by Justin Bell
Nothing weird about that, right? Nothing strange about a cheery teenage Athelonian girl hating bright colors and sweet smells? Totally normal.
"Hi, mom," I say.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, her dress shifting as he extends her arms and caresses my other shoulder.
"I'm okay, mom," I reply. "Really, I'm fine. It was nothing."
"It was hardly nothing, dear," she says, reaching back and pulling over a chair, settling herself down into it. "Those Bragdon beasts tried to steal you away again. They killed a member of Adroxis Security!"
"Yeah," I reply. "I know. I was there."
That sounds a lot more bitter than I intended. Bitter isn't good. Mom's worried about me. I'm worried about myself, and not about my messed up hair and smudged mascara. Those particular problems seem microscopic compared to what I'm dealing with now.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Mom asks, leaning in close and softening her words, blunting the sharp edges of her voice.
"Sounds like you already know," I reply, completing the arduous task of pushing myself upright to swing my legs off the bed. My head swims, but clears. "Bragdons showed up, grabbed me, and luckily Adroxis Security showed up just in time."
"Where were they taking you? The Bragdons I mean?" Mom presses.
"How should I know?"
"I thought maybe they'd spoken to you? Told you what their intentions were?"
I shake my head. "I don't know, Mom, honestly." My eyes roam a bit. Realization starts to settle in. "Is this another interrogation?" I ask. "Did dad put you up to this?"
She raises herself up, placing her two right hands to her chest in some sort of clumsy mock surprise.
"Why would you ask that? We want to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine, mom, I'm safe. Aren't I right here in front of you?"
"There's no reason to be hostile," she replies, softening her voice even further.
"Mom, I'm not being hostile, I'm sick of being treated like a suspect in some crime I'm not aware of."
Her face falls, like a building block tower caving in upon itself. With a flutter of lids, her eyes cast downward, and she clears her throat.
"Can you understand my feelings, Mom? Do you get it?" I glance over towards Weeda who is sitting on her own chair, looking awkward, but to her credit, doesn't move away.
"Brie, I understand. But you need to understand us as well."
"Understand what?"
She looks towards Weeda, uncertain if she should continue speaking.
"Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of her," I reply, eyes narrowing. Just as Mom's voice was softening, mine was hardening. Not on purpose, it was just coming naturally.
"I'm not sure this is the time or place."
"I've been back home for a month. When will be the time or place?" I demand. I press my palms to my knees and start to stand, but she eases forward and wraps her fingers around my shoulders, pushing me back down into a seated position.
"Please, Brie. Stay."
"Talk to me, Mom. Tell me what this is all about."
She drops her hands and draws in a deep, prolonged breath. Her cheeks puff for a moment, air poofing out from pursed lips.
It's a struggle, but she manages to lift her eyes and narrows her mouth into a straight line, a slice across her youthful face, showing few teeth and even less emotion.
"I saw you, Brie," she says. It doesn't register with me at first, what she's talking about.
"There was a moment, after you returned to us. A moment when you...were not you."
My heart slips as if beating against a patch of ice. I try to catch my breath, but I'm all too aware of every little noise in this small room. My eyes dart over to Weeda who doesn't seem all that surprised at what mom is saying, then flash back over to her.
"What do you mean?" I ask, though I know full well. I'd seen it myself in the mirror. That morning after I returned and a few times since.
"You changed. You weren't Brie. You were..."
"Don't fight it, Mom. Tell me what you saw."
"You were a Bragdon. For a moment. You were wearing the same clothes, and you still had your long hair, but your skin...your features. They were Bragdon."
And there it was.
For the past month being put through the ringer, interrogated, watched over as if I was a common criminal, all because my mom thought she saw me change into a reptile dude. I mean, she's nuts. Clearly she didn't see what she thought she saw.
Really? How many times in the past month had my blue eyes flicked to yellow in the mirror? Six? Eight? A dozen? It was happening more often lately.
"Brie?"
I jerk my head upward, too fast, looking more angry than concerned.
"Yeah, Mom," I reply, because I'm still a teenage girl and she is still my mother.
"Do you understand what I said?"
I nod and put my fingers through my hair.
"Can you convince me that what I saw was not true?"
I run through countless responses in my head. I consider dozen different phrases that might deflect, defend, or otherwise coax my mother back to some semblance of reality. A number of different words could ease her burden and release mine: a trick of the light, stress from my disappearance, or her being paranoid.
But I know none of them are true. I know something about me is different and always has been since the day I arrived in this world. I've never been able to put my finger on it, but at this very moment, my finger seems to be hovering right above it. There must be that one intersection of my life and every other Athelonian's lives on the planet, that shows why I've never quite fit in, why I look different, and why I was built different. Why, no matter how hard I worked to belong, was I always a girl out of place.
Doesn't every teenage girl feel like that? Aren't we all dealing with issues unique to us that all other teenage girls don't deal with? I think we do.
So did those things really happy, or was it me being a teenager?
I turn my palms over and glare at them. My two palms. Only two.
