by Mary Gray
She squeals, but it’s a happy sound, and when they start tickling each other there’s a collective groan. Bee, beside me, makes a comment about how this is the last way she needs to waste yet another afternoon, and the boy on the end with the plaid shirt and a thick Southern twang shouts something about the couple getting a room. But it’s hard to tell exactly what, because the acronym-shouting blonde mutters something with too many letters to make sense, and the pink-and-green-haired Doublemint twin sprints for the counter like he needs another snack. I’m losing them; I need to work, and fast.
I feel someone’s eyes on me. Abe’s looking at me, so I turn to face him.
“You’re working to earn the vaccine?” Abe asks, eyes wide and friendly.
I try to smile because maybe he actually cares. No one else has asked why I’m doing this, but I’m sure they know. I expect Abe to say something else, but he looks toward the ground and shifts his feet. “Doesn’t matter if I get it. Nobody left in the world.” His smile disappears from his face.
“Aww.” Eloise shifts her massive skirts before latching herself onto Abe and wrapping an arm around his neck. She puts her lips together to say a word, but stops herself and opens her mouth to try something else. It takes me a minute to realize she’s struggling with her English. Pinching her lips together, she says in a soft accent, “Don’t say that. The world is full of poss—”
“—ibilities,” Abe finishes, laughing. “I get that.” He kisses her on the cheek.
I don’t want to intrude, but I turn to the girl because the weight of my task is pressing. “So, you’re Eloise,” I state.
She waggles her eyebrows and black skirts, her lips spreading into a smile on her face.
“Well, it’s good to meet you both.” And not wanting the first boy, the Middle Eastern-looking one, Ramus, to feel left out, I smile at him, too. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I can’t wait to get to know you more.”
The next boys in line—the Doublemint twins—have some breaded things in their hands. I need to move along if their cooperation lasts only as long as their snacks.
I take another step toward them, beginning with the pink-and-green-haired Doublemint boy, when Marcus yells, “And that is the conclusion to our night.”
What? Why’s he stopping me? First he didn’t tell me about the snake, and now this? There’s something seriously wrong with him. “But I’ve only learned a few of the names!” I find myself covering the five or six steps between us to reach him in the center of the room. I’m this close to popping him in the face.
Cleo snakes an arm around Marcus. “You heard him, chica. Time to scat.” I’ve never been much of the violent type, but it takes everything I have not to smack her in the face.
But Marcus folds his arms, and it’s a domino effect. Both of the blond-haired boys fold their arms, along with the plaid-shirted boy with the Southern twang. He actually looks familiar—I think he’s one of Marcus’s friends from the math meets—but right now I don’t want anyone siding with Marc. We’re all supposed to be working together to earn the vaccine.
“Why are you doing this?” I gape at Marcus as he turns away. To think all these months I thought he was my friend. From Mr. “Let me untangle your bracelets,” to the guy who sang my name. Does he have a personality disorder, or did he only recently decide to be like this?
But he shakes his head as he walks away, and all I can do is stare at the back of his head, wondering why we’re not friends anymore, where it all went so wrong.
Marcus grabs a few of those egg-roll wraps from Cleo’s kitchen counter, and my stomach growls, but I don’t have time to eat. He tosses one to Ramus, who’s walking toward the front door, and then takes a bite out of the one in his hand. Talking around a mouthful, he says, eyes boring inside me, “You should be asking yourself why you want to be with Teo so much.”
What is the matter with wanting to be with Teo? He should be happy for his brother and me. But the time Marcus noticed the connection between Teo and me flashes in my mind again, how he ducked down and scratched the back of his floppy hair like he was uncomfortable or something, and that’s when I know the answer. “You don’t like your brother being with me!”
It’s strange. All these months I never would have dared say such a thing. Teachers are never allowed to get involved with their students. If anyone had found out, he would never have taught again. The world is changing, mostly for ill, but this is one of the perks! We no longer need to hide how we feel. And Marcus wants to take that away.
Marcus scrutinizes my face for several long seconds, his eyes narrowed, and it makes me feel uncomfortable to have him so close, like by studying me he’ll be able to dissect all of my faults. Only a few seconds pass, however, before he grabs the long, floppy front of his hair and turns away. I’m not really sure, but I think he just cursed under his breath, and I have no idea why Teo’s and my relationship would matter to him.
