The lady at the store is very happy to receive all the bags I throw on her desk. ""Here, take them," I say. Before I change my mind, is what I don't. She is astonished to see all the finely woven silks inside, and she pulls them into her stock room with great enthusiasm. "Look! Delia? Look what we've just had delivered! Our customers will love us!" She shouts to her assistant. She beams as she pays me 1,000 credits, cash. Normally, all our purchases or trades are billed directly to the bank, but I guess here in the slums they like to deal in something more tangible.
I exit the store slowly, at a loss for what to do next. I take in the shouting market vendors and untidy shops, marred by the perpetual dust that seems to writhe around the body of the slums like a second skin, which is when I come across a street bar with amazing smells wafting from its kitchen.
I follow the amazing smells to a booth in the back, near the makeshift bar, asking for a latte with extra cream. They bring it, and as I sit there sipping it I realise I'll have to find somewhere to stay. "So. What're you down here for then?" A rough voice says. I turn around to face the voice, surprised to find the waitresss who brought my coffee lounging against the bar. "Oh, um...I failed my Test. "My parents kicked me out."
Her eyebrows raise, surprised. "Really now?" she says in a distinctly southern drawl. She looks me up and down while she peas, and I feel strnagely exposed. "I'd a thought a rich girl like you'd a aced it."
I frown. I have no idea how this stranger with red-bleached hair and a lip ring knows I'm rich. It must be the clothes. Or the sign, glaringly obvious, above my head.
The girl loses interest and goes back inside to the covered area behind the bar, the only place that offers any respite from the scorching heat- the one place I can't go.
I turn back to the street, sipping my latte and people-watching. I mean, I have nothing else to do. I fall into a sleepy haze and the world dims around me, blurring at the edges as I sink into a half-sleep.
Then, three things that happen very quickly snap me back into sharp focus, the world hard edges as fear sends chills up my spine.
The sharp snap of boots on hard ground. boots. grey coats. The silver insignia. The secret police.
I lurch to my feet, knocking over my latte in my haste. I barely manage to grab the bag full of credits and clothes before hitting the ground running, weaving between the tables in a futile effort to shake them off. But they can't see me. Can they?
A hand grabs my arm. I scream a little and whirl around to shake the vice-like grip off.
But it is not a guard. It is a boy.
"Go," he whispers. "Run."
"What?" I'm confused. "What-?"
"Go," the boy says again, more forcefully this time, pushing me between tables until we get to the street. "They're after you."
"What? Why?" I ask, panting, while we run.
"Because," he says in a condescending tone as he glares at me and I recoil, "little rich girl spilled to an informant."
"What? I only told that waitress I'd failed my Test-"
He pushes me roughly into an alley and puts his hands on my shoulders, his unkempt brown-blonde hair falling into his eyes. His green eyes that burn into me, two intense spheres of emerald fire. "Exactly. Or do you not understand the implications of this?" he seems exasperated for some reason. "Do you not understand that if you value your life you will tell no-one, not a single living soul, that you failed your Test?"
"No, I don't understand,' I say, genuinely puzzled. I mean, I get that it's bad for you to fail your Test, I get that now, and it would be really embarrassing to tell anyone that, especially if you're from the rich part of town, but he's acting like it's dangerous for you to tell anyone.
How could it possibly be dangerous?
He sighs and grabs my wrist in light, slender fingers - so different from the earlier hard grip that left bruises on my skin - "Come with me."
*
"What's your name?" I ask. We're walking now, his scuffed brown boots falling in step with my -so far- polished black ones. "Lucas Montero."
I nod. It's a nice name - almost too nice for a slum sector.
He glances at me. Looks me over. I find myself blushing under his scrutiny, though I don't know why. "Aria Blackthorn."
Surprise jolts through his face. He raises his eyebrows. "Well, Anya. Maybe this was fate."
"What? And how do you know I told that girl I failed my Test anyway?"
The barest grin curves up the corner of his lips.
"I have very keen ears."
I scoff. "Ha. Sure. You were following me, weren't you? And for someone with 'very keen ears', you just said my name wrong."
He grins mischeviously. "I know, Ana. And no, I wasn't following you. I just couldn't help overhearing. You'll learn why when we get there."
"Get where?"
"Where we're going."
"Argh! You're so infuriating!" I burst out.
