Stronger (10 page)

I don’t pass out, but the pain eases, numbing to an almost comfortable level. I lie across the cool stone bench, the blood from my wound warming my face. I watch the groves of giant truffs sway in the breeze until my eyelids are too heavy to stay open, my heart slows, the wounds stop leaking. Is this what dying feels like?

Like a bolt of lightning to my head, the pain is back, worse than ever. A scream that is too big to escape my throat builds in my chest, tightening around my heart. My whole body convulses from it, like I’ve been tossed in a searing fire. Every light and thought grows dim.

I come to with a jerk, jumping to my feet. The soft morning light confuses me. Is this the afterlife? It’s as cold as being alive was. And I’m still hungry. It’s almost as if…

Wait.

Did I survive?

How?

I stand up and stretch, stomp my nearly frozen feet. My hand is whole, no longer wounded, though covered in died blood. I wipe it against my pants. The skin looks perfect. Unblemished. I touch my face, expecting the carnage made by the grizzles claws. It feels whole, but I can’t believe it. I need a mirror.

Since security in the Debs’ dorm is nonexistent, I’m able to slip into the building unseen and hurry to the communal bathroom.

Holding my breath, afraid of what I’ll find. I peer at my image. The air rushes from my lungs and I allow myself a smile when I see the claw marks are gone, as are the tattoos Lee left on me. Dried blood is caked onto my skin but the skin beneath is as smooth as any Deb’s. The artistic rendering Lee did on my skin isn’t there either. No cuts, no warrior-tats, no scars. Nothing. It’s like the grizzle attack and Lee’s bullying never happened. My fingers run up and down my cheek before clasping onto the sink to keep me on my feet. I’m elated, but at the same time, tension coils in my gut like a rusty wire.

What is going on with me?

What if the Orions find out about it?

My mouth goes dry.

I need to talk to Uncle Charlie and Ty.

I tear off my telltale clothes, and put them in the bottom of the wastebasket, hiding the evidence. I slip into the shower washing away the gore, my mind trying to make sense of what’s happening to me. I wash away the evidence of the grizzle attack. I’m shaking as I lather up the soap for another scrubbing.

I just hope Bryant’s memory of the attack vanishes as quickly, because that would lead to conversations I never want to have with someone so close to the Orions.

“All students and personnel—Vals and Debs—report to the auditorium,” the voice over the sound panels announces.

I glance up from my lunch of lumpy truff soup.
It isn’t about me
, I tell myself. After checking into the dorm and meeting my new roommate, Janice, I’d purposely waited until Gracie was on break before getting my food. No one else would remember Emily, but she might. The spoon hovers in front of my mouth, the liquid splashing over the sides.
It isn’t about me
, I repeat over and over again as I force down my meal, which now tastes like ash.

When I finish, I slip in line with my new crew. The clothing leader—whose name I don’t catch—takes attendance before leading us toward the assembly hall. In our labor clothing, we’re a sea of gray. The only pop of color comes from the dyed or ribbon-entwined hairdos. Despite our varying assignments, our uniforms are almost identical. The buttons are the only real difference. The red—like mine—are for the textile division, the food servers’ buttons are gold, and the janitorial staff’s are blue. The green of the greenhouse workers seem few in number, and I search for bright red curls before I remember. I miss a step and get shoved from behind before I fall back in line.

People are whispering about the meeting as we walk. Having us all meet together like this is rare, and speculation spreads like morning frost. The only other assembly like this I remember was after the fire years ago. A pang of unease pulses through me.

“Maybe, they’re going to tell us who’s behind the attacks,” someone behind me whispers.

In my worry over being discovered over the grizzle, and the horror of the oxygen exposure, I’d forgotten about the attacks. My shoulders lower. Of course that’s what the assembly’s about. It wouldn’t be about me. Bryant probably assumes I died or he’d dreamed me into existence.

I follow the line into the auditorium. Row by row, we form straight standing lines, staring ahead or at our feet, making sure not to glance toward the padded chairs where the Vals sit. I long to search out Ty and tell him what happened yesterday but I’ll have to wait. Even eye contact with a Val is discouraged, so I can’t seek him out in the audience.

On the stage, Professor Bates, the scientist in charge of our school, arranges a stack of papers behind the podium. Bryant stands beside him. A dark bruise darkens the warrior’s temple, and long, deep scratches decorate his bare forearm.