Everyone in the room is heading toward the door, stealing more of those stupid snacks, and the complete disregard for Teo’s orders makes me want to scream. Teo invited all of them to come here. Well, I doubt he “invited” invited them, but the way they got here doesn’t matter now. He’s protecting us from the Living Rot. They shouldn’t be disregarding everything he says. I can’t—it’s unfathomable to me that they can be so ungrateful. They should be showing Teo some respect.
Forcing my twitching fingers to grow still, I appeal to them with the most levelheaded question I can. “Don’t you want me to accomplish my task?” I ask anyone who might hear some sense.
But Marcus and Cleo are too busy ushering the Doublemint twins out the front door, and the plaid-shirted boy is slapping Ramus on the back. I think about yelling at them to stop, maybe scribbling down their names and descriptions on a piece of paper, but I haven’t got a pad. Or pen. My heart races and I think I’m going to be sick. I steal another look at Marcus, unable to believe he’s doing this. It takes everything I have not to let my twitching fingers claw his face. “Marcus,” I say again, because he needs to know it won’t always go down this way.
The blue of his eyes lock with mine, but I can see that insubordinate flash of determination, like when he put his feet on the table at the math meet while winking at the old and crusty judge, and I know it—this time I won’t win.
“Why won’t you help me?” I plead, shocked I’ve lost my friend. I always thought he got me; he made that snide remark about Mayor Tydal and offered to slash his tires, just because. Everyone always thought I should love the idea of my mom and the Mayor being together, but Marcus saw what nobody else could see, that the Mayor was a fake, and he was making my mom the same way.
Marcus murmurs something to Ramus and the plaidshirted boy on their way out, and then looks at me again. “Ask yourself if it’s worth it, Cheyenne.”
He’s not making sense. Everyone should want to earn the vaccine.
Marcus’s blue eyes flash and he turns for the door, but before he leaves, he stops, his hair flopping into his eyes. “Some of us aren’t willing to play my brother’s games,” he says, the lines in his face softening. “The rest? Well, they’re just pissed you get the first shot at the vaccine.”
I take a few steps toward Marcus to explain that I’d like to be a team. We can all get along in Elysian Fields—enjoy what Teo has built. Teo will not like this rebellion, this little revolt. I mean to beg Marcus to change his mind when Bee grabs my wrist. “Let them go,” she says. “I’ll teach you their names real quick. Just don’t tell Teo you didn’t learn them all yourself.”
But Cleo’s already pushing us to the door. “Not in my house.”
I want to protest—I figure Bee and I together would be able to take down Cleo and her little black dress—when someone presses something—a piece of paper—into my hands. I look up to see Ana smiling slightly at my surprise; she must have just snuck back in.
“You helped me,” her voice is soft, in stark contrast to the loud orange shawl wrapped around her
head, “so I help you.” She’s pressed awkwardly against the frame of the front door as Abe and Eloise, flyswatter flickering between the two, skirt around her.
I look down to see what Ana means, but the paper is folded neatly in half; I open it to see what’s inside, and Ana—dear Ana—has written everyone’s names with a few words of description in parentheses.
Ramus (overalls)
Abe (dreadlocks)
Everyone has a description, including the girls. I could kiss Ana, but Cleo’s pawing my back, forcing me through the door. Bee, in her red-slitted dress, is right behind me, mumbling obscenities at Cleo, and I’ll love her for that for the rest of my life.
The sun is melting over the trees—it reminds me of broccoli dipped in cheese—and I retreat from Cleo’s Egyptian world with two new, potential friends. We’re halfway down the footpath when Bee snatches the paper from my hands. She hoots at Ana, on the other side of me. “Lady, you are quick on your feet!”
Ana blushes, bits of red scampering across her cheeks. “It did take some quick maneuvering to get away from Sal.”
Sal doesn’t seem to be popular with anyone. Not that I blame Ana. He reminds me of a guy my mom used to date who kept a pair of tweezers in his back pocket to pluck random hairs from his nose and ears.