He grins, a wide, teasing one. "Am I?"
Aha. Two can play at that game. I raise a single brow. "Are you?"
He chuckles. "Ah, now you're getting it.'
"Getting what?"
"Sarcasm."
I huff. "I can do saracsm."
"Really?" he draws out the word. "I'd love to see you try."
"You would?" I ask, trying to catch him out.
He laughs. "No. I was being sarcastic."
Argh.
He's infuriating. And hot.
Wait, what? Where did that come from?
I study his profile, his hair turning gold in the sun and eyes gleaming with a sudden mischief. He ducks into an alleyway and turns right, and suddenly we're in a maze of backstreets and darkness.
He grabs my arm again and starts to run, a grin breaking out on his face. He starts to run full tilt, and I laugh as I match him stride for stride. "What, you didn't think the rich girl could run?" I quip.
He grins. I'm surprised- with his hair being blown off his face by the wind, the smile changes his whole face. "Pretty much. Although you'll need to work on endurance. We've only been running for ten minutes."
Huh. He's infuriating and a jerk. And definitely not hot.
We get to an old, crumbling building. He raps three times on the door, and a steel panel slides open. A freckle-faced boy pokes his head out. "Huh. Luc. Didn't think I'd be seeing you for a while."
Luc grins, strangely triumphant. "I found an uptowner."
The boy's face lights up. "No. Does she-" he glances at me. "Do you have any idea what we are?"
I shrug. "No clue."
He crows. "Perfect. Bring her in. What's her name?"
"Ana."
"It's Aria," I say, irritated.
He pushes on the panel, and it turns into a larger door, that swings open.
"I know," he says, flashing me a last infuriating grin.
*
As Lucas enters, there are raucous cheers and people come up to clap him on the back and welcome him home. He is triumphant as he grabs my wrist and pulls me forward, shouting to the crowd: "I am proud to welcome our newest recruit Ana Blackthorn to the team. She'll need friends and a mentor to tell her what he do here, so if anyone could like to come forward, please do."
The crowd is restless and quiet, but one girl's voice breaks the silence. She has beautiful honey-blonde hair and deep chocolate brown eyes that I instantly envy. She's wearing ratty jeans and a frayed t-shirt that reads: guns and bullets may break my bones but words can never hurt me.
Then, I notice something that really makes me laugh. In Sharpie the girl has scrawled; yeah, right! in the bottom right corner. Always the optimist, I see.
But for all my riches, she's surrounded by this obviously close-knit family unit that reminds me of my own parents. Having a family is infinitely better than every penny I have.
"Hi," she says in a cheerful voice. "I'm Viola. You can call me Vi." she smiles at me and holds out her hand. "You must be Ana."
I grimace. "It's Aria, actually." I glance over to Lucas, where he's chatting with some of whom I assume are his old friends, from the way they're laughing. "Lucas just decided to call me Ana."
She laughs, a silvery, tinkly sound. "Well, for the record, I think I prefer Ana. I don't know...it just suits you more."
I shrug. "If you say so. my parents used to call me Aria, so..."
She gives me a knowing look. "Oh. Did they kick you out too?"
I raise my eyebrows. "Your parents kicked you out?"
"Yeah. They called me an aberration, a disgrace."
I gasp. "They called you that too?"
Her shock mirrors mine. "Your parents called you that?"
"Well, at least we're both disgraces, right?" I say, realising that I like her more than I thought I'd like anyone from the streets. I know that sounds really stuck-up of me, but considering I'd have called you crazy if you'd told me I'd be living on the streets by the end of my last day in high school, for me that's a big achievement.
"Yeah," she says happily, linking her arm through mine and leading me through the crowds of people in what I now see is a huge barn, out to a butterscotch-flagstoned courtyard with a few outbuildings.
There are a few benches scattered around the courtyard, roughly carved wood, unvarnished, and we sit on one and Vi gives me the grand tour.
"You're probably wondering what the hell you're doing here, right?"
I nod. "Uh, yes."
She laughs. "I was, too. Luckily, you have me to explain everything to you. I only had Lucas."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No, not necessarily. But he takes a while to trust new people - that sometimes involves him being a real ass to people he's never met more than once. It'll take him a while to get used to you. He ignored me for a full week when I first arrived."
"How old were you?"
'Fifteen. I'm eighteen now."
