receptors.
Wes again places his hand under his rear. He lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Sorry, I should’ve kept that to myself.”
“Hmph.”
He struggles to pick up our discussion from the point at which we dropped it. “Er, now you’ve seen why I didn’t make many friends in Primary, or in Medical. Things inevitably turn awkward when I try.”
I won’t indulge his self-deprecation. “You’re fine here. People have reasons for associating with the top trainee.”
“You too, I presume.”
“Of course.”
Wes sighs and musses his hair. It falls perfectly when he’s done. “At least you’re pleasant to spend time around.”
“The same.”
We listen to the grit-rain on the ceiling. I hug my knees to my chest and rock back and forth on my tailbone. This is like sitting with Umbriel, but quieter. Despite his physical prowess, Wes has a less commanding presence than my best friend.
“You know, even though a lot of people here pretend to ignore you, they can’t stand to see you do badly. Maybe it’s because you’re just fifteen.” He yanks the laces on his boot, finally getting nervous at talking for so long.
“Is that why you’re helping me?”
Though Wes inhales like he’s going to respond verbally, he decides against it and settles for a shrug.
After we descend the stairs and say good-bye, Wes lets me start walking to the barracks first. Unlike Nash or Umbriel, he doesn’t want to publicize his companionship with me, fragile as it is. It’s better this way.
When I arrive, Eri squeezes me hard. Her cropped hair tickles my cheek. “Where were you?”
I respond with an ambiguous facial expression and shuffle with great concentration toward my cot.
“Stripes, I also wonder where you hop off to. Every night now.” Nash matches me stride for stride. “I have a few theories. One: to Jupiter’s cot to sock him senseless. Two: off on hot dates with one of the boys. More than one of the boys? Three—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I cut in.
The lights in the barracks go out, and we’re sunk in darkness. Good-nights and sleep-tights are exchanged, but I stay silent.
In my top bunk, I’m unable to decide if I should sleep on my right or left side tonight. For the first time since I joined Militia, I can’t find slumber.
13
“OW . . . I SWEAR, THIS THING HURTS WORSE than a kidney stone.” Eri reclines on her cot, rubbing her hand over the sole of her foot.
“Ever had a kidney stone?” Vinasa asks.
“No, I’m too young; but you try walking around with a blister the size of your eyeball. . . .”
The blister on her left big toe is not, in fact, the size of her eyeball. It isn’t even as big as a typical kidney stone, which would have a diameter of two centimeters or fewer. Eri should stop complaining. After a hard day’s work, we’d all stab noisy people to get some quiet, and the girl two cots away from Eri is looking particularly murderous.
Eri weeps into her hands, mumbling about real shoes, real food, a real cot. . . .
“Want me to take you to Medical?” Nash offers.
“Oh no. They’ll laugh at me. It’s only a blister .”
What a stubborn, spoiled girl. I’m fond of her, though, and know how to fix the problem in the most cost-effective manner possible. I swing over the edge of my cot and plummet a meter and a half to the ground, landing squarely on my feet. “I’ll get Wes.”
As Eri beams, her pale face glows against her halo of orange hair. Her head bears an uncanny resemblance to the sun; the blushes on her cheeks could be solar flares on a much smaller scale.
On the boys’ side of the room, Orion and Wes sit on a cot, playing handscreen chess. The names of the pieces used to be aristocratic and religious, outmoded words like queen and bishop , but the Committee changed them about twenty-five years ago to things like general for the most important and privates for the expendables. The players move them by touching and dragging, and
Wes again places his hand under his rear. He lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Sorry, I should’ve kept that to myself.”
“Hmph.”
He struggles to pick up our discussion from the point at which we dropped it. “Er, now you’ve seen why I didn’t make many friends in Primary, or in Medical. Things inevitably turn awkward when I try.”
I won’t indulge his self-deprecation. “You’re fine here. People have reasons for associating with the top trainee.”
“You too, I presume.”
“Of course.”
Wes sighs and musses his hair. It falls perfectly when he’s done. “At least you’re pleasant to spend time around.”
“The same.”
We listen to the grit-rain on the ceiling. I hug my knees to my chest and rock back and forth on my tailbone. This is like sitting with Umbriel, but quieter. Despite his physical prowess, Wes has a less commanding presence than my best friend.
“You know, even though a lot of people here pretend to ignore you, they can’t stand to see you do badly. Maybe it’s because you’re just fifteen.” He yanks the laces on his boot, finally getting nervous at talking for so long.
“Is that why you’re helping me?”
Though Wes inhales like he’s going to respond verbally, he decides against it and settles for a shrug.
After we descend the stairs and say good-bye, Wes lets me start walking to the barracks first. Unlike Nash or Umbriel, he doesn’t want to publicize his companionship with me, fragile as it is. It’s better this way.
When I arrive, Eri squeezes me hard. Her cropped hair tickles my cheek. “Where were you?”
I respond with an ambiguous facial expression and shuffle with great concentration toward my cot.
“Stripes, I also wonder where you hop off to. Every night now.” Nash matches me stride for stride. “I have a few theories. One: to Jupiter’s cot to sock him senseless. Two: off on hot dates with one of the boys. More than one of the boys? Three—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I cut in.
The lights in the barracks go out, and we’re sunk in darkness. Good-nights and sleep-tights are exchanged, but I stay silent.
In my top bunk, I’m unable to decide if I should sleep on my right or left side tonight. For the first time since I joined Militia, I can’t find slumber.
13
“OW . . . I SWEAR, THIS THING HURTS WORSE than a kidney stone.” Eri reclines on her cot, rubbing her hand over the sole of her foot.
“Ever had a kidney stone?” Vinasa asks.
“No, I’m too young; but you try walking around with a blister the size of your eyeball. . . .”
The blister on her left big toe is not, in fact, the size of her eyeball. It isn’t even as big as a typical kidney stone, which would have a diameter of two centimeters or fewer. Eri should stop complaining. After a hard day’s work, we’d all stab noisy people to get some quiet, and the girl two cots away from Eri is looking particularly murderous.
Eri weeps into her hands, mumbling about real shoes, real food, a real cot. . . .
“Want me to take you to Medical?” Nash offers.
“Oh no. They’ll laugh at me. It’s only a blister .”
What a stubborn, spoiled girl. I’m fond of her, though, and know how to fix the problem in the most cost-effective manner possible. I swing over the edge of my cot and plummet a meter and a half to the ground, landing squarely on my feet. “I’ll get Wes.”
As Eri beams, her pale face glows against her halo of orange hair. Her head bears an uncanny resemblance to the sun; the blushes on her cheeks could be solar flares on a much smaller scale.
On the boys’ side of the room, Orion and Wes sit on a cot, playing handscreen chess. The names of the pieces used to be aristocratic and religious, outmoded words like queen and bishop , but the Committee changed them about twenty-five years ago to things like general for the most important and privates for the expendables. The players move them by touching and dragging, and
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