The Battle Begins

by Devon Hughes

  6

  BENEATH THE CITY OF LION’S HEAD, IN A TINY APARTMENT in the underground neighborhood known as the Drain, Leesa was hard at work on a letter. Or she would be, if she could just figure out how to start it.

  She sat cross-legged on the sagging couch that doubled as her bed and hunched over the tablet in her lap, staring at the blank screen. Her hair hung around her face in a sleek dark curtain but for the one streak she’d recently dyed blue.

  What did you say to a sky queen politician? What could you say that would make her listen?

  Her friend Antonio would say she was an idiot for writing the letter at all, but Leesa was desperate, and Eva Eris was the only person she could think of who had any real power.

  Dear Mayor Eris,

  I need your help in a really bad situation.

  Ugh, that sounded lame. If she wanted an important lady like the mayor to take her seriously, she had to sound more grown-up. Leesa deleted the line, her fingers hovering above the screen. Then she had it.

  I’m requesting your assistance with a very grave matter. Mega Media has gone too far with its Unnatural monster matches. The Mash-up was . . .

  Brutal? Disgusting?

  The Mash-up was HORRIBLE!

  The images Leesa had seen during the last fight were a scar in her memory, and she felt the nausea over again. After that night, she’d wanted to walk away from the Unnaturals forever. She almost had.

  She glanced down at the paperback she’d been reading, propped open on the cushion next to her. Leesa’s teacher, Ms. Hoiles, often lent Leesa old books—really old ones, made from paper and everything—but she couldn’t have known how the sight of that cover would affect Leesa. Charlotte’s Web was spelled out in fancy letters, with a web winding around them. There was a tiny spider dangling down, and a girl smiling up at it. Looking at the image, all Leesa could think about was Pookie, her Chihuahua, and she knew it was time to finally do something. He was the reason she needed to write the letter.

  The sentences flowed faster now.

  Lots of kids are told that the wizards at Mega Media create these animals from scratch. However, I know the truth. My dog, Pookie, ran away four years ago and was accidentally drafted into the Unnaturals. They transformed him into Pookie the Poisonous. He was retired last season, but I still don’t have him back with me. I was hoping you could step in and—

  Leesa heard someone fumbling at the front door. She glanced at the time, and a chill went through her. It was only five o’clock. Her mom didn’t get off work for another two hours. Crime had been up in the Drain since the latest rationing, and Leesa lived on one of the worst streets.

  The locks rattled, and Leesa gripped her tablet tightly. There was nowhere to run or hide; the whole apartment was only one room. All she could do was hold her breath as each of the eight dead bolts clicked open, one after the other.

  The door burst open with a bang, and Leesa screamed.

  Then she instantly felt like a baby. It was her mother. Of course it was—who else would it be?

  Her mom kicked the door closed behind her. “Sorry, lovebug,” she said, out of breath. “I didn’t mean to burst in like that, but I was about to drop everything.”

  Leesa got up and maneuvered through the small, cluttered space to help her mom.

  “You’re home so early,” Leesa said, taking two of the heaping bags. She couldn’t remember her mom ever coming home from work early. “Time is money,” she always said, and they never seemed to have enough of either. After a full day of running errands for rich sky dwellers too scared of pollutants to venture to ground level, her mom would crash on the couch and nap for a few hours while Leesa stayed up to read. Then, when Leesa headed to bed, her mom would take off again for the midnight shift, monitoring robots for her other job at the ReadyGro factory.

  “What’d you expect?” Her mom set down her burden on the counter and tugged playfully on one of Leesa’s braids. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

  Was it? Leesa blinked. She’d been so caught up in what was going on with the Unnaturals that she’d totally forgotten.

  Her mom started to unload the bags, and Leesa gasped at what she saw: ReadyGro tomatoes. Broccoli. Noodles. Bottled sauces. All premium buys.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, trying to temper her excitement. “Stuff for one of the sky families?”

  “No.” Her mom’s eyes shined in the dim light. “This is just for us. I thought we could sit down for a real meal together for once, to celebrate.” She started putting the synthi-veggies in the fridge.

