Idiosyncratic

  “Rumors, no doubt,” Call’ighan scoffed.

  “Heard what?” Gid’ion was enthralled by Sea’bastin.

  “They can do things, extraordinary things.”

  “Like what? Breathe without their suits? No, wait, that’s us.”

  “The Astronauts know something, and I want to know it too,” Sea’bastin said.

  “They can do things. They know things. You’re grasping at straws, Sea’bastin.” Call’ighan spoke softly, more out of pity for his colleague than actual belief.

  I shoved the rest of my croissant into my mouth and went back to Kill’ee’in. If I stayed much longer, I was bound to be detected. I glanced at my cocoa; the sweet liquid taunted me.

  “What have you got for me today?” Kill’ee’in said like always.

  I dug out a fistful of luminary tubes and set them on the counter. The lightbulbs clinked on the iron surface, rolling toward Kill’ee’in. “Wait right here, little Mirage,” he muttered, bending down to access his secret vault.

  He called Dr. Upton brilliant when I was first brought to meet him, so the fact that he openly called me by the defect name didn’t really bother me. In fact, it made me feel like being a defect wasn’t so bad, like I had a superpower or something.

  A few seconds later Kill’ee’in slapped a stack of letters on the counter. I scooped them up and deposited them into the messenger bag that was slung over my shoulder. With another tip of my hat I spun around and knocked right into the boy, Gid’ion.

  “Whoa! Sorry! Didn’t feel you th—” His voice dried up when his eyes met mine.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to skirt around him.

  He blocked my path; the lines around his eyes grew deeper with curiosity. He was older than I originally suspected, probably already emancipated. He wore a pin for the Nickleby Tabloid on the tip of his white collar. These men were smut journalists. Everyone knew that tabloids reported some truths with their helpings of whimsical lies.

  Everything they'd said was probably some well-crafted story all for the sake of money. I glanced down at the boy’s crocodile shoes, rolling my eyes. The bottoms of his soles were probably cleaner than the dribble he wrote.

  “You have no mind-print,” Gid’ion said, astonished.

  “Neither do you,” I said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Let the vapor go, Gid’ion,” Sea’bastin barked.

  Silly, silly girl, he needs you to spread his story so they can sell more tabloids.

  Gid’ion seemed bewildered that I was able to slip around him. Marching quickly through the Nickleby Train Station, I heard footsteps echoing toward me, probably Gid’ion wanting to examine the defect girl some more. I was quicker, slipping into the gray exhaust of one of the settling trains. I was an expert at vanishing just like a mirage.

  |Eleven|

  Tab’ytha Brandon

  Rose’a’linda Bingley

  Kr’iste Bennet

  Sh’onda Morland

  Rek’elle Woodhouse

  I SCANNED THE NAMES, searching for a particular one. My bedroom door suddenly flew open, and Oh’pol came storming in. I scrambled with The Orphan Train Gazette, hiding it under my crossed legs.

  Oh’pol’s face was covered in tears as she held up a letter, probably one of the letters I’d collected earlier. I was never told what those letters were or what exactly I was dropping off. I doubt Kill’ee’in and my many other stops had an urgent desire to amass dozens of lightbulbs.

  “I’m so sorry, Les’ette,” Oh’pol sobbed.

  My mouth dropped open. She’d just spoken four words more than she had ever spoken to me since my arrival. Was she the only reason Dr. Upton hadn’t pulled me into his laboratory, and now she couldn’t sway him anymore? Or maybe she wanted to be rid of me because she hadn’t gained what she wanted from me?

  Her very first note to me had expressed her hopes of us becoming friends, but in order for that to happen we would have had to actually engage in conversation, which we didn’t. She left me notes for what to do when Dr. Upton was too busy to tell me himself or if she wanted to do something together. We played cards in silence. We watched films in silence. We read books in silence. It made for a very awkward “friendship”.

  Maybe she was hoping I would try more, but that wasn’t going to happen. I had been taught time and again that people leave and it was best not to get attached.

