“You’ve got to tie the laces first.”
“Oh.” Rue knows how to tie laces. The Academy’s sports’ shoes have them, though those are the only time Rue has ever seen them. There are limits to society’s interest in Old Earth fashions and her clothes have never used laces for anything. Not even the bows Amaranth loves so much can be untied. It takes her a moment to remember how to do them (and she’s certain Priti’s family is silently laughing at her), but she remembers. Her fingers are shaking and clumsy. The girls at school always taunt her about how slow she is. Only Priti never has, but Priti always dresses and undresses for sports class in a showering booth.
Priti isn’t teasing her now. Just sits and watches — Rue can feel her watching and it makes her hands shake worse — as she ties the laces. They’re tough, but the ends are starting to fray. Rue is deeply grateful that Priti doesn’t offer to tie them for her. Still, Rue looks up in hopes of getting some sense of approval from someone now that Ghost isn’t around to offer it.
“You sure you’re all right?”
Rue nods, though she struggles to suppress fears that Priti is only going to lead her further astray than she already is. She struggles not to curl up on the chair, again. Chair-curling is good. It is compact. Safe. Rue sort of knows the room now. It is small, with only Priti and herself in it. Whoever else was present earlier has left. Rue can hear humming coming from another room. Nothing and no one has tried to eat her yet. Nor hurt her. People have touched her, but only because she’d been… unable to breathe and were trying to help.
“Come on, then.” Priti holds out her hand. Tentatively, Rue takes it and is pulled to her feet. She is swaying from the speed of it and the softness of Priti’s skin. They are both unexpected. She’s always expected calluses, roughness, something to show that Priti is indeed working class. Her hands are bigger than Rue’s, both of them enclosing the one Rue offered with their tawny softness. Rue shivers and almost pulls away. Priti could trap her so easily with that strength. But Rue has given her hand out of her own volition and so she makes herself stand still. She doesn’t tremble. Steady breaths. Nothing to make her look stupid. Nothing to fear.
And there isn’t. There is nothing to fear, except a toothy, lopsided grin and a sparkle in those deep, green eyes that make a smile tug at Rue’s mouth. She can feel it forming. Priti lets go of her hand and leads her out the door.
After the darkened room, the light outside is blinding. Rue freezes on the threshold, absently stroking the hand Priti had been holding. It doesn’t feel any different. She remembers to close the door behind her and follows. It takes the other girl a few moments to realise that Rue is walking much more slowly.
Rue catches up quickly once Priti has stopped. When Priti starts walking again, she slows her pace. Though Rue has tried to hurry hers, her feet burn with every step she takes and the boots are definitely the worst and most uncomfortable shoes she’s ever worn.
“How do people walk in these?” she asks no one in particular. She seems to have spoken too softly for Priti to hear, for which she is grateful. She doesn’t know what Priti thinks of her, but Rue doesn’t want the other girl to think that she’s like everyone else at school: spoilt, pompous and horrible. Priti seems nice. Genuine. It confuses Rue. Hands tucked into her pockets, Priti is humming to herself softly. It’s a tune Rue doesn’t know and she cannot figure out whether the humming is a good thing or a bad thing. Humming is usually bad in the stories.
Eventually, Rue remembers her etiquette lessons and her manners. “Thank you. For, for taking me home.” Her voice wavers. She has no idea if Priti is actually taking her home. For all she knows, Priti is leading her in a circle, making fun of her to have stories to share at the Academy next year. Or maybe they’re planning on holding her ransom in some other location and they think she’s gullible enough to just walk into it. Perhaps Priti is leading her to some secluded park and –
It takes Rue a few moments to realise Priti has said something, and longer for the words and the amusement to register. “You looked like a lost puppy,” Priti says.
“You have puppies?” Rue is so shocked she stumbles over a piece of rock littering the street. Or her own feet. Or the boots. She doesn’t know. Ghost would have known. Her friend isn’t there. Only Priti is.
“I’ve only ever seen pictures.” Priti shrugs. “It’s just an expression.”
