Idiosyncratic

As soon as Bee’trix moved aside, her muscles grabbed me by my shoulder and thigh and lifted me into the air. I was so high I could see inside the pen—pigs stacked on top of each other, blue flippers pressing into one another’s.

  Panic jolted through my veins, fresh and chilling. If their colossal cone-shaped bodies didn’t crush me, then they certainly would devour me. Their tusks would rip into my warm, bony body. Pigs loved their bones after all.

  A sudden torrent of wind whipped through the car, ruffling all the girls’ skirts and focusing their attention on the person leaning against the window. I was held frozen in midair.

  “What do you want?” Bee’trix demanded.

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” a boy said.

  Even though I could only see his government-issued shoes, I knew by the sound of his voice that it was No’ll.

  “Scram!” Bee’trix barked at him.

  The girl shifted me in her arms enough that I could see No’ll’s grin.

  “It’s just that... Oh, well, I guess you’re right,” No’ll said, kicking a pile of straw as if he were bored.

  He bent his knees so he could gaze up at me, his smile brightening as the light caught his eyes. He wants me to ask for his help! I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to let the palm greaser know that I could handle this. No’ll tipped his head down, casting his features in shadow.

  “I’ll leave you ladies to your business,” No’ll breathed, apathy in his sluggish body movements.

  “Throw her over,” Bee’trix ordered.

  “Do it! Do it!” her other goon chanted.

  Just as I was thrust back up, an interjection made the girls freeze again.

  “I can see you ladies are extremely busy dealing with this nuisance,” No’ll said.

  “I told you to scram, brownnoser!” Bee’trix hissed.

  Thank you! I thought in spite of myself. Somebody gets it!

  “Well, if you’re not interested, then I guess I should just toss this lovely apple out.” No’ll pulled an apple from his pants pocket. The fruit was so dark green it practically blended with his fingers, almost like an extension of his hand.

  “Wait!” Bee’trix yelled.

  “You see, being friendly has its advantages,” No’ll said, dangling the fruit out the window.

  “Do you want me to spare the defect? Is that what this is about?”

  The girl’s arms were clearly getting tired, because I was slowly lowered.

  No’ll held the delicate apple by its furry red stem. “I’ve never had an apple, but I hear they are quite amazing.”

  “If not her, then what?”

  “I’m actually searching for my friend. If you deliver my friend to me safe and unharmed, then I will give this to you.”

  “I could just take it from you,” the girl holding me barked, tossing me to the ground.

  The straw gave me little cushion as my hip slammed hard into the steel of the cart.

  “My fingers are slipping,” No’ll said.

  “Georg’eye’ona, stop moving your gams!” Bee’trix roared. Desperation and desire tangled with her words. “Who’s your friend?”

  “She will identify herself as such,” No’ll said, glancing over to me, a challenge. “But until then, by all means, carry on with your show of force.”

  Bee’trix eyed the fruit in his fingers. Her muscle, Georg’eye’ona, leaned into Bee’trix.

  “Let’s deal with the defect and then this loon.”

  “I concur,” the tiny girl said.

  Bee’trix nodded. I tried to scurry away, but Georg’eye’ona seized me. She lifted me up with a haste that made my stomach coil.

  “It’s me! I’m his friend!” I screamed.

  “What?” one of the girls said.

  “I’m No’ll’s friend!”

  “Oh, Les’ette, there you are.” No’ll’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Bee’trix exhaled with an exaggerated amount of annoyance.

  “So, you want her for the apple?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  She only hesitated for five seconds—five long, heart-pounding seconds—before she clicked her tongue at Georg’eye’ona to set me down. The girls marched out of the car. Bee’trix narrowed her eyes at No’ll at the threshold. He tossed the apple to her. Her eyes flicked to me before she spun on her heels and left.

  No’ll and I stayed still in our spots for a solid minute. As No’ll slammed the window closed, I wobbled toward a wall, needing the support for some reason.

  Before my fingers could press against cold iron, No’ll grabbed my arm and yanked me into him.

