“Don’t,” he warned. “You’re going to spill it.” I instantly let go, backing off. “What does it matter anyway?”
I couldn’t fault his logic. Bardzecki thought it was gone for good, and I didn’t care what Ram and Mar thought since they’d stolen it. “Well, isn’t it some sort of drug?” I hedged.
“Birdbane is a lot of things,” Swan said. I saw him move and heard the crinkle of paper as Stew handed him the envelope. “They’ve been working with it on Earth and are continuing to find new uses. It has numerous medicinal properties, and yes, it can be a dangerous drug depending how you take it. But breaking down the leaves and ingesting them will only give you a bit of energy, a mild stimulant. No paranoia, delirium or vomiting, so don’t worry.”
“Are those the more serious side effects?” I asked as he shoved the envelope into my hands.
“Only if you smoke, snort or inject a more concentrated dose.”
That did nothing to reassure me. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Fine,” he said simply, taking the envelope from my hands.
“Are you sure?” Stew asked. “I feel it already, and I completely understand why Bardzecki is so hung up on it.” He took the envelope from Swan and shoved it at me. “You probably won’t get another chance, the Earthen representatives hoard the stuff.”
I was sort of curious, but I didn’t really trust them. “What’s the catch?”
Swan snorted.
“Catch?” Stew asked.
“She thinks it’s a trick,” Swan explained. He was more adept with people, and didn’t struggle to interact the way Stew sometimes did.
As if to prove my point, Stew fumbled in the dark until he found my hand, lifting it up and into his mouth.
“Ack!” I cried, trying to pull away.
He held on. “Shee you can pheel it in my mouph,” he mumbled around my fingers. “It’ch not a twick.”
“Fine! I’ll try it, just let go!” I yelled. He released my wrist and I immediately began scrubbing my hand against my trousers, trying to wipe off his spit. “Gross,” I muttered.
“Go on then,” Stew urged. “You said you’d try it.”
“Fine,” I said, having reached the end of my rope. I licked my thumb like I’d seen Bardzecki do that first day in his office, then jabbed it into the envelope and stuffed it under my tongue.
“Uh... I can’t see real well, but I think you might have overdone it,” Swan said. They’d both gone quiet.
“What! Pth, Pthh.” I tried spitting it off my tongue. “You said mild stimulant! Mild!”
“Calm down, it isn’t going to kill you,” Swan assured. “You’ll just feel the effects a bit stronger is all.”
Just then things began to spin, my head turning circles and lifting up, bobbing above my shoulders. I’d never felt like this before. It was amazing. I could do anything. But all I could manage to say was, “Wow.”
Distantly I heard Swan and Stew laughing, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if this was a trick. Just then I wouldn’t have even cared if Bardzecki appeared, catching me at the dunes, his birdbane still fizzling away under my tongue.
Someone was pulling me up. An arm dropped over my shoulder, another slung around my waist, steering me along, guiding me. I shook my head trying to pay attention to what they were saying, but could only focus on bits and pieces.
“—acting weird.”
“—too much.”
“—alright?”
“—just the euphoria, it’ll wear off.”
But when Stew said, “Let’s go to the party,” I heard him quite clearly, and I agreed wholeheartedly.
A party sounded perfect.
Chapter 21
Scraggy bushes grew along the valley, surviving off whatever water rolled down from the dunes. Some had long needle-like thorns, while others had burrs, pesky, pointed balls that caught our clothing and refused to let go. I was too relaxed to care, and made a minimal effort to avoid the vegetation. Swan and Stew were running the show and I just let them drag me along.
I could see the fire roaring from a distance, sparks shooting up into the sky. The dry scrub had been ripped up and the soldiers were feeding it to the fire. I counted fourteen. They seemed to be having a good time, laughing as they passed something between them. “What’s that?” I asked as we moved closer.
“Moonshine,” Stew answered.
“Where did they get it?”
