The V Girl: A coming of age story

by Mya Robarts

  Even so, I thought we had bonded. Both of us are outcasts, both of us crave the human touch, both of us have felt lonely while surrounded by people. I thought he was a voyeur. Then I remember that he said voyeurism isn’t his kink. I never imagined that his kink would be something so disgusting. How can he justify something as horrible as non-consent?

  The worst thing is that he has ruined me for other men. Nobody has touched me so intimately. Nobody has made me feel the way he did. I’ll always think about how it would have been to lose my virginity to him.

  In light of his confession, the memory of the day I met him takes on a whole new meaning. Now I get his attraction to me. If non-consent is what he’s into, the reason he became aroused by our fight at the river was because I was resisting him with everything I had. Visitants never fight a soldier. They’re supposed to enjoy everything the soldiers do to them. He mustn’t be used to find fighters among regular girls. Everything makes sense now.

  I don’t think he’ll force me. During the date at Gyges, he was fighting for my consent. Even so, the fact that he has used his considerable force on other girls and enjoyed it scares me. As much as he has helped me and my family, a man who has raped is completely irredeemable. I won’t be able to sleep with him again. Actually, I don’t think I can live in this clinic anymore. I’ll convince Dad that we should find another place to live.

  After putting more clothes into my emergency backpack, I look for my father. As soon as I enter the clinic, Azzy pulls me toward an office, gesturing at me to remain silent. Olmo has his inhaler in his hand and his ear pasted to the wall, listening attentively. Voices come from the ER.

  “Daddy and Uncle Baron are mad at each other,” Olmo whispers. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

  It is. They call themselves compadres because Dad is godfather to Baron’s children, and Baron is my godfather and Olmo’s. This union is more than a friendship; it’s co-parenting.

  “Lila, you’re the reason behind their argument,” says Azalea.

  Baron’s next words prove her right. “Compadre, what is my goddaughter doing sleeping in that man’s room?”

  Dad’s voice betrays hints of tension. “She was unconscious, and soldiers were coming to stay in the clinic. Lila would’ve become a temptation for them so—”

  “A temptation for what? For taking away her innocence? That man will do exactly that! Her own father is delivering her V on a silver plate to him!”

  “Baron, Mr. Fürst is a gentleman. He’s also a doctor. She’s had night episodes, and I can’t take care of both Olmo and Lila. Olmo hasn’t been well lately.”

  I look at my brother. Although he eats more than ever, he’s been losing weight.

  The sound of furious pacing accompanies Baron’s words. “He’s too old for her, and she’s inexperienced. What if he gets her pregnant?”

  “He won’t get her pregnant; he’s her doctor,” says Dad irritably. “Besides, Lila’s taking my pills, and the cops are on contraceptives. I’ve injected the Accord Unit myself.”

  “Other things might happen.”

  “Not unless Lila wants them to.”

  “If she wants them to? She’s too young to know what’s best. You’re supposed to keep her away from anything that endangers her purity!”

  “Like what? Like the recruitment? I can’t keep her away from that.”

  “That’s different. In that case, it wouldn’t be her fault if her V … um … every future husband would understand that she didn’t want to and—”

  “Stop! Lila is eighteen, and I trust her. I’ve raised my daughter to become her own best friend and to do nothing that goes against herself. Whenever she decides to start her sexual life, I’ll respect her decision.”

  “You can’t tell me that this is what you want for your daughter.”

  “Recruitment isn’t what I want for my daughter,” says Dad brusquely, his cart making squeaking sounds. “I want Lila to have control of her life and to be happy.”

  Baron’s voice is calmer. “Ethan … compadre … I wouldn’t meddle if I didn’t care for her as though she were my own daughter. She might not want to marry now, but she’ll have to get a husband in the future, and by then there’ll be no way to recover what she’s lost. Even Camilla would agree with me.”

  “Don’t mention my wife!” Dad’s furious voice startles us. He’s never been so angry. I’m getting furious, too. My father always pretends that Mom’s still alive somewhere. I’ll go ballistic if Baron says something about her that breaks that illusion.

