Caste (The Corporation)

by RaeLynn Fry

  I can’t help but smile. “But you’re not excited or anything, right?”

  “I’m SO excited!” He springs from his chair and bounces around downstairs.

  “What do you hope you’ll get?” Even though I know the truth—that the Corporation decides everything—Ajna still thinks it’s destiny.

  “I wanna work in the Lumber Mill like Papa. Or the Steel Mill with Kerick!” He’s on his second bouncing lap through the kitchen.

  “Maybe you’ll work in the factory with me.” He stops his movement long enough to stick his tongue out. “Yuck.” He turns and races towards the stairs. “Ready Papa?” he shouts.

  I roll my eyes, slip on my sweater, and grab a few masks, waiting for Papa to join us. “Put this on,” I say, handing one over to Ajna.

  “What’s taking him so long?” he whines, snapping the elastic bands behind his ears. Finally, Papa climbs down the stairs. Ajna darts to his side and grabs his hand, trying his best to tug him towards the door. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

  “We’ll be fine, son,” Papa says, smiling.

  I hand him a mask as well. “I’m so glad this is only going to last through the end of the night.”

  “You hope,” Papa says with a wink. “Where’s Ethan?”

  “Helping Eta. He’ll meet us there.”

  Ajna moves to Papa’s back, head down, pushing us both over the threshold and out into the night. “Hurryhurryhurry!” He’s trying to run, but Papa’s a good size, so it ends up looking like my little brother’s running in place.

  Papa’s rumble of a laugh is contagious. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”

  Ajna takes both our hands and starts pulling us through the streets.

  ७

  As soon as we’re at the Jatis, Ajna breaks free and surges into the crowd to line up with the rest of the Candidates. Journey, Dhevan, and Ethan are waiting for me near the stage. Papa leaves to find Eta and Déjà.

  “Ajna’s driving me insane,” I say when I find my friends.

  Journey lets out her bubbly laugh. “It only gets worse.”

  Ethan slips his arm around my waist and kisses me on the cheek. “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says.

  And it’s true. I wouldn’t.

  A familiar hush settles over the gathered crowd as the black carriage of the Artist approaches. Axiom and Maxim toss their heads as the driver pulls the coach to a stop. The door opens, and out steps the Artist. His vest is a deep, sharp pink this time. He reaches back inside the carriage and pulls out his black bag, then climbs the stairs silently, eyes trained to some point off in the distance. I don’t know why I’m so nervous for my brother.

  We all watch as he meticulously arranges his tools on the small table. Before sitting, he faces the crowd, his eyes searching.

  “What’s he doing?” Ethan whispers in my ear.

  I start to say something, when the Artist’s eyes settle on mine. Every muscle in my body clenches. He smiles and dips his head slightly before returning to his table.

  Seik climbs the stairs to address the crowd. I’m trying to get the Artist’s attention, but he won’t look at me again.

  “Here we are,” Seik says, “at another Jatis. Where we get to celebrate with a new group of Candidates. The excitement of the night is thick, I can taste it. So I won’t make you wait any longer.”

  I scan the line of Candidates as Seik calls out the first name. I don’t hear who it is. I spy Ajna and offer him a wave. He gives me a large toothless grin in exchange. He’s the last one in line.

  It feels like forever as Candidates file past the Artist. Finally, it’s my brother’s turn. He puts on a brave face as he crosses the stage, sitting in the chair. His arm drops onto the table, and he stares straight ahead.

  The Artist snaps a new cartridge into place and doesn’t waste any time before starting his work. My brother doesn’t even flinch. I’m so proud of him.

  “Another Lumberjack in the family,” I say out the side of my mouth. Ethan smiles, but he looks distracted, worried.

  When Ajna’s Mark is complete, the Artist wipes off the surface of his skin with the liquid in the bowl. I watch my brother’s face. His eyes grow wide as he looks at the transformation taking place on his arm. A slow smile lifts his pudgy cheeks. Then, his brow furrows in confusion, his shoulders dropping. He looks at the Artist and sticks out his wrist.

