Laurel got up from her rock and paced up to the tower. Drake wouldn't be up there yet, but it was as good a place as any to walk to while thinking. She needed to find Ams, corner her in some way, and just tell her, tell her everything. But she couldn't, for the life of her, think of where she'd gone to hide from her. And then she had it, the dusty loft nobody ever went to. Too many stairs and the elevator didn't run in that part of the compound.
She ran, hoping she was right, sneaking into the back entrance and racing for the steps. Too many steps, but she kept going, the muscles in her legs burning. She wondered if any of the places she could run away to would have stairs. She might just start running up them every day or as often as she could to get ready, in case they did. At worst, it would give her something to do if Ams abandoned her again.
She finally made it to the top, panting. She put her ear to the skimpy panel at the opening into the loft, registering the sound of running water. Somebody was up there. And then she heard voices, a male and a female, but too far away and too quiet for her to know if the girl was Ams. She was suddenly afraid that she'd walk in on two complete strangers doing something unthinkable. And there was no chance it was Ams, not with this strange male voice. Ams, who was afraid of all things boys, wouldn't be alone with one, probably not ever, even for all her training. She'd see her at dinner soon enough, and then she'd just talk to her. Simple enough, that. Talking to her one and only friend in the whole world should be that simple. Only she knew it wouldn't be.
She wandered around the compound for the rest of the day, keeping Stella company in her silly jabber for a bit, then went to the library, hoping that by some small miracle Amelia would be there. She wasn't.
When the dinner bell rang, she raced to the kitchen, arriving far too early for it to feel like nothing was wrong, and waited. Ams came, kissed her on the cheek, and sat her tray down too close to the edge of the table, the way she always did. She seemed okay enough, but she wasn't quite looking at her face.
"I looked for you at the library, Ams. I missed you. But you weren't there...." She said it quietly enough just for her.
Ams blushed. So she did lie. That would be a first.
Whatever it was that happened was bad then, bad enough for her not to want to tell her. She couldn't think of anything as bad as that. Maybe Ams finally figured out what her implant wasn't telling her about her family. Maybe they weren't dead and were coming to take her home. But Laurel would be thrilled with that, happy for her to have a family. Ams had to know that. Nothing else made any kind of sense. She'd just have to wait. Ams would tell her, she'd have to. They had no secrets, except for all the ones Laurel was keeping from her friend for the past two years, but those would come out too, tonight or at worst, tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe, Ams would want to run with her. That was worth waiting for.
She jabbed her friend in the ribs, gently, this time, and smiled. "Kidding Ams, relax. I never go to that frightful old place. It smells like dead people in there. And I don't read those old books, you know that. What would I ever do with all that dust and the ghosts of ancient stories?" She went back to her food, hoping Ams bought it. Hoping she was a much better liar than her friend.
That night she waited for Stella to fall asleep, and watched Ams climb into bed. When all was quiet and Stella was breathing too slowly to be awake, she walked over to her friend's bed and sat on the edge.
"Wake up, liar."
It came out harsher than she wanted it to. Ams didn't flinch or move, or do anything that would indicate that she heard her. She waited, waited for what seemed like an eternity, and finally crossed the room to her own bed and lay there for a long time thinking of all the things Ams could want to hide from her. All the things that could have possibly happened to her when Laurel wasn't there, and when she couldn't think of anything, she let herself drift off, hoping that her friend was still something she could hold on to. After so many years, this girl was all she had.
The one who kissed her on the cheek every day. The one who wandered through the compound with her, pretending they were living in a long-ago time when people read those dusty books in the old library. Thinking of what it would be like to fall in love with an actual boy, one without an implant...
Her eyes closed, she listened to the girls' breathing, slow and soft. And then the rhythm changed, and she heard Ams get out of bed, slip on her clothes, and stealthily leave the room. So she lied again. Nothing to be done about it. She could follow her, but it felt wrong, chasing someone who didn't want to be chased like that. The keeping of this secret, whatever it was, would get to her soon enough. Secrets always did.
10
Sage
Amelia, March 29, 2236, The Compound
Her face burned, she could feel it, when Laurel crouched over her like that, accusing her of the lie. And lie she did. But nobody blushed in the dark, so at least she didn't have to worry about that. She waited for so long afterward, much longer than she should have maybe, to make sure Laurel was asleep. Still, her friend knew something was wrong, and she couldn't tell her any of this. She wouldn't know where to begin. And the boy ... she couldn't tell anybody about the boy, not even Laurel. She didn't think Laurel would betray her of course, but the boy would mean nothing to her. They didn't even look at them as quite human, nobody did.
She ran down to the slave kitchen and filled up a small thermos with tea and a larger one with soup. She couldn't take anything else without risking making too much noise. This would have to do. It was better than the nothing he's had since that one lousy breakfast bar. She ran up to the loft, dropped the two containers on the floor in the corner, and ran back down. The boy would be asleep and she didn't want to wake him yet. The tea and the soup would stay hot for hours still.
