Oh, the devil's inside
You opened the door
You gave him a ride
What did you do to my eyes?
What did you sing to that lonely child?
Promised it all, but you lied
~
You say I choose sadness
That it never once has chosen me
Maybe you're right
________________________________________________________________________________
A week from the day we got home, I finally get Powder to spend more than half an hour with me that doesn't involve sleeping, pretending to sleep, or stuffing her mouth with too much food to talk around. She's not trying to hide the fact that she's avoiding me along with all the other Firelights— she leaves before sunrise and comes back after sunset, and every time I try to coax something more than "yes," "no," or "hello" out of her, she finds a way around it. I've been too busy with volunteering to think up a game plan. Maybe I'm avoiding things too.
It's the "kid auction" that catches her attention enough that she's willing to tolerate me. No one besides her calls it the kid auction, but she's pretty spot-on with the label, other than there being no money involved. All the Shimmer factory kids who are out of work and don't have a family to go back to have to go somewhere, and Caitlyn had the idea to turn the orphan exchanges we do casually down here into a standardized, organized mess and hold it in the square.
I come mostly because I'm scared of the whole thing. I'm not sure what Powder's goal is.
Topside, they use a lot of documents. We're gonna have to start using documents down here soon if we want our basic income and everything. For now, though, the trenchers that come up for kids get to talk to them and then walk away with them without city interference, just like always. That's by and large where most of them go, and most of them go within the first two hours.
It's the smattering of Pilties who come down that make me mad. They browse the orphans like they're items at the shop, commenting to one another— "Her hair is dirty," "They have crooked teeth," "That one looks antisocial"— more than speaking with them directly. When they do engage, they ask predictably elitist questions like "How well can you read and write?" or "Have you attended cotillion?"
I don't actually know what "cotillion" is, but I can tell by the sound of the word that it's some posturing bullshit.
Even worse are the questions like "Can you cook?" or "Do you have any experience minding younger children?"
"They're gonna take them as servants," I mutter to Ekko. We're sitting on a nearby roof, him on one side of me and Powder on the other, to get a clear view. "They're not gonna give them a family. They're gonna give them a job and tell them to be grateful."
Powder leans dangerously far forward. "How about I spook them off?" she says, her face flushed red. "How about I shoot—"
"I'll go talk to Caitlyn," says Ekko hurriedly. Caitlyn's heading this up, standing at the top of the platform and directing people, dressed more Piltovian than I'd have thought possible. I watch Ekko pick his way through the thin crowd and gesture at her to come down.
"Where'd all these kids come from?" Powder asks.
I turn to her. "What?"
"Where'd all the kids come from all at once? Did a sector burn down or something?"
"They used to work in Silco's factories," I say. "Didn't— didn't you know about this?"
She looks at the platform closer, lower lip pushed out. "They worked for Silco?"
Shit. "Yes."
"But they're so little."
"It's— easier to hire kids." Typical of that dirty bastard to hide it from her. "If they're working that young, they're usually the poorest of the poor. They'll work long hours for next to no pay and feel too intimidated to protest. They might not even know there's anything wrong with how they're being treated."
Powder's stare intensifies. At the foot of the platform, Caitlyn nods vigorously at Ekko, who starts back for our roof. For half a second, she looks upward and makes eye contact with me. Adrenaline surges into my veins.
"He gave them work," Powder says.
Sure. In the same way Stillwater gave me work by making me break rocks to earn my daily protein sludge. "You... could argue that," I say carefully.
"How do you know about this, anyway?" she asks.
"I went to take out one of his facilities," I say. "Before your missile. I saw them there."
"Oh," she says.
Her tone is neutral, which is never a good sign with her, but I don't have a clue what thoughts she's hiding or how I should handle it.
"How did you think he made all that Shimmer?"
She shrugs. "I wasn't supposed to worry about it."
It's amazing, horribly, how someone could convince Powder to leave so many mysteries unsolved. As a kid, she investigated everything.
I know it has to be mostly her. Her deciding for herself not to worry, not to understand, not to think— the only way she knew to keep herself safe with a man that some part of her must have always known was on the wrong side of history.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Hunky dory," she says.
