by Lyn Forester
"Right through there, man." Archie points to an archway behind the table, and Felix rushes to the opening. Muffled thumps come from inside.
A moment later, he steps back out, a long purple carrot in his fist. He waves it in the air. "This is not a snack."
"It's what they give us." Archie raises his palms in front of his chest. "I have no control over it, don't even ask."
"What about cake? Or at least veggie chips? Maybe some Bell-E Up bars?" Felix sticks the top of the carrot in his mouth and snaps down, taking revenge on the vegetable through its destruction.
"There's cake," Archie soothes, but a glint in his eye gives away his amusement.
"Where?" Specks of carrot shoot out with the demand.
"On Sundays." Archie raises his hands high as Felix raises the carrot in the air, ready to throw.
"Tell me you're kidding." His arm drops as he stumbles to the table and leans against it. "I can't live without cake."
"Mom only let you have it once a month, bro." Connor's hands go to his hips. "Stop being dramatic."
"I'm gonna die here." Felix releases the chair to clutch at his stomach. "Carla always snuck me extras."
His arms drop in disbelief. "She did not."
"Sure she did. I'm her favorite."
I nudge Declan. "Who's Carla?"
"Their cook at home." He leans down to whisper in my ear, "She pretty much raised them."
Archie claps to regain our attention. "How about you guys take a seat while I get your welcome packages?"
He points at the table, and we move to join Felix at his end. As Archie strides through another archway past the reading chairs, Declan and I sit. I set my bag on the ground, half on my foot to remind me it's there. Connor pops into the snack room, returning a moment later, arms laden with clear jars and a carrot clamped between his teeth.
He sets the water down before he takes the seat next to his twin. "You know I was Carla's favorite. She always gave me the slices with extra frosting."
"That's because she snuck me extra pieces behind your back."
"Keep it down, you two." Declan leans over to nab two of the jars. He passes me one as the twins drop their voices to a whispered argument.
"Thank you." I peel off the plastic seal and take a grateful sip. The cool liquid slides down my throat, soothing. I gulp down half the jar, not realizing how thirsty I was until now. This morning, a tight knot of anxiety twisted my stomach. It kept me from touching the toast and berries delivered to my room. My assumption that beverages would be served in flight proved less than accurate.
Declan rolls his jar between calloused palms, then turns to gaze down at me. "So, did you get into trouble after the race?"
I freeze, glass pressed to my lips. My heart wobbles, then thuds in my chest as the memory of my broken disc-bike floods back to the surface. I haven't cried that hard since I turned five. The shame of losing control in front of Father and his utter disgust at my tears still keeps me up at night.
Controlled, I set down the jar and raise my brows at him. "Nothing too bad. What about you?"
"Yeah, my dad was pissed." He laughs with a shake of his head. "I think he would have paddled my ass if I weren't taller than him. He settled for locking me out of my accounts for three weeks."
"Must have been rough." I smile through the bitterness that claws at my throat.
"Did you have a hard time sneaking out after that?" At last, he peels off the seal on his water to take a sip. When he lowers it, his bright eyes fix on me. "You stopped coming to the races."
Shock thrums through me. "They wouldn't have let me come back."
His eyebrows pinch in the center as he frowns. "What are you talking about?"
"They don't allow kids from the top level to race in circuits. I tried a few years ago, but no one would take me. I had to change my racer name to compete."
"Was Skittle the first to let you in?"
"Yes," I draw out the word, not liking the smile that twitches on his lips. "She set up all my races."
"And then she pitted us against each other."
My eyes flick over to the twins, still hunched together arguing, then back to Declan. Wiggles of suspicion creep in. "Yes, she did."
"You know, I got a look at Ratchet when they scraped her off the asphalt." He drums his fingers against the table. "She's Master Blue's daughter."
"No shit." I slump in my chair. Leader of the Blue Halls of Justice, he'd be furious to find out his kid took part in illegal street racing on the lower levels.
"What I'm saying is Skittles filled her entire circuit with the children of Leton's leaders. That can't be a coincidence."
"That's why we always drew a huge crowd." I groan at the realization. "She probably sold tickets on top of our entry fee."
"Tickets?" Declan covers his mouth with his hand. "Sparks, she sold vids of all our races."
"She must have banked so many credits off us."
"There's a reason she's head of the Night Pirates."
"I feel robbed."
"I'm sure she'd be happy to hear that."
He sips his water, glances at me from the corner of his eye. "You know, I came by your family house a couple months ago."
"What?"
"Here we are!" Archie calls as he returns with a stack of slim boxes in hand. "Sorry about the wait, I ran into another first year."
He heads toward the chairs across from Declan and me to set the unlabeled boxes on the table. The twins straighten in their seats, focus on the mysterious squares.
"One for each of you." Archie dispenses them across the table. "Look inside."
Sharp corners press against my palms as I rotate the pale wooden box to find the opening, thoughts circling on what Declan has just said. No one told me I had a visitor. I was under house arrest, but the unplanned arrival of a councilor's son should have at least become fodder for the servants. Why would he visit? What happened? Curiosity rolls through me.
Distracted, I find the thin gold hinges that line one edge of the box. I run a finger against the opposite edge and pop it open. Inside, a palm port rests on a pillow of gold fabric.
"Is this a new model from TechStrom?" Cold to the touch, the slender, see-through case fits into my hand.
"Yeah, it's still in beta." Archie frowns at the older black case in front of him. "APA partners with a lot of the tech companies to test out their new designs. Report any problems you have with these models."
I lift it, careful even though halion developers wouldn't design a device fragile enough to break from mishandling. The guys hold theirs with equal care.
Archie lets us have a moment to admire the new toys before prompting, "Keep digging, there's more."
I set it aside and remove the layer of cloth to find a silver wristband beneath. More slender than my purple dat-band; blue light sparks along the surface. Hesitant, I prod it to check if it's safe to touch.
"What's this?" I glance up to see Felix with his hand held out, the band dangling from one finger.
"That is your school pass." Archie extends his wrist to show an identical silver band next to the black strap of his dat-band. "It grants you access into approved areas of the campus, as well as alerts the teachers if you wander into no-no areas."
"Great, a digital babysitter." Felix tosses his back into the box.
"The precaution is for everyone's safety. Advanced classes can be dangerous."
"How dangerous could they be?" Connor slides the silver band over his hand and squeezes the sides. It shrinks down to hug his wrist. "Dean Kauffman said etiquette, but that's it."
"Don't worry about it. None of the first semester classes are scary. But advanced science can get tricky, especially if you have one of the halion kids in your class." Archie smooths a hand over his perfect hair. "Combining our sciences can have explosive results."
"Will we get to learn Halios Science?" The question blurts out before I can stop it, and I reign in my excitement. "I mean, that could be interesting. If we do."<
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"Yeah, there's an introductory course during Second Year. When I took it, we had a Koverhn teacher, so most of the class focused on palm port technology." He nods at the new devices on the table. "He worked on that model while he taught us. We participated in some of the development."
"Any idea who we'll have next year?" Under the table, I crossed my fingers, willing him to say Rothven. The mountain dwelling clan leads the industry in disc-bike engineering.
"No way to know." Another roll of his shoulder. "They change out every year."
I fight the wave of disappointment. Four clans make up the Halios race: Riellio, Troehan, Koevhern, and Rothven. I have a one in four chance I'll get a teacher from my preferred clan.
"When do we pick our roommates and see our rooms?" Felix scoots his chair closer to Declan, a casual arm extended in his friend's direction.
"Not this year, sorry. You're pre-assigned based on your psychology tests." Archie swipes a finger across his palm-port's screen to bring it to life.
I raise a hand to gain his attention, and Archie glances up with surprise. "You don't have to raise your hand, Caitlyn. I'm not a teacher."