“A remnant from the glory days of the past.” Some of their teachers are incredibly fond of saying such. Up until this moment, Rue has never felt like she’s understood what that means. “You’ve never seen a puppy?”
“In pictures.”
It is, perhaps, a small miracle that Rue doesn’t trip with the shock of it. Ghost would have been applauding her. “That doesn’t count! There was that excursion we had to the planet to study terraforming last yea–”
“I don’t go on the excursions.”
Priti’s tone makes Rue freeze in her tracks and flinch. It attracts attention from several other people on the street, but they soon move on. Rue wants to fade away, for so many reasons. “I’m sorry.” Ghost would undoubtedly tell her that it’s the wrong thing to say, tell her what she should be saying, but Ghost isn’t here. Rue has no idea how to make the taller girl slow back down and stop taking strides so large it takes Rue three hurried steps of her own. “Wait!” she cries, but Priti doesn’t. The other girl keeps walking at the same pace, leaving Rue to stumble after as best she can.
13
RUE DOESN’T KNOW how much time has passed before Priti slows down again. It can’t have been very long; the UV-shielding has barely changed, but it feels like forever and the stitches in her side are back and her feet hurt and her breath is coming in short gasps from trying to keep up. She doesn’t know where they are. Nothing around her looks familiar and she’s almost crying with fatigue.
“Just a little further,” Priti says. Before long, she leads Rue through a gate and into a park. It’s a bare place. No synth-trees, no ornate benches. Just a few swings and some blocks and drab grey walls surrounding them on three sides. The playground is deserted. It looks cleaner than Rue would have expected, though one of the blocks has white stuff all over it and Rue has to walk even further to sit down.
The seat is rough and chafes her skin even through her clothes. Rue bends over and rests her head between her knees. She’s tired and hungry and lost and no one save Mrs Krombel has ever been so close to her as Priti is right now. Priti is sitting beside her, the block just big enough for their bodies not to touch and Rue isn’t sure if she likes having Priti so close, having someone in her personal space. Ghost doesn’t count.
Her friend… The sense of her friend is stronger here, but it is still only faint and Rue whimpers a little. Her feet feel like someone decided to roast them above a fire. Possibly. She’s only ever read about fires and seen them on digicasts.
“I’m sorry,” Rue tries again, though she isn’t quite sure what she’s done that she needs to be sorry for. Saying the wrong thing, clearly, because it was all she can think of. Amaranth would have known what to say, how to soothe hearts. Ghost would have had some ideas where she’d gone wrong. But Rue is only Rue. She doesn’t know either of those things. She can feel her friend, so faintly, but it is little consolation.
Priti has said nothing yet, so Rue tries again. “I thought everyone went on the excursions. I love them.” She falls silent, feeling that, for her, this is a masterful speech. She’s come up with it herself in just a few moments. It’s true too. Rue tries to take pride in that, but she still can’t make herself look up. She can only stare down at the worn and scuffed-up boots Priti has no obligation to lend her. Almost, Rue can hear the voice of her mother scolding her for not having better words, for filling it with whatever the other person might want to hear and despairing over ‘what they’re teaching those girls at that academy’. The despair is playing in the back of her mind, behind the tension, because there is no one there to drown it out. No one but Priti who i
s sitting far too close. Rue scoots to the edge of the block, in case she needs to run.
“We can’t afford them.” There’s venom in that. Rue bites her tongue to keep from apologising again. Priti sounds like she might just leave her there for that. Rue isn’t sure whether she wouldn’t deserve it. “It gives me a break, though.”
“From what?” Rue asks, though she regrets it immediately. She’s pretty sure that she already knows the answer.
“Everyone.”
Though her hands try to dig into the plascrete block and she doesn’t manage to lift her head properly, Rue looks over. There is nothing about Priti that screams ‘boy’ to her, but she doesn’t know if it’s polite to say so. Probably not. Perhaps Priti is taller than the average girl, her hands a little bigger and her boobs are a bit flatter than is fashionable for reasons Rue has never understood. Did she really just refer to breasts that way? Rue hunches in on herself, wishing the station would swallow her whole and spit out nothing but her bones. Even though Priti doesn’t appear to have noticed how mortified Rue is. The other girl is staring straight ahead at the creaky swing.
