you, just as they tried to keep me from pushing forward
this chance for you all to vote on our rights as pure citizens,” he says, his voice precise and grave just like a senator’s ought to be. I’m getting an inkling of what’s coming, and I feel almost faint.
“I am also risking my safety in telling you this. No doubt, some misguided M-DNA subject will take offense at my speech. The whole community may lash out in a typical case of the aggression that we regrettably encounter so often, now that these so-
called citizens have nested in our once flourishing society. Regardless…an opportunity has been put forward. I believe we should be working on a vaccine to ensure that M-DNA people produce only pure DNA children, if they refuse to be sterilized.
"If you true citizens vote positively, we will reclaim our jobs, our living spaces, our schools for the future of our children, and our very way of life so that we can replenish our country—our world—one step at a time. You, my dear people, for the first time in many years have a choice put before you about two weeks from this approaching Wednesday: a choice you can make, not a decision made for you by fat regionalists who don’t know what it’s like to live among the people. You can allow the M-DNA subjects to drain our society as they have for so many years, or you can join me in reclaiming the beautiful country and way of life we enjoyed for centuries.” I sense that his carefully prepared speech is drawing to a close, and with the change of the militant, commanding tone to his gravelly voice, the hypnotic spell of horror is broken. I call out a hoarse voice command to the SMARTvision,
turning it off so the smooth face of the senator dissolves into a black void.
Questions zoom around my brain: did the humans know about this earlier? Is that why the boss who used to like Wade turned on him so quickly? How is this even happening?
We fought a war for the right to live as a people among humans! It can’t just go backwards! Panic and frustration makes my fur bristle and my hands shake from helpless fury.
I know already that we M-DNA "subjects” won’t be allowed to participate in the vote, and if humans are allowing this unfair vote to be put up in the first place…what happened to all the politicians who gave us rights in the first place? What about all these “desegregation” policies the government has been enforcing? We don’t know why they helped us, even though their tagline was equality. But if they’re resigned to lose to the never-ending bias against my kind…do we even have any hope?
I imagine a world where me and my loved ones would be treated as animals, like they tried to do to my parents' generation. A world where I would be forced to choose between a vaccine—or worse, a poisonous tester for the vaccine—to make my children unlike me, or sterilization. I can't even imagine.
Swiping away the infuriated tears decorating my cheeks, I check my phone again for something from anyone who might have seen this. No one has contacted me except Duncan, not even Eisen with the SMARTvision built into the wall of his break room at work; I wonder if he’ll return jobless as well. Harold
might be the only one who has a job by the end of the
day: half-breed lawyers will probably be in high demand right up until the vote.
Wednesday: the day only a couple weeks from now when everything might go sour. Then the war will start again, including the nightmares Harold once told me about with a white, tight-lipped face.
I’m panicking now, hardly able to breathe as I imagine my brothers—and even me—caught up in the absolutely brutal guerilla warfare my parents went
through when Harold was a child. The humans might even have the upper hand this time…how can anyone stand for this? Even the humans? Doesn’t anyone remember what it was like back then? The humans have memorial services and a day in the summer set to celebrate the end of the terrible war, and we half-breeds have our own memorial rituals that we practice.
I imagine the faces of all the students I encounter at school every day, and try to picture us all literally fighting to kill each other. I can’t. I may not like a single person there, but I don’t wish any of them dead.
Duncan’s knock on the door startles me, and I’m out of my faded violet suede chair to open the door before he even finishes knocking. I’m having a panic attack, like I used to when I was a toddler, and I can’t stand being alone right now. Hell, I almost fall into his arms once I open the door, but I manage to maintain my dignity long enough for him to see my face.
“Wow,” he murmurs softly. “Pretty bad, huh?” I nod, willing the moisture in my eyes to dissipate. Now that he’s here, his scent fills my nose again and I am weirdly comforted by his presence. I hardly know what to say
except one thing.
“Let’s go,” I say, brushing past him to walk to his car. I thank him in my head for following me without a word.
21
Conversation isn’t an option for me for about ten minutes, and Duncan is kind enough to drive around aimlessly while I gather my thoughts and calm down. Perhaps he sensed my distress was too much to handle alone, because after two minutes of cruising through the half-breed neighborhoods around my house, he tentatively held out his hand across the retro bench seat of his car. I took it, hesitant but grateful for his compassion. His hand is pleasantly dry, and the calloused ridges on the top of his palm from working out feel good against my skin. I wonder if dark fur will ever decorate the back of his hand like auburn fur decorates mine.
I don’t know what is coming for us, but Duncan feels like more than a friend now, and not in a one- sided way.
“Where would you like to go?” he asks after we’ve exhausted the main and back roads of the little town where I live. I shrug, turning away from listlessly gazing out the passenger window to observe him.
“I had a few ideas this morning, if the opportunity presented itself, but unless your ridiculous costume is still in the car, we might not have access to the areas I was
thinking. Not after—” I hesitate to mention Denmann’s speech, loathing the memory already. I wonder if Duncan will even want to venture into the strictly half-breed populated areas I’d thought of while laundry and cooking were occupying my time.
