It's always eventful when a new Renegade shows up. The first week or two is spent with them trying to get used to our way of life, and us trying to fold them into our lives. It's spent breaking down that barrier of us vs. them. Some Renegades take the change in stride. Annalise, for example, wasn't even fazed. It took her all of two hours and one meal to decide that she was going to be our cook, and that was that. Within two hours, it was like she had always been a Renegade.
Some Renegades, though, struggle with the change. While Annalise was rather unperturbed, Israel took about a month to adjust. In some ways, he's never adjusted. He still feels split between the City and the Outside, the two sides of his brain constantly in battle. Matt has also struggled- the trauma he endured at Jezebel's hands hanging over him. And Aubriana, well, she had to learn to live with a body that had changed so dramatically.
Even once someone is settled, they can find their whole world flipped upside down. Taryn thought she knew everything there was to know about life in the Outside. That was before she fell in love with a man she couldn't have. Savannah, while not entirely happy with her position as the camp's doctor, had settled into it and was confident wither her medical ability. Until she was crippled, and that confidence was lost forever.
And me? I never wanted to be the leader. Well, okay, that's not entirely true. I'd thought about what it would be like, but I never thought it would happen. And I certainly never thought that I would get my position the way I did. It took me years to accept that some things can't be changed, and now I try my best to help my Renegades find the same acceptance. Some kinds of trauma can never be escaped- but we can learn to live with the way things have changed.
And here we are again, helping someone new adjust to change.
Macy's introduction to the Renegades has been more eventful than most. But then again, Macy isn't like most Renegades. Not with her history; the history I'm not entirely sure she remembers. Sometimes it seems she knows everything, and sometimes it seems she knows nothing. I've been meaning to ask her about it, but how does one start that conversation? How does one ask that question? "Hey, you remember your long-lost sister? Can you tell me exactly what you remember about her?"
No. That doesn't exactly work out well for anyone.
But there's plenty of time. We've got nothing but time. The last ten days have been hectic, but things are settling back into a normal rhythm. Aubriana, who had been helping Annalise while her ankle healed, is back on her feet. She's still limping slightly, but thanks to Macy's quick thinking in the woods, the sprain was not nearly as bad as it could have been. According to Savannah, she'll be limp-free in a few days.
Matt is also back on his feet. Normally, such an episode would take him out of commission for a few days. But thanks to Macy discovering that the other "love languages", as she called them, were the cure to his Mark, he was back in action the next day. And finally, Matt and Taryn may have a chance to be together. They haven't made any sort of official move; they probably won't until Matt's Mark begins to visibly fade. But that being said, they're definitely getting closer than either of them had allowed thus far.
And despite trying to tell myself it wasn't going to happen, Macy has been constantly on my mind for the past ten days. No matter what I do, I can't get her out of my thoughts or my dreams. Not that I'll be telling anybody about the dream I had two nights ago- or how hot and bothered I had been when I woke up because of it. No one needed to know that I was late to breakfast that morning because I was trying to get rid of the boner I had woken up with. Or that it had taken stroking myself off twice before I could be presentable. No, no one needed to know that.
Especially not Macy.
But it isn't just the fact that she's a beautiful woman that draws me to her. Which she is. She has the same beauty that Skye did, and that was part of why I can't get her out of my mind. But there is so much more to both women than their beauty. And I see a lot of Skye in Macy. Skye was a smart woman and Macy shares that same trait. She might even be smarter- it takes one smart cookie to be an established doctor at 21. Skye used her intelligence in other ways. She was a master of strategy and was always thinking three moves ahead. Not to mention Macy's resourcefulness- I wonder if she got that trait from Skye or from growing up orphaned inside the City.