Softly, Rue says, “They put snakes in my bed.”
“I hate them.”
“Me too.” Rue’s voice is even less than a whisper. She has never admitted it to anyone, not even to her only friend. She’s sure Ghost knows, but she has never, ever, had the courage to admit it, not to anyone. Priti just made her say it. Somehow. Surely it is Priti who made Rue admit it, in this plascrete stone playground while her whole body aches and burns and her head is pounding. When did her head start pounding?
Priti is about to say something when a couple walks past them. Rue hastily bends down to fiddle with the laces on her boots and let her hair obscure her face. She really hopes it works. It works in stories. Sometimes. When she’s sure the people have passed and she straightens up, a few small children have appeared from nowhere. Rue hasn’t heard them approach, but they seem to have no interest in her or Priti. They just head for the swings and the rock wall. Within moments, noise has entered the courtyard. Rue shifts further from Priti, as far as she can without falling off the block. The other girl moves to create more distance too. Rue doesn’t know why, but even so she hopes Priti can sense the gratitude for the gesture. It doesn’t help much, but it helps.
After a while, Priti asks, “Why were you there? At the store. Why were you there?”
“I…” Rue stumbles to halt. She hasn’t thought about what to say in a case like this. Hasn’t even thought anyone would ever ask her what she was doing at a store. She has no clue what to say and there is no one around to whisper glib responses she can use into her ear. The other girl is looking at her without… anything. Calmly. Like she’d give Rue whatever time she needs to answer. It’s bewildering. No one has ever given Rue any time to think about what she wants to say. Not that Rue can remember, not while also making her feel that taking her time was all right, acceptable.
The children are just a buzz of noise now. Rue has experience tuning that out, but it still makes her uneasy. What if the children are talking about her, will talk about her? What if someone from society hears about it? Rue doesn’t mind the social repercussions beyond the way her mother would take the news. Amaranth might just disown her, only child or not. Priti just sits there, waiting. She’s asked a question. It behoves Rue to answer. “I was walking. I got lost.”
Even though Rue hasn’t lied, she can tell from Priti’s face that the other girl knows Rue isn’t telling her everything. Everything isn’t important. Not in the answer. Rue can’t tell the other girl the whole truth. Priti would turn out to be just like Libby and her limpets at the Academy. She’d use what she’s learned about Rue to ingratiate herself with them. Even if Rue lies, it won’t matter. All that matters is that Priti will tell them something they can use to hurt Rue worse than they can hurt Priti. She hasn’t. Rue isn’t sure that she would, but it isn’t a chance she’s willing to take.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Priti gets up. “But it’ll be evening soon. Where do you live?”
Rue opens her mouth to answer, then realises she doesn’t actually know. She’s never needed to know locations before. The family drivers have always taken her from one place to another before and she’s never left the house without at least one of them. “I don’t know,” she whispers.
“You don’t know?” Priti sounds incredulous, and perhaps a little exasperated. The children stop playing to watch them both and Rue, cringing, bolts to the street. Several paces in she’s hurting all over and she’s picking herself up off the ground, grimacing because she’s scraped her hands and knees. Mrs Krombel and her mother are going to kill her when she gets home. If she gets home. Rue tells herself not to cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
She’s crying. Priti is right there beside her and the children are ignoring them again. Priti offers no help, but Rue is glad of that. She does not need coddling. (Or perhaps she does, she thinks as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, and just doesn’t want to need it.) “Do you remember anything else about where you live?” Priti asks and she starts rattling off suggestions that mean nothing at all to Rue.
When she’s sniffed herself out and she can finally get a word in edgewise without it becoming a sob, Rue says, “There’s a big park. With true grass and trees and a pond. I can get home from there.” She thinks.
“A big park.” Priti sighs and repeats Rue’s description. “Do you know what it’s called?”
