Wonderfall (or, The Girl with the Rabbit Tattoo)

Chapter 1 | Welcome

Girls were not allowed in the boys' dorm. That was the rule. It had always been the rule and it was posted on every door in our building, but not until after Marcy Rodgers climbed through my window on a dare. She was in my room for all of two minutes before we got caught. They gave us weekend drills for detention, and the signs went up a day later. Shelf said I was the luckiest guy in New Fields. I had to agree. I was practically famous when word got out that Marcy and I were alone in my room. And I got to spend a weekend with the prettiest girl in level three, even if the T-machs drilled us almost to the point of throwing up.

I may have only had one girl in my room, one time for two minutes, but I had imagined having girls in my room a thousand times. And never once did my dreams end with me standing there stupid with my mouth hanging open. Yet that was exactly what I was doing as I stared at the strange girl in my doorway. Maybe she figured her question had been too much for me to handle because she tilted her head and repeated herself. "May I come in?"

I finally flinched. "Uh, yeah ... sure ... I guess?"

Flashing a smile and tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, the girl brushed past me as she strode in, looking at the walls and the ceiling as if it was her first time seeing the inside of a boy's apartment.

I had barely made it into the living room of my new dorm before I turned at the sound of her voice. At a distance, the girl looked about my age, though she dressed older. She wore a dark blue suit and with her shoes, she was almost my height—really tall for a woman considering I was six-one last time the medi-machs checked.

But as I watched her looking around my living room, I realized my eyes were playing tricks on me. The girl was older—it was obvious up close. Her fair skin was smooth, but the tiny creases in the corners of her eyes, the faded freckles on her cheeks and chest, told me she was probably closer to my mom's age than mine. Still, no matter her age, she was beautiful, and the sheen in her hair I'd noticed before hadn't just been a trick of the light. Her hair was silver. Not gray. Not blonde. But silver. Like it was made of perfectly curved strands of mercury and it shimmered as it bobbed, cutting a hard line around her jaw as she turned to look at me.

"Margarite Amons," she said. "I'm the director of the placement facility."

"Connor Simms," I said, taking her outstretched hand.

She didn't let go for what seemed an hour, her eyes rolling over my face. Then she smiled again, finally letting go of my hand, tucking hers back in her pocket.

"Well, Connor, I imagine you're wondering why someone else couldn't have been chosen to be here instead of you."

I blurted out an uneasy laugh, unsure I had really heard her correctly, and all I could think to do was tuck my hands in my pockets.

The mischievous smirk faded from her lips, her eyes again taking in my expression, making me feel even more like I had a spotlight on me.

"Don't worry," she added as she walked to the far end of the room. "View," she muttered, and instantly the opaque windows cleared, revealing the balcony and the water beyond. "Nobody wants to come here," she said, turning back to me. "Well, some candidates do. But they're a little excitable, even for this place. Believe me, I have heard all the rumors ... I know what people say."

I hung on the woman's words, waiting for her to tell me it was all a bunch of lies, or that most of the rumors were. But she left the thought hanging in the living room, letting an uncomfortable silence replace it.

"Are you afraid to be here, Connor?"

Just the question made my stomach knot. I definitely didn't want to be there, but I certainly wasn't going to admit that to the director in the first fifteen minutes. "No."