“I’m sure your mother didn’t want you just for that,” Lisa said softly.
I turned to look at her. “My mother chose to manipulate the genes that create symmetrical facial structure, athletic body type and good teeth. Looks, looks and looks. I think that says it all.”
Lisa and Mav looked at me solemnly.
“So all those brains you’ve got are natural?” Lisa finally said, smiling.
I reluctantly grinned back. “Must be.”
Lisa stood up. “Well, it doesn’t matter what way you got that face and body. I say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it.” She zeroed in on me. “Come on, we’ve got to do something with your hair and makeup.”
I turned to face the mirror as she smoothed back my fringe. Lisa was wrong. How you got it was important, and my gut told me that flaunting it might soon be very dangerous.
A few minutes before seven, the CommNet jingle sounded from the computer on the bedside table. Lisa was holding a pair of silver hoops against my ears and we both jumped as the screen moved smoothly around to face us.
“Joss, you’ve got a comm message from Sergeant Vaughn at the P3 Security Office,” the computer said.
I met Lisa’s eyes. This was it. She snatched away the earrings and stepped back, nodding encouragingly.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, connect.”
Vaughn’s fashionably altered face appeared on the screen. “Well now, don’t we look purty.” He leered. “Your little boyfriend is waiting for you.”
I gave him a cool death glare, but my heart was already picking up pace.
“Thank you. Tell him I’ll be out in five. Disconnect.” The screen flicked back to the CommNet logo.
“Okay, he’s here,” I said, standing up. “Looks like I’m going now.” I felt strangely reluctant to leave.
“Are you sure I cannot accompany you?” Mav asked, his ears hiking up hopefully.
“She’s sure,” Lisa said. She handed me a ridiculously small silver evening bag. “Good luck. And have a great time.”
That was the plan.
Kyle tapped his spoon against the toffee crust of the crème brûlée that sat between us on the table. “Want to help me break it?” he asked.
I nodded and picked up my spoon.
He sat up straight, holding his hand over his heart. “I dedicate this crème brûlée to all those who believed in it and held the dream in their hearts of a better, happier dessert.”
Laughing, we broke through the thin layer, exposing the smooth pale custard underneath.
“I think we’ve struck gold,” he said softly, and I had a feeling he didn’t just mean the dessert. “You go first.”
I dug out a spoonful of toffee and custard and tasted it.
“Ohmigod,” I breathed, letting the honey vanilla melt on my tongue. “That is fantastic.”
“Told you,” Kyle said, helping himself.
I looked around the crowded café. It had been quiet when we arrived and the headwaiter had seated us in the open double windows that looked out into Mall 11, the boutique area of the Melbourne central mall network. Now the restaurant was buzzing, and the energy in the place was pumping through me.
Kyle and I had talked nonstop about the Centre, discussing our majors (history of architecture for him, music for me), the tough fitness program, the best and worst teachers, and the first terrifying ten seconds of a time-jump. We’d even discussed Mav and the mind link, although I had moved the conversation on fairly quickly—it felt too much like talking behind Mav’s back. The arrival of dessert had created a natural break in conversation, but I sensed that we were about to shift into more personal territory. And for once, I didn’t mind. I spooned out some more of the crème brûlée, concentrating on scooping up as much toffee as possible.
“That Horain-Donleavy kid from your class cornered me yesterday,” Kyle said.
That made me look up—Chaney had never been high on my list of romantic dinner topics.
Kyle shook his head. “One of these days someone’s going to buck the civ laws and lay into that kid. And with that mouth on him, he’ll deserve it. He wanted to have a ‘little chat’ about you.”
I hurriedly swallowed my mouthful of dessert. “What did he say?”
Kyle shrugged. “That you weren’t really comp.”
The lingering sweetness in my mouth turned sour. The next time I saw Chaney, he’d better start running.
“I am comp,” I said. “I may only have one donor, but I’m enhanced. I’m still comp.” It came out more vehemently than I expected.