But some things set Macy apart from Skye. Macy is a social butterfly, easily folding herself into conversation at every meal. Her sister could be social, but only when she needed to be. Skye, for the most part, preferred to keep to herself. She was also loyal to a fault and cared only for the people closest to her. Everyone else could bug off. Her little sister, on the other hand, cares for and helps everyone, even people she doesn't necessarily like. Macy and Oskar, a particularly boorish Renegade, got into a huge argument the other day, but when Oskar needed help doing the job he chose, Macy was right there to help.
But the thing that sets them apart the most is ambition. Macy is ambitious, sure. Though she tries to hide it, I can see the ambition in Macy. But it's nothing compared to Skye. Skye's ambition consumed her sometimes, and she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.
And in the end, it was Skye's ambition that destroyed her.
That's the thought that drives me out of my tent. I'd wanted to sleep longer, considering how long it took me to actually get to sleep, but once the thoughts of Skye- and Macy- set in, I wouldn't be sleeping. I stretch as soon as I step outside, groaning in satisfaction when my back cracks. The sun is just beginning to rise as I make my way to the tree line, ready to perform my morning stretches. It's easily my favorite daily routine, just going through the stretches that Gemma taught me, feeling the tension in my muscles melt away and mentally grounding myself to prepare for the day ahead.
In the morning light, I see I'm not the only one getting a start on the day. By the firepits, Annalise is already cooking, Rosalie at her feet, using a pot and some spoons as a drum. Her small voice is drifting through the air, singing her favorite song. Annalise smiles down at her daughter as she cooks, and I smile to myself. I can't think of a better soundtrack to cook to. If I can hear it at my spot, Rosalie's drumming will even be the perfect beat to stretch too.
The water barrels are no longer on the pedestal, so Matt has already started his trek into the canyon. Savannah was worried about him making the hike so soon, but when he came back yesterday feeling completely fine, she relented. And Matt completely forgave Macy for what had happened, seeing as she didn't know anything about his Mark. Whether she can forgive herself, that has yet to be seen. As I approach the fields, I see Gemma surrounded by the corn, kneeling in the dirt, going through her own morning routine.
And standing ten paces away is Macy, watching Gemma with a look of confusion. I look at my spot by the trees, shaking my head slightly. The stretching can wait. Should I put it off so I can talk to Macy? No, not really, but I can't seem to stop myself. I walk over to her, silently standing beside her. She looks over at me for half a second, turning her gaze back to Gemma. She tilts her head, trying to figure out what exactly Gemma is doing. The woman in question is still kneeling in the dirt, hands clasped, head bowed. I'm sure she knows we're here, with that crazy intuition of hers, but she won't let it disrupt her.
"What is she doing?" Macy asks in a whisper. Though she doesn't know, she seems to respect the sanctity of the situation.
"Gemma's praying," I answer, and Macy tilts her head further. Religion isn't practiced in the City- I didn't even know the word until I came to the Outside. Religion gives us something that the Vultures hate- hope for the future. When things seem most dark, religion can make life seem a little easier to live. But the Vultures don't want the Citizens feeling that way, so religion hasn't just been banned, it's been erased entirely.
"And what do you pray to out here?" Macy questions, a soft edge to her voice.
"We don't pray to any one thing out here. Everyone prays to whatever entity calls them the most. Gemma prays to the sun. So does Israel, but they have different ideas on how to do that. Savannah and Taryn, for example, pray to the moon. And Aubriana goes into the trees and prays to the spirits she believes live there. And Matt doesn't pray to anything," I explain, and Macy looks over at me, brows furrowed.
"What do you mean, Israel and Gemma have different ideas on how to pray to the sun?"
"Well, Gemma thinks prayers are most powerful when said in the morning, right as the sun is beginning to rise. Israel disagrees. He prays at midday, when the sun is, according to him, the most powerful," I tell her.
"And does everyone pray like that?" she wonders, pointing to Gemma.
"Not necessarily. Some do. Some say theirs aloud, even scream them. Aubriana likes to sing as she prays in her head. Everyone prays to whatever calls to them, in whatever method feels the most comfortable."
"And how many of those prayers are answered?"