  “I d-d-didn’t me-me-mean to. I’m s-s-so sor—sorry,” Oh’pol pushed out through a jungle of stutters.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  She waved the letter around, whipping it wildly through the air as tears dripped from the scales on her jaw. I scrambled off my bed, gripping her by the arms, trying to hold her frantic body in place.

  “Oh’pol, please just tell me what is going on,” I said, giving her a small shake.

  “I th-th-thought it wa-wa-was someth—” She gulped, struggling to speak through an obvious speech impediment. “Something el-else. B-but...but I-I kept reading af-after I real—” She gulped again. “Realized.”

  She held the letter out toward me. My arms dropped from her sides as I stared at the slightly crinkled, slightly dirtied, and jaggedly opened envelope.

  I would have recognized that envelope over any other. Those with abnormal manufacturer mistakes they gave to the orphans. This particular one wasn’t a perfect rectangle, slightly too short on one side. It was an envelope I stared at every night before I went to bed, just to slide it back into my bag to save for another night.

  “No’ll’s letter,” I breathed.

  The words left me the way I’d heard accidental thoughts were pushed out into the masses.

  “Is h-he some-someone you l-love?”

  “No,” I said flatly.

  “Wh-who-who is he?”

  I could see children mocking something like this, and the fact that she was willing to sound like an owl just for me meant she deserved an answer.

  “He was a silly boy who thought he loved a defective girl. He was a ray of sunlight that marched off into the darkness. He was able to understand mirages when nobody else could. He was a fool filled with hopes and dreams and everything I never was or could be. He...he...” I didn’t realize I was crying until I was having trouble breathing.

  Something inside my chest broke. It was the bottle, the vault, the trunk I kept everything in, and it had just plummeted from a dizzying height, smashing to bits. Tears I never knew I could shed poured out of me.

  I should have been mad at Oh’pol. I should have been furious that she’d read this private letter from someone who was most likely dead. I should have screamed and yelled at her, but as the emotions continued to lacerate my heart, all I could do was fall into her arms and sob.

  “I let him go. I let them all go,” I managed.

  The memories of my betrayals, of the lies, of the empty holes remaining when people left, all crashed over me. It was a frigid reminder, a lethal warning, of why I’d done what I did.

  “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t feel”—tears clogged my throat, but I forced the words past the lump—“anything.” I grabbed the Gazette, the raggedy paper I’d spent one-fourth of a tribute on in order to keep tabs on Hattie. I crumpled it up and threw it across the room. “I don’t need to adopt Hattie. I don’t need anyone.”

  Oh’pol lowered us to the floor, gripping me. She gazed down at the scrunched tech-paper across the room and then back up at me.

  “O-oh, I see. Y-you j-just love t-t-too much.”

  “No, I don’t love at all.”

  “You know we can aadopt this H-H-Hattie child.”

  “Really?” Hope had taken hold of me and allowed me to believe for a moment. Dr. Upton wouldn’t allow it, even if I’d be of age by the time the Orphan Train came back to Nickleby. I doubted Dr. Upton had any intention of filing my emancipation paperwork. It was a foolish idea, trying to adopt Hattie. It was ridiculous that I had been saving the small pay that Dr. Upton gave me to try to
adopt Hattie. It was senseless to think of seeing Door’is one more time.

  I shook my head. “I don’t care! It's idiotic, anyway.”

  “It’s n-n-not idiotic, Les-Les’ette.” Oh’pol grabbed my arms, jerking me with a confidence I’d never seen in her before. “I’ve already b-been eman...emancipated. So, if all else f-f-f-fails, I’ll adop-adopt Hattie. I m-m-may be quiet, but I am brave.”

  I was scared to hope. I was scared to want. I was scared to let someone in.

  “Let’s m-m-make a pact.”

  Oh’pol held her hand out to me. I hesitated at first, but I found my fingers drifting toward hers. We gripped hands and shook, bonding us together in this one important goal.

  “J-j-j-just one question. Is H-Hattiea g-girl? Because it would b-be nice to have an-n-n-nother sister.”