  The Artist examines it. He stands, ushering Ajna to his side. The Artist’s eyes come straight to mine, a devilish grin lifting the corners of his mouth. Ethan’s fingers dig into my shoulder.

  “It looks,” the Artist says, “as if this Jatis has given us a Sponsor.”

  “No!” I scream, but it’s lost in the cacophony of applause that erupts from all of Neech.

  Akin Hughes has made his play.

  Acknowledgements

  Everybody says this, but it couldn’t be truer—there are so many people to thank for making this possible. So here are mine, in no particular order (except for the first two).

  God for giving me the talent and perseverance to get through this whole process and for his Son and His sacrifice and love. For my AMAZING hubby, Josh, whose love and patience is never ending and who put up with my wild dreams of being a published author “someday”. I love you, you are my other half and an amazing man.

  For my amazing momma, Julie, who gave up so much to raise twin girls on her own late in life, and did her darndest to make sure we had even more. For her love and encouragement and believing I could rearrange the stars. For my twin, Rebekah, for being the best sister possible and putting up with reading my early stuff—including those scenes that made her doubt our blood relation and my mental stability.

  For my dear friend and fellow shoe-obsessed aficionado, Naomi LeBlanc, who, when I first told her I wanted to write a book said, “Go for it!” and loved everything I put in front of her, regardless of quality. For my good friend, Kate, who read the very first draft of my very first novel and still had a smile on her face and is still speaking to me today (that says something about her character).

  For Emily Anglen, who I will always think of as my First Fan (since she liked my stuff and wasn’t obligated to). Who was awesome to Irish dance with and has one of the best personalities in the existence of the universe.

  For my friend Michelle Jensen, who enthusiastically gave Karis, Ethan, and their story her support and gave me her encouragement (She also offered up amazing reading suggestions—and is half the reason my TBR pile is so stinking huge). A special big thanks for sporting yoga pants and running shoes to see midnight premiers of awesome (and not-so-awesome) movies.

  For Tiff and all of her amazing awesomeness (who is obviously my other twin, separated at birth) and who is responsible for the other half of my TBR pile. For giving me honest constructive feedback and being super excited when I told her I was going to publish Caste and just being an amazing overall person and friend. For introducing me to quality, time-sucking humor, the best of which are: “EVERYBODY’S GETTING A HUMPBACK WHALE! You get a Humpback whale, and you get a Humpback whale!”, “In the meantime we’re just circling, burning this vague amount of fuel; we could stop being an airplane at any second.”, “Why isn’t this purple?”, and, the original, “At least I didn’t kill a cat”. Peace, cuz it’s hard being as awesome as us.

  For Laney Nash, who was a great source for the medical issues in Karis’ story and idea-bouncer-off-er and enthusiastically told me how much she loved it (that is still one of the best brunches I’ve had). For the ability of having philosophical-esque conversations about YA books and characters and still feel totally normal afterwards.

  For the original Taxi Cab Crew + 1; you guys are awesome beyond words. If it weren’t for the friendships made that rainy night on our way to dinner, in a shared cab, our lives wouldn’t be as rich, I’m sure. Slowly, but surely, our dreams are coming true. First Beth, then Dave, then Clint, now me. Madison,

  you’re next!

  For all
of my friends and family who just make my life that much more interesting and all around better—Abby, Caleb, Cindi, Colleen, Doug, Emily, Mary, Rachael, Sarah (aka Lemons), Shiz, and all my nieces and nephews for putting smiles on my face at all times (“My tummy says I can’t”). You guys never cease to amaze me.

  My original critique partner and fabulous writer, Madison Ulenhoff from The Crew. It’s always a treat to spend time with you, your sound advice and talent, and infectious smile.