“Um…” It was on the entrance sign, Rue knows. In big, flowery Old Earth style letters with swirls and drawings all around it. “Nakamura Park?” Her voice wavers because she isn’t sure and the way Priti is frowning and digging her hands in her pockets doesn’t fill Rue with much hope. But then Priti smiles.
“That’s easy to get to from here.”
Rue has no idea. “Hurray?”
14
PRITI IS LAUGHING. Rue isn’t sure what about her response is funny, but Priti has a deep, rumbling laugh that edges into bubbling and it makes Rue laugh too. It feels good to laugh. Maybe she won’t be forced to sleep outside all night or be fetched by some of the servants and face Amaranth and her father. Priti hooks her arm around Rue’s and steers her back onto the street. It’s too close, far too close, and Rue doesn’t know how fast she can pull her arm free. It’s stifled Priti’s giggles and Rue can’t help but feel bad. She hasn’t meant to hurt Priti’s feelings. Ghost would know how to explain that. Rue, uncertain, says nothing. Just follows Priti as they walk.
“Why are there no people?” she asks. She’s seen a few children playing now, but no one else. Lower class streets like the one she’s on are always bustling in the stories Rue’s seen and read. Her own area of the station-city is always almost-deserted in stories. No one travels anywhere on foot anymore. No one leaves without a large group intent on gossiping or playing games. Lower class people are supposed to go everywhere on foot, to do nothing but wander the streets to wait on a stray lady’s whims.
“Are you listening, Rue? I said they’re working. That’s why the street is so empty.”
Rue is startled. “Oh.” Priti doesn’t seem angry, but she should be. It’s in the words themselves. Her tone is gentle, though. When Rue speaks again, they’re passing by a closed-up sweets shop. “I want to work when I’m done with school.”
It’s enough to make Priti stop dead in her tracks. Rue almost bumps into her. Not sure what she’s done wrong, she walks around to face Priti. The other girl is looking at her like she’s… Rue doesn’t know. Perhaps like she’s just sprouted wings or Ghost has materialised beside her and Priti can see her friend too. “What is it?”
“You want to work? You want to work? To work?”
Rue nods. She does. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say. She’s not sure. She watches Priti shake herself, brush her hair from her face and start moving again. The other girl is walking briskly for a while, then slows again. Does that
mean Rue didn’t say anything wrong after all? She has no idea, but she’s never had anyone except Ghost to discuss her plans for the future with. Not safely and she… Maybe she trusts Priti because as they walk she’s telling the other girl all about her wishes and plans. It turns out that Priti is a good listener and is perhaps interested in similar things. She’s a different listener to Ghost as well. Rue’s friend tends to be quiet, but Priti asks question after question and sounds enthusiastic about Rue’s daydreaming.
By the time they find themselves at the edge of the park, Rue is floundering. She’s never talked so much in her life. The UV-shields have begun to rotate towards night and it’s dark enough for the street lights to be lit. It’s with extreme difficulty that Rue convinces Priti to come into the park itself. Just for a little bit, just to see the flowers. Just so they don’t have to say goodnight just yet. Rue cannot recall having so much fun with someone who has an actual body before in her life. It feels surprisingly good.
“Maybe…” she tries, and her voice is nothing but a soft croak because she’s been talking and walking for an eternity. Rue clears her throat and tries again. “Maybe we should exchange social details? Chat. Hang out.” She’s never had a friend other than Ghost before. She hopes she’s asking it right.
Of course, Rue can’t chat or hang out at the moment. Not while Ghost is still in trouble and possibly even in danger, but once Rue has sorted that (somehow) she’d like to try and be friends with Priti. Even though the thought makes her heart want to bash its way into her throat and her stomach twists to the point of nausea. Rue doesn’t even know what she’s so afraid of. She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her tracksuit so she can wipe them dry without Priti noticing. Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked. Perhaps Priti will laugh at her for thinking they could be friends. Libby and the limpets did, the first time Rue came to the Academy.
Courage Is the Price Page 5