“‘Pale skin’?” Bee groans, staring at the list. “How about ‘radiant complexion’? Not a zit in sight.”
But Ana’s busy checking the rip in her dress, where a piece of duct tape now clings to the orange fabric on her leg—it doesn’t look like it will last.
Now Bee’s laughing, clutching her side. “Love your note for Cleo.”
I snatch the paper from Bee, eager to be in on the joke. Scanning the list, I find Cleo’s name, and next to it is only one word: “implants”.
Oh, yes. It looks like Ana, Bee, and I will get along just fine.
The three of us sit down on the curb at the end of Cleo’s pathway, and hover over Ana’s notes. She’s drawn two columns, the boys on one side, the girls on the other, so that it’s easy to see who is paired. And instead of immediately scanning the girls’ names, I read each of their names with their male partner’s. I know some of them: Sal, Ana, Ramus, Bee. I’m not too sure of some of the others, though, so I scan the list in my hands.
Ramus (overalls) Bee (pale skin)
Abe (dreadlocks) Eloise (Chinese)
Tristan (pink & green hair) Izzy (big eyes)
Lance (drums) Gwen (frizzy blonde)
Sal (glasses) Ana (orange sari)
Marc (hot) Cleo (implants)
Romeo (plaid shirt) Juliet (black curls)
At first I can’t help noticing she’s labeled Marcus as “hot”—he isn’t that good-looking—but then my gaze snags on the last pair. I chuckle. “Romeo and Juliet.” I expect them to laugh, too, but they don’t. Their faces are hard, without a trace of a smile.
Ana’s voice is guarded. “We thought it was funny, too, until Teo warned us never to laugh about the names.” She shivers, reaching for a piece of celery in the folds of her skirt.
While I had figured our names are somehow tied to literature, I can see a pattern taking shape. Lance, Gwen: Lancelot, Guinevere. Marc, Cleo: Marc Antony, Cleopatra. We aren’t just classics; we’re some of the most famous, romantic stories ever known. I am not entirely sure about a few of the names, like Ramus and Bee, and Abe and Eloise.
I open my mouth to ask Bee and Ana what their real names are as it occurs to me that, if Teo chose these names, their former ones must be forbidden. He, no doubt, wants to start over in this world, obtain perfection by starting again as someone else.
Bee’s frowning at me like she wishes I’d share my thoughts, but I can’t tell them now, so I smile at the girls, desperate to express my thanks. Without them, I would be on my own. Bee’s willingness to help me meet the others, then Ana’s quick thinking in creating this list, has enabled me to accomplish my goal. Teo will be so impressed. And with the pairing, I think I can remember everyone well enough. Part of me wants to grab the girls and swallow them both in a hug.
Bee seems to accept my little offering, because she says, “You’d best be off.” She brushes her freckled fingers against the back of my hand. Keeping her voice low, she adds, “Be careful, lady.”
Bee… Bee! Pyramus and Thisbe! I’ve just figured her out. She’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Ramus is Pyramus. I love this story! But there isn’t time; I need to get back to Teo, so I give her a look that says she has absolutely nothing to worry about. “Don’t worry about me,” I say. “I know Teo is nontraditional, but he cares for me in his way.”
Ana leans in, her shawl slipping. “And you, him?”
I shrug, keeping my eyes on the list stretched out in my hands. “I can’t help it. My feelings for Teo—they didn’t happen because I wanted them to. I just do.”
Both girls are silent for a moment before Bee finally speaks up, moving a stray curl behind my ear. “I hate that I sound like my mother, but just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should.”
There’s a soft crunch as Ana works her celery between her teeth. I can’t help thinking she must be wondering how I could care for someone who could treat others the way Teo treated her just now. I hope that, with time, Ana and Teo will come to love each other the way I am coming to love them all. Well, most of them, anyway.
Of course, I didn’t like the idea of Teo and me at first. Those first few weeks my second year at Khabela, when I noticed my irreversible, growing attraction to my teacher, I tried to stop my feelings. I even tried talking the secretary at the front office into switching me to another class, but seniors were supposed to take calculus at my school. I needed it for college, and no other teacher taught calc.