  “Are you okay, Les’ette?” he whispered into my hair.

  “Thank you, No’ll,” I pushed out, holding onto him just as tightly.

  No’ll held me until my arms loosened. He pulled me away, scanning me up and down at arm’s length. I didn’t realize how much I was shaking until my fingers gripped his shirt. They trembled against his chest as I clutched the white cotton.

  He glanced down at my hands, and then up into my eyes. His smile was so dazzling and endless, just like him. I was sure to get attached to him if I didn’t do something quickly. I stumbled away from him, knocking into the iron wall.

  “I had it under control,” I said, but my voice quivered.

  “Being rescued doesn’t make you any less capable of defending yourself. Er, well...okay, maybe it makes you a little less capable,” No’ll teased.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, which made his grin widen. His whole presence gleamed brightly like those miraculous stars. As much as I didn’t want to admit it—would never admit it to his face—he made my gloomy circumstances feel lighter.

  I buried the memory in the back of my mind and turned away from the night sky. I had to stop looking. I was starting to hope the same way No’ll had made me hope.

  “Show us the tributes first,” K’it demanded.

  The well-built woman marched into the alcove. Her father trailed behind, head down like always. K’it took her usual stance, hands on her hips as if she knew she was the toughest and most stunning woman alive. With her curvy figure, silky red hair, emerald scales that uniquely peppered her dark green skin instead of encompassing masses of it like the norm, and possessing an internal fire I would never want to be heaped upon me, I had a hard time refuting that claim.

  Her father, F’end, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was shorter due to the sheer fact that he hunched over with a quite melancholy demeanor.

  Pulling out the bag of tributes, I walked up to them. I started tossing the coins from hand to hand. Oh’pol was at my side. K’it snatched the bag in midair, pulling it open to check its contents.

  “My package?” I asked.

  K’it nodded at her father as she closed the bag. F’end yanked out a small brass box from his coat pocket. He handed it to me, and I quickly stashed it in my messenger bag.

  Oh’pol stepped forward and shook each of their hands.

  “What was that for?” K’it scoffed.

  “Th-thank you for all your help, but your s-services are no longer needed,” Oh’pol said.

  F’end exhaled with relief, but K’it was enraged.

  “Do you have beef with us?” K’it asked.

  “Our business re-relationship has been d-dissolved,” Oh’pol said and started to leave.

  “No!” K’it barked desperately. “I know stuff about your family. I’ll start talking.”

  “Y-you d-d-don’t know any...anything,” Oh’pol pushed out, her fear making her stutter worse.

  “Your crazy uncle scientist experimented on his wife. That’s why he needs to keep making black-market deals. To get the supplies he needs to keep her alive. Tell me I’m wrong, Dolly,” K’it snapped.

  It wasn’t the worst rumor I’d heard, but it was one of the more common ones. I’d heard many stories while completing these missions. The Upton family, particularly Dr. Upton, was surrounded by conspiracy theory and gossip.

  “Let’s go, Les’ett
e,” Oh’pol said.

  I was surprised Oh’pol didn’t try to discredit the rumor. Either she was trying not to escalate the situation or there was some truth to the claim. Those rumors had gone no further than being batted around by civilians, though. Dr. Upton, after all, worked for the Federation. Maybe that was why Oh’pol didn’t feel the need to counter K’it—because she knew she had no power.

  “This isn’t over!” K’it yelled, producing a multi-functional ray gun from behind her back.

  As she pointed the barrel at Oh’pol, I froze, pretty sure that weapon wasn’t set to stun. Oh’pol came to life. She gripped the ray gun, twisting it out of K’it’s hand within seconds. She disassembled it into three pieces, tossing the particle accelerator out of the alcove, the hand grip further down the alcove, and the rest to the ground. As the battery pack clattered to the ground, Oh’pol jumped back.

  “I-I-I d-d-didn’t th-think I’d ever n-n-need to do th-that,” Oh’pol stammered in shock.