  “Aw, Mom . . .” Leesa’s stomach growled in anticipation of the feast. Still, she couldn’t help feeling guilty. “You didn’t have to spend all that money.”

  They mostly lived on Vita pills these days, with the occasional frozen dinner thrown in when they could afford it. Leesa had vague memories of her mom cooking meals from scratch when she was little, but since her dad had left and they’d moved to the Drain, it was completely unheard of.

  Her mom waved her off. “Hush. Twelve is a big deal! My baby’s almost all grown up.” She tickled Leesa’s sides, like she had when she was little.

  “Mom, stop.” Leesa rolled her eyes, but she was beaming.

  “Besides, you’ve been so down lately, I figured you needed cheering up. I just wish I could’ve given you more,” her mom said with a sigh. She turned away to brew her tea—with her crazy sleep schedule, Leesa’s mom drank a lot of tea—but Leesa could hear the sadness in her voice. “I was really trying to save up for an automapooch for your birthday, but I just couldn’t swing it this year.”

  “It’s okay,” Leesa said brightly. “I don’t want a virtual pet, anyway.” Wanting to reassure her mom, she walked back to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Look.” She showed her the letter she’d been writing. “When the mayor reads my petition, we’re going to get Pookie back.”

  Her mom stared at the words, her face a mask. Then she sank down into the couch like her legs were too wobbly to stand. “Oh, lovebug.” She covered her face with her hands, obviously upset.

  “What is it?” Leesa asked. Her mom was one of the toughest people she knew, and it took a lot to make her stop smiling, let alone break down.

  What could be so awful about writing to the mayor?

  Leesa’s mom took one of Leesa’s hands in both of hers and pulled her down next to her. “I didn’t want to tell you this before. But maybe now that you’re a little older, you can understand.”

  Now Leesa was alarmed. She and her mom had lived in such close quarters for so long, she didn’t think they had any secrets—well, almost any. She hadn’t told her mom about sneaking into the Dome with Antonio to watch Unnaturals matches all these years, but that was different. That would’ve worried her, and the last thing Leesa wanted was to add to her mom’s worries.

  Her mom looked super worried right now, though, and it was totally freaking Leesa out. She squeezed her mom’s hand. “Tell me.”

  Instead of answering right away, Leesa’s mom took Leesa’s shoulders and guided them to turn. Leesa raised her eyebrows in confusion, but she obediently turned away from her mother, tucking her legs up under herself on the couch. Her mom started to comb through her hair with her fingers, like she had when Leesa was little. It felt nice, but Leesa was too anxious to enjoy it. She stared at the wall, waiting.

  “Leesa, the mayor isn’t going to help you get your dog back,” her mom said. She separated Leesa’s hair into two sections and took a deep breath. “That woman is the reason Pookie’s gone.”

  Leesa snapped her head around. “How could it be her fault?” That didn’t make any sense. “Pookie ran away. He slipped his collar like he’d done before—you always said I put it on too loose—and he went exploring and got lost on the streets and picked up by scouts and—”

  “He didn’t get lost, sweetie,” her mom interrupted. “And the Unnaturals scouts didn’t find him.” Leesa caught a glimpse of the pain in her eyes before her mom sig
naled for her to turn back around. Her mom started to braid one of the sections of Leesa’s hair, winding the strands over one another in a tight line down her head. Finally, she said in a whisper, “Your dad gave Pookie to them.”

  “What?” Leesa squeaked. Her dad? No. Why would he do that? And how could her mom not tell her? Nothing made sense. Feeling the tug against her scalp, she didn’t dare turn back around, so she stared at a long, jagged crack on the wall as she said, “All those days I spent walking around the streets at ground level, calling for him. And all those years after, hoping he’d come back . . .”

  The crack blurred.

  “I know, lovebug. I’m sorry.” She could hear that her mom was crying, too, and Leesa’s head bobbed as the braiding got clumsier. “I didn’t want you to hate your father. Your dad is a good man but a bad businessman. This all started because he wanted a better life for us. He didn’t want to see you grow up in darkness, underground, didn’t want to see his baby girl—” Her voice broke. “Living in a pit like this.”