  I began to laugh, and with that Oh’pol laughed along with me.

  |Twelve|

  A SHARP PAIN IN MY arm jolted me awake. Lights blazed all around me, impossibly more than my room was equipped with. I tried to move my right arm, but it was held down.

  “Who were those men?” Dr. Upton’s voice broke past the brightness.

  I blinked against the light, and when my eyes adjusted, I could make out an IV inserted in my arm.

  “Who were those men at the shop?” Dr. Upton asked again.

  Men? Shop? What is he talking about? Does he realize how many places, how many shops he has me go to?

  My groggy, panic-riddled mind was having a hard time organizing my thoughts. It took a few seconds longer to realize that my left arm wasn’t confined. I gripped his wrist, which was pinning mine to my mattress, and yanked on it unyieldingly. “What are you doing?” I screamed.

  “In your report, you mentioned a group of men talking about the Astronauts at the restaurant inside the Nickleby Train Station. What else happened?”

  My heart was flying in my chest. My eyes followed the tube that jutted out of my arm up to a glass bottle that hung off a silver pole. A clear liquid dripped steadily into my IV. My own screams reverberated in my eardrums. I had to tear my eyes away.

  Silly, silly girl, why would you do that to yourself?

  “They...” I gulped, trying to yank my arm out from under his grip, but both of his hands pinned me firmly down. “Just what I wrote.”

  “What aren’t you telling me, defect? Do you want to be made into a lab rat? You think you are more cunning than me?” he hissed.

  “NO!” I shouted defensively.

  “What else?” he pressed.

  “What’s going on?” Oh’pol’s voice drifted toward me, muffled by my door.

  “I think they worked for the Nickleby Tabloid, only because the younger one had its pin on his shirt. I think...ummm...his name was...” I searched for the memory in my mind. As my eyes shot to the bottle rocking above me, I really wished I wasn’t barred from the Idiosyncratic frequency. “Gid’ion! I believe his name was Gid’ion, and a man named Sea’bastin was also there. Sea’bastin was the one recounting the story. I can’t remember the name of the third one.” I rambled on, trying to drum up any worthless information Dr. Upton would deem a secret withheld from him.

  “Gid’ion was intrigued by my lack of mind-print, but I lost him in the train station. They said that the Astronauts can do extraordinary things, and that they know something worth publishing. Sea’bastin said he didn’t care about the Federation’s money; he just seemed to want to interrogate an Astronaut.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Let m-m-me in, Uncle Ph’loyd!” Oh’pol bellowed as she pounded on my door.

  Sleep had fully fled from me; I was more alert than I’d ever been. Panic sobered me quicker than anything could.

  “But they work for a tabloid. He was just fabricating like they do in their articles,” I persisted. “Writing tales about humans, battles in the toxic forest, and other fantastical fiction. Why else would they just let me go without a second thought?”

  “Because no one would believe a defect,” Dr. Upton said.

  “Then why are you even asking me?” I demanded.

  He seemed satisfied by something I’d said, or he just realized how valid my question was. His grip loosened as his lips twisted into that creepy smile. Jerking up to his feet, he marched toward the door. Flinging it open, he pushed past Oh’pol.

  My hand flew to the IV and ripped it out just before I sat up. Oh’pol rushed over to me, analyzing the bottle before she sat down.

  “It was only saline. It is n-n-not harmful,” she said, pulling me into her arms. “He p-p-promised me he wouldn’t h-hurt you.”

  He is a madman, I thought. Promise or not, I have a feeling that there is a timeline on my healthy specimen of a body.

  I pulled away from Oh’pol’s embrace. The feeling of comforting arms around me was an unnatural one. Growing up without such things made those gestures feel too personal, too suffocating. But Oh’pol had an immense amount of patience and a seemingly endless supply of love. Her lips smoothed into a soft smile as she tried to reassure me.

  “You’re s-s-safe, Les’ette.”

  I took a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

  Silly, silly girl, you actually believe her.

  |Thirteen|

  OH’POL’S BLACK DRESS billowed in the great gusts of air. The airship yard was always windy because of the Zeppelins constantly shipping off or docking. It was well into the night, and the yard was still busy with activity. Boots thumping, machinery cranking, citizens shouting... It was never quiet here.

