by Ann Christy
As he came closer, Lillian saw that he was a little older than Zara, strands of gray stark in his dark hair. His face was now recognizable as the runner from the year of her birth, though it happened before she was born and he didn’t look quite like he did in his portrait. Her mother joked the Lillian was meant to be a runner since she had found out she was pregnant on the day the outside run was done for that year. She smiled as he approached, trying to be friendly and ease the tension as he kept his eyes on her and neared.
When he was within greeting distance, his face changed, almost like he was a little disappointed. Then he looked at her birthmark. Lillian reached up to cover it, something she did automatically whenever anyone looked at it too intently. It was awkward since he didn’t immediately say anything, merely searched her face. She felt Leo step up close behind her and she knew he felt the strangeness, too.
Zara interrupted the silence before it could grow too far and said, “Greg, this is Lillian and that fellow behind her isn’t her shadow, he’s Leo. And this is Greg.” She motioned with her hand and Greg followed robotically, holding out a hand for her to shake. He was still staring. Whatever was going on, at least the Zara from before—the nice one—was there. No yelling was a good thing.
“It’s nice to meet you, Greg.” She dropped her hand so Leo could shake with the trainer.
She caught Leo’s eye when he leaned forward and they shared a look that said they both felt something very odd going on. Never one to mince words, Leo asked, “Why are you staring at Lillian?” It wasn’t exactly a hostile question or asked in an aggressive tone, but it was definitely the tone of a brother protecting a sister. Or a cousin.
That broke through whatever Greg was thinking about because he shook his head and smiled an apology. “I’m sorry. You just remind me of someone. It’s uncanny, really.” He looked at her again, searching her features for something in particular. He raised a finger toward her face and added, “That’s a butterfly on your face, isn’t it?”
Lillian reached up to touch the mark on her cheek, confused. “It’s a birthmark. You think it looks like a butterfly?”
He nodded, his smile starting to form into more natural lines on his face. When he did smile, a little fan of lines appeared next to his eyes, but they were different than regular wrinkles, she thought. The lines went downward and did something to his features that wasn’t at all unattractive. Lillian looked away and purposely at the other two in the room.
Greg shrugged a little and answered, “From the side. It’s called the ventral view. And that,” again he looked at her cheek, “looks just like it.”
Leo peered at her cheek then gave Greg a look. “I haven’t seen a whole lot of butterflies but that looks like the top of a slice of bread. You know, the two big bumps that run along the sides of the split.” He traced the figure in the air and Zara gave a short laugh.
“This is all very interesting,” Zara interjected, “but we’ve got some training to do. By the way, Greg works in the farms and runs the butterfly garden in his spare time, so he would know.”
Lillian smiled at that and felt a little flush come over her. Thankfully, Leo stepped in and asked the question that they’d both been mulling over for a while. “Does that mean you two are our trainers? Is Toby coming? And why are you being nice again?”
Zara gave him a pained look and said, “It is tradition. We do it the first day to make a point. Something from long ago. They do it to new recruits for the watch, too.”
Whatever had come over Greg seemed to have passed. He glanced at the scattered papers on the floor across the room and sighed. He turned back and said, “He won’t be joining you today. He was…uh…quite ill this morning. He’s dehydrated and in need of a little rest. He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“But yes, we are going to be your specific trainers,” Zara added.
Greg turned and jogged back to his scattered papers and gathered them up. Zara drew their attention back toward her. “So, I’m going to be working with Leo and Greg is slated for you, Lillian. That okay?”
It seemed strange that she would ask if that was okay, except that there was that strange reaction from Greg to consider. So she considered it for about a second and said, “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Zara clapped her on the shoulder and said, “Atta girl.”
Greg came running up with his messy stack of papers. He handed half of them to Zara and motioned for the two racers to sit down. The trainers sank down with the practiced smooth motions of the extremely fit. They sorted the papers while Zara explained a few things.
“We match trainers to racers based on skill sets. Leo, you are a good match for me.” At his grin, she thumped him on the arm. “We both excel in the long straight runs with minimal obstructions. We also have the same natural weaknesses that come from being long legged. Since I’ve been trained to overcome those, I’ll be training you. And, the same goes for Greg and Lillian. They’re both agile things that run with the same twists.”
Lillian nodded. It made sense to her. It wasn’t about whether or not it was a male or a female, but rather how alike you were in what you were doing. She cast a surreptitious glance Greg’s way. He looked normal now, none of what happened before evident in his face. “I’m good with that.”
Seven
Training days passed in a haze of sore muscles, tight schedules and a deep tiredness each dim-time so profound Lillian fell asleep even as she fell into bed. The problem of how to wake up and get ready before the terrible wailing machine made an appearance was so easy that she missed it through a second and third morning. Bedie saved her a fourth such wake-up by hinting to her that the second shift, the ones who prepared their schedules and did all that needed doing for the next day, also made wake-up calls.
During lunch, Lillian slid her tray next to Leo’s and plopped into her seat. Instead of tucking in to lunch immediately, she poked Leo and hissed, “I know how to get a wake-call. No more screamer.”
