t it?”
“All in good time, pet,” said Seriah.
Olté’s girlfriend, Seriah. And indeed she seemed to be behaving girlfriendly as far as I could tell. She was occupying herself by picking at a thread that stuck disobediently from the seam of his shirt.
Olté ignored her. “I’ll take you home, Ash,” he offered. His eyes were dim. His jaw was tight. He seemed in pain.
Served the bounder right!
“Nonsense, Bun.” Seriah gave up on the thread and slipped her hands around his wrist. “You and I have preparations to make. Let Croix take her to the tree line. Don’t worry; you’ll be reunited in no time. And subsequently you’ll be able to catch up and share embarrassing childhood stories and all that mess of stuff.” She yawned, betraying that she wasn’t at all interested in our to-be reminiscence, then she shooed me away. “Go on, Croix. Take her.”
“No.” Olté shook his head. “I’ll bring her home.”
But that was the last thing I wanted. To be alone with him was the very last thing I wanted right now. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Can’t let meddlesome me get in the way of your ‘preparations’, after all.” I flipped my hair at him à la Kinamo. “See ya tomorrow, Bro.”
“Wha –? N-no! Criminy, Ashlin, wait!” Olté put up a protest, but I was already scurrying to the back of the agitor. Defiance was the key to maintaining composure in this sort of situation. As I was sure to crack at any moment, impertinence was vital.
Olté reached after me, emitting a strange gurgle.
What was up with that? Like I’d really let him make contact. Geesh. I shunned him, yet the hand remained outstretched, awkwardly grasping at the hope that I might somehow turn soft.
“Come then, Lil Sis.” Croix hopped from the agitor and offered me his hand. There was a glimmer of silver that caught me off guard.
Oh!
I hadn’t noticed it before, but the pinky and ring finger on of his left hand appeared to be made of . . . metal? Fingers that were metal!? Fingers that reflected the moon’s light. Were his real fingers beneath there, or was it some sort of attachment?
Contemplating those things, I hesitated. But Croix took the delay to mean something else entirely. “Oh, yeeeah,” he said, and began retracting the gesture. “My bad. You ain’t used to revived parts.”
Revived parts?
“No, that’s not . . .” I stole the hand before it could hide in his pocket. “What I mean is, it’s okay. I was just startled. Sorry.”
That surprised the decorated man some, but he also seemed amused. He shot Olté a sideways glance; and Olté responded by giving a very small, very weak grin that faded the moment I caught his eye and showed him my most venomous glare.
Take that!
But although I was playing tough, I was actually quite fragile on the inside.
Fearing tears would sabotage the glare, I returned my attention to Croix. “Why’s it like that?” I turned his hand over in my palm. It was heavy for a hand. And the metal parts were cold. “And what sort of metal is this? Did you lose your fingers? Or did you choose to have it like that? Is it like a weapon or something?”
Croix cackled. “How about I tell you on the way?”
“Sure. Sure.” But I was too curious to hold back. “Also, what are those?” I pointed to his arm. “Can I feel them?”
Croix allowed only half of his smile to show. The rest he folded into his lips. “You may. But I won’t lie; they don’t feel like anything special. They’re tattoos. Ink below the top layers of skin.”
I ran a hand along his bicep. “Ink, huh? And it just stays in there? It doesn’t wash off? What if you get cut? What if –”
“On the way, eager pup. I’ll tell you on the way.” He helped me through the door of the agitor and into the night. Before letting him lead me away, I took one last size-up of disloyal Olté. I thought I saw the green-eyed boy mouth something, but it was too dark to tell. Probably some halfwit apology.
Stupid Olté. Stupid, stupid Olté! My body shook. I was too angry. I needed to calm down.
“So, what’s your deal?” I asked Croix. When I realized how rude the question sounded, I corrected, “That is, you’re totally different from the Remnants I saw on film this one time. You and . . . Seriah,” – I spit out her name – “are both different. I thought all Remnants were dark-haired. Dark-eyed. That sort of thing.”