“I have it in the back seat, since I didn’t have time to clean out my car last night,” Duncan assures me, and I’m distracted as his thumb glides down my sleek-furred hand. “Just tell me where to go.”
“All right,” I concede. “Turn left out of this subdivision, then follow the signs to the center of downtown Thymes Ridge. Once you’re in the middle, go right: there’s a nice trail for walking, if you want to see it.” My directions might be a little vague, but I can help him along the way if he gets lost. We fall silent again. Now that I’m calmer, I can show interest in the curiosity that is Duncan.
“So,” he speaks before I can compose a proper question in my mind. “Humans, huh?”
The corners of my mouth fold downwards. “Humans. All of them are insane,” I say, then reconsider who I’m speaking to. “I mean—”
“Please don’t worry on my account,” Duncan says, his voice deep and growly again in that way I’m drawn to.
“Humans aren’t all bad, but today I’m glad I’m not one anymore. I…I have no clue what to say to you or to any half-breed I’d meet after this debacle. It’s shameful, this whole ‘voting’ process.”
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for everyone to understand that our kind is human too, and worth equal treatment. M-DNA makes us stronger, better; we
live twenty years longer than most humans, and look only about sixty when we pass on,” I muse aloud. Duncan nods, agreeing with me; I notice the hand that isn’t holding mine grips the steering wheel awfully tight.
“I’ve noticed. I didn’t have a problem with being human, but however this new DNA got into me, or went active, whatever…it’s made me stronger, faster, and possibly a little smarter. That may sound arrogant, along with me saying I wasn’t totally stupid before, but my schoolwork seems a whole lot easier. I actually have to hold
myself back in senior P.E. now,” he says as we get close to the first turn I told him to make.
“At my school, P.E. was actually fun. Everything was more competitive, but at the same time you could use whatever animal attributes you had however you wanted. It was chaos, and we loved it,” I reminisce. “Thankfully I don’t have to take anything like that at Hostetler, since my credits panned out in my favor. I can only imagine how they’d react…Harper would probably fail me out of spite.”
“True…you’re public enemy number one, and we’re barely into the school year,” Duncan says, then coughs self-consciously. “Sorry, sorry…I’m trying to be encouraging. It’s not easy to cheer someone up after
watching a scumbag like Denmann humiliate your race on SMARTvision.”
I grow bolder, squeezing Duncan’s hand as a tiny smile creeps onto my lips. “It’s okay…you’re helping. Wanna know how you can help more?”
“Do tell,” he says, giving me a side-ways smile and a look just flirty enough to make my heart pump a little faster.
“I have more questions, and…something you said last night made me think…” I say, wondering if he’ll know that I’m referring to the part where he brought up half-breed bonding.
“Ask away,” he says more casually than I’d like, calming the butterflies in my stomach; I shy away a little. “I imagine a lot of what I said last night made you think.”
“What are your ideas about how this happened?” I ask. Duncan shrugs, briefly seeking eye contact as we reach a traffic light. There aren’t many cars out today, understandably: the half-breeds are either storming human neighborhoods in a mob, or they’re staying out of sight to avoid heckling and general aggression from humans.
“I’ve had several theories since all of this started a while back…some of them are nuts; I thought I’d been poisoned or contaminated by contact with a half-breed person. None of those panned out, obviously,” he explains. “Right now, the working theory is that the government serum they inject five-year old humans with isn’t a permanent solution. I’m thinking it was a temporary solution they sold to the public to stop panic, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be the only one turning now that the gene pool has been changed this much already. It doesn’t make sense for it not to affect more people than just me.”
“That sounds very plausible; I’m impressed,” I say after digesting his information. “It sounds like something the government would do, especially after today.”
“Agreed...I mean, they're talking about a mandatory sterilization process or DNA cleansing
vaccine. That's got to show some desperation, right?” Duncan says before shaking his head to clear it. “Anyway, shall we play the question game again? Because if we do, it’s my turn.” I pretend to deliberate for a moment.
“Sure, but you have to swear that you won’t put me off anymore,” I say, and he shakes his head with amusement.
“So what is the best perk of being a fox, and what is the biggest downside?” He asks, surprising me again.
“Hm…no one has asked me that before. What do you think the best and worst things would be?” I know I’m not playing the question game right, but he is forgiving and answers.
“Biggest perk is that you are a very attractive fox, and biggest downside is your irresistible draw to pillage chicken coops, I imagine,” Duncan teases me, and I laugh as his compliment cheers me.
“We have to fix some of your stereotypes for sure—oh, here’s downtown TR, make sure you’re not blinded by all the city lights as you find that right turn,” I say, sarcastically mocking my quaint town as it takes us all of six minutes to drive through without any traffic. “I would have to say the biggest perk is the inborn
cleverness, and the biggest downside is the general mistrust of any birds in the nearby vicinity.”