The Med floor was deserted, as she expected. If someone saw her, she'd just tell them she was sleepwalking and got lost. She walked to the main room where the doctors worked during the day and watched one of the mutes sweep the tiles. It must have been awkward for her to do that with the maid-band on her hands. The mute looked up at her suddenly, and she wanted to run. She looked so much like the boy, unmistakably like the boy, and not just in that dark hair dark eyes way. Even the way her hair fell over her face in waves and tangles was Riley's.
She needed the meds. She needed to not think about how the mute looked. Maybe they all looked like that, but she knew, of course, that they didn't. Drake didn't look anything like that or any of the other mutes. She started paying attention to them for some reason today, and any time she saw one she'd tried to remember their features. She didn't think about it, it just happened.
Amelia has been knocking for too long now. The mutes weren't deaf, so she had to have heard her knocking, never mind that she was staring right at her through the glass. Finally, the doors slid open, and she told her that lie she made up while waiting for Laurel to fall asleep, the one about her friend with a cut on her arm, and the meds she needed. She hoped she didn't blush too much, but she felt her cheeks burning, so of course, she did. The mute knew she lied. She hoped she'd still help her.
She stared at her very pretty handwriting: "What's your friend's name?" on a med pad in front of her face. No, she couldn't do that again, the lying. It just felt all kinds of wrong to keep blushing like a fool in front of this stranger, so she didn't. She didn't tell her anyone's name, but she couldn't stop looking at her. She couldn't get past the resemblance in everything. Even the way she moved had a bit of Riley in it, slow and graceful, but straight-backed as if the band on her hands wasn't there.
She wondered if this mute had a name she could take to Riley with her; if she still remembered her name, so she asked, and the mute seemed sad after that. Ella. She needed to call her by her name, even in her own head. Ella, the mute, who handed her the kit in a hurry, seemed anxious for her to leave. Something about asking for her name made her sad, hurt her. She didn't mean to, but she never really meant to hurt anybody, and yet it happened.
She kept not wanting
to hurt the boy, but somehow she did, first with the stupid maid band, and then the water. She would need to figure it all out somehow, with the boy, so she'd stop hurting him. But the meds would help take some of the pain away. She grabbed the kit and the pad with the girl's name on it. She didn't mean to take it, but there it was, tucked neatly in the back pocket of her jeans.
Ella looked at her with so much desperation, the door open for her to run, pointing at it with her head and then the key. She felt like she owed her something for helping her, and for the lie, something to make her less sad, so she walked up to her and told her his name, Riley's name, and then ran, the strange dread over what she'd just done making her feel cold all over.
But she couldn't fix this now. She would have to tell Riley, would have to find a way to do it. He needed to know what she'd done. Maybe he'd try to run then, only he wasn't anywhere near healed enough to run. She made it to the loft, groped in the dark for the two containers, and walked to the den. The boy was just how she left him, asleep.
She’d washed his jeans and socks in the spare bathroom on the floor below that nobody ever went to earlier and scrubbed his shoes clean as she could make them, and all of that should have dried by now on the heat vent by the wall. She found the warm heap of clothes by touch and brought them over to the bed. She needed some light to put HealX on his scars. The candle would have to do. She heard the boy stir when she lit the match.
"Please don't. Don't light that." His voice sounded strained, fragile as if she somehow hurt him again.
"So, jumping over the wall and breaking ribs and the bruises is okay. Whatever happened to you when you got those slashes and stitching them up - also okay. Warm water and a candle - not okay. Am I missing something?" She knew she sounded a little angry, could hear it in her voice, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't help feeling like an idiot, not knowing what she should and shouldn't do or say, and he wasn't telling her anything. How was one supposed to help somebody who refused to help you help them at all; who made you feel all kinds of wrong for it every time you tried? So maybe she was angry at him. Maybe he'll finally start talking to her. But the boy just lay there, not moving, watching her, and she couldn't light the candle.
There was a small light by the far wall she noticed earlier, not enough light to be spotted through the window from outside, so she flicked it on, and walked away from the den so he could put his jeans on. It felt right to give him this little bit of privacy, though he had to have guessed by now that she undressed him in the first place.
"Thank you. For the clothes. And yesterday, what you did. I don't even know how you did it, but...." He seemed uncomfortable. He was standing by the bed, shoes and jeans on, watching her.
She walked back into the den and moved the chair to the wall, so she'd have enough light to fix his scars.
He let her spread the HealX on them, sitting there like a statue, not moving, not breathing either.
She could see the muscles working in the side of his jaw. She was somehow hurting him again, only it didn't make her want to cry, it made her want to scream at him for making her feel like this. She didn't. She walked over to the sink and washed the oil from her hands. She brought the two still hot to the touch containers over to him. "I brought you some soup and tea. I couldn't get anything else quietly enough. I also brought you pain meds, but you should eat first."
He turned around in the chair, facing her, and nodded. He gulped the soup down, and took a few sips of tea, not looking at her. He seemed done.