“Naw. The sample group Histo shows you is a slim portion of the populace, specially selected for those videos, I believe. Real . . . what do you call us? Remnants? Real remnants, we color our hair, mutilate our bodies, do whatever we like. They don’t tell you that part. They’re worried that if you see that much individuality, it’ll have adverse effects.”
“Really? Huh.” I inspected the small spikes protruding from his neck. “But why change yourself in the first place?”
“Why? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why it’s all gone to shit. The thing is, in a society where everyone’s the same, we all just want to be different. We change our appearance for the sake of feeling . . . irreplaceable.”
“Oh.” That made sense, I supposed. “So those things on your neck . . .?”
“Hm? Ah. Piercings.” He cackled. “And yes, I ‘chose’ to have ‘em.”
“Piercings, huh? And . . . and your hand?” I took it in mine again. I wasn’t concerned with the flesh half of it, so I simply lifted it by the silver part and held it to the moon. Croix didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t try to stop me, but he DID divert his eyes, to the moon that revealed the gleaming quality of his ‘revived parts’.
Later, I would come to lament that night. I would come to regret being so careless. But in that moment, curiosity kept me from realizing my own presumptuousness. In that moment, I was a child.
“My hand we’ll have to save for tomorrow, lassie. Because we’re here.”
We were there. At a part of the forest I rarely visited. The eastern portion. Quite near the water, actually. I could hear it. In the stillness of night, the water lapped only very slightly against the docks and shore. In contrast, the bully frogs and crickets residing therein were out in full chorus.
The waterline? That meant I’d have to walk all through town’s center to make it home. I’d have to play stealthy and avoid the cameras along the way.
“Apologies,” Croix said. “Can’t be following you in, now can I? There’s a device just yonder, on that windmill. And the whole plan’ll go to pot if the watchers see me with you.”
“Oh! Right.” I let my hand fall from his, but did so reluctantly.
“Don’t worry, Lil Sis. You can examine me all you want once we’ve left this place.” He winked; then chewed his cheek and stretched his arms above his head in a long circle. “You’re a strange bird, you are.”
“Eh?”
“I’m an anthropologist, believe it or not, so I’m familiar with how Purités standardly come; but you’re lacking that classic ‘high-and-mighty’ feel. Your brother kept saying you weren’t like the rest. I’m only now getting what he meant. Pretty rare.”
My brother. Good ol’ Brother Olté.
Croix read my foul expression.
“No need for that, lass. Be aware, he did it for you, so you shouldn’t let those negativities stay. If there’s one thing I know about Olté it’s that he loves his sister.” Croix wrinkled his lip. “Maybe even a little too much.”
. . . Love?
That was before I knew how the world was. Forbidden truth or not, I still had a long way to go. My mind was still stuck, but it was beginning to unlock.
I pushed then.
Just as I push now.
I push and I push and I force and I force, and I will that someday it will all be unfurled.
That was the last night I slept in ignorance.
Chapter 7: An Escape? Great
“Hot damn, Ashy! You’re making a mother-fruckin’ spectacle!”
Was I? Oops. Suppose I was. I had, after all, practically tackled her on her way to the schoolhouse.
“Sorry, Sella. I’m just feeling sentimental. You know, because of the wedding and all.”
A lie. A big bubbling lie. Really, I was trying my best to keep it in – keep the possibility that this was our last day a secret – and stop myself from melting in front of the small dear. I thought I was doing pretty well, but the dear in question squinted.
“Really?” she said.
Great. She didn’t believe me at all.
“Really, really,” I lied.
“Hm. We’ll see.” She smoothed the bottom of her dress that’d been kicked up by my impulsive behavior, and said, “Anywho, at least your color’s gone bold. It’s sad and mad, too, but it’s gotten bolder since last time I saw you. . . . Elation?”
Elation? More like boiling fury mixed with betrayal and peppered with gut-wrenching pain. Worst. Feeling. Ever.