  K’it’s bewildered eyes darted from the piece at her feet to Oh’pol. She stumbled backward, actually scared of Oh’pol. K’it glanced at her father, who seemed equally as frightened. These people clearly weren’t fighters. K’it turned and ran away. Her father followed.

  “Where did you learn that?” I asked.

  A smile started to creep across my lips. I almost wanted to laugh. They were scared of Oh’pol. The sweetest, kindest person I’d ever met—Oh’pol!

  “My aunt,” she whispered.

  Her eyes were pinned to her trembling fingers.

  |Fourteen|

  THE CHUGGING OF THE elevator filled the silence between Oh’pol and me. She hadn’t said anything since we’d left the airship yard. I was used to the feel of melancholy quiet, where the air was thick with unanswered questions that could dissipate the darkness if only asked.

  “Do you b-b-believe the rumors?” Oh’pol asked in a whisper.

  Clearly, Oh’pol wasn’t familiar with that sort of silence, didn’t survive well inside it. She turned to face my profile. Her expression looked grim in my peripheral vision.

  “Do you believe the rumors about defects like me?” I countered.

  “No.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Oh’pol gripped my hand, pulling it closer to her. Her mouth opened and closed several times before actual sound started to formulate.

  “My aunt isn’t dead a-a-and she isn’t some p-prisoner being held against her w-w-will,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve heard her. Her voice echoes from the vents in my room.”

  Over the nights of sleeping with near constant noise, I could identify the idiosyncratic ones. There were three differently pitched murmurs. Occasionally there were others but not often.

  I didn’t want to say that I’d developed my own theory about her, mostly because I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d been developing a theory at all. That would mean I might actually care about these people, or at least be interested in knowing more about them. Being interested in people was something I’d given up a long time ago. The darkness may have dissipated with answered questions, but light never lasted.

  “She is a s-scientist too,” Oh’pol added.

  I didn’t want this information. I didn’t want to understand the mess that was the Upton family. Her data, however, fit like a puzzle piece into my theory. The way Dr. Upton treated Oh’pol was not exactly with affection, but there was a fondness. He wouldn’t have experimented on his wife; I was almost sure of it. More likely she experimented on herself. I thought maybe she was gruesomely disfigured, and that was why she hid away.

  “Why do you live with your uncle?” I asked.

  Why am I asking her this question? I wondered silently. I don’t care. I really don’t care.

  Silly, silly girl, you’re starting to.

  “Never mind,” I said. “You don’t need to tell me.”

  “I did it to s-save them,” she breathed.

  She gave my hand a squeeze. As I turned to face her, I saw tears in her eyes. Something inside my chest twisted and warmed at the same time. I found myself squeezing her hand back.

  This peaceful moment actually made it feel like we were friends—a give and take, release and support of emotions. It was really starting to frighten me. I was grateful when the door swished open.

  Dr. Upton stood in front of us with his arms crossed, wearing the same clothes he always wore. I didn’t know if the brown slacks, blue button-up, and white lab coat were his signature attire or if he just never changed, but he wore the same thing day to day, all rumpled and bedraggled to add to his style.

  “What. Did. You. Do?” Dr. Upton accused, emphasizing each short word.

  “Just what w-w-we discussed, Uncle,” Oh’pol said, slipping out of the capsule.

  We had taken one of the two elevators that existed inside the house, so it only took Oh’pol a few meters to reach the kitchen. Dr. Upton followed closely behind his niece. I wavered in the distance, keeping space between them and me. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t just scurry off to bed and avoid the situation entirely.

  Oh’pol began to pull out ingredients for a late night snack: eggs, sugar, flour, and chocolate chips among others.

  “D-d-dropping the Dais family w-w-was the right thing to do,” Oh’pol said with a sweet chime.

  “That family was our connection to Copperfield.”

  Thanks to the lessons provided by the government and some abandoned articles, I knew exactly where that city was and why it could possibly be important. Copperfield rested in the heart of the Administrative Australian Federation. The AAF was rigid when it came to regulations, making black-market trades nearly impossible. K’it and F’end had way more bravado than I originally thought. The AAF didn’t have labor camps, just electric chairs.