She handed him a half dozen small pills. "These taste awful but they'll make it not hurt anymore. They might make you a little sleepy, at least they did me when I had to take them once."
He shook his head at her, not taking the pills.
Why wouldn't he take the pills with everything hurting like that?
"I'll be all right. It's not so bad anymore, but I can't take these. I have to stay awake, in case I have to run. I can manage now. Thank you... for helping me. For everything," the boy said quietly. He wanted her to leave. That's what he was saying. She was being dismissed.
She flushed and hated her face not for the first time today for betraying her like that. Without thinking, she reached into her back pocket, took out the med pad with Ella written on it, and threw it at him. Now she would leave.
She was only halfway to the door when his hands roughly dug into her shoulders. They were shaking, too, she could feel that. He spun her around and stared at her as if he wanted to strangle her, squeezing into her skinny shoulders till it hurt. She held her breath, trying not to cry. She was done crying in front of this boy.
"What have you done?" Riley said so very quietly.
Too quietly. So this would be his version of anger or rage then. She was collecting these tidbits in her head without trying to, drawing a person she could understand out of what little he let her see.
He walked her back to the den, not letting go of her shoulders, and sat her down on the edge of his bed, crouching in front of her, and finally let go. Her shoulders burned where he dug in and she wanted to rub the pain out, but she didn't want him to see that he'd hurt her.
"Please, tell me where you got this. I need to know what happened, need to know where this came from." He showed her the pad, his voice a little calmer now, not so full of that awful quietness.
"No." She didn't even mean to say it. It just came out, but she didn't owe him any more telling, not when she got nothing from him but his name. And if she told him what happened with Ella, she'd have to tell him she gave up his name, too, and she no longer wanted to do that; didn't want his rage or his anger or sadness or whatever it would be this time. She just wanted to leave. She could do that now. Now that she fixed him up as well as she could. Now that he wanted her to go. She got up. "I'm going, Riley. There is plenty of HealX left in the kit. It'll keep your scars from getting infected." This sounded colder than she wanted it to.
He stood too, looking at her, hurt in the brown eyes, she could read that much now, and then he moved away letting her pass. He turned away from her, from her leaving, hands behind his back, the scars glistening raw pink under the HealX. That's how she'd remember this strange boy then. She was okay with that.
She was almost at the door when she heard him. "Ella... Ella is my sister. A sister I lost when I was six."
She stopped and looked at him, but he was still standing as she left him, his back to her. She walked a little way back, stopping far enough away to where he couldn't touch her if he turned around. He didn't.
"They took her away first. Before my parents. But nobody ever said she was dead. They didn't tend to kill little girls. They just made them slaves. The parents they killed. I knew that even then. But Ella was still out there somewhere in one of these compounds. I'd looked for her for almost three years now in every place I could get to. She's all I have left, Amelia. And ... and if you told her anything about me, you may have just killed her." He turned around then, hands still behind his back as if he didn't trust himself not to hurt her.
She couldn't tell him what she had done after this. He was right of course. She'd come looking for him, Ella would, asking questions. She was probably running through every room of the compound right now, looking for her brother, and she would get caught by Drake or one of the other guards.
He was waiting for her to just say it. Her face was betraying her again, and even in the semi-darkness, he should be able to read shame in it. She could run if she ran fast enough. She didn't think he'd try to stop her, but he didn't deserve that. It felt wrong to do that to him, to leave him with the not knowing. She didn't mean to tell Ella his name. It felt like a small kindness at the time, that's all. She just wanted to take some of the sadness away, and to apologize for the lying.
She willed herself to walk closer to him, close enough to where he could touch her, looked him in the eyes, and said, more quietly than she meant to, "I told her that I needed the meds for my friend, my friend Riley. I didn't mean to at first, but th
en it felt right. She looked like you, Riley, I felt something. Like looking at a girl you, only older. The same everything. So I asked her for her name and she wrote it for me, but then she seemed so sad, it just came out. I didn't mean to do it, to put her in danger, I really didn't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She was crying now, couldn't help it.
She waited for him to say something or do something, hit her even if he wanted to. She'd let him, but he just stood unmoving, his face impossibly close to hers, too close not to see tears pooling in his eyes. She wanted to disappear through the floor, anything to make him not look at her like that, to not see him hurting like that, and knowing that she did this to him. The other things were before her, something else, memories of something maybe, but this–this she did, and this was the worst thing of all.
She smelled him before she saw him, the faint hint of sage. He was standing in the shadows, just out of range of the small light, Drake, the guard. So she did kill his sister, and maybe even Riley, and whatever they would do to her for this. She didn't know what they would do to her, hadn't thought about getting caught. But whatever it was would be better than this. She couldn't take this for another second.
She wiped her face as much as she could with nothing but her hands to collect all the water, walked up to Drake, the giant mute, and handed him her wet hands to put the cuffs on. "This was all my fault, Drake. I practically kept the boy a prisoner here. He amused me. He didn't mean to be here. You have to believe me. I'm A.L. You have to let him go, you just have to!"
Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller Page 8