Kyle held up his hands. “Hey, I’m with you—if someone’s enhanced, then they can call themselves comp. I know some comps wouldn’t agree with that, but they’re a bit hard-line.” He picked up his glass and drained it. “You know Tarrah, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen her around, but we haven’t met,” I said, trying not to sound too happy about it.
“She’s well in with the Comp Lobby, and she told me they’re trying to get some kind of criteria set for comp status. A certain number of donors and things like that.”
I looked at Kyle’s beautiful face, a horrible thought hitting me like a hammer between the eyes. “Would it matter to you if I wasn’t a comp?”
It was like everything in the café ground to a halt while I waited for his answer. Was this gorgeous, funny guy the flip side of Chaney? I had very specific ideas about where this evening was heading, and they would all disappear in a flick of a clean sheet if he said yes.
He shook his head. “Of course not.”
The magic words. My evening was still intact.
“But I’ve kind of stopped dating noncomps now,” he continued. “Not that there’s anything wrong with them—it’s just that they don’t really understand what it’s like. You know what I mean.”
“Sure, but…” I had been about to say that anyone with an ounce of empathy would be able to work it out, and that went both ways. But earlier, Lisa had delicately suggested I tone down my attitude, especially on the first date. Leave it to the second date, she’d said. So, I swallowed the comment, although it kind of stuck in my throat.
Kyle looked at me expectantly. “But what?”
“But do you want coffee?” I said lamely.
“How about we skip coffee and head to the party?” Kyle said. “I promised we’d drop in, but we don’t have to stay long.”
I caught the lilt in his voice. My thoughts exactly.
We took the Venturi Loop back to campus. I’ve never been keen on the underground trans system—being sucked through a tube in a metal capsule without windows always creeps me out—but it seemed like a good idea to get to the party as quickly as possible. The sooner we got there, the sooner we could leave.
It was being held in Trinity College, the sixth-year-student quarters. Kyle and I took the most direct route through campus, along the wide tree-lined central boulevard. The huge oaks had formed a canopy over the walkway and the University had installed old-fashioned streetlamps that created pools of buttery light and soft shadows. Although it was officially autumn, the night air was still warm, courtesy of the ever-expanding ozone hole, and a number of other couples were strolling hand in hand. It seemed like a good idea. I glanced across at Kyle. He met my eyes and smiled, both of us moving at the same time. I yelped as my finger mashed against his palm. We jumped apart then started laughing.
“I think we got our timing wrong,” he said. “Let’s try that again.”
Our hands slid together. Something inside me lurched as I felt his long fingers curl around mine.
We walked up the steps to the arched entrance of Trinity College.
“What do you say we only stay for half an hour,” I said, tightening my grip.
The door to the party dorm was opened by a sixth-year girl with short black hair intricately twisted back into beaded sections. She kissed Kyle on the cheek then pointed in the direction of the eating area.
“Drinks down there,” she yelled over the pound
ing music.
I followed Kyle through a crowded living room and into the eating area. James, a cheerful fifth-year I’d met through Lisa, was manning the food dispenser.
“Hey Joss, how are you doing? I didn’t know you belonged.”
Belonged? To what? I opened my mouth to ask, but James had turned to Kyle.
“So what do you want to drink?” he asked.
“Beer?” Kyle said, turning to me for confirmation.
“Sure.”
I took the cold glass and studied the group of people. Something was bugging me, but I couldn’t work out what.
“Kyle!” a girl’s voice yelled. We both turned around. Tarrah was heading towards us in a pale green cling dress, her blonde hair falling in VR star waves. She kissed Kyle on both cheeks, her bright hazel eyes on me.
“So glad you decided to come. And you, too, Joss,” she said, smiling widely. “It’s always good to have a new member.”
Member? And then it clicked. Everyone in the room was a comp. I shot a look at Kyle.
“Member of what?” I asked.