"They all are. It's not always the answer we were looking for, but they're always answered."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, let's say Gemma prays that she'll wake up tomorrow morning and her sight will be restored. If she wakes up and she still can barely see, then the answer to her prayer was 'no', or maybe even 'not yet'. We always hope for a 'yes', but sometimes that's not the answer we get," I explain, and Macy nods, digesting my words.
"So what do you pray to?" she asks, and I smile softly.
"The stars." I can tell by her face that it wasn't the answer she was expecting. I laugh softly and ask what she's thinking about.
"Does anybody pray to the sky?" I'm not sure if I should tell her the truth. The truth is that many of the older Renegades do pray to the sky, probably for the exact reason she's thinking of. They pray to the sky because they believe that's where Skye is. In fact, they're not really praying to the sky. They're praying to her. In lieu of telling her all of that, I go with the simpler answer of just "yes". "I think that, if I were to pray, that's what I would pray to."
"Because of your sister," I surmise, and she nods.
"Yeah. Atlas, tell me something. How well did you really know Skye?"
"Probably not as well as you did." That much is the truth. At the end, Macy was around Skye much more than I was. She got to see sides of Skye that I never did. I saw glimpses of them, of course, when I saw them together, but Macy got a much clearer picture than I did. Even at such a young age, she knew Skye more intimately than I ever will. Now, Skye and I had an intimate knowledge of each other, that's true. But Macy and Skye's relationship was a different kind of intimate. One that I've never had and never will.
"I don't know anymore. Every time I try to reach back and remember her, the memories are always fuzzy. There's not much I remember clearly," she explains. On the one hand, that's probably for the best. There are memories of Skye that even I don't want. Events that would have been confusing and scary for such a small child. But on the other hand, that's her sister. If anyone deserves to remember Skye clearly, it's Macy.
"It's not totally surprising. You were just a child," I say.
"Do you remember?" she asks, and before I can respond, she continues. "Not just Skye, I mean. Do you remember me, you know, when I was a kid?" And therein lies a problem. I do remember Macy as a child. Very clearly. And that's part of why I can never talk about my attraction to her. It feels weird, even to me, to be attracted to someone I remember very clearly as a child. It might be different if I had been a child myself, but I was nineteen when everything went down.
"I do. And that's a problem sometimes. Most times I see you as the smart, strong, beautiful young woman you've become. But sometimes I look at you and I still see the small child clinging tightly to Skye on Salvia Street."
"What?" Macy's eyes are wide, her face completely written over with shock. "What do you mean? I've never been to Salvia Street."
"You don't remember?"
"I don't remember what? When did I go to Salvia Street?" Macy asks.
"Oh, you would have been five or six. Maybe that's why you don't remember. Because you were just a little thing," I answer, and Macy looks down at the ground, shifting her weight uncomfortably.
"Yeah, maybe." It's not what she wanted to say. I can see it in the way she holds herself- there are so many questions she's not asking. It's almost enough for me to break and tell her everything. But I don't know what she remembers- if she remembers who Skye really was. I don't know if she's ready for those answers or if she even wants them. So I'll wait. When she's comfortable asking those questions, I'll answer all of them. When she's ready, she'll know the truth, even if it's a truth I don't want to admit.
"Come with me. I've got something that will make you feel better. Something that can help you sort through whatever you're thinking about," I offer. Macy looks up at me, her eyes searching. Searching for what, I don't know. Maybe trying to determine if she can trust me and my intentions. She must find what she's looking for because she slowly nods. I turn on my heel and head for my spot by the trees, gesturing for her to follow.
In all my years, I've never invited anyone to join me in my morning stretches. I don't know what urges me to do so now. Maybe it's the storm brewing in her eyes. Or maybe it's the fact that, even though I know it's wrong, I just want to spend time with her. Either way, I lead her to my spot where the morning dew has yet to evaporate. It's a peaceful spot, the only sounds being the wildlife in the woods and Rosalie's distant drumming. Usually, I have to keep my own beat, but it'll be nice to not have to do that today.