Ekko swings up onto the awning and points, and I follow his eyes to Caitlyn, speaking intently with a pair of browsing Topsiders. "She's telling them the kids aren't available for labor," he says. "She says she's gonna organize home visits to make sure no one tries to sneak around."
The Topside couple shake their heads and stalk off empty-handed. Powder shoots a spitball into one's hair.
"This is wrong," I say. "Fissure kids don't belong with Pilties."
"I think it's a good thing, as long as Caitlyn keeps her word," Ekko says. "She means well."
That's exactly Caitlyn's problem, isn't it? She means well, and she keeps her word, and she tries her best, and she cares.
And in doing so, she wrecks me.
"Do you think she still wants to be your partner?" Powder asks.
"What? No," I say. "And she was never my partner to start with."
"Yeah, she was."
"No, she wasn't. You were the only one who ever used terms like that. We never did."
Powder blows a raspberry. "She came to the lab yesterday to cry to Jayce about something. I bet it was you."
In spite of everything, my stomach flutters. "She has a million other things going on in her life. There's no reason to think she was crying about me."
"She asks me about you," says Ekko. I was hoping I could at least count on him to not bring this up anymore. "She looks sad."
Shit. "What does she ask?"
"Just what you're up to. If you're doing good."
I don't need this right now. The auction should have my full attention.
"She seems to think you were partners," he adds.
"No, she sure as hell doesn't."
"How do you know?"
Caitlyn, I love you.
I twist my arms together against a wave of cold. "Just trust me."
Ekko doesn't try to hide the look on his face, which says he doesn't trust me at all. "Either way, she misses you," he says.
"Has she said those words?"
"No, but—"
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Caitlyn gets invested in the well-being of everyone she has half a conversation with. Asking about me doesn't mean much."
Powder gives him an exaggerated eye roll across me. His eyebrow twitches in response.
"She was mad the last time we talked, anyway," I say. "I said a lot of stuff she didn't like."
"Like what?" says Powder.
"Like— it doesn't matter." The war's over, cupcake. We don't need each other like we did. "Just a bunch of stupid shit that I shouldn't have said. Plus everyone in her household hates me and I hate them back. And she said things I didn't like either."
"Like what?"
What exhausts me is the way you punish me for being good to you.
"Nothing."
"Was it some Topsider superiority thing?" asks Ekko, bristling.
"No," I say. "No, not at all. It just— no. It wasn't."
I want to be careful with you.
You're allowed to be human.
I'm starting to wonder if she actually said those lines in the first place outside my own dreams. They're pretty at odds with the one at the beginning: Sometimes I think too long about where you've been and I can't breathe.
"Then how about you just get over it?" says Powder. "You obviously love her anyway."
I catch myself before my hands can close around her arms. I glance down, paranoid that Caitlyn could have somehow heard, but she's distracted with another pair of Pilties.
"I don't 'love' her," I hiss. "Keep that word out of your mouth. If I ever hear you say it again, I'll—"
"You'll what?" Powder says, her voice suddenly cold. "Kick me out? Run off somewhere I can't find you?"
My hands lift again, this time meaning for a kinder touch, but I still catch them. Her stance is prickly. Ekko leans forward to see her past me, making her eyes narrow.
"No, Powder," I say. "That's not what I was going to say."
"What were you gonna say?"
"I don't know. I'll take your crayons away? I'll make you stop going to the lab? Whatever it was, I wasn't actually gonna do it. I was just making my point."
"Then make your point better next time."
We hold gazes for a while. Her lip trembles, but she maintains her scowl otherwise.
"Okay," I say. "That's fair. I won't talk like that anymore."
She nods. Ekko breathes out slowly and goes back to watching the auction. I try to do the same.
"I didn't think you'd really mind not having Caitlyn around," I say to Powder. The curiosity is killing me; I can't help it.
She swings her feet and says, "Whatever."
On the ground, Caitlyn sends the Pilties on their way without a kid in tow. I start thinking things I shouldn't.
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Intro lyrics from "My Eyes" by The Lumineers and "The Good That Won't Come Out" by Rilo Kiley.
just this lil one for you guys today. the one we've all been waiting for comes out next week :)
<3