  Dr. Upton stared Oh’pol down as she measured out all the ingredients. Blonde strands fell from her symmetrical pin curls as she worked. I was hoping for cookies.

  “Mr. F’end Dais was unraveling, and his daughter was getting twisted by this trade,” Oh’pol said.

  Her voice was weighted with compassion.

  “As long as the work gets done, it doesn’t matter,” Dr. Upton retorted.

  “It doesn’t?” Oh’pol gazed into the bowl in her hands. “It should.”

  Oh’pol’s hands moved quickly, and my mouth watered at the prospect of chocolate chip cookies.

  “Things like this have to happen in order to accomplish greatness,” Dr. Upton said.

  He was more rational when dealing with his niece, much less so with me. I guess I got it—look after your own and all. My own had discarded me, so I couldn’t comprehend the full weight of their connection, the intricate and messy ties that bonded them. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t strapping her down to some exam table and threatening her with multiple syringes until she bent to his will. I was almost jealous of them for being a part of something I’d never had.

  “Cookies, I think, are a v-very great thing,” Oh’pol chimed, swaddling the bowl in her arms. She moseyed over to the sink, smiling softly at her uncle. She leaned over and pulled out a multi-purpose cleaner from the cabinet, flicking the cap open with her thumb. My heart sank as she poured a small stream of purple solution into it. Oh’pol closed the lid and put the bottle away, then stirred the cleaner vigorously into the mix. “But if you p-place a little p-poison into its b-b-batter...” She moved the spoon faster and rougher, flour powdering her blouse with her vigor. “No m-m-matter how m-m-much effort I exert,” she panted, “it’s ruined.” She set the bowl on the counter.

  Dr. Upton glanced from the bowl to Oh’pol. His face shifted into that eerie expression, the one that told you he was a madman deep inside.

  “A few casualties in lieu of many lives saved.” Dr. Upton chuckled as if he were teaching a child a simple lesson.

  Oh’pol padded up to him, tears in her eyes. Streams began to trail down her green che
eks, dropping off the scales along her jaw. She pressed a trembling hand to his cheek.

  “Then enjoy your cookies, uncle.” Oh’pol’s voice quivered, but not a single stutter polluted her statement.

  Her hand slid from his cheek as she walked away. Dr. Upton turned to the bowl, staring into it. His shoulders curled forward, and I wondered for a moment if his idiosyncratic frequency would have hurt me. Anger, pain, and sorrow were hard emotions to contain, and he seemed like he was experiencing all of them.

  Dipping his index finger into the bowl, he scooped out a glob of the gooey dough and brought it to his lips. A noise emanated from him, one I didn’t have an adjective for. High-pitched cackles fused with low rumbling sobs. His shoulders shook more fervently as the sounds grew in intensity.

  He grabbed the bowl and threw it to the ground. The ceramic shattered to pieces as the soapy dough oozed across the floorboards. Cocking his head back, he roared in agony and in triumph. The eerie call reverberated inside my bones, chilling my blood to ice. Dr. Upton’s sanity dangled from a very thin string, and I didn’t know if he wanted a rope or scissors.

  |Fifteen|

  I HID IN THE SHADOWS until Dr. Upton darted out of the kitchen as if on an important mission. For Oh’pol’s sake, I cleaned up the kitchen before leaving. My feet carried me down a hallway I was growing more and more accustomed to. I stood in front of Oh’pol’s door, frozen to my spot.

  I rarely interfered with people. The last time I did, Hattie started following me around like a shadow. That time felt similar to this.

  I sat with my legs crossed on top of a toilet with my dinner in my lap. The lavatory had been my hiding place during my time at the headquarters. The Prison for Lost Children was a perilous place where childhood went to die.

  “Because of you, I failed my manners class,” a girl barked.

  My eyes flew to the small iron lock on my stall. The flimsy metal walls made an insufficient barrier, but they kept me out of sight. With my defect, that was enough...most of the time.

  “You didn’t say I had to write you a passing report,” a different girl with a reedy voice said with a snide cough.