“Thank you for coming this morning.” Bates clears his throat and leans into the microphone. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news.” A slight shuffling is heard as the Debs move to see Bates better, peering around the heads of the people in front. “We’ve recently had two terrorist strikes against our campus, against Earth.”

There are no gasps, no audible reactions at all, and yet the fear is palpable. A silent terror fills up ever inch of the room. The stranger on each side of me grabs my hand.

Bates glances down at his notes. “First was the tragic desecration of the Sacred Square, followed by the explosion in the training hangar which destroyed several of our planes. Based on some aerial photos of an unidentified ship entering our atmosphere several days ago, we have reason to believe this attack was perpetrated by Musk terrorists.”

Almost as one collective body, the Debs look toward the windows, fear apparent in their wide eyes.

“For generations, this species has sought to destroy us and our Orion allies, so that they may claim Earth as their own. It is against attacks like this that our brave Valudis warriors are being trained to protect.”

“OORAH!” the Vals shout in unison, slapping their chests and stomping their feet.

Bates pushes his glasses up his nose. “In addition, last night there was a grizzle attack that we believe to be the work of the saboteurs, purposely given the scent and location of one of our warriors, to weaken our armies so they can hurt our gentle Orion leaders.”

Gasps and murmurs ripple through the audience. I hear the nervous chorus around me. At my right, a dark-haired girl mutters a prayer of protection to Silvercloud. A chill slithers down my spine and settles in my bones.

“What happened to the grizzle?” a Val in the crowd shouts.

“Bryant defeated it!” Bates smiles, hoisting Bryant’s hand above his head to a resounding cheer from Vals and Debs alike. “Look at his new marks!” Bates points out the claw marks on Bryant’s arm. “He earned these protecting you!” The cheers come louder and the floor quakes with the stomping.

Another Val holds up the head of the dead Grizzle and the Debs shriek in fright while the Vals somehow chant even louder.

No one but me seems to notice Bryant’s fidgets or the blush staining his cheek. But what could he say? A Deb saved him? I don’t want the praise or the credit, but he knows he doesn’t deserve it and can’t easily accept the admiration he knows he hasn’t earned.

The other Vals pound their chests and shout out their warrior song. “High and low, night and day, the Vals will beat our foes away.”

Somehow in the excitement of the animal kill, people have forgotten about the possibility of the Musks’ invasion. The whole room shouts their victory over a single grizzle death. The crowd’s thoughts are far from the terrorist acts, instead swept up in their favorite hero. I’m betting Professor Bates planned it that way.

When the adulation dies down, he tips his head and dismisses us to our normal schedules, never again bringing up the threat of an alien invasion.

The Vals stand in unison, and form a neat double line that heads out the south doors toward the hangars. That means flight training. The Debs put hands over hearts and bow their heads as the Vals pass.

Only after the last one has left do we are raise our heads. I roll my shoulders and stretch my limbs. Holding my respectful position for so long reminds me of the massive healing I did in my sleep. I’m just as sore as Bryant, and no one had an assembly for me. We file out a non-descript side door reserved for Debs, heading back to our work area. I fall in step beside Janice, her eyes glowing with the excitement as she talks about wearing Bryant’s newest scars as soon as she can afford a new warrior-tat.

As we march down the hallway outside the assembly room, I’m lost in my own thoughts, considering the return of the Musks. Will they attack again? Do they know that the Orions are their true enemy? Would they wipe out humanity if it helps them destroy the Orions?

Janice grabs my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. She brings her hand to her mouth. “What’s he doing here?”

I glance up and almost trip over my own feet. Bryant is standing in a place he shouldn’t be, in a Deb passageway. Of course, as a Val, he’s allowed anywhere, but it’s beneath him to be here, to lower himself to this place.

But there he is, leaning against the door jam, his arms folded across his chest, studying each Deb’s face as they pass.

“Stop staring; it isn’t permitted.” Janice nudges me forward and I drop my gaze. “Let’s go.”

Struggling to maintain an even pace, I let me hair fall in front of my cheek, shielding me from his view. I can almost feel his eyes as they move over me. My stomach is twisting as I pass him.

Three steps beyond him, I let out a sigh of relief just as his gruff voice calls out, “Halt!”

Pretending not to notice the command, I take an extra step, but Janice loops her arm through mine and grinds us both to a stop. I can feel the tension in all the Debs around me, all stopped in obedience to Bryant’s command. Terror creeps up my spine, and every beat of my heart thuds in my ears. I study the ground. Bryant’s boots squeak to a stop in front of me.

