Ordinary (Anything But) by Lindy Zart Page B

recognizing that gruff voice. Burns watched her from a few feet beyond the group, toward the exit. He was in a black suit with a gun on his hip. His face was drawn, tired, but still cruel. Burns was not a kind man. He must have gone through the sliding door that led to the first room Honor had ever seen of the church, the one with the scuffed floor. She understood now why the floor was the way it was. All the kids, brought through that door, fighting. Honor fought down nausea and straightened her spine.
    Honor moved to the left, but the man in front of her moved with her. She glared at him. He was blank-faced. They all were. They were like clones of one another, no facial expressions at all on their faces. Robots. Honor didn’t care enough to pay attention to their appearances. She only knew she didn’t like them. “He’s just a kid,” she said, swallowing around a lump in her throat.
    “Says the kid,” one of the guys murmured and chuckles rang out.
    Honor’s face burned and she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “Where’s Nealon?”
    Burns’ expression hardened and he strode toward her. Honor wanted to back away, but forced herself to stay put. When less than an inch separated them, he stared down at her, trying to intimidate her. Don’t look away, don’t show weakness, don’t show fear. His garlic cigarette smell hit her and her stomach revolted. “Don’t concern yourself with your buddy Nealon. Right now, I’m in charge. He may have the days here, Rochester, but I have the nights. Remember that.” Burns leaned closer and his hot breath hit her. “Now run along back to your room before I decide you need to be taught a lesson in respecting your elders.” Burns stepped back, an ugly smile on his ugly face. That smile puckered the long scar the length of one side of his face, widened it, making it even more grotesque.
    She wanted to say more, her mouth burned with the need to say all she was thinking, but Honor knew it wasn’t the time. Not now, not when there was an audience. Burns would get his due, eventually; if not from her, then from someone else. It was only a matter of time before he pissed the wrong person off.
    “Everyone, back to your rooms,” he said in a louder voice, turning his back on her.
    Honor frowned, wondering who he was talking to. She turned and saw the cluster of four or five teens huddled near the hallway, watching them. They were quiet, unmoving, their eyes saying all their mouths couldn’t.
    “That means you,” one of the clones told her, nudging her when she didn’t move fast enough.
    She obeyed, marching for the hallway. Nealon had said she was one of them, that they were all the same. They weren’t. Honor was nothing like them. She didn’t want to be. Ever. When you lost compassion for another human being, regardless of how human they were or weren’t, you lost yourself. Honor would never turn into a clone, a robot. She made a vow to herself, right then, that she would never lose herself. The kids parted as she approached. She didn’t want to know what they thought of her, but her eyes had other plans. She took in each of their expressions, confused by what she saw.
    Honor saw respect.
    ***
    The common room was a loft above the large room that was once used for worship. Honor liked it up there. It had white walls, red carpet, and comfortable brown furniture. High windows let her know what the weather outside was like. Today it was gray and overcast , but just being able to see it cheered her up immensely.
    There was a refrigerator stocked with fresh fruits and veggies, cheese and meats, sports drinks , and bottles of water. A counter with a sink was beside that. A microwave and coffeemaker was next to it, the cupboard above it containing all the makings for coffee. The scent of it lingered, like it had been made sometime that morning. One other person was up there, a girl with short black hair and glasses. She was slightly overweight and appeared to be