Declan snickers, and I kick him under the table. He yelps, scooting his chair away from me, closer to Felix. "I didn't take a psychology test."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't have." As Archie waves a dismissive hand, my stomach sinks with apprehension.
"This is a girl thing, isn't it?" I hope I'm wrong. "I didn't take the test because I'm a girl."
"That's stupid." Connor, engrossed in his new palm port, now sets it on the table. "Why would being a girl matter?"
"Sorry, Caitlyn, but we only have two first-year girls this year." He smiles around at the table. "While our dorms are coed, there's special requirements for your other female classmate."
"Ohhh," Felix nods with enthusiasm, a black wave of hair falling across his eyes. "Yeah, from the dossier."
"You're rooming with the Riello girl." Excited, Declan squeezes my shoulder. "That should be lots of fun."
"Yeah, go me." I slump low in my seat, and picture the energy ring around my old bike. A quick touch at my throat reassures me my converter coil still rests safe beneath my cardigan. Declan's eyes follow the gesture, and my hand drops to my lap.
I tune out the guys and remind myself that not all Riello's will be like that mind-raping counselor Father sent me to. They can't be, or I'll never survive this place.
THE PRICE OF MANNERS
"Who are you?" I demand. The ache in my shoulder spreads to my neck, and I shift my carry-on bag.
The giant halion man, planted just inside the wooden door, crosses massive arms across his mile-wide chest and glares down at me through crystalline eyes. I don't care that, with his silky white braid and opalescent skin, he could be the prettiest man I've ever seen.
I can ignore all that eye candy for now because this giant is in my new dorm room, where only my roommate and I should have access. And, he creates a massive breathing wall between me and my new living space.
"Stand down, Bastian." The quiet voice sounds like freaking wind chimes, high-pitched and musical. That's going to get irritating fast.
For a second longer, we glare at each other, me and the giant. Then he steps back, and I walk the rest of the way into the room. The short entry opens into a space smaller than my bedroom at the family house. Double sliding doors line the wall to my immediate right. A single-person bed runs the length of the wall on either side, a short dresser at the foot of each form a footboard.
My new roommate sits at one of the side-by-side desks pressed against the back wall, between the beds. She half turns in her seat to glance at the door; her silhouette backlit by a long window.
Pale blue eyes rake over me, and she lifts a feathery pink eyebrow. "You must be Caitlyn."
Great, she knows who I am, and all I have on her is a packet I skimmed two weeks ago. I nod at her and skirt past the behemoth. The bed on the left already has fancy pillows on top of its white coverlet, so I throw my carry-on bag onto the right one.
Rotating my shoulder to work out the kink, I turn to face her. "So, what's your name?"
"Myrrine." She rises from her chair and dwarfs me in an instant. Almost a full head taller than me, it only takes her one long step to close the gap between us. Her narrow hand extends in greeting.
"Nice to meet you." Her warm hand feels slightly damp in mine, and my shoulders relax. She may look calm, but she's as nervous as I am.
"A pleasure to meet you, as well, Caitlyn." She releases my hand and smooths her palms over her pale blue skirt.
"What's that about?" I crook a thumb at the obstacle in the room.
"Caitlyn, please meet my bodyguard, Bastian." She lifts a graceful arm, palm up to make the introduction. "Bastian, please do not prevent Caitlyn from entering the room again."
"Is he just dropping you off or something?" I go to inspect the dresser at the foot of the bed.
Her tinkling laugh fills the room, and I look up from my inspection of the top drawer. "No. As I said before, he is my bodyguard. He will stay at my side."
I straighten with a frown. The introductory paperwork forbade servants of any kind. They even refused Father's security team. I cut a glance at the pair from the corner of my eye. How many other rules would she bypass with her unique status?
"My lady, I still believe we should appeal the current situation." His clear gaze narrows. "You should not be forced to share space in this way."
Her shoulders pull back. "We have discussed this before. Roommates are a part of the assimilation experience. I will not hear another word against it."