Sella tuned in. “It’ll be okay, Ashy. I promise. Don’t knights always save their damsels?”
“Yeah, but they don’t usually hook up with the evil stepsister in the process,” I muttered, sour.
She heard. My small cousin heard, for her back tensed very, very slightly. Yet she didn’t say anything to question it. Maybe she was already aware of everything anyway. Maybe her sage’s powers made it so. Right. Like that could happen. Still, there was no way of knowing for sure. I couldn’t really put it past her, could I? Even now her eyes were glass-like orbs, shiny and enigmatic. What did they know that I didn’t? What impossible things did they . . .
“Ashy?”
Again, oops. I’d been staring at her.
“Sorry, Goose. I feel weird. Nerves are getting to me or something.” That was only a half-lie. I pushed it away. Our time was short. School would be starting in minutes, and after that, I wasn’t sure how much time I’d get with her. These few fleeting seconds had to count.
I slipped my hand into hers. Thick, pudgy, and it was fragile, too. “I wanted to ask you something, and I want you to be straight with me, Goose.” I checked to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. There wasn’t anyone in sight. Just Mae and her brother, who were standing beside the schoolhouse waiting for the rest to show. I lowered my voice: “How’s IT been lately?”
IT. We rarely brought IT up. We tried to avoid IT at all costs. But I had to know. Before I left her, I had to know.
Sella, who certainly understood what I was referring to, no further elaboration necessary, swallowed uncomfortably. “Aw, shoot, Ashy. I don’t know.”
“Sella?”
She plucked at her hair tie. “It’s been . . . worse. Not the shaking. The shaking’s been okay. But the . . . you know . . . the blood.”
“What?! Seriously?!”
“SHHH! Keep it down!”
I had no choice but to take her advice. Mae and her brother would hear if I behaved too spasmodically. “Did you try using a cold cloth against your temples?” I whispered.
“I tried it, but it didn’t work. And it made my brain feel slow.”
“Slow?” That wasn’t very plausible. She was probably just being pessimistic for pessimism’s sake.
“Well,” I began, “you might try –” But I was interrupted by the loud holler of an overly-excited boy. I looked up. What the –?
Mae’s brother was yelling to us. Well, not to us, per se. “HEY, STUDENT SELLA! HEEEEY!” And not only was he yelling, he was waving both hands fitfully above his head, as though flagging a lifeguard for some unfortunate, drowning comrade.
“Oh, gawd.” Sella pretended not to hear him.
Amusing.
“Seems like someone’s excited to see you,” I said. “What, aren’t you excited to see him?”
“Inca?” Sella was disgusted. “Heck naw! That boy’s such a pain!” Sending off tiny choleric vibes, she folded her arms and fumed, but after only a moment’s consideration, her expression changed into something sheepish. “I’m much more inclined to someone like Student Joshie.”
“Joshie? That little pervert?! Doesn’t he have a breast fetish?”
Sella looked down at her own flat chest. “Yeah,” she said, turning gloomy. “He sure does.”
And it was disappointing to her for all the wrong reasons! Hah! I poked her belly. “Drink lots of milk. It helps, supposedly.”
The brat eyed my shirt. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Because it doesn’t seem like it’s helped much, Ashy. Sorry.”
“H-hey!”
She grinned a naughty smile and took off. Stinker! I chased her to the door.
When we neared the place where Mae and her brother stood, we slowed. If this were a normal day, I’d have stopped to say hello, and – like the time the men had come to fix the camera – I had to pretend this was a normal day. Plus, there was something I needed to discuss with Mae. There was something important to be asked of her.
“Good morning, Students Ashlin and Sella.” Mae tipped her head politely.
Sella and I returned the greeting, and then there was silence. Silence, save the cricket inhabitants of the long grass. Silence lingered awkwardly. Mae’s head remained tipped – Crickets. Crickets. – until she’d had enough. At that point, her smile wavered and she jabbed an elbow into her brother’s side. Hard. “Ahem!” she coughed.
“OW!” cried Inca. Then he realized what we’d been waiting for. “Oh! Good day, Student Ashlin and . . . and Student Sella.” With a goony sort of smile, he stared at the goose, hungry for acknowledgement.
“You,” was all she gave him. She gave him that and nothing more; still his neck flushed nonetheless. I shook my head. What a little heartbreaker she was! She was a heartbreaker, and I was feeling sinister. It was payback time for her small-breasted cracks.
“Student Inca,” I said. “Would you mind escorting this girl to your classroom? There’s something I’d like to discuss with your sister.”
“Ack!” – That was the sound of Sella choking on nothing. Yup. As I’d expected. In addition, she was procuring a glare most murderous.
Inca, on the other hand, found the request delightful; and although he tried to hide his enthusiasm, he pulled open the door with far too much vigor. It flew into the wall with a bang.
A miserable fail. Inca knew it too. He bowed, but not before I saw him grimace.
Attempting to cover it up by playing gentleman? Funny.
“Go on, you two.” I prodded. “We’ll be right behind.”
Sella rolled her eyes. She was obstinate. Rather annoyed, too, and she wanted to make her escape; but because that couldn’t happen just yet, I caught her round the middle and held her back.
She studied my arms crossly. “What is it?”
“I love you, Sella,” I told her in a small voice, and squeezed. “I love you so, so much.” But she was still peeved, so she stormed out of my grasp and crossed the threshold with angry little stomps. How dramatic.
But to her, this was all just play. After Inca released the door, she sent a diminutive smile through the window. I waved and watched until I could no longer see her back through the glass. My small, wise cousin. I’d miss her most. Her intuition. Her cheekiness. Her spunk.
Mae cleared her throat.
Right. Mae. There was something I had to ask of her while there was still time.
“Student Mae,” I said. “Do you know where Terra – er, Student Terra is? I’d like to talk to you both, if possible.”
Mae squinted across the field. “Oh, I believe she’s running late. She isn’t the most punctual of girls.”
“No? That sounds about right.” I laughed. “I bet she isn’t punctual at all.”
Mae smirked, and together we waited in silence. Silence with girls like Mae wasn’t awkward at all, though. Just comfortable. Fitting. I liked Mae. She was quiet, but she wasn’t a pleaser like Bess. She’d let ‘em have it, if need be. Beneath her pleasantness, there was aggression. That much was clear. And that was exactly why I’d chosen her.
In silence we waited for the unpunctual girl, but there was no sign of her. No Terra. No anyone. Everyone else was probably already inside. After all, I wasn’t the most punctual of girls either. After a few minutes, Mae eyeballed the peak at the top of the school, clearly concerned over her own tardiness.
Just wait with me – I wanted to ask her to wait, but I didn’t have to say it. She didn’t threaten to leave. Maybe she could sense how important this was to me. Maybe she was a bit like Sella? Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.
When at last we saw Terra springing wildly through the field, Mae chuckled out of relief. I, however, chuckled for a different reason. Terra’s appearance was bedraggled; hair flattened against face, scarf thrown haphazardly around neck.
Mae gave me a look of knowing.
“What’s going on?” Terra hooted when she saw us. “Secret meeting? Ooh la la!”
“Nothing of the sort,” said Mae.
“Well, kind of,” I said. “I’d actually like to ask a favor of you both.”
“A favor? Oh! I know! I know! You’re getting married in three days, right?” Terra wiggled her fingers. “Bet you want advice.”
Three days? Was that really all it was? I’d lost track. Bet my parents were up in arms that I’d avoided all bridal responsibilities. Bet they were furious I’d repeatedly broken curfew, too. And if they knew I skipped class, they were probably worse than furious – something beyond words! Oh well. Not like our communication, not to mention our relationship, had ever been that great anyway. And certainly the bitties of the commune were more than happy to take on those duties in young bride’s absence. It was possible they’d counted on that anyway. I’d never been all that flouncy.