  “Th-they are late,” Oh’pol whispered, peeking out into the yard from the corner of our alcove.

  “They’re always late,” I replied.

  I leaned against the wall, only wanting to go back to sleep. Tension radiated from Oh’pol. Her shoulders were taut, and her fingers clung to the edge of the wall as if she were on the ledge of a Zeppelin in midair.

  This was a rare occurrence, Oh’pol joining me on a courier mission. It was nice, though, having a partner with me, having Oh’pol around. Ever since our pact, we had gotten closer, actually communicating with words, having full conversations and everything. Oh’pol had said we were sisters, but I was hesitant to even call our association friendship.

  Crossing my arms, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. The cracking of pulleys and thwacking of metal cables echoed toward us as a crew unloaded a shipment nearby.

  “A-are we safe out h-here?” Oh’pol asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I believe you.” The absence of any stuttering told me she did.

  Oh’pol loved to read, so to make it a group activity she had me read out loud. I didn’t know why I’d agreed to do it in the first place. She was so nice to me, making sure I had clothes and was given more than enough to eat, and never forcing me to do anything with her. It felt like I couldn’t really say no. It seemed like such a small thing anyway, reading a few pages. Then I persuaded her to start reading out loud as well. After a while, it didn’t seem as if she had to fight as much to force the words from her lips.

  “They are so be-be-beautiful,” Oh’pol whispered. “I w-wish we could see them a-all.”

  I opened my eyes to find Oh’pol gazing up into the night sky. The stars shone like gems pinned to one of Oh’pol’s navy blue dresses. The airship yard was on the highest level of the city. Only a thick layer of crystal separated us from the outside. The barrier obscured the stars; only the brightest shone through.

  This used to be my favorite mission. The area was nice enough that you didn’t have to constantly watch your surroundings, and you had the glamorous view of the vast beyond. The night sky strangely reminded me of No’ll, bright and infinite with massive amounts of mystery.

  The view of the sky would pull me back onto the Orphan train, shaking memories loose. And as I gazed up with Oh’pol into the wonder, nostalgia crawled out, bringing with it a memory I didn’t want to think of.

  Bee’trix’s fist sunk into my gut, and I curled into mysel
f. My knees morphed into over-greased hinges, collapsing my frame. I landed on my calves and sucked in the butcher-bound livestock air. It was musty and humid, making it even harder to catch my breath.

  My fingers crunched under straw as I tried to steady myself. One of the two of Bee’trix’s goons, a broad-shouldered girl whose arm muscles were larger than all mine put together, kicked my hands away. I wobbled forward but somehow managed not to faceplant.

  I could hear the clucks of the pigs that slumbered in the pen behind me. I was grateful they were sleeping; they made rather deafening noises when alert.

  “My name is Bee’trix, and how dare you not know it?” she clipped, taking a step closer.

  Bee’trix bent down in front of me, pushing my shoulders until my back hit the iron of the pen. A slapping sound came from behind me, the pigs’ flippers smacking against each other as they stirred. Maybe I did want to wake them.

  Bee’trix narrowed her cobalt eyes at me, informing me that she was the new orphan kingpin. Every collection had one. It was an unwritten rule that was either unbeknownst to the Keepers or just overlooked. They were tough, manipulative, and if you played by their rules, then you didn’t have incidences with them alone in a livestock cart.

  “Oh!” I burst out, slamming my back into the pen after each of my words. “I. Am. So. Sorry.”

  The smacking sounds echoed louder, but the beasts still weren’t awake.

  “Are you a loon?” Bee’trix coughed out a laugh.

  “She’s trying to wake the pigs,” a tiny girl whispered in her ear.

  “No! I. Am. N—” I yelled, but Bee’trix gripped my shirt, stopping me before I could lay another blow.

  “How about you join your friends since you love them so much?” she said, nodding at her minions in the manipulative-cutesy-style she had settled into.