Dale
I sit up and wipe away the blood dripping from my nose. My ribs ache, and when I press my fingers into them I draw in a quick breath. I hope Nadya's nausea is gone by lunchtime. I don't think my body can take another beating today.
As I'm picking myself up off the floor Leah approaches. She's holding a damp towel, balled up in her fist. She rolls her dark, walnut brown eyes. "Thought you could use this."
"Thanks." I take the towel and clean the blood from my face and hands. She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise my eyebrows before she can begin. I know what she's going to say.
"But-," she starts, and I shake my head. "Dale, come on. Your sister should learn to handle these things herself."
"Thanks for bringing the towel," I say, handing it to her.
She makes a face and takes it, pinching a clean, unbloodied corner. The red of my blood stands in stark contrast to her sandy brown skin. "Uh huh," she grunts, before stalking off.
I leave the cafeteria and join the back of the line to get meds. After a few minutes Weston comes down the hallway, and I'm about to call to him when I notice who he's with.
Her.
I clench my fists to my side and set my jaw. If she's coming this way with Weston she must be assigned to the blue group. She's staying then. But why is she here?
As if she can feel my gaze on her she turns, and we make eye contact. The freckles on her nose stand out against her pale skin. Her eyes, emerald green and rimmed by dark lashes, pierce into me. If my glare affects her, she doesn't show it. Her face is impassive, non-feeling. I scowl and look away.
She had the same calm, stone faced expression earlier this morning too. Sitting at the table, her eyes carefully surveyed the cafeteria, wary. I was surprised, really, that she didn't blush or back away when I got in her face.
I'll bet she didn't feel anything when she shot Trenton either. The thought of his death hits me again, temporarily knocking the breath from my lungs.
She has no idea what she's done. I know I shouldn't blame her for it, and Weston's told me as much, but I don't care. She pulled the trigger. As far as I'm concerned, his death is on her hands.
Why was he even on campus? The question has plagued me since I saw the news story. He made it. He was free. He shouldn't have gone into the city. I know he wasn't there to shoot a bunch of college kids. He wasn't that far gone.
The line moves forward. I think back to my first day here. Trenton was the best roommate I could have gotten. He'd only been here a few weeks but he took me under his wing, told me which guards to avoid, taught me the unspoken rules of Elysia. Not that I listened.
He did the same thing for Leah when she got here, and Weston. Without him I probably never would have spoken to Weston, we're so different. Around Trenton, though, Weston opened his mind a little. He had that effect on everyone. Leah was a little more compassionate, less manipulative, around him, and I wasn't as quick to argue. He was the only one I could truly trust to take care of Nadya. He brought us together.
Then he and Nadya were put in the yellow trial, and things changed. Trenton's sunny exterior grew dark. The sicker he became, the more his hate for Elysia grew. He became obsessed with escaping, and avoided me and the others. I wondered what he was doing with his time, if he was wasting it away lying around like Nadya had taken to doing. Now I guess I know. He was planning his escape.
Almost to the front of the line now, a beam of light bounces off of the new metal door alarm and reaches my eyes, making me squint. He may have made it out, but there's little chance anyone else will be able to follow. Evelyn Sheer made sure of that.
At the front of the line now, I flash the doctor the green dot tattooed on my wrist. Unlike most people here, I only have one. I've been in the same trial since I arrived. I accept both cups, one filled with water, the other containing two small pills, and down them in turn, the same as every morning.
Though it's been five years, I still feel a wave of disgust every time those pills travel down my throat. Disgust at them for doing this to me. Disgust at myself for letting them.
With a flick of my wrist, the cups drop into the recycling slot in the wall, and I head to the Solarium. As far as jobs go, I could have it worse. Leah's stuck in the laundry room, surrounded by heat and moisture, though she swears the job has its perks. I've smelled evidence of those perks on her breath before. More often since Trenton died.
I reach the hallway to the Solarium, and as soon as I start the uphill climb the smell of earth hits my nose, instantly relaxing me. I shield my eyes against the bright light with one hand as I pull open the door with the other. I wave to a couple guys from the bunk next door. They're bent over a garden bed--lettuce, I think--pulling out weeds. We grow enough fresh vegetables here for the facility, and the rest are added to Sanzha's supply. They claim the gardening is therapeutic, and maybe it is, but it's also free labor.
I reach out, brushing my hands against the moss covering the walls, and walk to the small room at the back of the Solarium. Cleaning the solar panels is a lonely job, lonelier still since Trenton's been gone, but I enjoy the peace. I'm especially looking forward to it today, because I'd rather not run the risk of seeing her again. She reminds me of Trenton, or rather his death, and I don't think I can take much more reminding.
I reach the door to the solar room. It's ajar. I'm the only one with access, except for guards of course. But they never come in here. Furrowing my brows, I open the door.