“The first batch was left over from the previous year’s soldiers. Ram has an older brother who told him about it, so he and Mar snuck out to dig it up at the beginning of camp.”
“Now there’s a rule though. If you drink it, you replace it. So the soldiers steal apple juice from the kitchens before they come, then seal the bottles and bury them for later,” Stew told me.
“Come on,” Swan said, “almost there. And then you can try it for yourself.”
I had no intention of trying moonshine. The birdbane was enough. Swan had been right, the euphoria had dissipated during the walk over, but I still felt energized and clearheaded. Something inside of me was being suppressed though, because I’d never felt this sure of myself, this invincible. Like I could do anything.
Stew stopped suddenly just mere feet from the gathering. His arm around my waist, it was pulling me back. “Gridleigh’s here,” he whispered. They both let go of me then, not wanting to tip off our company that I was, well, me.
“Maybe we should go back to camp,” I suggested, though I couldn’t seem to muster up much concern. The birdbane made everything feel unreal, as if it was happening to someone else.
“It’s too late. They’ve already seen us,” Swan said. Then added, “Pull down your hood.”
I complied, surreptitiously tugging the canvas down past my eyes.
“Good thing you made her bring an extra jacket or her chest might have given her away,” Stew observed.
“Hey!”
“Shh,” Swan said, shushing me as we walked up to the fire. “No more talking.”
They were instantly hailed by a bevy of voices. One called out, “Well if it isn’t the two troublemakers.”
Another asking, “Who’s under the hood? Who did you bring with you?”
Swan ignored the last question by saying, “You’re only considered a troublemaker if you get caught.”
The soldiers laughed at his quip, drunk and easily entertained. They all seemed eager to have a good time, welcoming Swan and Stew among them.
“You think you’re so clever,” Gridleigh called from across the fire, his belligerent voice breaking the merry mood. He was sprawled out lazily, nursing a ceramic jug to his chest as he glared up at us.
“I suppose that’s a matter of opinion, and depends on my audience. I am, however, irrefutably intelligent, something which can be tested and measured,” Swan answered.
I thought: Oh jeez, here we go... Swan couldn’t let anything go, he just had to pick and pick.
Gridleigh sat forward as if on cue, spurred into action by Swan’s sarcasm. “You like to talk a lot don’t you? Got a real smart mouth. But we’ll see how well your confidence holds up after trials. You think your group of misfits will stand a chance?” He laughed while the other soldiers shifted uneasily. “Let’s see,” Gridleigh continued, slurring as he ticked off a list with his fingers. “There’s the fat one, the giant black one, the alien, the short guy, that bug-eyed, wormy one, oh, yeah, and your newest member, a girl!”
“You really hit the highlights there,” Swan answered calmly, making a list of his own. “First you mentioned the best wrestler at camp, then the strongest soldier. Truthfully, I don’t see how having a Shetheerie will hurt our chances. Or Lee for that matter—he’s unbeatable at hand to hand combat. And while I agree, Pumphrey’s face is unfortunate, it doesn’t prevent him from being the best marksman. So all in all, I’m not too worried. But that’s what infuriates you, isn’t it?” he chal
lenged. “You have your matched set of muscle-bound soldiers, and yet your fiercest competition is a bunch of ‘mismatched freaks.’ Isn’t that what you’re always calling us? Well I hate to break it to you, Gridleigh, but you’re not our competition.”
The jug was thrust aside as Gridleigh lurched to his feet, face flushed and eyes glassy. Demanding, “You don’t think so?” while stalking forward.
Great. Swanson had managed to turn a party into a fight. And he and Stew just stood there, wearing faint smiles while waiting for the chaos to ensue. They spoke a language unto themselves, for which I would never understand.
Gridleigh bent down as he launched himself at Swan, catching him in the gut with his shoulder and bowling them both over. Sand flew everywhere as they rolled back and forth, grunting and grappling.
I backed away, trying to escape the melee as soldiers rushed forward, shouldering one another to get a good view. Swan and Stew were swallowed up amongst them for a few minutes until a soldier was thrown out, parting the crowd like a scythe. I scrambled to get out of the way but he flew right into me, taking me to the ground in a heap of mingled limbs.
Swan appeared, standing in the place where he’d just tossed Gridleigh from, knuckles dripping blood. I think he meant to help me, but just then a voice rang out above the din.
“Swanson!” Winslow bellowed.
Swan jerked around. He wore the closest expression to nervous I’d ever seen on his face. I was instantly forgotten as he slunk off to face our first.
That was when I realized I was still in a jumble with Gridleigh, and what was worse, my hood had come off. He was staring at me, mouth twisted, chin set. It was dark, the fire had died down a bit, and the soldiers were blocking it from sight. I hoped that the shadows would hide me as I scooted away, jerking the canvas back into place as I went. But it was too late.
“You,” he hissed, grabbing for me.
I scrabbled up the sandy incline, but he hauled me down, dragging me further from the others.
“Don’t,” I said breathlessly. “What can you possibly hope to accomplish?”
“You chose him. She always chooses him,” he muttered, and I wasn’t sure he was talking to me. But then he said more forcefully, “But I can change your mind.”
I had no idea what he meant, and I didn’t care to find out. I could smell the fermented juice on his breath, rancid and sour, impressing the fact that he was more unpredictable than usual. I wasn’t sure what he’d do. But I knew what to do. I sucked in a breath and then screamed. The sound was so loud, so piercing, I surprised even myself. I didn’t scream for help. I didn’t even scream for Winslow, Swan or Stew. I didn’t have to. There was only one girl at camp, and everyone knew it was me.
Gridleigh, who’d been petting my loose hair, shoved me away. “Bitch,” he hissed.
“What are you doing?” Winslow questioned, coming to stand behind me.
“Well, well,” Gridleigh said, swaying as he pushed himself upright, “if it isn’t First Winslow. I thought you were too good for the dunes,” he sneered.
“No,” Winslow countered, “I like the dunes just fine. But I like setting a good example for my format more.”
“Yes, always hurrying to do the right thing, aren’t you, cousin?” He spit the word cousin like it was dirty.
“I don’t enjoy harassing young women if that’s what you mean,” he admitted, pulling me to my feet. “This is becoming something of a habit for you, isn’t it Gridleigh?”
Gridleigh didn’t say anything for a moment, affecting calm disinterest as he brushed the sand from his trousers. But then he glared, “We’ll see,” he said, “we’ll see.”
I watched him walk past, heading for the fire as he rejoined the crowd. And then I glanced at Winslow, finding thunder in his eyes. For the first time that night I was actually scared.
* * *
The wind was capricious as we walked back to camp, calm one moment, frenzied the next. The clouds were gathering in preparation for the coming storm, and I could relate. Winslow didn’t say a word until we were almost back at camp, my shed in sight. “Go back to the hut,” he instructed Swan and Stew. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”
They obeyed, slinking off without even a glance in my direction. So much for solidarity.
Winslow followed me inside the shed, leaving the door open so the light would stream in. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered. “All of it.”
I didn’t hesitate. I told him everything.
“I’m surprised you tried the birdbane,” he said when I had finished.
“I’ll never see the dunes again when I leave this place, and if I happen to come across a sprig of birdbane growing up from the ground, I’d never know it. They don’t tell us what it looks like. Things in the farming sector are sheltered,” I sighed. “Dunes. Birdbane. These are new things for me, things I don’t want to take for granted. I just wanted to... to try something, experience something, anything, while I still had the chance.” I couldn’t seem to stop talking, admitting the thoughts I never dreamed I’d speak of. It was the birdbane. My inhibitions were gone, the words free to spill over.
Winslow moved across the shed, his boots, thunk thunking as he came closer. I was sitting on my bed, and he didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of me, my knees brushing his shins. Leaning down, he placed something into my open palm. I touched it lightly, hardly believing it was real.
My mirror.