I bend my head further, wishing for my longer hair again to hide my face. I can feel the heavy scrutiny of his gaze. “Look up.”

Sweat pebbles the nape of my neck and my heart beats so wildly I’m afraid it will bruise itself against my ribs. I raise my head and stare beyond him, afraid to meet his gaze and not because I’m a Deb.

He sucks in a breath and flinches back slightly. He recognizes me.

“How?” he asks softly. A single finger touches my chin and I jerk away, years of avoidance deeply ingrained. He growls and pinches my chin instead of letting go. He stands before me and moves my face, examining me carefully.

He grabs my arm and pulls me aside. “Come with me.”

I want to struggle, to protest, but I hang my head and allow Bryant to drag me out of line.

“Dismissed,” he shouts. The other Debs walk a little faster this time, peeking at me out of the corners of their eyes as they march past. I can feel their concern, but none interfere. Even if they wanted to, they aren’t strong enough to fight back.

Once the column files out the exit, he rounds on me. “What’s your name?”

The question surprises me. Vals don’t usually bother with our names, just our occupations.

“Jewel.” The name sounds awkward coming off my tongue.

“Jewel? I thought… Doesn’t matter.” He releases me and scans my ID. It confirms my name and informs him of my work in the textile building. He folds his arms behind his back. His eyes skim over me. “It was you, yesterday.”

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never met,” I say, giving him the best confused expression I can. My uncle taught me my poker face well, and I’ve been practicing it since I was five.

His wipes his palms on his pants. “We haven’t?”

I shake my head. “No, sir.”

“You were there when the grizzle attacked. It mauled your face.” His finger brushes my cheek and this time I don’t flinch, but the contact makes my skin flush. He turns my head, examining both cheeks. He frowns when he sees they’re both flawless.

I expect him to let me go, to doubt himself, but he studies me again, trailing his fingers down my cheeks. A shiver runs up my spine, but this time it’s more exhilaration than fear. He takes my hand in his and brushes the tips of his fingers against my palm. My breath hitches and the blush from my cheek travels to my neck.

“It feels exactly as I remember it. I’m not wrong,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I saw its claw go right through your hand. You were there at the tattoo parlor too. Lee marked you.” He traces over the area where the ugly mark had been etched into my skin. But all the tats from yesterday vanished with my massive healing last night.

I don’t bother replying. He’s right, but I’m never going to admit it. Footsteps echo down the hall, and stop abruptly behind me.

“Congratulations on the grizzle kill, Bryant.” It’s Ty’s voice. He steps around me and pats Bryant on the back

Bryant shakes off Ty’s arm and scowls. “I told Bates I didn’t kill it. Someone else did.”

“Oh yeah?” Ty laughs. “Then who did?”

“A girl. A Deb.” Bryant tips his head toward me. “Her.” He releases my hand. “She saved my life.”

Ty draws in a quick breath, his eyes going wide. He turns to me, looking for an explanation. I wish I had one. There’s a charged silence. Has there ever been a situation like this where a Val would admit that someone else saved him, let alone a Deb girl?

Ty laughs, but it sounds forced. “You must have hit your head too hard. A Deb couldn’t kill a grizzle. They can barely hurt a fly.”

Bryant rubs his forehead, circling the bruise at his temple and his shoulders slump. Ty’s right. A Deb couldn’t kill a grizzle. So what does that make me?

“She was there yesterday at the parlor. She’s the one who made Lee so mad.”

“It can’t be her. She doesn’t have any tats at all.”

“It’s her. I remember her.”

Ty laughs, a brittle sound. “Then you’re better than me. I can’t tell one Deb from another. They all look the same to me.”

Bryant fists his hands. “She’s different.”

Ty waves him off but I can see his chest rising and falling quicker than normal. “That grizzle must have rattled your brain. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

Bryant closes his eyes. “I did hit my head. Hard. The doctors think that’s why I imagined a Deb saved me. But I—” Bryant steps back, shaking his head before turning to me. “I’m sorry for bothering you, Jewel.”

Ty grimaces at Bryant using my name. My new name. The one he provided. Drawing the attention of the most powerful Val at school is not lying low. I worry again about getting Ty into trouble.

“We’re going to be late for sword combat if we don’t hurry,” Ty says.

Bryant nods. “We better go.”

They turn and walk away. Ty never looks back, chatting with Bryant the whole way. But Bryant does glance backwards. Twice. His eyes are still speculating, like I’m a riddle he can’t figure out, but that he’s not giving up on.