No, my differences haven't been in my head, at least not all of them. Some of them are plain to see. But am I a Bragdon? How can that be?
It can't be. It straight up can't be. Yes, there rumors are they're shape shifters, and the ones I saw at the prison compound today prove that fact, but that's something they're taught, right? How can I be living this life as an Athelonian with no clue how I got this way or how to change back?
That's not the answer to this big mystery. I know it's not. But it's a step towards it.
"Look at me, Mom," I reply after letting the silence settle. "Do I look like a Bragdon? Do I feel like one?" I reach my hand out and extend my fingers, but Mom won't touch me. She actually slides back a little. Has she touched my skin in the past month? . . . Ever?
I can't remember.
"Mom," I say. "Look at me, mom. It's me. The same Brie you've known for eighteen cycles."
"What is going on here?" Dad growls.
My eyes flash to the door as it slides open and the broad shouldered frame of dear old Dad fills all the empty space in the room with his presence.
"Jary, you were supposed to wait for security before you woke her," he continues, looking at my mother, but not daring to turn his eyes towards me.
"Last time I looked, I was still her daughter," I reply, the edge to my voice narrow and biting.
He glances at me, his eyes thin slits, his mouth twisted. I may be her daughter, but with one look, he indicates that I am not his. Like I'm a stranger who sneaked in here and peeled off his daughter's skin to wear it like a suit.
After a moment, he presses his two left hands to my mom's back and eases her up off the chair, guiding her towards the door.
"Go rest, Jary. Let me speak with Brie for a moment. Please."
Mom nods as she exits, not even sure what she's nodding about.
"Brie, my dear," Dad says, turning back towards me. The warmth returning to his face
looks forced.
"When will this end, Dad?" I ask. "When will you both accept me for who I am?"
"And who are you?" he replies, smiling. "You're our daughter, Brie, same as you always have been. We need to make sure you're safe, that's all."
"Safe from who?"
"Have you forgotten already?" he asks. "Bragdon infiltrators tried to capture you. For the second time in a month. You obviously mean something to them, dear."
"That's not what this is about," I reply. "This stuff you're putting me through. It's not protection, it's interrogation."
He draws in a breath and lowers his large frame down on my bed, the cushion sinking under his weight.
"I'm sorry it feels that way," he says. "We are afraid that you might have witnessed something. Experienced something you don't recall. We're just trying to figure out what that is. We're all on the same side."
"People keep on telling me what side I'm supposed to be on," I say, trying not to sound as frustrated as I am. "But they won't tell me why."
His hands press against my shoulder and there's a certain warmth and comfort there.
"We gave birth to you eighteen cycles ago, Brie. You are our child. You are of Athelonian blood."
"That's not what Mom thinks."
He draws back, looking surprised. "She told you that?"
"In her own Mom way," I reply. I mean it to sound funny, but it doesn't.
He lowers his eyes along with his hands. "I'm sorry she said that. She's been under considerable stress since the shuttle incident, my dear. She is adamant that we get you the protection and guidance you need to make it through this ordeal."
"I'm kinda through it," I say. "Yeah, it sucked, but it's said and done. I'm not traumatized or anything."
He smiles at me and it's an obnoxious, condescending smirk that sets my teeth on edge.
"You may not think so, but we have reason to believe . . ."
"Okay, stop," I bark. "Stop with the whole 'we're doing this for your good' schtick; all of us in this room know that's not true." I glance over at Weeda, who tries like heck to act as if she's not paying attention.
"I'm not sure—" he starts to say.
"Mom saw something. You suspect something. Everyone in Adroxis thinks something is off about what happened to me and you are all digging for something. That's what this is about, I need someone to admit it, all right?"
"Brie," he starts to reply, but I don't want to give him the chance.
"I want to go back to school," I hiss, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, but failing. "I want to go back to my normal life!"
My father lowers his gaze and pushes himself up off my bed His large, dark-robed body lifts as if it is an apparition. He doesn't look at me at first. He simply stands and takes a long step towards the door, then pauses and glances back at me.
"Get used to it, Brie," he replies. "This is your normal life. Until you can give us some answers, this is how your life will be."
"I don't have any answers!" I shout back. "I was the victim, remember?"
"You're emotional," he replies. "I understand. Take a few moments."
"Where is Luxen?" I ask as he's about to step out the door. He pauses in mid stride, looking like he might just topple over.
"Excuse me?" he asks.
"Luxen. The Bragdon boy who saved my life. Where is he? You want answers from me, I want to know where he is."
"And you wonder why you're in this position?" my father replies, wrapping his fingers around the door frame and spinning on me. "You wonder why this is your new normal life. Every day you ask about that filthy Bragdon beast and then you wonder why we keep you under lock and key?"
"He's not a beast!" I shout. "He risked everything to rescue me! I wouldn't be sitting here in front of you right now if not for him!"
He nods. "That much is clear. What isn't clear is why."
I'm sitting bolt upright now, my entire body a ridge clutch of tense, hard muscle. "What do you mean?"
He looks confused, like he doesn't understand my question. "Bragdon are not selfless creatures, Brie. Everything they do, they do for a sinister purpose. If he rescued you it was because he has use for you."