“I asked Bardzecki for it on your last day in the hole. He gave it to me this evening.”
“Oh.”
“Frost, you really need to start confiding in me. I can save you from a lot of trouble, but only if you trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about going to the dunes?”
“You’re intimidating,” I admitted.
“Not much I can do about that,” he sighed, sitting down beside me.
“There is.” He gave me his full attention then, waiting. “Tell me something, something personal,” I urged.
“That won’t change anything. I’m close with our mates, but I manage to intimidate them just fine. I can do both.”
“I want to know anyway,” I pressed. “Why didn’t you tell me Gridleigh was your cousin?”
“It’s not a secret, everyone knows. And I’m not ashamed of the fact. I’m not even ashamed of him, though he should probably be ashamed of himself, it’s just...”
I was afraid he’d stop talking, so I hurried to needle him. “When he was trying to pull me away, he said ‘she always chooses him,’ and then later you said he made a habit of harassing young women. Who were you talking about?” Mave had already told me about Samona, but I wanted to hear if from Winslow.
“There’s a girl...” he trailed off. “You know,” he said, huffing out a breath, “it doesn’t even matter. Gridleigh will never be satisfied. Something was taken from him at an early age, and instead of accepting that bad things happen for no good reason, he just keeps... waiting, thinking that he deserves more than everyone else to make up for it.”
“Trials, you mean? He thinks he deserves to win?”
Winslow nodded.
“Are you afraid of losing?” I asked.
“No,” he said sincerely. “I’ll be satisfied if everyone does their best. Living up to our own potential is much harder than winning.”
“I’m going to make you lose,” I whispered. I knew he was serious, that he only wanted his format to do their best, but I also knew that before I’d arrived, they’d had a serious shot at winning. Everyone at camp said so.
“Hey,” he said on a breath, almost inaudibly. Gently, he pulled my hood back, his hand engulfing my neck, turning me so I’d look at him. Freed, my hair spilled down my back, framing my face. He touched it with his other hand, sliding his fingers over a strand.
I was intensely attracted to him, likin
g his face, his shape, his voice, and even his attitude. Especially his attitude. I admired his strength, his ideals. It felt natural to lean forward, resting against him, my face grazing his shoulder. He pressed closer too; our bodies cinched together. I waited, knowing he was going to kiss me, feeling his face nuzzle closer, moving my hair aside.
Laughter rang out, boisterous and grating. I knew instantly that the other soldiers were making their way back from the dunes; they’d have to pass my shed to reach their huts. Winslow knew it too, because he pulled away, jerking back as if burned.
“I’m your first,” he said. “You will respect that, and so will I.” He left without another word, the flimsy door clattering shut behind him, leaving me alone in the dark.
Well I had said that I admired his ideals, and apparently they didn’t include me.
Chapter 22
I wish I could cease to be. I wish I could undo time. I wish I could forget...
I woke up this morning, rising early to shower and dress before the others, and then it all came back to me. The birdbane—that insidious plant which gave me the power to speak my mind while snuffing out the warning apprehension of when to shut up.
Winslow. He gave me my mirror back, even after all the trouble I caused trying to get it for myself. He just handed it to me. But it’s what happened after that, the talking, the touching. Those are the moments I want to erase and forget. I’m embarrassed by the way I acted. And if I had to choose one moment in particular that made me wish to be swallowed up by the sand, it was the moment when Winslow regained his senses and walked out. I thought I was numb to rejection... I guess not.
How was I going to face him? I knew how—we were both going to pretend it never happened. That felt more real than the truth anyway.
And that wasn’t my only problem. Gridleigh had been at the dunes! How could I have been so dismissive of that fact? I’d hardly given it a second thought, even when he was dragging me off to... to what? I don’t want to think about that. I can’t think about that. I have to be more careful.
Today will be difficult. I’m just going to stop thinking about Winslow, put him from my mind. And steer clear of Gridleigh, mustn’t forget that.
* * *
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