NOTE: Happy Friday, friends!!! How'd the week go? Have a good Valentine's day? Tell me all about it.
If you follow me, you probably got the notification in which I requested you give me your story's title so I could read it. If you haven't done so already, PLEASE COMMENT ME THE NAME OF YOUR BOOK RIGHT HERE!! I want to go to a cafe later today and read as many stories as I can. Like I've always said, if you're going to take the time to read my words, I'm going to take the time to read yours.
Also, comment your name here as well. I want to make you a character in this story. As for those who got to be in the Fanatix, YOU'LL BE BACK. SOON.
(We all totally saw that GIF coming.)
PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: We got to hear from DEFED, and we found out that our favorite dead girl BREE ARCH WAS A SPY FOR THEM. Needless to say, I saw a lot of theories in the comments. If you haven't shared your theory yet, do share. You know I love coming up with twisted plot lines, so it'd be awesome to hear your own.
EMERAY
It takes almost thirty minutes to get to where my meeting is. Looking out the window, I watch as the streets begin to change. One moment they're concrete, and the next, cobblestone, creating bumps of turbulence as we go. The further the car drives, the narrower these streets get until soon enough, the car is almost pressed against the curb, moving slow and careful through icy twists and turns. I take in every structure, every signal and sign visible through the window. What confuses me the most is how I've never seen any of it before—a whole, entire section of Colburn that I haven't had any chance to explore. With all the walking around it I do with Cartney, I almost thought I knew this city like the back of my hand.
By the time the car finally comes to a stop, the world from outside my door is completely foreign to me. The buildings look industrial––monochrome and strangely ominous, like warehouses that have long since been abandoned. When I step out onto the bumpy ground, snow sheets down on me so fast and thick, it looks fake. I get a bad feeling instantly.
"Uh, where are we?" I ask Gerald, looking around some more. Across the street, it's all the same: Big warehouses. No people. Just snow and silence.
He tugs off his guard-attire cap, placing it over my head to shelf me from the snow. "We're in Outer Colburn, more affectionately known as the Ashes."
"The Ashes?"
"Consider it the midpoint between city and suburbs. Once a thriving area, now past its prime and full of empty space. So if Colburn burns, this is the residue. Get it?"
I nod, pulling Chapter's coat closer to my chin. "And why are we having a meeting all the way out here?"
Regarding my question with a shrug, Gerald leads me into a building with a rusting orange metal door. The area inside is lit solely by the overcast sky outside through the windows, turning my stomach at first glance. In the grey light, broken, corroding tables and chairs are strewn around haphazardly, like the skeleton of something that ended a long time ago. There is no one at the front desk to greet us, only a hoard of Famoux sentries lining the perimeter of the room with their guns at the ready. They're completely motionless except the one at the start of a hallway, who nods to Gerald for us to come her way. I feel the eyes of every single guard on me as we move across the warehouse––following my movements in a way that makes me self conscious. I pull Gerald's hat down to cover me more.
"This . . . this is kind of creepy," I whisper to him.
He hums a laugh. "Definitely."
Following the long rows of guards, we move down the hallway to another door––this one, modernized. It's one of those tell-tale Famoux doors, metal, with the control pad instead of a knob and a dozen different secret codes. The same kind of door blocks the Fissarex. The Analytix. The important objects we don't want being discovered.
A part of me expects some new contraption when Gerald finally gets it open, but all that's inside is a couch and another door. He points at the latter, giving me a small smile. "I've been informed that some of the other members are already inside," he says. "Kaytee and Till."
"This a full member meeting?"
"That's right. You can go in when you're ready."
"You're not coming too?"
He gestures to the door we just entered in. "I'm afraid not. Gotta join the grand security force out there."
The grand security force out there. Just like that, the upset feeling in my stomach deepens, and I drop my gaze to the ground in hopes it'll settle me. Moving quickly, I go to the couch at the end of the room and sit.
"Hey," Gerald starts. "Are you alright?"
I look up at him. "What's going on here? Why are those guards out there with they guns out like––like something could happen?"
"I told you, it's just a meeting."
I shake my head, feeling a bit stupid for having such a dramatic reaction to all of this. But maybe I would've been braver about everything if the way guards lined up the walls didn't remind me of when they were stationed around the Fishbowl, powerless to DEFED's attack. Maybe new places and changes would continue to intrigue me like they used to if things didn't seem to always change for the worst.
"Member meetings typically happen in our kitchen," I remind him. "In our living room. We don't drive out to the edge of the city just to talk about the usual stuff. Norax wouldn't do that if she didn't have some alternative plan up her sleeve."
"I know you feel that way, Emeray, but––"
Gerald stops. In the span of a second, his face changes from sincere, to frustrated, to sincere again. I notice.