The argument has the pattern of familiarity. I tune it out to glance around the small room in case I missed something. "He's staying in here?"
"Of course." She nods as if this were obvious.
"Where?" Pointedly, I look at the empty walkway between our beds and the short hall to the door. These are the only available spaces, and I don't think he can lie down in either one. I measure the breadth of his shoulders against the beds. Too small for her to share.
"I have had the small room prepared for him." Another elegant gesture, this time behind my back.
I turn to the double sliding doors set into the wall. "You mean the closet?"
"Yes, the servant's closet." She glides to the doors and pushes one open to reveal a rolled futon and narrow pillow. A grey blanket rests on top, the material thin enough to fold into a tiny square. She sighs and shuts the door once more. "It is smaller than the one we have at home, but we are all making due with smaller spaces while here."
"My lady is generous." Bastian bows at the waist. "It is more space than I deserve."
"You can't be serious." I stride to the closet and fling the door back open, point to the metal rod across the top. "This is a clothes closet. For clothing."
Her brow furrows, and she leans over to place a hand on the dresser at the foot of her bed. "No, this is a clothing closet."
"That's a closet for clothes." I point at the closet, then at the dresser. "And that's a dresser for clothes."
"Don't be ridiculous." She throws back her head to laugh, and it tinkles like bells. "My dresser would never fit in one of these drawers. We are not barbarians. Besides, I was told I could bring only my bodyguard with me."
"Troscana would have been most offended to sleep in a drawer in your closet, my Lady." Bastian's stern expression breaks to creak out a laugh of his own.
I stare at the pair, not even sure where to begin to correct her misconceptions.
"She would have knotted all my laces by morning." Myrrine nods her head with a smile, and one of her thick pink braids slides over her shoulder. She pushes it back. "There are three drawers, perhaps Humilia could have slept in the bottom one?"
"She was most forlorn to leave your hair dressing to my clumsy efforts." Color swirls in his cheeks, a delicate bloom of pale yellow and blue. "I will message her later that you thought of her while away."
"You devil, don't you dare." She smacks him on the shoulder, and he rumbles back at her.
This can't be what the school had in mind when they allowed her to bring the bodyguard. They'd already made one exception for her, was that the limit to the school's leniency?
"So he sleeps in the closet when he's not guarding your body. Got it." I give up and move over to my new bed to unzip the carry-on. I don't need a place to hang anything up, and if they're okay with the arrangement, I'm not going to waste energy on it. The school provides us with uniforms the first year, and they're wrinkle and dirt resistant. The loss of storage sucks though. And the privacy.
"Are you excited for classes tomorrow, Caitlyn?" She says my name weird, with an upward tilt at the end that implies an ah sound.
"I haven't looked over the schedule yet." I dig into my bag and feel the hard edges of my old folding port. We're not supposed to have one here, but I couldn't leave it behind for Father to dispose of.
I'd heard the servants whispering about plans to convert my bedroom to guest quarters. All of my personal items would be in the store house or the incinerator before the end of the week.
It doesn't matter; I would have lost everything anyway had I made it to the halion-run academy of my dreams. No mechanic would be allowed to remain on the Lonette family registry.
I tug the tattered edge of my starry blanket to cover the contraband, unsure if my new roommate is a tattletale.
"Here, see, tomorrow will be very exciting." A palm port appears from over my shoulder, the semester's schedule pulled up.
"You're excited for Species Resources?" I can't even imagine what that one will be about.
"Oh yes, mental study is big in my family, so that will be boring. But the physical rehabilitation and public health should be very informative." The enthusiasm in her voice pings against my nerves.
"Mental studies? Like councilors?" I pull in a sharp breath and visualize my energy wheel.
"Yes, but I have no talent for it." She sighs, and the cool weight of her arm becomes heavy on my shoulder. "That's why I was sent here to become an ambassador. Otherwise, I would have been kept in the colony and trained in the family business."