  And last but not least, a HUGE thanks to Janice Hildreth—my writing mentor and precious friend, who gives me constant encouragement and has seemingly endless faith in me and my talent at every point, answering all my questions with sound advice, and to this day still believes I’ll be famous (probably because of the deal we made and the red handbag of mine she gets if I ever make it big).

  And to everyone else not specifically named—you know who you are—I love you and appreciate you and couldn’t have done any of this without you.

  Peace.

  A bout the Author

  With an unhealthy obsession of shoes and handbags and an unmatched love of the culinary side of life (it was once said, “If there’s food anywhere nearby, she’ll find it, and eat it.” A trait she’s proud of), RaeLynn enjoys everything about living in the great state of Idaho with her hubby and spastic Lab, Sassy. Except the cold. And the snow. And the extreme summer heat. And the fact that it isn’t more like Northern California/Washington/Oregon.

  Everything besides that is great.

  CASTE is her debut novel with several more on the way.

  Visit her blog at RaeLynnWrites!

  A SNEAK PEEK FOR...

  White City

  Coming 2014

  Chapter One

  Our dead uncle arrived on a Friday via certified mail.

  My twin brother Seth and I stared at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen table. Seth’s spoonful of cereal hovered in his open mouth. My book lay open, forgotten. A page slowly turned and fell to the other side. Seth's milk dripped onto the table.

  Another knock.

  Seth’s eyes darted in the direction of the door then back to me. I glued my gaze to his. Any indication of my own interest in the unexpected visitor and it’d be over.

  We’re fraternal twins, meaning we looked nothing alike, but our brains might as well be identical. Which is why I knew my brother had already mapped out the quickest route to the door--straight line out the kitchen, a tight hand grab on the doorway, followed by a full sprint down the hall.

  But I had the upper hand; I was nearest the exit. Seth would have to go around the kitchen table, giving me a good lead by the time he ever set foot in the hallway. I had a chance of winning this.

  Like a starting pistol to a race, the doorbell rang. Seth shifted his weight as I sprang into action, shooting off in the direction of the hall. Seth’s chair scraped against the kitchen floor as he propelled himself around the tight space in the kitchen. I threw her chair into Seth’s path to try and slow him down. Our sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor as we rounded the

  corner, sling-shoting ourselves into the hallway.

  Barreling down the narrow corridor, I zigzagged back and forth in the tight space, trying to eliminate any chance of my brother passing. The result was me bouncing back and forth between the stucco walls like a ball between two Pong paddles. But Seth's fast feet had made him the star wide receiver on the school football team.

  I faked left, which was a bad decision. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her brother spin and shift directions, tagging me in the shoulder. I slammed into the wall, the impact pounding the air from my lungs, as he thundered past. It was only a second, but my focus was lost, regained only in time to see Seth pull away, reaching the door first.

  The short burst of exertion left me doubled over with her hands on her knees, panting like a dog, feeling entirely pathetic. I really needed to work out more. “You cheated!” I mouthed with a stern glare, no air left to form the two simple words.

  Another, more forceful knock sounded.

  Seth stood straight, as if nothing had happened, and put on his show-stopping smile, and winked at me. And not just any wink. It was the nice-try-little-sis wink. He knew I hated that wink.

  I rolled her eyes and crossed my arms as Seth opened the door with finesse and a smile, purposefully blocking my view. I peeked through the crack between the hinges and the doorjamb. A girl a few years older than us--maybe nineteen--with stringy black hair and a pale complexion stood on the stoop with blank face. She wasn't cute, but that wouldn't matter to my brother.

  With an inward groan I watched Seth as he preened his mating plumage. Sliding his arm up the length of the door, he leaned his weight into his stance and pushed out his chest. Tossing his shaggy brown hair to the side he said, "Hello," in a deeper voice than he actually had.

  I dropped my head against the drywall with a dull thud and rolled her eyes again. This was exactly why every girl at school was in love with my brother.

  "Hello." I could hear the flirtatious smile in the girl's voice. "Is Channing De-Dem--"

  "Demetriou," my brother purred.