Leo stopped eating, which was amazing because his appetite had grown and he couldn’t seem to get enough at meal times. His eyes were positively glowing with happiness, “Really? No more Other’ed machine?”
She poked a forkful of potato casserole into her mouth, grinned and nodded. Then she spotted Toby, at the counter filling up his tray with food and her smiled dropped. She looked down at her tray and frowned at her vegetables.
Leo caught the change, saw Toby and asked, “What’s wrong? Is he messing with you again?”
“No, nothing like that. Do you think we should tell him?”
It should have been something they could do without debate or even much thought, but the situation with Toby had become precarious and edgy quickly. Humiliated as he had been that first morning, gaining the unfortunate nickname of Puke Boy from some of the trainers, he had been in ill humor when he finally joined them for training. That alone might have been worked through, embarrassment can be overcome with a little humor and good sportsmanship, but for reasons that neither of the cousins could work out, he had developed a suspicion that bordered on hostility of the pair. He seemed to think, despite the individual nature of the race, that they would somehow team up against him, ensuring a win.
Lillian and Leo had been nothing but competitors in training, each trying to nudge out the other, but they were family and they were friends. Toby appeared to think this was somehow unnatural and he spoke very little to either one. When he did, it was often accompanied by a rude sarcasm that would never be mistaken for friendly ribbing.
He had even begun to hint, however vaguely, that their relationship was unnatural in some other way and Leo had turned on him in a fury the first time such a roundabout hint was made. The jab was so very vague and indirect that they had been unable to prove anything and both young men had received stern warnings about their behavior before the matter was dropped. Nevertheless, Toby had discovered at least one thing that would get under Leo's skin and he used it to keep him on edge and off balance.
Leo gave her a look of incredulity. “Are you kidding me? That guy has been a complete pig-ass from the minute we started. No way. He can deal with the screamer.”
It was a terrible thing to do. Lillian knew it wasn’t the right move but there was truth to what Leo was saying she couldn’t deny. She cast another surreptitious look Toby’s way. Lillian didn't care one way or another about anything Toby said about them. It wasn't true so it didn't matter. It didn't make her like him any better though and what she did care about was how it was affecting Leo.
“Fine,” she finally answered. “It’s the screamer for him.”
The next morning the cousins were in the kitchen enjoying some cold milk, warm tea and flat bread smeared with peanut butter and strawberry jam when Zara made her daily trip down the hallway towards their rooms. The wailing machine was nestled in her arms like a demented mechanical baby. At Lillian’s snorting chuckle, she took a few backward steps to peer into the kitchen at the pair.
When she asked after Toby, Leo held up his hands pressed to the side of his face in the familiar posture of a sleeper and grinned. That earned him a frown and a look that could only be described as disappointed. Lillian immediately felt bad but Leo shrugged it off, claiming that if she really understood what an ass he was she would laugh, too.
When Toby appeared in the training room, disheveled and grumpy, a few minutes later and saw the pair standing at their customary line, fully dressed and smelling of food, he gave them both dirty looks. Lillian told him how to get a wake-up call that day but he didn't thank her for the information, he merely grunted and looked at her with suspicion. It was the beginning of a very rough day, with Toby taking advantage of every chance to be mean. While they were tossing the weighted balls from one person to the next, Toby threw it as hard as possible, once going so far as to knock her down with a mighty throw to the chest that earned him a reprimand.
Lillian really didn't understand his dislike of his fellow racers at all. While she didn't know him well, she knew him a little. They had met and chatted before, compared routes and talked about style and form. He was, at least to Lillian's eyes, an attractive guy with a nice curl to his dark hair and a pair of sparkling dark brown eyes. He had a dimple in one cheek when he smiled that drew the eye and she had rather liked his way of bantering on the occasions they had met by chance. She had even danced with him once in 25 Drums.
That was all gone now. What had been observant and witty and quick before was now narrowed down to seeking out the negative and finding weaknesses which he then exploited. The relaxed posture of a confident boy at home in his body had transformed into a tense and fearful bravado that somehow only reinforced the insecurity inside him. And it seemed that now, with good reason, the status of enemy was confirmed by their early rising and his being left behind.
As they walked out of training, Leo and Lillian dragging behind so Toby would be well away, Greg jogged up and put a hand on each of their shoulders to stop them.
“Hey, you two, I need a quick word.”
They stopped, reluctantly, and Lillian couldn’t stop herself from going on the offensive. “I didn’t do anything to him that would make him throw the ball at me like that. I swear!” She stopped and rubbed at the spot on her chest that would soon be sporting a bruise.
“I know,” he said in a voice meant to sooth ruffled feathers. “Listen, whatever is going on—and I don’t need to hear any details—you all need to try to work it out. Think about things from Toby’s perspective.” He looked Leo in the eyes. “How might you feel if you were in his position, the odd man out with two people as close as you two?”