  Leesa wiped her nose and made herself stop shaking so her mom would continue. She needed to know the whole story. “What does the mayor have to do with anything?”

  “Did you know Mayor Eris was the one who started the Sky Project?”

  “Everyone knows that.” When Leesa was little, there was no space anywhere, and everyone was living all smashed together. Eva Eris funded research to build higher than anyone thought possible, and soon Lion’s Head was thriving again—they said she’d saved the city. When she decided to run for mayor, she’d won in a landslide.

  “Well, we couldn’t really afford one of those fancy sky homes, but Eva told your dad we could get by on credit for a while. She had just bought this new virtual reality network, and if he offered up collateral . . .”

  “Wait.” Leesa sat up straighter. “So Mayor Eris owns Mega Media? She started the Unnaturals?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “I think she wanted it mostly for ad propaganda. She never thought her little reality show project would take off, but when it did, she needed animals. And we were way overdue on rent.”

  “Pookie was the collateral.” Leesa couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. “And Dad just handed him right over.”

  “No, lovey.” Her mom tied off the second braid and finally let Leesa turn around. “He thought it was temporary, and he tried to fix it. He really did.” She took a long sip of tea and studied Leesa’s face, as if deciding whether to say more. Finally, she continued, “I’m not sure if you know this, Lees, but your dad likes to gamble.”

  Leesa looked away. Did she know her dad gambled? Everyone in the Drain knew. He was so pathetic that not even Vince would take his bets anymore. Leesa walked to the mirror and studied her braids, tugging some hair out of the top of one of them to show off the chunk she’d dyed blue. Careful to keep a straight face, she said, “I think I might’ve had an idea.”

  Her mother looked ashamed. “He wasn’t always like that. Baba went to the Dome just trying to win enough to get Pookie back. Some touts gave him inside info on who to bet on, and Baba trusted them.”

  Leesa winced at how easy a mark her dad had been. Even she knew not to trust the touts.

  “They were all working for the mayor, of course. When he lost, Baba started placing daily double bets to try to break even again. Unfortunately, when he lost those, too, it hit us twice as hard. By the time he started winning, it was too late.”

  Leesa felt sick. Everything was starting to make awful, perfect sense. “That’s why we moved to the Drain, isn’t it? Mayor Eris got Pookie and the house?”

  Her mom met her eyes and nodded, and there was something else written there between them but left unsaid: it was also why Baba didn’t live with them anymore.

  Leesa gripped the tablet tightly in her hands, resisting the urge to chuck it across the room only because she knew how expensive it was. So much for her letter.

  “But now we’re free.” Her mom reached out to tuck the blue strands behind Leesa’s ear. “And I’m going to keep working and keep saving, and one day, things are going to get better.” Then her solemn tone changed to one of forced enthusiasm. “We’re already doing pretty well for ourselves, though, aren’t we? Look at this feast!” She hopped up off the couch and gave Leesa’s knee a shake. “Now come on, we’d better get cooking if you want me to stay awake for your birthday dinner.”

  “I don’t really feel like celebrating.” Her family was broken and her dog was gone and everything seemed stacked against her. The only thing Leesa felt like doing was curling up and crying.

  “Birthday girls aren’t allowed to mope.” Her mom’s voice was peppy but firm. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that when things get hard you just have to trust in yourself, Leesa. We’re stronger than we think.”

  That made Leesa look up, and this time, her mom held her gaze without blinking. Then she smiled.

  “Probably not strong enough to blow out twelve candles at once, though!” her mom turned, unveiling what looked and smelled like a pineapple sponge cake. “I was thinking we should have dessert first, but if you’re not up to it . . .”

  “Okay, okay!” Leesa stood up. “Mom?” Her mom looked back at her. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, lovebug.”