And the longer I stayed in that class, the less I was able to look away. I was sure Teo knew of my obsession; it would have been futile to try to hide it. And none of the other students ever said anything, not that I didn’t wonder why. Were they scared of Teo? Scared of me? Or maybe I really wasn’t that obvious. I guess I will never know. None of my classmates are with us now in Elysian Fields, and who knows how long there will be survivors on the outside?
Reaching for both Ana’s and Bee’s hands, I offer them my most sincere thanks: “Anytime you need anything, just ask. I’ll vouch for you with Teo.” A twinge inside of me says I shouldn’t have to vouch at all, but no one is perfect. That’s just how Teo is.
The girls nod their heads a bit too eagerly, like bobble heads in a moving car. But neither of them has anything to worry about. With Teo, things take time. They will grow to love him soon enough. And Teo will give them the vaccine. I know he will.
With these reassurances, I jump to my feet, so eager to meet my Teo I fail for words. So I shoot the girls my best grin before sprinting off to meet our “Director.” After all, I now know everyone’s names.
And that will make Teo proud.
6
My dress whips around me like Teo has installed secret fans in Elysian Fields, and when I look up, the sun winks over the horizon, saying goodnight.
I’m so blessed Teo chose me to share this life. The neighborhood is amazing with its immaculate homes, the couples connecting with literature, and our safety from the Living Rot. I could be subhuman, living on other people’s parts. But Teo saved me—all of us—from becoming that. He didn’t just pick us up and dump us out in some random field; he prepared this place. Like the houses. Cleo’s, for instance, is Egyptian-themed because she’s Cleopatra. Bee’s, or Thisbe’s, home has cracks because that’s how the girl talked to the man she loved. Everything, everything about this world makes sense.
Stalling on Teo’s porch, I catch my breath. Seven men, seven women. But why would we be the eighth? And what about Jonas? We might spend the evening discussing these names and their stories. I want to understand everything about Teo’s plans.
Lifting my hand up to his massive, wooden door, I knock. Boldly. Three times. A few seconds later, the door opens and Jonas
stands aside to let me in. His chilling fingers scoop up my hand, and when he inspects my fingers, he frowns. “Your fingernails—” His clear gray eyes wind their way into mine.
I falter. I guess I sort of banged them up when I was digging up that survey stake. “Sorry about that,” I stammer, glancing around for Teo, but Jonas makes it hard to see around the doorway, so I add, “Guess I wasn’t really thinking.” I hope Jonas won’t always be the one to answer Teo’s door.
Jonas drops my hand, frowning, and says, “You may follow.” I watch the back of his white uniform as he strides away from me down the hall, and I can’t help wondering how Teo knows him at all. Jonas, who seems so uptight, couldn’t be more opposite from him.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt as I shadow Jonas’s steps, and when my heartbeats sprint inside my chest, I try slowing them with deep, even breaths. This is it. I have finally accomplished Teo’s second task. We can be alone—I glance at Jonas and his stiff strides—at least, I hope we can be.
Stopping outside a closed door, Jonas knocks twice on what I guess is the door to Teo’s room. Without waiting for Teo to arrive, Jonas spins away from me like a soldier moving out, and I find myself breathing out a huge sigh of relief.
Teo opens the door, and my knees buckle at the sight. One would think I would be used to facing him like this, but his olive-toned complexion combined with his slender, graceful form makes it hard to breathe—there’s never been anyone more attractive to me in my life.
“Persephone,” Teo says, holding his hands out for me.
I feel like frowning because I wish he would call me by my real name. “Miss Laurent,” at the very least. But Teo is here, urging me in, and I can’t think of a better arrangement where it’s just him and me, so I fall into his arms and breathe in his musky scent.
He slides his gentle fingers down my arms, leaving trails of fire across my goose-bumped skin. Drawing me to his sinewy body, he cups my face, and he looks down at me like we’re going to kiss. My heartbeats hammer, and the room’s spinning around my head. I stare at his mouth and he closes the gap, and just before our lips connect, I let my eyes flutter shut. Tremors of pleasure curl inside my chest—this is our second-ever kiss. I hold myself impeccably still, savoring the sensation of his tender mouth on my own, but it’s hard not to move because electricity crackles where we touch.