  I scoffed and started thinking about my abandoned book back in the kitchen.

  "Thank you," the girl said. I could picture the too sweet smile the girl probably wore. It came through loud and clear in her voice. "Is she home?"

  "No, she isn’t. But I’d be happy to help you with anything you need." The door creaked against its hinges as Seth gave it more of his weight.

  "Are you over 18?" she asked.

  Seth didn't miss a beat. “Of course."

  I kicked his foot in an attempt to jar the smile from his face. I glanced back at the girl from my hiding spot.

  "Good." Her smile was gone. It was all business now as she handed over a clipboard. "Would you mind signing here?"

  Seth penned his name without even looking. The girl handed him a sealed envelope and without another glance in his direction, jogged down the walkway and into a waiting car.

  "Well that wasn't any fun." Seth put extra force into closing the door.

  "You're not even close to 18!"

  He grinned and gave another wink. The you’re-such-a-simpleton wink. He knows I hate that one, too. "She thought I was."

  I trailed after Seth down the hall, talking to the back of his head. “Do you even know what you signed?”

  "Lexi," Seth mimicked in a high-pitched voice, "no, and I don't really care." He walked into the kitchen, tossing the package over his shoulder in my general direction.

  I scrambled forward and caught the envelope with the tips of my fingers. Barely. “Mom’s going to be so mad at you.”

  “Not when she finds out it was you who opened it.” Seth winked.

  His cocky confidence and that stupid gotcha wink bored their way under my skin. “You’re a liar," I blurted.

  “And?”

  “And...” I trailed off.

  “Don’t you wanna know what’s in the envelope?” Seth gave a devious grin, always up for getting into trouble.

  “No, I don’t.” I turned the cardboard envelope over in my hands.

  “Who’s the liar now?” He snatched the package and spun around, dashing to the far side of the island.

  “Seth, don’t!” I ran after him, arms outstretched. “What if it’s private and Mom doesn’t want us to know?”

  “Mom doesn’t have any secrets, Lex. She’s the most boring person on the planet.”

  “She's also the most creative with punishments.”

  Seth spun out of reach and jogged into the living room. A small tearing sound made its way into the kitchen where I waited, alternating between chewing on the corner of my fingernail and my bottom lip. There was no chance of getting in trouble if I were in an entirely different room, I reasoned. But curiosity got the best of me and I peaked around the doorway. Seth was pulling at the red plastic string that sealed whatever was inside.

  “Seth!” I couldn’t beli
eve he was going through with this. Well actually, I could. After all, I’d shared a womb with him. And I had to admit, I was as every bit as curious as Seth was. I blamed him.

  I stalked up behind him and put my hand on his shoulder, standing on my toes to try and see over his broad shoulders. But with Seth being five inches taller than her 5’6”

  frame, it was a near impossible feat. “I can’t see anything,” I said.

  “Then come around front, Lex. Sheesh.”

  Seth reached his slim fingers between the cardboard casings and pulled out a single sheet of paper, stiff enough to stand upright on its own. It was the color of eggshells with threads of tan and brown throughout. I couldn’t quite make out the writing through the paper’s thickness but could see a large watermark of Lady Justice with her weight and scales.

  Seth’s eyes darted back and forth across the page. “It doesn’t make any sense to me.” He thrust it in my direction. “You figure it out.”

  “No way.” I shook my head, tossing my red hair back and forth. “I’m not involved in this. When Mom blows her cap, it’s gonna be in your direction, not mine.” I folded her arms.

  “Too late. Guilty by association.” Seth smiled and pushed the paper further into my personal space. “Read it.”

  He was right. In our house, guilty by association was a common occurrence. Especially with Seth as a brother. “Give it here.” I snatched the paper away and looked at the cream-colored sheet, a gold seal at the top. Wilson, Wilson, & Wilson Law large, scrawling letters announced. I glanced at Seth who waited with eager eyes, nodding his encouragement. I cleared her throat. “Last Will and Testament of Titus Papadakis.”