  “I’m mentioning her because she wouldn’t have given Lila permission to—”

  “Drop it!” Dad yells. “I’ll put it this way, Baron. I’m a doctor and a father. As a doctor, I know that the vaginal corona doesn’t have a function. What people call the maidenhead is nothing but a set of elastic folds of mucous tissue. As a father, I would prefer that she didn’t marry a man who values tissue more than Lila’s distinctive personality. Any guy should consider himself lucky if a girl as noble as my Lila accepts his proposal.”

  “But—”

  “If she’s going to tear that stupid membrane, I’d rather Lila make that decision herself, as opposed to the soldiers making it for her.” Dad lowers his voice. “Do you get it now? Or should I bring in Duque to explain it to you?”

  A thumping sound tells us that Baron has left the ER. The squeal of Dad’s cart follows.

  “That was fun! Vaginal corona,” says Olmo, giggling as he leaves the office.

  I don’t find any humor in the situation. I’m on the verge of tears. My father’s support moves me. Whatever else is missing from my life, I’ll always feel grateful for the honor of being his daughter.

  I look at the window and see my godfather storming down the stairs. Baron means well, but the Diaz family’s decisions are situated in the territory of have to rather than want to. I can’t live like that. I need a balance between the two. And right now I have to prioritize Olmo’s health. I can’t drag him out of the clinic to a homeless existence. Wasn’t he the reason I shared a bed with Aleksey in the first place? I want to make my family leave this clinic, but I have to accept that they’re all better near medical help. I’m the one who can’t live here anymore.

  “And?” Azzy asks with a malicious look on her face. “Have you lost the stupid membrane yet?”

  I ignore her question and share with her my plans to leave. Azzy’s incredulous but supportive. She promises to tell Dad and Olmo about my decision.

  I still have time before curfew. There’s only one place in Starville where I can spend the night.

  “Some soldiers believe it shouldn’t be considered a crime unless the victim is a married woman. That point of view sees recruitment only as a violation against a woman’s husband, not the woman herself.”

  Edith Hayes, ex-leader of the 21st Visitant Division

  39

  The wounded lion

  I wake up, startled, in a bed I don’t recognize. A chiming clock announces midnight. A ray of moonlight filters through the window, giving the place a strange glow. Then I remember where I am. This is a bed where Rey has slept countless times.

  My eyes scan my surroundings. Thanks to Rey’s carpentry talents, the brick hut is full of furniture. Heʼs made pieces of ornamental art out of chairs, cupboards, and cabinets, giving the small one-window room a cozy look. Fine woodworking that was supposed to be a surprise for his bride.

  Olga Busko, Angie’s mom, is my only living relative in town. While my father was recovering from the amputation of his legs, we stayed with my uncle Flint Velez. We fled when Azzy told me that our fifteen-year-old cousin had showed her his penis. We lived with Aunt Olga for a while. She’s always been kind to my siblings, but she’s still on bad terms with Dad. She can’t forgive him for marrying my pure-blood Circassian mother.

  Aunt Olga is relatively safe living by herself. No soldier would dare come near a hut so close to the museum ruins and their ghosts. Just in case, she has three dogs tha
t are almost as big as Poncho, though they’re not genetically modified. They’re so meek that they treat Poncho as an old friend.

  With my loyal Poncho beside me, I drift back to sleep. As usual, vivid dreams assault my slumber. A beautiful, deadly lion howls in pain, searching for the mate it has lost. Its search around the wood becomes frenetic, desperate. He searches inside a cave and then whimpers when he finds nothing. He hurries to look around rocks. He howls again. The lion’s mate won’t come back, and the predator’s agony is evident. The pain of its loss breaks my heart. I want to reach for him.

  The lion starts to race toward the cliffs at supernatural speed.

  At that precise moment, I wake up. I’ve developed the habit of waking up at exactly three-thirty for training. I toss in bed for a while, thinking about recruitment.