As I catch up with the other workers, my feet feel weighed down with concrete. They whisper as I rejoin their ranks, probably wondering why Bryant singled me out. I’m new so they don’t know if I’m a troublemaker or someone to admire. Right now, I’m not sure myself.

Bryant remembers more of the fight with the grizzle than I hoped, and he’s curious about me now. That’s troubling enough, but what really has my thoughts swirling like a snowflake in a blizzard is what’s happened to me. I need answers, but I can’t ask Ty or Uncle Charlie until after my shift. Slipping away would draw too much attention to myself. Again. And attention to me could lead to Ty, which could lead to Uncle Charlie, which could lead our enemies straight into the heart of the rebellion. We aren’t ready for that yet.

The conversation among the line of textile workers has drifted back to the terrorist attacks. The glory of the grizzle kill has faded and the dreaded possibility of the Musks dropping bombs on us remains. People jump every time a fighter plane swoops past the window, and the group seems to hold its collective breath until it’s clear that it’s one of ours patrolling the skies.

“What did Bryant need,” Janice asks, dragging her steps so she’s walking beside me at the back of the pack. She doesn’t bother to try hiding the reverence in her voice as she mentions his name.

I think again of his beautiful scars, of touching his face, and him touching mine. My cheeks flush again but are cooled by the image of his loving embrace with Starburst, the Orion. Janice repeats her question and I pull my thoughts away from the warrior.

I open my mouth before I realize I don’t have a lie readily available. I’m caught off balance. “He, uh, wanted, uh, to have me shine his shoes before his training.”

Janice’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Then she smiles, showing off crooked teeth. “What an honor. Why did he pick you?”

I fiddle with a button on my coat. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re so pretty,” Janice says.

I miss a step and stumble forward before she helps steady me. “What?”

Janice loops her arm through mine like we’ve been friends for years. “It’s why all the boys are staring at you.”

I frown at her. “It’s because Bryant singled me out.” I know I’m speaking the truth. Yes, Ansel said I was pretty and even asked me out, but he’s an artist who finds beauty in strange places. My skin isn’t beautiful; it’s hideously smooth and pale. Even for a Deb, I’m fair-skinned. “And because they’ve never seen anyone so pale before.”

Janice laughs and it seems so out of place with all the turmoil in my life that I gratefully absorb the sound, letting it bounce around inside me, easing some of my tension.

I follow Janice to the faded brick building of the textile department. I punch the new code Ty gave me into the touch panel and the door swings open. I hear it lock behind us when it closes. A long hallway with dingy, faded-blue floors leads us to the sewing room. The space is heated, not warm exactly, but an improvement over the perpetual cold outside and in my room.

“How long have you worked here?” I ask Janice, covering my nose to lessen the mildew smell. The air in the greenhouse was toxic, but at least I had a mask.

“Two years,” she says. “Give your files to Frank.”

A gray haired man sits at a small, tabletop-display desk, swiping through a collection of cutout patterns. “Name.”

“Jewel Young.” The flickering and buzzing florescent light casts my shadow across his desk. “This is my first day at the school.”

I hold out my arm so he can scan my wrist monitor. My information pops up on his display and his lips move as he skims through it. “Any experience at all?”

I shake my head and he sighs. “Very well, we’ll start you sewing buttons back on. Make sure to always use a thimble. We don’t want anyone bleeding to death.” He gives me an encouraging grin as he stands. “Don’t worry; by the time you graduate, you’ll have a good trade. And you’ll make enough to support yourself.”

Frank leads me to a seat amid the hive of workers, some at sewing machines and others at cloth-piled tables with needle and thread. He gives me a quick lesson in threading a needle and attaching buttons. When I get the hang of it, he drops a stack of clothes on the worn yellow tabletop and returns to his desk.

The black Val uniforms contrast sharply with the drab gray of our worker outfits.

The same music we listened to in the greenhouse comes through the wall panels, and I hum along with the classical piece as I line up the first button. The door whooshes open and bangs against the wall, making my whole body clench. Several of my co-workers cry out at the loud boom and glance at the door before dropping their gazes. I spin around and see a large Val filling the doorway. The window behind him casts him into nothing more than a shadow. The button I was holding falls into my lap, the material floats to the desk.

Frank stands up, but keeps his eyes low. “Can I help you? Is there a problem with one of your uniforms?”

“I need to speak to one of your workers.”

My hands start to tremble.

“Of—of course,” Frank says, bowing. He wrings his hands together.

The Val calls out a name. “Jewel Young.”