I nod. "Same. So, what am I doing here?'
"Oh. Yeah. Well, chances are Lucas told you that you coming here was no accident."
"Something like that."
"Well, he's right. You see -and I know this will be a lot to take in at first,- but there are a race of people with superior strength, speed, intelligence." she looks me straight in the eyes so I know she isn't lying. "I know I'm almost a complete stranger to you- everyone here must be- but you have to believe me. If you go back out there without proper training, you'll die."
My brow furrows. "What?" I stare at her in disbelief. "Are you saying that I'm one of the people who have-"
"Modified genes? Yeah. We all are. Our genes have been modified so that we have superior everything, basically."
"So why did I fail my-"
"You didn't."
"What!?"
"That's just it. Our genes have been modified by the government to create the perfect race of people, so that eventually, everyone will be like us. Our job is to set up your Tests so that you fail, you're forced onto the streets and we can take you in and train you. At dinner tonight, you'll be assigned a mentor who'll be responsible for training you and showing you how things work. For now, though, I'll just show you around."
"We all specialise in one particular area," Vi explains as she sows me the training room, a large, airy barn full of racks of weapons, as well as padded areas for hands-on combat and- "Is that - a boxing ring?" I ask, astonished, pointing to the south wall, completely forgetting she was in the middle of telling me something.
Vi laughs. "No. That's just a projection. We stole a holograph from one of the labs nearby - it's basically a holographic projector that can project anything you ask it to- in this case, a boxing ring." she turns to the projection. "Show uptown," she says. The next thing I know, I'm looking at the familiar streets I've known all my life, but from above. "Enable zoom," Vi says. The projection zooms in on Barber street, one road away from Willow street, where I used to live. I blink and walk over to a keypad with the whole city on it but smaller, and I scan over to my street, zeroing in on it with my hand until my house is fully visible. 'This was my house," I say quietly, and Viola wanders over. "Really? You're from uptown?"
I nod.
"Wow. You were lucky."
And, I realise, I was. I had all those clothes, loving parents, a lavish home. Viola had nothing.
Now I have nothing.
But somehow, we have met and bonded and I think, somehow, even though we're from two completely different worlds, we could be friends.
I cough to break the suddenly awkward silence. "So, you were explaining about everyone specialising in one specific area?" I ask, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear.
"Oh, yeah. Um, we all specialise in a particular area. Mine is technology- I do all the computer repairs and stuff. Oh, and you'll need to come my way to get your ID chip removed, too."
My heart stops. "What?"
She shrugs, like it's no big deal. Maybe to her it isn't.
"Yeah. Everyone has to have them removed a couple days after they arrive, or the government will still be able to track us."
"Will it hurt?" I ask tentatively.
A low chuckle comes from the corner. "What, scared you'll break a nail, rich girl?"
I whirl around to face the taunting voice, and before I know it, I've grabbed a knife from the nearest stand and chucked it at his head. Square between the eyes.
Square between the eyes. Please, please, please...
He whistles as he hurriedly sidesteps and barely misses the dagger's trajectory. "Whoa, Ana. You're a good shot. I think you almost succeeded in impaling me."
Viola chuckles. "Well done." She glances at me. "And no. The removal won't hurt."
"Yes." Lucas saunters toward us, every arrogant inch of him. 'In fact, I think you may have just found yourself a mentor."
"What?!" Viola and I cry in unison.
He walks over to me, claps me on the shoulder, and says; "You passed the real Test," his eyes glinting with mischief. Then, he's suddenly serious, his eyes still on my face. His hand still on my shoulder, as if he doesn't even realise it's there anymore.
"Welcome to the team, Aria."
*
"Where are you going?" Viola calls to me across the courtyard, crossing between outbuildings. "Usually, no-one's up before ten."
I laugh. "I wish. I had to drag myself out of bed this morning. Lucas scheduled a practice."
"Oh," she says knowingly, winking.
"What?" I ask, laughing.
She finally bursts out laughing. "Dinner,"
I blush, humiliated. "Oh, God."
She smirks. "Yeah. You'd better get in there before he bites your head off, girl."
"I know. I'm not looking forward to it."
I can hear her laughter as she jogs away.
*
Last night, six o clock.
"Glad you could join us," Lucas says drily, pointing to a seat at the already crowded dinner table. "There. I even saved you a seat. How nice am I?"
I laugh as I take the seat he offers. Which, incidentally, is right between Viola and him. "On a scale of one to ten, zero."
"Ooh," the boy beside him says, clapping him on the back and laughing. I recognise him as the boy who opened the door for us when we arrived. "You just got owned by a girl."
He smirks. "We'll see. How about you show me what you can do tomorrow morning at six?"
It is not a question. It is an order.
I can't help but notice the underlying threat behind the words.
We'll see who's so clever then, his eyes say, locked on my face- serious, surprisingly, while his face wears a knowing smirk that says I won't last the day. I want to rip it from his face.
His surprisingly chiseled, beautiful face.
What?! I think, stunned at myself. When did I start thinking about guys like that? Especially this guy, of all of them. He is by far the worst.
I take the food offered to me and try not to anger my new mentor any more.
That, though, proves to be exceptionally hard, since my mouth acts before I can think about it. "What, you get up that early?" I ask, genuinely surprised. I've never got up before seven, even for school. The freckled boy -Frex- answers me. "You don't?"
I shrug. "No-"
"Rich girl's never gotten up before noon, have you?" Lucas says, smirking again.
I whirl around to glare at him. "Do you take a perverse pleasure in verbally torturing people, frat boy? Because I will impale you next time if you do."
The smirk falls from his face. Hah.
Frex grins. "You impaled him?"
Lucas glares. "Almost. There's a difference."
Frex laughs. "You still almost died because a girl impaled you, dude."
He's really getting angry now. "Almost, Frex. Almost."
I can't help but laugh. "You're very keen to point out the difference, aren't you?'
Lucas growls. "I cannot wait for that practice tomorrow."
Frex grins. "Yeah. She's gonna beat you senseless. I bet you can't wait."
I almost choke on my food. Vi hands me a glass of water, and I chug it gratefully. "Can I just ask," I say, desperate to change the subject and hurriedly turning to Frex, "Why are you called Frex? Is that a nickname or something?"
"Oh. Yeah. People used to call me Freckles, 'cause of these bad boys," he grins and motions to the freckles on his face. "Then it got shortened to Frex, and it stuck."
I nod. "Cool." I turn to Lucas. "How did you get the name asshole?"
He chokes on his food, I'm glad to see. "I'm not an asshole!"
I glare at him pointedly.
"Ok, I might be to you. But only because you've given me no reason to like you so far."
"I like her, and you've known her at least an hour longer than I have, since you're the one who found her," Vi says.
"Thanks, Vi," I say gratefully. "See?" I say to him. I know he's remembering our kind-of teasing banter from this morning, because he flushes a little. "Ok. I admit it. I might not have to be such an asshole in the future." I raise my eyebrows. "Oh, good. I'll look forward to it." I wait a beat, then laugh as he catches my meaning. He flushes again.
"Go on, say it," I say, enjoying this immensely.
"Fine, fine." he holds up his hands in mock surrender and smiles embarrassedly. "You can do sarcasm."
I grin like a cat that got the cream. "Thank you," I say, smirking as I filch a forkful of food from his plate.
"Hey!" he cries, shoving my arm but grinning a little, like he doesn't really mind that I stole some of his food. "Damn you!"
Frex's brow is furrowed. "Ok, I'm just going to say what we're all thinking. Did I miss something here? Cause, uh, I'm not exactly sure what's going on. Is this, like, a little inside joke thing you have going on here?"
We both look up. "Yes," I say, just as he scoffs and says;
"No."
I feel obliged to explain. "This morning, on the way here, Mr asshole here bet me I couldn't be sarcastic."
"Ha!" he cries. "You said I was infuriating! And I didn't bet you anything!"
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Wanna bet?"
I walk into the training room still smiling.
"What're you grinning about?" Lucas asks, standing from where he was sitting by the holograph polishing a dagger, and walking over, a teasing smile on his face. "Probably nothing good."
I grin. "You're probably right."
He laughs, but then the smile falls from his face. "Right. To business."
"Yeah. That," I say, still suppressing laughter. Then I remember my parents kicking me out and stop smiling. "Right."
"Let's go." he hands me a knife. "Throw this at that target over there. I'll show you where it is first, then gradually I won't anymore: you'll just be able to sense where it is. Ok?"