  Aunt Olga gets up and lights some candles when the clock chimes five o’clock. She’s in her early forties, but the blonde, green-eyed woman looks older than her age as she moves around her stove. I accept the piece of bread she offers me as I get ready for work. I won’t abuse my aunt’s hospitality. I’ll work my regular schedule and later return to the factory for a night shift so that I can spend the night there.

  “Only ten days until recruitment,” she says, interrupting my musings. A shiver runs down my spine. I never forgot the date, but being around Aleksey gave me a false sense of security. Even though I’m afraid of him, I’m sure he wouldn’t have let them recruit me. After his C.N. confession, I think he wanted to reserve the privilege of raping me for himself.

  Suddenly, Poncho whimpers, springing to alertness. He’s sensed something. It takes longer for my aunt’s dogs to detect the enemy. When they bark and snarl, Poncho remains utterly still, angling his body toward the door. Ready for combat.

  I take a cautious look out the window and freeze. There are no words to describe my shock.

  “Aleksey,” I whisper.

  The cop is scanning the entrance of the museum ruins fervently. A genetically modified hound accompanies him. My scent must have led the dog, and it won’t be long until he follows my trace here.

  Aleksey looks as confident, regal, and fierce as he’s always been, but there’s something different about him. There are hints of despair in his stance. In the way he storms through the museum entrance, shouting my name. In the way his fist hits the unhinged doors when he finally comes out, making them fall to the ground with a crash.

  “Is there anything wrong?” asks Aunt Olga worriedly.

  I peer outside one final time. As he runs his hands through his blond mane, Aleksey’s face reflects anguish. Even pain. I’ve never imagined that such a strong, expressionless man could show despair like this. He reminds me of the lion in my dream.

  Except that lions don’t mate for life. For Aleksey, I’m not a long-term mate. I’m prey.

  I lower my voice. “An Accord cop will come looking for me. Please tell him that I visited you two days ago and that you haven’t seen me since.”

  “I knew you had gotten yourself in trouble,” she says as she peers outside.

  The barking becomes deafening; Aleksey must be getting closer.

  Aunt Olga looks at me knowingly. “What have you done to that man?”

  “I wish I knew,” I whisper. With a closed-up man like Aleksey, I might never know.

  * * *

  Knowing full well that Aleksey is never at the clinic in the afternoons, I return to leave a false trail and to check on my family.

  I find the twins trying to cheer up Duque. All of us thought that Duque was feeling better and was determined to rejoin TCR after Sara’s execution. But the Diazes are taking turns staying with him night and day as a precaution.

  Olmo sings at the top of his lungs in his chiming voice. Totally out of tune. “You are a chiiiiiiiiiild of the universe, no less than the trees and the staaaars, you have the riiiight to be here.” I cringe. He’s totally out of tune. “And whether or noooooot it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfoldiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing as it shouuuuuuuuuuld.”

  Azalea makes a gagging expression and, behind Olmo’s back, mimes the act of vomiting on her hand. She has caught Duque’s attention and is making him smile. Still, though Duque is trying to look cheerful, the agony in his eyes indicates that he’s anything but.

  Duque’s eyes fall on me. He knows me well and realizes that I’m nervous. “Do you want to tell me something?” he asks.

  I nod. The twins protest, but eventually agree to give us a few moments alone.

  “Duque, you used to say that you’d never leave Starville.”

  He inhales deeply and shakes his head. “Not anymore. I hate this place. Here, everybody … knows. Everybody laughs—” He doesn’t need to say more. I haven’t forgotten how I beat his ex-fiancée because of her cruel comments.

  I pace the room. “If they don’t recruit me, I’ll try to find a place in Shiloh. Why don’t you come with me?” In Shiloh, Starvillers don’t get good jobs, and it’s difficult to find housing when you have only coupons to pay the rent, but it would be a change.

  “Shiloh isn’t far enough. I was thinking of a farther place,” he says. His tone implies that he thinks his only way out is through death. Not now, as he has to be here for the ceremony. Once you’re eligible for recruitment, you can’t escape by suicide unless you don’t care if the troops recruit your family in retaliation.

  “Nobody knows you in Shiloh, and you’re the best musician in town. There are ‘Musician Wanted’ signs all over there.”