  The cake was good—maybe better than anything she’d ever eaten—and it must’ve cost her mom a week of wages. But Leesa was most grateful for something her mom had said. Of all the things they’d talked about tonight, of all the information she’d learned, it was just three words that really stuck with Leesa: trust in yourself.

  If she wanted something to be done about the Unnaturals, Leesa was going to have to do it on her own.

  7

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE SAMKEN’S GONE,” A SOFT VOICE SAID from somewhere that sounded close and far away at once.

  Castor squinted into the dim light, growling warily. He didn’t know who was speaking, and he didn’t know who Samken was; all he knew for sure was that they were not part of his pack.

  “Look, the s-s-shepherd dog’s awake,” another voice hissed.

  Barely. It had been a full day since they’d shot him, and Castor was still groggy. It was like that time he’d eaten the rotten rat meat, hallucinating all sorts of weird things.

  Even now, he wasn’t sure what was real. Outside of his cage, there were other cages, with other creatures. They smelled foreign and dangerous, and not only were they not dogs, but they were unlike anything he’d ever seen. As he looked around, he tried to remember all the different types of animals the Gray Whiskers had told him about in stories. There was a fat rope that could talk; a squat, scaled animal in a large cage on the floor—was this a lizard?—and last night he thought he’d seen a huge animal with a gray, fleshy arm for a nose. He’d always thought that the Gray Whiskers’ stories about elephants were a lie until now.

  For the first time in his life, Castor really understood how Runt felt; he was deep in enemy territory, and he’d never felt more vulnerable or more weak.

  His bones ached all over, from the end of his tail to the tip of his wet nose, and when he tried to stand, his legs were still stiff and uncooperative. And he was so thirsty. His tongue felt huge inside his mouth, his throat too scratchy to swallow.

  “Water,” Castor begged. When no one answered him, he turned around and around clumsily in the small prison of his cage, searching.

  “Oh, look, it’s chas-s-sing its tail,” said the snake. “How s-s-special.”

  Then Castor saw it. There, in the next cage over, was a beautiful silver dish of water. Eagerly, Castor stuck his muzzle through the bars and drank from the bowl.

  “That’s mine!” a terrifying voice roared as a giant orange head took over Castor’s vision.

  Castor scrambled backward, slamming into metal bars. As much as he hated the humans, right then, he was grateful for the cage that kept him safe.

  From the way the room went silent, Castor figured the giant ani
mal to be the alpha, which he didn’t quite understand because her voice was female. And worse, she seemed feline. She was like one of the alley cats that were always taunting his pack—same whiskers, same stupid stripes. But this thing was bigger. Meaner. And those teeth were no kitty cat’s nibblers.

  Castor watched, transfixed, as the head dipped down, its huge yellow eyes still trained on him. When she started to lap at the water bowl, Castor whined in agony, despite himself.

  “You’re dehydrated. It’s just the sedative wearing off.”

  Castor spun around. The animal in the cage behind his was speaking to him. It looked like some sort of rodent, but it was unlike any rat he’d ever seen. Its fur was a soft white instead of dingy gray, and its tail was no more than a puffed-up little ball. The weirdest parts were its ears. They weren’t small and useless like a rat’s; they were noble ears like his—long and silky and standing straight up.

  Still, if it looked like a rat and smelled like a rat, it probably tasted like a rat. From the way it cowered from the other animals, Castor guessed it was probably food for the alpha and her strange pack—which meant it was off-limits. Castor felt the emptiness in his stomach, remembering the chase before he was captured.

  The long-eared rat studied him for a moment with curious red eyes. “Here,” she finally whispered, and then nudged her own water bowl across her cage to where he could reach it. “Have some of mine.”

  Castor looked up in surprise. She wanted to share her water?

  After the incident with the alpha, Castor was wary. He was away from his pack, in an unfamiliar place. He knew he shouldn’t trust anyone.

  He shrank back into the corner of his cage, determined to resist, but the temptation was too much.

  Keeping an eye on the animals around him, he hunched over in the cramped space and slurped at the bowl. The water tasted sour and gritty, but it cooled his tongue and helped clear his head.