I gulp. "Yes?"
He chuckles. "Don't worry. I don't mean like over one practice session. I mean, over several."
I sigh with relief. "Oh, ok. good."
"Now, go."
I turn to the target, aim, and throw.
The knife lands in the third ring away from the bullseye.
Lucas nods slowly. "Not bad. Better than most on their first try, but worse than you'll be by even the end of this session." he nods again. "Go."
I grab another knife and try to aim for the bullseye. I get one ring away this time.
"You're good," Lucas says, suddenly suspicious. "Have you done this before?"
I shrug. "I've taken combat training since I was eight. I like to think I'm good with a knife."
"Why would you take combat training in uptown? You're never going to be in a combat situation."
My eyes fall to the floor.
"My father was in our apartment alone one night, when secret police stormed the place and demanded a search. My dad refused. He lost a limb because of it, and I vowed to always be ready to fight so that never happened again."
"Oh. I see. Sorry."
I shrug. "No problem. You weren't to know."
"So I suppose you'll be good on the holograph, then?" he says, motioning to it as if inviting me to step up there.
I do, and find that it's more like a box when you're actually on the raised platform, with four walls that seal over the place you entered seamlessly when you activate it.
"Holograph activate." Lucas calls. "Show combat circle hologram."
I blink and suddenly dozens of burly, black-clad men surround me. Am I going to be expected to fight these guys?
Yes, my mind tells me grimly. Yes. You will have to fight them.
The door seals over with a hiss and I am immersed in the hologram.
A weapon appears in my hand, a long-bladed dagger with a leather grip wrapped entirely around the handle beneath the hilt. I grip it tighter, raising it to strike. A man lunges at me, and I feel every breath rasping in my chest as he barely misses hitting me with an identical dagger. I duck and reach up to catch it in mid-flight, watching as if in slow motion as my fingers close around the hilt.
Four more men run at me, and I throw the two daggers in my hands at two of them, willing more to appear. When I reach down to the belt I can suddenly feel on my hips, I find several. I grab two and hurl them at the men, who are surprised when they find two long, spiky pieces of metal coming their way. "Uh, come on, Steve, she's got a knife!" one says to the other, the two remaining men running for their lives. I stick two more daggers in their backs anyway. Don't want your enemies around to tell on you, right?
I laugh as I watch them crumble to the floor and just like that, the door is open and the hologram dissolves around me.
Lucas nods, his chin in his hand I can hear his fingers scratching absent-mindedly at the gold stubble on his jaw. "Well done. Not bad, for your first try." he looks up at me questioningly. "Tell me. Do you take a particular pleasure in violence, or-"
"-Is that just you?" I interject with a laugh.
He grins. "No, I do not have a particular taste for violence-" he tilts his head to the side suddenly, as if listening for something. "-although, I do have a particular taste for breakfast."He looks over his shoulder and grins at me, an open, easy grin that I get the sense he rarely uses, because I've hardly seen him use it around anyone except his friends and-
Me. Huh, well, I wasn't expecting him to be so friendly.
He puts his hand at the small of my back and gives me a gentle push in the direction of the doorway. "Come on, Ana. Let's go find some food."
"So, tell me," I ask as we walk across the courtyard to the mess hall, where everyone gets their rationed portion of whatever the hunters happen to find. "How come I could just make weapons appear? It seemed a little...convenient to me."
"It'll get less convenient," he explains as he opens the door for me and we join the queue. It seems a mile long, which gives us plenty of time to talk.
"Over time, as you get used to it, the holograph will mould to your specific ability, so that eventually it will get harder and harder for you to find weapons and food, just like in real life."
"Food? Why would you need food?" I ask. "You're only in a projection."
"To get really good at it, the more you'll need to use it as a training tool. Therefore, you can be on it as long as you like. However, just like we do in real life, our holographic selves get hungry, -plus it prepares us for situations like that in real life- so you'll need to find food in the hologram. Also, you can use the holograph as a hunting tool, so you can learn to perfect your hunting skills while on there and in what would be like a real-life situation." he looks at me. "Is this all making sense to you?"
I nod. "Yep. Hunting tool, training. Got it."
He laughs. The sound is infectious. "You weren't really listening, were you?"
I grin. "I was, I just..."
"Got distracted by the food smells? Yeah, me too."