It's her.
She's gazing upwards, her eyes wide, mouth slightly open. I'm surprised by her wonder, and pause a moment to watch her. She must have heard me come in though, because she turns and looks at me. Instantly, her face changes. I find it impossible to read her expression.
Her guarded eyes remind me that I hate her. This girl killed my best friend.
I grab the cleaning products, ignoring her, and head for the lift. She doesn't make a move to follow me, which is a good choice because I don't plan on letting her in. No way do I want to be in a confined space together. I know from yesterday that section 71 has been a little dusty, so I head for the seventh level and begin to work. She sits on the floor, watching me, her quiet presence so different from Trenton's. At the thought of him my eyes well, and I take a deep breath. I can't do this now, not around her.
We pass the morning that way, me working, her watching. When I finish I stow the supplies as quickly as I can, feeling her stare pierce into me with every step until I finally slam the door.
*
Later that afternoon I head to the library. Kyle sits at our usual table and has already arranged the pieces to where we left off. He runs a hand through his sandy blond hair as I sit down. Out of the corner of my eye I see the new girl sitting on a couch several feet away, near the tv. I almost get up and leave, but I've been looking forward to kicking Kyle's ass. Anyway, it'll be just as easy to ignore her here as it was in the solar room this morning.
She has a book in her lap. I can make out one word of the title beneath her fingers. Genome. I raise my eyebrows. Pretty heavy reading for a Sunday afternoon. She taps the cover and I notice that her nails are painted a light pink. Another reminder that she doesn't belong here.
She's not focused on the book, but looks around the room instead, like she did in the cafeteria. She watches Morgan and Zola, talking on the couch, their heads bent together, their long hair forming a cave around them. Then Leah, sitting next to them, inspecting the ends of her hair. The new girl's gaze turns to me, and we make eye contact. My lip curls and I look away. I didn't mean to stare.
Suddenly, the air in the room stills. Heads turn to the tv, where a picture of the new girl is displayed in the upper right corner.
"Turn it up," Leah says, and Zola gets up and swipes the volume switch on the screen.
"...is missing." The reporter's voice booms through the library. Anyone who wasn't looking is now, and the new girl's eyes lock on the screen. "She was last seen at her internship at the Environmental Impact Agency yesterday morning, but left early." The EIA looms in the background behind the reporter. "There is speculation that Evita Creedy may have been more involved in Thursday's shooting than initially reported, due to new evidence that has been brought to our attention. She may not be the hero she was made out to be."
The picture changes to another reporter, a woman, standing beside a man, his face deeply lined and hair as gray as the sky on a rainy day. "Mr. Creedy," she says. "You reported your granddaughter missing this morning. What took you so long?"
The man frowns, clenching his jaw. "I thought maybe she was working late at that internship of hers."
The reporter waits, as if expecting him to say more, but when he doesn't she asks, "Do you think it could be true that she has something to do with the shooting?"
He presses his lips together. "Of course not." Glaring, he turns and opens the door to the apartment behind him. "I'm tired. Going back to bed now." He slams the door. I glance at the new girl's face but it's unchanged.
The reporter just stands there, stunned, before regaining her composure. "Uh, back to you John."
The first man appears again. "We received a tip that the last person to see Evita Creedy before she went missing was none other than Secretary Evelyn Sheer, the Head of the Department of Energy. Her office released the following statement. 'Ms. Creedy has always been a model intern here at the EIA, and it is our hope that she is found quickly so that these accusations, of which we are sure she's innocent, can be laid to rest as soon as possible.'"
Leah laughs. "Sure they do." A few others join her, and I can't help but chuckle.
The new girl turns to look at her. "What do you mean?" The room goes silent.
Leah raises her eyebrows, propping her hand on her hip. "You don't know?" She sniggers. "Evelyn Sheer knows exactly where you are. She runs this place." She fixes the new girl with a look that could melt glass.
To my surprise, the new girl doesn't back down. She stands, taking a few steps toward Leah. "That's not true."
"Oh," Leah sticks out her bottom lip, voice dripping with fake pity. "You poor thing."
The new girl still doesn't sit down. "This is a mistake. I'm not supposed to be here. If Secretary Sheer knew I was here, she would get me out as soon as possible."
"Really?" Leah leans in so that her nose is inches away from the new girl's. "We'll find out who's right soon enough. Secretary Sheer always visits Elysia for updates on Mondays."
A flicker of hope lights up the new girl's eyes, so quick I almost miss it. I cringe. She truly believes that Sheer is on her side. She has no idea what the woman is capable of.
I half expect her to leave and go hide in her room, but she only smiles and replies, "I guess we will," before sitting back down on the couch and opening her book.
I stifle a laugh at Leah's widened eyes. I have to admit, the new girl's got some nerve.
***
Author's note: Thank you for reading! Please don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter :).