Fear Me Not (The EVE Chronicles) (13 page)

                        ***

Raine finishes toweling off her hair after her shower and admires her figure in the long mirror on our dorm’s door.

“Do you ever comb your hair?” She asks. “It always looks so tangled. It’s hard to see your face.”

“That’s why I keep it long.” I look up from my math notebook and scoff. “So nobody has to see the horror of my face.”  

“You are not so ugly as to require a hair veil.” Raine walks over, and experimentally takes a strand of my hair in her palm, brushing it gently. “You’re much like the Ukrainian models I know.”

“You can say it. I look like a skeleton. It’s been said before.”

“No,” Raine says patiently. “You’re just...artistic-looking.”

“Like Picasso’s cube people,” I offer.

“Like a stylized Renaissance girl,” She corrects.

I laugh, the sound acid even to my own ears. “Why does that matter? I don’t have curves, I’ll never get boobs, I don’t have big pretty eyes like yours, or big lips. My hair’s thin. Everything about me is thin and sharp and mean-looking and I hate it.” 

Raine’s silent. I fume, breaking my pencil lead and sharpening it again.

“Whoever said you look like a skeleton was jealous,” She says.

“It was a boy,” I snap.

“He was not worthy of your attention,” Raine says without missing a beat.

“What would you know about attention? You guys are just all paired up, mated like two halves of a sandwich. You don’t get to choose.”

“And because I don’t get to choose, I don’t know anything about love?” Raine’s voice drops to a subzero level. I flinch.

“No, that’s not what I –”

“Then what did you mean?”

I look up at her. Her blue eyes are ice, sharp and impervious. She grabs my hands, never before daring to touch me or get too close.

“Listen to me carefully, Victoria,” She says. “I am an alien. We are different species, from different planets. But we feel the same things. We feel anger, and joy, and love, just as you do. We feel the same. And that is how I know peace between us is possible. Not the half-peace we have now. But true, lasting peace.”

I swallow, hard, and her eyes soften.

“I am an alien. We have different ideas of beauty. We chose these symmetric bodies for their appeal to humans, not ourselves. But to us, sharpness is beautiful. Strength is beautiful. A strong emotional scent is beautiful. And you have those in abundance.”

She motions out the window to the humans walking on the lawn.

“They judge with their eyes alone. There is nothing wrong with you. There is something very wrong with them.”

I feel something hot and prickly in the corner of my eye. Raine lets go of my hands, and picks the hairbrush back up, running it through my ends.

And I let her.

7. The Hanged Man

Shadus gets the hang of smiling real quick. In classes we have together, he’s suddenly surrounded by a tableful of overeager humans - guys and girls his own age. The humans don’t treat him like a pawn, something to be friends with for his power. They even sometimes make him laugh. Laugh. Shadus, laughing. It’s almost disturbing, but at the same time hearing him laugh and seeing his face so happy makes something warm in the pit of my stomach flare up. The humans start eating lunch with him. He’s been adopted into a little clique all his own. 

And he hasn’t so much as looked at me in two weeks.

Not like I care. I’m his culture partner, but that doesn’t mean we have to hang out at all times. But, you know. A simple ‘hi’ would be nice. Wouldn’t kill him to say two measly letters. Maybe this is for the best. I can distance myself. No more weird talks in which I explain to him the purpose of butter, or why the middle finger is an offensive thing. No more strange moments of quiet between us, or sideways glances. We were getting too close, anyway. And that would be both dangerous and against our mutual agreement of staying cordial. 

I scrub the shampoo into my hair harder. The showers are quiet at night. It’s easier to wash when a dozen pairs of eyes aren’t scrutinizing my every rib and joint. I walk out from the showers, my slippers squeaking in the hall and my bathrobe half-done. Girls squeeze past me, laughing. I close the door and throw my dirty clothes towards the laundry basket without looking.

“Ow.”

The muffled voice isn’t Raine. I turn. Someone wearing jeans is sitting on Raine’s computer chair, arms over his chest. My clothes hang off his head. I run over and fling them away.

“You!”

“You spilled tomato soup on that shirt,” Shadus coughs, his nose twitching.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I hiss and pull my robe over my exposed clavicle.

“Raine pulled me in and then left. Told me to make you less ‘mop-ey’, whatever that entails. You
have
been avoiding me.”

“Me?” I splutter. “Avoiding you? You’re the one who -”

“With your advice, started to make some actual friends?” He quirks a brow.

“Yes! No!” I inhale. “Look, just get out before someone catches you. We can talk some other time.”

“I want to talk now.” He spins slowly in the chair.

“About what?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” He repeats. “Why?”

“I haven’t.”

He stops spinning, eyes dead on me. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t?”

I expel a frustrated breath. “I just thought – I just thought it would be easier for you to make friends if I wasn’t around. I’m not the best at getting along with people, okay? I scare them off, or I get mean, and I just mess things up. So. So I didn’t want to mess up what you had – have - going on.”

“You haven’t scared me off. Or Taj. Or Raine.”

“That’s because you’re Gutters and you’re weird,” I hiss. “Good weird. Uh. Not bad weird. You just have different standards. I’m not so popular with the humans, okay? Never have been. I’m the weird emo goth girl who’s too tall and wears too much black.”

“Why would being tall matter? Or wearing black?” He cocks his head. “Dakota likes you well enough.”

“Dakota is a loner,” I say. “She and I aren’t the kind of people who do well with big groups, okay? And I didn’t want to mess your big group thing up. And I still don’t want to. So it’s better if we just stick to doing the bare minimum, okay? I’ll show up at study hall, we’ll be culture partners there, and that’s it. No more lunches, no more bonfire talks, and certainly no more breaking-into-my-room incidents.”

“I didn’t break in, Raine brought me here,” He sniffs with great dignity.

“You let her bring you here.”

“Yes, because I wanted to talk to you. Because you are a friend.”

Panic grips my insides. Friends? With a Gutter? Mom would hate it. My heart inflates, but my words sink. “I’m not.”

A shard of pain flickers through Shadus’ expression, but it disappears quickly.

“I was unaware you disagreed. This changes things. However, it doesn’t change the fact I am grateful to you for all you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t be modest. You showed me the door. I stepped through it. Humans are much more agreeable than Gutters. It took several months of you showing me that until I actually opened my eyes to the truth of it. So, I am in your debt.”

“But –”

“I would like,” He speaks over me. “To offer you an invitation to Owakess. It’s not much in the way of repayment, but the faculty has promised there will be food, human food. Of the ‘junk’ kind.”

“I wasn’t planning on going,” I say carefully. “Not a lot of humans are.”

“I know,” Shadus says. “But I was hoping you would.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Anything red will do.”

“Why red? Is it for the Executioners or something?”

He nods. “It symbolizes them, yes.”

“And what would I do there?”

“Watch the ceremonial dance with me. Eat. Perhaps break a glass or two.”

I smirk, then sigh. “Okay. It sounds fine.”

“Good,” Shadus stands from the chair. “I’ll pick you up here on Thursday, at eight.”

I watch him go with something like regret festering in my stomach. I’d said we weren’t friends, but that was reflex. That was Mom’s hate for Gutters leaking through me. I want to be friends. I want friends, period.

I want Shadus to smile at me like he does his other human friends.

But that’s stupid, and selfish.

                        ***

My phone buzzes at two in the morning. I groggily reach for it, but sit bolt upright when I see the name. My nerves start to burn.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“Vic, honey -” He sounds breathless, as though he’d been running. “I didn’t want to wake you up, sorry. Alisa, she -”

My heart drops into my stomach. “Is it bad?”

“Worse than the last.”

“Worse than the one in April?”

“No, thankfully. I don’t want to worry you, kiddo. Just needed to let you know we’ll be in the hospital for a few days while they monitor her. They’ve got her on some kind of experimental vapor that’s come in from Sweden. It’s supposed to work better than the beta stuff did.”

“I’ll come in,” I start. “I can get an off-campus pass and take the bus -”

“No, Vic, listen. I don’t want you jumping over here every time. Alisa wouldn’t want it either.”

“She needs me, Dad.”

“She has me. If it gets worse, I’ll call you and you can come then. Sleep, baby. Sleep and study hard.”

“Tell her to -”

“Call you when she can talk again.” I can hear him smiling. “I know.”

I hear the familiar chime of the ER doors opening on his end. I’d memorized that sound. I’d fallen asleep to that sound countless times. I can hear the reception nurse Gladys yelling at Dad, asking how he’s been. I can almost smell the weak coffee they serve, taste the staleness that had been my only comfort some days. I clung to that scent so many times, trying to drown out the reality that Alisa was convulsing in the next room.

 “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you more,” I mumble. The phone goes dark.

“Is your sister all right, Victoria?” Raine’s sleepy voice resounds as she sits up. I want to say yes and brush it off, but the regret gnaws at me. This is the first time I won’t be there for Alisa. Another hospital visit means another huge medical bill Dad can’t afford. More shifts and more sleepless nights for him. I grit my teeth and hug my knees to my chest.

“I want it to stop.”

I hear Raine shift off the bed.

“I don’t want her to hurt, anymore. I don’t want Dad to worry, anymore.” My fingers claw at my shoulders.

Raine just stands there. I feel hands ghost over my head, my back, shades of unformed comfort. She doesn’t know what to do, but she’s still trying. I wipe the tears away and sniff.

“I’m fine. You can go back to sleep.”

I expect her to argue, to chime something happy and insist on staying up with me. She drops her hand and glides back to her bed without another word. It’s better than comfort. It’s respect - for my words, for my need to cry in peace, alone and in the dark.

In the morning Raine asks if I’m going to eat four cinnamon rolls like last Friday. Tells me I’ll bloat if I keep going, won’t fit in my ripped skinny jeans anymore. My eyes are puffy and red and she tells me makeup can fix it all, and when I reach for a foundation stick she slaps my hand away and tells me to let her do it. The bustle in the hall is normal - shrieking, laughing, tripping. I’m grateful. When I reach the edge, fall over the ledge, break down with shame and tears, it’s good to know the world has the courtesy to keep moving like it had seen nothing.

I’m supposed to be the strong one. 

And Alisa calls, and pretends to be strong instead.

And that  breaks me more than anything else in this world.

                        ***

I’ve never seen Shadus this content before.

There was always something throwing him off, keeping him on the dark edge between frustration and hopelessness. But now he smirks more, and talks more, and the Gutters still chuck butt-tons of
yali
at him but he brushes it all off and keeps conversing with his new human friends. It’s like he’s found some sort of inner strength he never knew he had.

Now, I’m not the only one close enough to see the
yali
. His human friends see it too. In the lunch line one day, when Shadus asks a Gutter to move and the Gutter merely throws him a nasty look, a blonde guy named Aiden steps up to defend him.

“Hey, Shadus asked you nicely to move. Are you deaf, or stupid?”

The Gutter gives Aiden a withering, pale-eyed glare. Before he can turn around, Aiden grabs his shoulder.

“I asked you; are you deaf or stupid?” Aiden shouts. He’s getting looks from everyone in the cafeteria, now. Shadus puts a hand on his shoulder and murmurs to him.

“It’s fine, Aiden.”

“Like shit it’s fine! I’ve seen him being nasty to you all week. He’s a piece of fucking work!”

Aiden grabs the Gutter’s shoulder and whirls him around. The Gutter pulls away, but Aiden throws a punch. The entire cafeteria goes silent as the sound of flesh-on-flesh resounds, and blood flies onto the silver countertop. The Gutter is thrown against the glass protecting the food, and he snarls something in Rahm and wipes his bloody nose as he lunges forward. Aiden ducks, but the Gutter’s leg slams into his stomach and he doubles over. The lunch ladies gasp. People start crowding around, chanting ‘fight’. Taj and the security officers run in seconds later, tearing Aiden and the Gutter off each other.

“That’s enough!” Taj shouts, holding the Gutter’s arms behind his back. The Gutter flails, trying to get to Aiden, and the security guard holding Aiden struggles to hold him back, too.

“Let me go!” Aiden yells. “I’ll kick his shit in!”

“I’m tired of it,” The Gutter snarls to Taj. “Just let me fight one human. Let me punch just one, Taj! They deserve it! They all deserve it.”

 Taj and the Gutter move towards the door, Aiden and the officers trailing behind.

“Nothing here to see. Sit down, and calm down.” A security officer calls, striding between lunch tables. “Go back to what you were doing before.”