  “I don’t know, Lila. Maybe. It sounds better than … I dread the moment I’ll have to walk those streets again with all the gossip and girls looking down at me and—”

  I pat his arm. “Shh. I know.” Starvillers’ comments about my mom still resound in my nightmares. “At least you’ll consider it. Rey would never leave.”

  His head snaps back, and there’s venom in his words. “Well, Rey won’t have trouble finding a wife, will he? What woman would want me after … that?”

  “I know of one.”

  He sighs and looks out the window. “I hate your jokes, Velez.”

  “I couldn’t be more serious.” I planned my actions and words carefully before coming here.

  His eyes grow wide when I take a jar of ink from my dress pocket and kneel beside his bed. It’s not the official tattoo that only government artists can issue, but it’s valid enough to count as a binding promise.

  “Duque Charles Diaz, would you marry me?”

  40

  Hiding

  Duque’s amber eyes open wide as Azalea’s voice startles us.

  “Menstruating mother of goat!”

  A crashing sound, like breaking glass.

  “I’m sorry,” says Olmo, his voice loud and apologetic.

  I leave the room briefly to scare off the eavesdroppers. When I return, Duque’s still in shock. I wait patiently for him to recover. He bursts out laughing, his outburst mixing with winces.

  “You shouldn’t make me laugh like this. It hurts.”

  “I’m serious, Duque.” Although I’m doing this only to divert his suicide plans, I know him well, and I’m sure he’ll say no. Still, I need him to consider himself worthy again. Even if he calls my bluff, this plan has advantages. We could get a marriage tattoo when Kit Lee-Rivers starts to issue marriage licenses again. In theory, that would protect us both from recruitment next year.

  “Marry me and start a new life with me in Shiloh,” I repeat.

  Duque smiles sadly and gestures toward his colostomy bag. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want that kind of pressure. I’ll never … lay with a girl. I’m broken ... I can’t perform groom duties while my waste is on display.”

  “Who cares about that? You’re beautiful, loyal, smart, and kind.”

  He considers this for a moment and sits up straight. “You can’t imagine how good you’re making me feel. I know I have competition. The tall cop … and my own brother … You prefer me over them?”

 
; “Absolutely!” I say, and Duque smiles at my sincere enthusiasm. One is a rapist, and the other is in love with a ghost. Duque is a boy as inexperienced and afraid of the troops as I am.

  “You’ll make a better husband than either of them.”

  “You’re wrong. They are too strong to be … overpowered … whereas I—” He sighs and turns his back to me. “I know why you’re doing this, Lila. Thank you. I’ll have to think about it.”

  Duque will decline, but I hope my proposal has made him consider other options for stopping his pain.

  Options that don’t include his death.

  * * *

  Time at the clothing factory flies by, and before I know it, the morning light filters through the factory windows. Around me, dozens of seamstresses sitting at two large tables embroider the crinoline dresses that Patriot women love.

  I caress the dress that I’m embroidering, unable to stop thinking about the day I got the chance to wear one of these. Would I feel better if I could wear beautiful dresses every day?

  Finally, my shift is over. I put my backpack around my shoulders. I’ll come back at sunset for another shift that will keep me in the factory all night.

  “What are you girls looking at outside?” asks our female supervisor.

  There are tall windows in the square-shaped plant, and my coworkers are fighting to get a look out of them.

  “A mutant is pacing at the entrance,” says a high-pitched voice.

  A short-haired blonde girl nudges her way through the giggling girls to gain a spot near the window. “A mutant?”

  “He has to be a mutant. Otherwise, why is he so handsome?” another girl answers in an admiring tone.

  “Look! He towers over the guards!” says a girl, bouncing on her toes.

  I stop dead in my tracks. Tall and handsome?

  “I didn’t know the Accord cops could be so strong,” says another admirer.

  I don’t need to hear any more. I dash toward the stairs. I reach the roof and jump from building to building, using the parkour techniques that Aleksey taught me. I find Poncho at Shiloh’s plaza and together we make for the railroad.