“The Comp Lobby,” Tarrah said. “Didn’t Kyle tell you this is a meeting?”
“Me and Joss are just here for the beer,” Kyle said.
“Come on, Ky, you’re going to have to get off your fence one day.” Tarrah turned around to face the crowd. “Hey, turn the music off,” she called. “It’s time to start.”
There was immediate silence. I scanned the room; everyone had turned expectantly towards Tarrah.
“I’m not going to rave on for very long,” she said. “This is just a prelim to see who is interested in the march on the Director’s offices next week.”
Four heavyset guys with rugby player necks raised their beers and cheered.
“Let’s storm the place,” one of them yelled. A few girls near them giggled.
“Thanks for your enthusiasm, Liam,” Tarrah said. “But for the moment we’re just marching. And that reminds me, although we all appreciate the sentiments of the graffiti on the admin building, it would be better if the artists played it cool for a while. Until the march is over.”
“What are you marching against?” I asked.
Tarrah looked back at me and smiled. “Everyone, say hello to Joss. She’s in first year, so all you old hands can give her some pointers about surviving the course,” she said.
A friendly buzz of hellos rippled around the room. I caught a thumbs-up from the black-haired bead girl and a wink from James. I smiled, the warmth of the crowd surprising me.
Tarrah brushed back her hair. “We’re marching against the quotas,” she said, a strident note entering her voice. “It’s just institutionalised prejudice against us. We’re supposed to be living in a meritocracy, but potential comp students are being turned away, even though they’re outstripping the noncomps in all areas.”
“Don’t the quotas work both ways?” I asked, curious.
Tarrah nodded. “It used to work both ways. But we’re not just oddities any more. At the moment, five per cent of births are comps and that’s rising. More and more comps are coming through the school system. Why should they give way to the mediocre?” She turned back to the room of people and raised her voice into a rallying cry. “I say that if you’re better, then you should get into the course. And I’ve seen the statistics—comps are better! Let’s face it, that’s why our parents took the chance.”
The room erupted into a frenzy of whoops and cheers and clapping. Liam and his mates started chanting “Not comp, not good enough!”
“If you want to march, go see Birri over there,” Tarrah yelled, pointing to a tall black woman at the back of the room. “Put your name down. Let’s show them we mean business.”
People started to move towards the sign-up. Beside me, Kyle drained his glass and put it on a nearby table.
“Want to get going?” he asked.
I nodded. “You don’t seem very impressed with all this,” I said, taking a last swig of beer.
“Are you impressed?”
I looked around the room. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m impressed by the solidarity.”
Kyle raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, Tarrah’s good at that.”
“Did I hear my name?” Tarrah said, moving away from the four rugby players.
“We’re taking off now,” Kyle said smoothly.
“Already?” Tarrah looked put out. “I hope you’ll come again, Joss,” she said. “We comps have to stick together, right?”
“Sure,” I said.
She gave me an appraising look. “Think about it, Joss. I know you’ve had your fair share of screte from noncomps. Do something about it.” She quickly kissed Kyle on the cheek. “Don’t be like Ky, here. He doesn’t like to get involved. Do you, darling?”
“Only with the right person,” he said lightly. And although he didn’t look at me, I felt a rush of heat through my body.
Tarrah’s laugh was brittle. “Always sidestepping the issue. See you tomorrow.” Then she was gone, surrounded by her disciples, her voice urging and caressing towards the sign-up table.
Kyle took my hand and we made our way towards the door. I looked back at the milling group waiting to sign their names; arms draped over friends’ shoulders, bursts of laughter, loud teasing, and underneath it all a real sense of camaraderie. Of belonging. James was standing at the back of the room and caught my eye. He motioned towards the sign-up table, his eyebrows raised. I shrugged. He nodded and smiled, mouthing “Next time.” Perhaps I would, next time. I waved as Kyle gently tugged at my other hand.
Outside, in the warm night air, we paused at the top of the steps.
“Sorry about that,” Kyle said. “I didn’t know she was going to turn it into a rally.”
“It’s okay. I can sort of see where she’s coming from. And I really liked the vibe.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to relax with your own kind,” he said as we walked side by side down the steps. I felt a fleeting twitch of unease at his phrasing. “That’s why I go,” he continued. “To hang with other comps. I’m not so keen when Tarrah starts politicising.”
“I wouldn’t mind hanging with them again,” I said.
As if we could read each other’s mind, we both turned towards one of the smaller paths that branched off from the main boulevard. A more secluded path. The lamps were farther apart, creating soft-edged spotlights in the darkness. Kyle caught up my hand again and we walked in silence, the energy between us building. Every centimetre of my skin was aware of the warmth of his body, the flat smooth planes of his muscles, the soft curve of his lips. As we moved into the glow of one of the lights, I glanced up at him and saw him staring at me. The flare of his dark pupils pulled me towards him. I stopped and draped my arms over his shoulders. He leaned into me, his body firm against mine. As I rose to meet him, our bodies pressed closer together and I thought I could feel his heartbeat, as quick as mine. The kiss was gentle, a soft taste of each other, but I wanted more. I opened my mouth, feeling him move with me, all my focus on the shivering sensation running though my body.
I feel your desire, Joss-partner! It is beautiful!
I jerked back, the intrusion like the slash of a cold knife.
“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked anxiously, his arms still around me.
My mind flamed into burnt orange fury.
No! Get out!
The link snapped, a whisper of lime green remorse colouring my consciousness.
I slammed my wristband across the security panel of our front door. Barely waiting for it to slide open, I stalked into the hexagonal living room. Behind me, Kyle paused in the doorway.
“Mav, get out here,” I yelled.
There was no answer. His bedroom door was closed, the lock panel glowing red. I slapped it anyway.
“Mav, don’t you try and hide.”
“I will come when you no longer shout,” he sang.
I glared at the door. That was going to be a long time coming.
“Maybe I shou
ld go,” Kyle said.
I turned back to him.
“Screte! I’m sorry, Kyle.” I ran my hand through my hair, messing up Lisa’s careful styling.
“Look, don’t worry. You’ve got stuff to work out here. How about we catch up tomorrow night?” He hesitated. “That is, if you’d like to.”
“I’d love to,” I said. I walked over to him. “Thanks. And I’m sorry.”
We kissed, brief but full of promise. I watched the door close behind him.
Damn it. I marched across to Mav’s door again.
“You wrecked my date. You can at least come out and face me,” I said, trying to modulate my voice.
The door slid open. Mav stood in front of me, his ears flat against his head.
“This is the correct time to say sorry, yes?” he sang meekly.
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it,” I snapped. “I was having a fantastic time until you barged in!”
“I know,” Mav sang.
“Do you know how creepy that is?” I said tightly. “To have someone in your mind when you’re…” I stopped, not really wanting to describe what Kyle and I were doing.
Mav’s ears raised placatingly. “On Choria, it is always an honour to be joined at such times.”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s an honour on Choria,” I yelled. “I don’t want to share my love life with you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Mav sang contritely. His ears flattened again. “But tell me why you still want Kyle when you do not trust him? I do not understand.”
“What?” I stared at him, crossing my arms.
“You do not trust Kyle. I felt it through your desire.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just trying to change the subject.”
“No, Joss-partner. Deep in you there is not-trust. Why do you fail to acknowledge this instinct?”
“Deep in me is pissed off. With you.” I stamped across to my bedroom. “Don’t even think about coming near me for a few days. I don’t want to see you.”
I didn’t look back as my bedroom door slid shut. I slapped the lock panel then dived, full-length, onto my bed. I trusted Kyle, just fine. And anyway, what did Mav know about trust? I’d trusted him to stay out of my head for one night, and he couldn’t even do that. Maybe this partnership wasn’t going to work, after all.
Firebirds Rising Page 6