Both of them looked at the floor. When he put it like that he made it sound like they were the ones in the wrong. He clearly didn’t understand the situation. She looked up, thinking to set him straight on the matter, but her mouth closed as soon as it opened. The way he was looking at her told her that he did know and that he was looking for her to be the bigger person. She sighed, nodded and tugged Leo’s arm to go.
Eight
Through every test there were people wearing the blue and red coveralls of Race Support observing them carefully. They made marks on clipboards and occasionally pointed obliquely at one of them and discussed whatever had interested them in quiet, serious tones. Most of those doing the recording and observing were not seen working with any other aspect of their training and Lillian almost never saw them outside of those specific sessions.
She wondered what they did with the other parts of their shift and where they actually worked. They didn't speak to the trainees save to return a greeting in passing or give slight, impersonal smiles when one of them received one. It was as if they wanted to remain detached from the group and that made Lillian wonder about them all the more.
Being near Leo had helped her get through it all, and she thought that her being nearby had helped him. But it was Greg who was taking up more and more of her thoughts. That is, he did when her thoughts weren’t filled with whatever fresh source of torment was coming next during any given training day. He didn’t go easy on her. If anything, he was harder on her, reminding her that her legs were an inch shorter than Leo’s and that Toby had even longer legs. He pushed her, occasionally berated her, but she always knew he was doing it for her. And when that was over, he was kind and encouraging and made her laugh. She watched him and knew she had developed a terribly unfortunate crush on him. It was just so…school girl. Whenever she found herself feeling like that, she forcibly put the whole thing behind her and made mental lists of all the things wrong with Greg. The list was far too short to be effective.
On their ninth day in training they were told that the next day would be day off for the trainees and they were welcome to go home if they wanted, but that the same rules applied as before. They needed to be at the line in time for training to start and it wouldn't be an easy day so they might not want to spend all night drinking. That last was directed at Toby for certain and he scowled darkly at the floor. Leo snorted but Lillian remained as impassive as she could. They finished training that day on time and the pair met up after showers to discuss what they should do with a full, gloriously empty, day ahead of them.
“Lil, I honestly don’t think I could make it all the way down and then back up. My legs are killing me.” He emphasized his point by easing himself into a seat so that he used as little leg muscle as possible and then groaned as he stretched them out in front of him.
In truth, Lillian felt the same. She felt wobbly when she got out of bed in the morning and worse when she went to bed again at night. “No, you’re right. My mom and your parents aren’t going to be happy if they find out we had time off and didn’t even try, though.”
That idea made him sit up in his chair and frown. They were silent as they thought for a moment, Lillian weighing the pain of a climb against a disappointed parent and sister. Leo broke the silence first. “Well, what about this? We can write nice long letters and then go up to the markets. That isn’t such a huge climb. We could send them presents.”
“Presents instead of visits? Like they wouldn’t notice the difference? Really, Leo.”
He waved a hand at her tone. “No, really. We just tell them the truth. They’ll understand.”
He was right. She was sure her mother would understand and Clara would once it was explained. And there was real merit to the idea of going to the upper markets for gifts. Given the distance from the upper markets to their family homes in the mids, it was rare for either family to climb up this way often. That meant that much of what was available at those upper markets was only available down lower at much inflated prices by resellers who made extra chits buying at one market and selling at another. The reverse was true for the down deep and mid markets. It wasn’t as if anything necessary was missed, but artists who had a particular style or craftsmen that one might favor could be missed entirely with distance. Whatever was further away always seemed more desirable for whatever reason. Humans were strang
e that way.
She nodded her assent. “Yes. Let’s do it. But I have one condition.”
Leo looked like he was bracing himself for something horrible. “What?” he asked her cautiously.
“We sleep very, very late.”
He grinned and held out a hand to shake. “Deal!”
It was a refreshed and well rested pair that met up for their day off. It was their first public appearance in their new blue and red coveralls, each of them sporting the Racer patch with the standard dark circle patch of a shadow beneath. Lillian took extra care with her hair, knowing they would be observed, and brushed it until it crackled and flew with static. She wet her hands to bring it back under control and was left with a straight and shiny head of hair. She braided two small sections around her face, but she wasn't very good at doing her own hair. By the time it looked right, she found herself frustrated and with aching arms.
Leo gave a playful whistle when she appeared and she punched him equally playfully on the arm. They both stuffed themselves before leaving, pawing through the fridge for all the items labeled 'Anyone' and eventually wound up with heaping plates piled with a little bit of everything on them.
There was one huge benefit to living in the training section they both agreed on and that was the food. The physical nature of their work, expending extraordinary amounts of energy and building greater endurance, required a lot of high density fuel. Because they were not supposed to gain any real weight, given that such would strain the resources of the suits, they're foods were carefully considered and usually expensive.
Food was generally plentiful in the silo. All children learned in school that the silo could sustain several times their number with ease, so the 3500 or so that lived here did so in relative food luxury. The freeze-dryers and dehydrators were never short of extra produce to process in case of any lean time, though no lean time had ever come. Every six months, food was rotated out of the storage where the dried food was kept to make room for more and her family always stocked up on the large bags of more exotic goods at bargain prices when that happened.