"What is this spot?" she asks, and I smile at her.
"Every morning I come over here and stretch. It helps prepare me for the day. And it gives me time and space to sort through my thoughts. It lets my mind and body connect for a moment. Gemma taught me the stretches, oh, ten years ago? And I've been doing them every day since," I explain, getting in position for the first stretch. I open my mouth to tell Macy that she doesn't have to do them with me if she doesn't want to. But before I can speak, she sets her feet, trying to mimic my positioning. It's not a very good imitation, but it took me years before I was truly good at them, so I can't judge.
"So Gemma's been out here that long?" she asks, and I nod, reaching over and raising her arm just a little bit. There's a sharp intake of breath, and I know that I have her in the proper position. I go back to my own stretching, interlacing my hands behind my back and raising them until I feel my chest open up and a slight stretch in my shoulders.
"Yeah, about eleven years. A lot of us have been out here for a considerable amount of time. About three-quarters, I want to say, have been here for longer than ten years. Don't give me that look. It's not like it's a prison sentence. Once a Renegade settles in, they usually find that they don't want to leave," I tell her as I go into the next stretch. Both arms go above my head, and I lean back slightly as my arms come to 90 degrees. She copies me, wincing slightly. "They get easier once you start doing them consistently."
"I imagine so, but right now, this hurts like hell," she says, coming out of the stretch. "I'm going to be sore all day, aren't I?"
"Well, you don't have to do them if you don't want to," I remind her, and she glares at me slightly. I laugh, knowing that look all too well. It's a look that says, "I am not going to be outdone by you". I'd seen that same look on Skye many, many times. "Anyhow. I'm sure I've said it before, but I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you left the City." I transition seamlessly into the next stretch, standing on one leg and pulling my other foot to my butt. She wobbles a bit but steadies herself after a few seconds.
"And why is that?"
"The same reason I'm glad every Renegade is here."
"Because you don't like the City," she says as we switch to the other foot.
"Well, yes, that, but also because it means you have a chance to live." I'm not sure if it's my answer or her poor balance that causes her to wobble. I suppose it doesn't matter. She puts both feet on the ground, and I hold my stretch for a few seconds longer before coming out of it. She's looking at me as if I just insulted her sister.
"What does that mean?"
"The City is filled with nothing but tragedy and death. Citizens only live to kill themselves, often in horrific ways. And the Vultures encourage it," I say, and she looks completely affronted.
"That is not true," she argues, and I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh? Remind me, what is every Citizen's ultimate goal?"
"To complete their Death."
"Which is a fancy way of saying that their ultimate goal is killing themselves," I argue back, and she takes a deep breath, anger flaring in her eyes. I hate to make her angry, but everything I'm saying is the truth. Or, at least, what I believe to be the truth. And maybe the City has changed since I've been there. But from the stories I've heard from Aubriana, from her own story, that doesn't seem likely. The City is still overrun with death, and that's not a place I want anyone to be in.
"Don't say that like it's a bad thing."
"How is someone killing themself anything other than a tragedy? How is not appalling that an entire city of people believes that making a spectacle of their death is a path to glory? And if you fail at killing yourself, you become an Invalid, an outcast. How is that not sick and twisted?" I rant. Before I can even stop myself, I start biting my inner cheek, waiting for her response. Skye always teased me about that particular tick, but even after fifteen years, I haven't found a way to stop it.
"So what, are you going to tell me next that you like Invalids?"
"Most of my Renegades were Invalids. Aubriana. Taryn. Gemma. Matt. Lee. Cory. Oskar. Not to mention you," I answer, and by the look on her face, I know I touched a nerve. Is that fair? No. But she mentioned when she first arrived that she had lost her job. Why she lost her job, I don't know and I don't really care to know. But in the City, that immediately made her an Invalid, even if she never thought of herself as one. "Why should I hate someone whose only 'crime' was not dying?"