"He's just a boy whose mother died in front of him. He doesn't deserve this."
"He's a Bragdon," he replies. "By nature of his birth he deserved this."
My eyes widen. I can't even form a sensible reply. There is animosity between Athelon and Braxis. Everyone who has ever taken a history class knows this, but I can't translate the senseless hate for an entire race within my rattling brain. It makes no sense.
Before I get another chance to try to respond, he spins again. His dark robe fan out, then trail behind him as he leaves.
The door hissing shut behind him. All I can do is shake my head and glare at the closed door.
"Are you okay?" Weeda asks in her soft voice, and all I can do is nod, even though we both know that's not the full truth.
"How does this happen?" I ask. "How does an entire planet learn to hate without reason?"
"There's a long history between the planets, Brie, a history we've only learned the smallest part of."
I turn towards her, smiling. Sweet Weeda. The daughter of a factory worker who would never get the opportunities I did, but who continues working for the sake of working. Who continues to live the epitome of an Athelonian life. There are times I envy her. Times that I wish all of these different ping pong ball thoughts weren't bouncing around in my already busy head. I'd give anything to narrow my worries down to work and being a proper Athelonian.
But my brain doesn't work that way. I don't think it ever has. That fact has just become far clearer.
"You know, I heard a rumor. From one of my dad's friends. He's with Adroxis Security." Weeda remarks.
That sentence clears my mind and I narrow my eyes at her. She glances away as if uncomfortable with how this conversation is now trending.
"Weeda, please. Tell me. Nobody else will know."
She looks back over towards me, her lips quivering. She's got all four arms wrapped around her narrow chest as if she's frozen.
"They're planning an execution," he whispers. "This weekend."
I draw my head back. "Execution? Adroxis doesn't believe in capital punishment."
"They do," she replies, "when it's a Bragdon."
My mouth hangs open. "Luxen?" I ask.
She shrugs. "I don't know, but I can't think of any other Bragdons in Adroxis Prison."
Would they? Would they really? Do they hate the Bragdons so much that they would execute a young boy just because of which planet he came from? The whole thing seems so outrageous.
Yet it is so possible, so frustratingly, infuriatingly possible.
I have to find Luxen and I have to set him free. Time may have already run out.
Chapter Six
For a month I've been playing along. A solid month I've been pushing away my instincts, forcing the countless thoughts in my head into an opaque fog, and convincing myself that I owed it to my family to try to understand their side of things. Yet for every minute of every day, these thoughts are slamming around in my head, driving me to escape, and showing me dozens of different ways to overcome my security and make my way out.
I've been fighting against them. I have been trying to convince myself that I am Athelonian to my core, that I belong in Adroxis, and that what I'm going through is something that must happen in order to regain my true self.
Sure, I have taken my trips outside. I have questioned my judgement, but I now know I was doing it because if I didn't, the thoughts would have taken over, and I would have done something I regretted. Maybe I'm about to do something I'll regret anyway, but I have to do it, if not for me, then for Luxen.
If what Weeda heard is correct, Luxen's execution is in two short days. A young boy's life will be taken from him simply because he was born on Braxis and he dared risk his life to save mine. That's his great crime, his offense against the Athelonian wa
y of life.
This is not who I am. There's no need to keep fighting it. I've always felt a little different from other kids in my class, a step apart from the entire race of my planet. I thought it was the normal teenage struggle, but it isn't that. There's more going on here, more that I hadn't dared to consider.
Well, it's time to dare. The time for pushing down my instincts has ended. It's time to take action.
In truth is, the time for action was a month ago, and deep down inside, I knew that then and I know it now. I hope my hesitation hasn't doomed Luxen.
Each habitation room on Adroxis contains a terminal of some kind that is a communications interface that allows for messaging, emergency assistance, and other various things. This freight train rush of thoughts in my brain tells me it can also be reconfigured to allow back door access to the public transportation system.
I'm standing in front of the computer terminal with my fingers dancing across the keyboard, stringing characters together that I didn't even realize existed. These complex strings of code alone would be a strange foreign language, but all put together, they can make this interconnected system do amazing things.
A black screen scrolls up in front of me. As I watch, various commands execute on the small monitor to produce quickly changing screens of information and a full intersecting diagram of routes through Adroxis. It reveals flight routes, road routes, and everything in between. It's almost overwhelming, the swift influx of images and information, but somewhere in this crazed brain of mine, I'm taking in the information, processing it and devising a plan.
But a plan for what? It's been a little over a month since I learned that I have this untapped wealth of abilities locked away just below the surface, yet no matter how hard I try, I can't quite get a grasp on how it all works. How my mind and my muscle memory are tied together to do things I don't even know I can do. The face and body of Brie Northstar are just this shell of skin above something completely different and almost frightening.
Pretty deep thoughts for a teenage girl. While Weeda's at home trying to figure out whether her flower skirt goes with her powder blue top, I'm mapping traffic routes, calculating how fast the buses travel, and debating whether my entire existence is an elaborate lie.