“Yeah, because that’s not a stereotype at all,” Duncan chuckles as we head toward the trail. He lets go of my hand and reaches in the back seat to rummage around for the beanie and wolf ears headband he wore last night. I stop him before he puts on the too furry ears.
“You don’t need those after all; the beanie is enough. People will think you’re just hiding your ears, and after today they won’t blame you,” I say. “Your turn for a question, I think.”
“Okay,” he says through a mouthful of marshmallow; he grabbed the leftover bag of those as well, and I suppose he doesn’t mind eating them raw. “What is your current favorite hobby, besides pissing off anyone in the administration of Hostetler High?”
“Hey now! That’s not a hobby, that’s an occupation,” I insist, fishing a marshmallow out of the thin plastic bag. “My interests include but are not limited to reading, writing some middle quality poetry, baking, and going on the occasional run with my brother. I’d include shopping in that list, but there’s a stereotype that goes with that hobby, so let’s pretend I didn’t mention that.”
“All of those sound well-rounded and balanced…you should be proud,” Duncan says pompously, making me laugh; his efforts to cheer me up are working well enough that I don’t have to focus on the bad parts of today. I consider my next question.
“What was it like when you first showed signs of having mixed DNA?” I ask after hesitating briefly;
Duncan doesn’t seem like he’s offended, but his eyebrows draw down and his hand tightens on the steering wheel.
“Well…it was really slow at first. I didn’t realize it for a long time, because apparently when the dormant DNA matures, you never feel sick. At least, not more than a few little illnesses that went away in a day or two,” he says, looking thoughtful as he traverses back
to the time when he still was completely human. “After about three weeks of that, my allergies kicked in like crazy for a day, and then I felt better than I had my entire life. I could see and hear better, I felt stronger and had a ton of energy, which I used at the gym and playing soccer and small local games of summer football with Aaden, Bari, and Truman. I think I drove everyone nuts for a little while; I must have been like a puppy for most of the summer. Even when I started showing other signs, like a disturbingly improved sense of smell, I didn’t pay much attention—”
I interrupt him long enough to give one more set of directions. “We’re going to come up on a grassy, gravelly area near the trail that we use for parking in a little bit. Make sure you turn right up here.” He nods, continuing as we pull in and park.
“I guess the wake-up call after the growth spurt and burst of never-ending energy was the fur on my back…it seemingly grew in overnight, and then my teeth and eyes changed. I couldn’t believe it, and like I said last night, I thought I was going crazy. I knew enough to hide everything from my family—they wouldn’t handle the knowledge well—but I don’t understand completely how I can hide my other traits. One time I went for a run with Aaden and Bari after a game and almost blew my cover. This group of three half-breeds stops us and starts talking trash, asking why I’m hanging around a bunch of humans. We almost got in a fight—them more than me, since I was trying to figure out how they knew I was half-breed—but I talked them down and we got away. My friends were curious, but...they never knew. No one knew until I told you last
night, thankfully. The hardest part was learning how to curb my scent, but…it worked.”
“That sounds awful,” I say with sincere sympathy as we pull to a stop in the grassy area I told Duncan about. “It must have been hard to keep this hidden. Plus the change…”
“It was worse because I couldn’t and can’t risk looking anything up directly in case my SMARTspace track record gets selected for a random review,” he says, removing the key from the ignition once he haphazardly parks wherever there’s room. It’s a nice day, so normally this place would be busier, but as it is only a few cars pepper the mashed down grass of the makeshift parking lot.
“Once I figured it out…it was easier to manage. Well, except for being able to smell absolutely everything...how can anyone even get used to that? But unt
il I found you, I was in the dark and utterly confused about what to do. Well, with this new version of myself anyway.” We’re both thoughtful as we exit the car; Duncan tugs the beanie down on top of his ginger hair.
“And now?” I ask, walking around to his side of the car after smoothing my pale purple shirt down and quickly checking my make-up in the side-view mirror. He glances in the mirror on his side as he adjusts his hat; then he straightens and looks at me. He has that curious smile that makes his eyes gleam just the way I like, right before faint spots of color appear on my face.
“Not your turn,” he says with a mischievous grin. I notice how well his casual dark blue button down shirt
fits and matches his black jeans, just as I notice how his collarbone looks appealing right where he’s left the top two or three buttons undone; he's rolled his sleeves up almost to his elbows, and I try not to stare at his muscular forearms.
“Ask away, then,” I say, self-consciously trying not to stutter as I look up into his face; his eyes are the German Shepherd brown again, which is growing on me almost as much as his more human green eyes.
“Let’s start walking first,” he suggests. “I’m going to assume the little pathway leading through that grove is the start of the trail, so shall we?” I nod, and he gestures for me to lead the way. We’re silent as we start on the path, and I allow us both some time to observe the scenery.
The trail rests completely under an arch of trees, most of them still covered with ivy from the summer. The pesticides the self-appointed groundskeepers spray keep the bugs to a minimum, and they repave the black trail often enough so that there aren’t a lot of holes in the ground.
“Whatever people say about half-breeds, you sure do take care of the areas the government designated for you,” Duncan says as we leisurely explore the
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