"That's-"
"But I suppose that's how the Vultures want it, isn't it? If this person, who didn't kill themself, loses everything, then maybe they'll try again. Or maybe they'll get so fucked up on salvia that they kill themselves on accident. They want Citizens to die, and they don't care how."
"That's not true. There are rules about how someone is supposed to go about completing their Death. And if they don't abide by those rules, they don't get any glory to their name. A Death is personal, so the biggest rule is that you don't take anyone with you. If two or more Citizens plan to complete their Deaths together, that's one thing. But if you kill someone, accidentally or otherwise, you get no glory. And you especially don't hurt children," she rants.
"Well, that's one hell of a silver lining." And that's not sarcastic- I mean that. If I knew, for a fact, that children were purposefully being killed, there would be nothing stopping me from marching into the City and burning the whole damn thing down. And I know that Israel and Annalise would be right beside me.
"There was a guy one time. He didn't follow the rules. He thought he would get glory by creating the biggest spectacle possible. So he went into the school and killed a bunch of kids and then himself. And he got the most fitting punishment possible. In the City, it's shameful to be buried instead of cremated. And you know where they buried him? In the fucking sewers where he belonged," Macy explains.
"At least we agree on that. I don't respect the City's laws, but I can respect that. I don't think that anyone should kill themselves, but, at the same time, I do agree with the law that states you shouldn't take anyone else with you. But that is the only law I agree with," I tell her, and that glare comes back on her face.
"You don't agree with the laws of the City?"
"Of course I don't! None of us do! Why else do you think we've made a home in the Outside?"
"But how can you not-"
"According to the City's laws, I should be dead!" I exclaim, and for a few seconds, everything is silent. I don't necessarily regret what I said, but I do regret saying it here. I know this is a conversation that probably would have happened at some point, but I wish it wasn't happening at this spot. I wonder, will this ruin the peace I've found here? Yet, I can see in Macy's eyes that the hold the City had on her, the hold it has on every Citizen, is starting to break. The seed of doubt has been planted, and maybe knowing that will make this spot seem even more peaceful. I suppose I won't know until I come back tomorrow.
"I... I don't understand..."
"Macy, I'm 34. How many 34-year-olds do you know of inside the City?" I ask, and her face softens, the anger melting away as she thinks long and hard about it.
"I could probably count them on one hand," she admits. "When I visited my parents' gravestones... they were 38 and 42. And one of my first thoughts was that they had strangely long lives. Most Citizens don't make 35, let alone 40."
"So now, tell me. Do you think I'm old?" I wonder, and her eyes go wide as she shakes her head.
"Of course not! You're still plenty young. You still have a whole life ahead of-" She stops suddenly, and that's when I know that my point has been made. "Oh shit."
"I'm not the only example. Annalise was 30 when Rosalie was born. In the City, she may not have lived long enough for that to have happened. If we hadn't gotten Matt out of there, he probably would have killed himself to escape Jezebel, and Taryn wouldn't have lived long enough to meet him. Lee and Jax? He was an Invalid and she wasn't. They were head over heels in love, but they weren't allowed to be together. They were going to kill themselves to be together in death, but we gave them a way out. And Savannah? Who knows where she'd be?"
"I never... I didn't think about..."
"Don't worry. You're not the only one. Nobody does think about it until they arrive in the Outside. It's only then that they start to understand just how enjoyable, free, and long life can be. That's why we're out here, Macy. Not because we just don't like the City. Not because we're just wild rebels that don't like rules. We're out here, first and foremost, for one reason."
"And what's that?" she wonders, her voice catching in her throat. I've heard that sound. It's the sound of someone's entire paradigm shifting. I've seen it far too many times. But I also know, from experience, that her view of the world is about to morph into something new and strange and beautiful.
"We're out here, Macy, because we want to live."