"What is it?" I ask.
He doesn't answer, taking one more look at the door we entered in before stepping forward and sitting down beside me. We're silent for a while, just sitting there, before he finally says something.
"I wish I could tell you why all of this is happening, but I genuinely know as little about it as you do," he says. "Like I said in the car, it's all classified information."
"But you're my personal guard. They usually tell you everything."
"It's a new policy they made a few days ago. Guards are still given orders, but we're not given the details."
"That doesn't make sense to me."
"They told us they're being careful."
"But why?"
"We still have that mole in our system we haven't found yet."
A chill runs down my spine. I know Gerald came over to this couch to make me feel better, but so far he's been doing the exact opposite. "I almost . . ."
"Forgot about it?"
I nod.
"I expected that." When he realizes I'm giving him a confused look, he elaborates. "I mean, they've been doing a pretty good job making the Famoux forget about things."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He shakes his head. "It's not––we just . . ."
As it fades of, Gerald looks at me, perhaps deliberating what to say. I watch him flicker again, like he did before sitting. He opens his mouth, then hesitates, then opens his mouth, then hesitates all over again.
"Gerald," I say.
"I don't think I'm allowed to say this, but . . ." He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. By the way he has to brace himself before speaking, I expect him to tell me some kind of bad news, some kind of big secret. But all that comes out is, "Norax has had a bit of a tendency to shelter all of you."
I almost snort at that. "She shelters us? Really?"
"I'm not discounting all of the pain you've gone through in the past months, but Norax usually wants to keep the dark stuff behind the scenes. So she deals with the mole problem without updating and subsequently worrying any of you about who to trust here. She has workers sift through your mail to make sure you don't see anything negative. Things like that, and more. It's all a part of trying to make it so your only job is to live a glamorous life."
I shake my head. "No, I definitely think Norax knows well enough that this life hasn't been too glamorous."
"But she didn't know that for a while, Emeray," he says. "She thought she'd been controlling the matter. But the truth is, we had no idea DEFED was contacting you Famoux members past those letters before the Darkening––that they were turning your lives into a constant competition like that. On the surface everything seemed fine. She didn't know what you knew or thought about. She thought she was still controlling that."
A long pause stretches between us. I look at my hands when I speak again.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"It's because . . . because she's doing it again. Now that DEFED's gone, she's getting that control back over the group."
I narrow my eyes. "That's not true."
"You think so?"
"That's impossible. She isn't controlling what I think about." If she could actually do that, I already know she would've made me forget about Chapter, or forget the apprehension I get when she enters my room, or forget about my bitter feelings toward the choices she's made for me. She'd make me love her again. She'd make me that bright eyed, innocent kid she found in the middle of Eldae again.
But then Gerald says something that makes everything in the world stop.
"Have you thought about your brother lately?"
My brother.
Dalton.
The face on those signs in Eldae. Those signs that said MISSING.
My brother.
"Wait."
I stand up, getting the urge to run. I make it across the room in barely a second, the room is so small. I go across again, and again, and again, feeling suddenly trapped. The room is so small. The room is too small.
"Oh my god. He's still––he's still––"
Gerald gets up, watching me pace. "But you've been going on walks," he says. "You've been getting your flowers everyday. You've been on set of a movie. You've been living your life exactly how you've been since your joined the Famoux: With only yourself in mind. No thoughts of your family. No thoughts of your past."
"You're making me feel like a terrible person, Gerald."
"That's not what I'm trying to do."
"But you are," I say. "It's like you said––I've been thinking about myself. I've been selfish this whole time."
"Emeray, no––" When I get to his side of the room again, he reaches out and stops me. IN one swift motion he takes his hat off my head and places it back on his own, and I get the feeling that he's getting ready to leave me. "I'm absolutely positive that I'm not allowed to say this, but Emeray, you're not the terrible person here."
"What?"
"When Norax has a celebrity as popular as you and Cartney are at the moment, she's going to make you focus on that part, and only that part of your life as much as possible. That means keeping you mad at her about the contract, or keeping you annoyed with all the obligations she's giving you. It doesn't matter whether or not you like her anymore. It matters what you are––and aren't––thinking about."
And then he smiles, reminding me again that everything's okay.
And then he leaves.
xxx
This will all mean something soon. And by soon, I mean in like 2 or 3 chapters.
In the meantime, tell me your thoughts on Gerald's words today. Tell me your thoughts on life in general. Tell me about your day. Tell me a joke.
I hope you're having a fantastic Friday, friends. As always, thank you for spending some of that Friday with me. Always remember:
Sticks and Stones may break your bones, but haters make you famoux.