futuristic pajamas.
Molly pulled my rattiest jeans from a drawer, the ones with a huge hole in the left knee from a rock climbing adventure that I’d nearly not come home from. It was my first time climbing with Gaige, Tiger, and Molly, and all three were experts from having grown up on the island. They seemed to forget that the dry, flat farmlands where the work camp was located didn’t have hundred foot rock faces over clear blue-green ocean. Nonetheless, after losing my footing numerous times, I’d triumphantly reached the top with bloody knees and blistered hands.
“No, not those,” I said when she laid the holey jeans on my unmade bed. “Too many good memories associated with those, it’d be a shame to lose them.”
I’d learned to never wear clothes I liked when departing on a run. Ostensibly, customs held the garments we arrived wearing in a locker until it was time for us to return to the island. Yet, when I went back to customs for the return trip, my clothes were not always where I’d left them. It seemed there was as lucrative a black market among the alchemists for items from the future as there was in the future for items from the past. Since our livelihood depended upon them, a few pairs of jeans and some sweaters were a small price to pay. But it was still irritating.
Molly snorted. “Seriously? I thought you were miserable that day.”
“No, I had a good time,” I said defensively.
Hands on her slim hips, Molly retorted, “You haven’t been climbing with us since.”
She was right about that fact, but wrong about the reason. The trio didn’t need a novice like me holding them back, so I’d found an instructor and paid him to teach me in my spare time: Rupert. Unfortunately I didn’t have a surplus of spare time, so I was still nowhere near the level of my friends.
“Whatever. How about the acid-washed ones? They’re hideous and don’t fit well anyway,” I suggested.
Tiger and Molly had made a run to America during the late 80s or early 90s and as a joke Tiger brought back the pleated denim disaster for me.
“Tiger will be so pissed.” Molly laughed pulling out the jeans and a ratty t-shirt with a tear. “Is this shirt sentimental, too? Or can you part from this rag?”
“That’ll work,” I told her.
I changed quickly, and then spared a moment to run a brush through my hair. As I slipped on a pair of dirty sneakers that were well past their prime, Molly grabbed my bag from the bed.
Gaige and Tiger were in the living room when Molly and I emerged from my bedroom.
“What are you wearing?” Gaige covered his eyes with his hands like a child afraid of the dark. “I’m blind! I’m blind!” he cried.
Ignoring my partner’s theatrics, I turned to greet Tiger. Molly’s partner wore straight-legged jeans with a tight yellow tee. A billiard ball appeared to be leaping off of the cotton, and a slogan was scrawled underneath: Yellowbelly Saloon, We Have the Best Balls in Town.
“Nice shirt,” I told Tiger.
“Nice pants,” he shot back, grinning.
“You’re going to watch Molly while I’m gone,” I told him in my most no-nonsense tone. “Make sure she doesn’t push herself too hard, and that she gets enough sleep. She’ll probably need a nap today after getting up so early, make sure you let her rest.”
“Did you seriously just declare my naptime?” Molly asked wryly.
At the same time, Tiger saluted me and said, “Aye, aye, Momma Bear, Stassi.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned over to give Molly a gentle hug goodbye.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promised her.
“You better,” she whispered back, squeezing me hard with her bony arms.
Next I gave Tiger a quick hug, which surprised us both.
Molly must be rubbing off on me, I thought. Normally she and Gaige were only two people I touched.
“Don’t worry, Stassi, I’m never letting her out of my sight again,” Tiger whispered in my ear and I could hear the regret heavy in his voice. It didn’t take a
Molly pulled my rattiest jeans from a drawer, the ones with a huge hole in the left knee from a rock climbing adventure that I’d nearly not come home from. It was my first time climbing with Gaige, Tiger, and Molly, and all three were experts from having grown up on the island. They seemed to forget that the dry, flat farmlands where the work camp was located didn’t have hundred foot rock faces over clear blue-green ocean. Nonetheless, after losing my footing numerous times, I’d triumphantly reached the top with bloody knees and blistered hands.
“No, not those,” I said when she laid the holey jeans on my unmade bed. “Too many good memories associated with those, it’d be a shame to lose them.”
I’d learned to never wear clothes I liked when departing on a run. Ostensibly, customs held the garments we arrived wearing in a locker until it was time for us to return to the island. Yet, when I went back to customs for the return trip, my clothes were not always where I’d left them. It seemed there was as lucrative a black market among the alchemists for items from the future as there was in the future for items from the past. Since our livelihood depended upon them, a few pairs of jeans and some sweaters were a small price to pay. But it was still irritating.
Molly snorted. “Seriously? I thought you were miserable that day.”
“No, I had a good time,” I said defensively.
Hands on her slim hips, Molly retorted, “You haven’t been climbing with us since.”
She was right about that fact, but wrong about the reason. The trio didn’t need a novice like me holding them back, so I’d found an instructor and paid him to teach me in my spare time: Rupert. Unfortunately I didn’t have a surplus of spare time, so I was still nowhere near the level of my friends.
“Whatever. How about the acid-washed ones? They’re hideous and don’t fit well anyway,” I suggested.
Tiger and Molly had made a run to America during the late 80s or early 90s and as a joke Tiger brought back the pleated denim disaster for me.
“Tiger will be so pissed.” Molly laughed pulling out the jeans and a ratty t-shirt with a tear. “Is this shirt sentimental, too? Or can you part from this rag?”
“That’ll work,” I told her.
I changed quickly, and then spared a moment to run a brush through my hair. As I slipped on a pair of dirty sneakers that were well past their prime, Molly grabbed my bag from the bed.
Gaige and Tiger were in the living room when Molly and I emerged from my bedroom.
“What are you wearing?” Gaige covered his eyes with his hands like a child afraid of the dark. “I’m blind! I’m blind!” he cried.
Ignoring my partner’s theatrics, I turned to greet Tiger. Molly’s partner wore straight-legged jeans with a tight yellow tee. A billiard ball appeared to be leaping off of the cotton, and a slogan was scrawled underneath: Yellowbelly Saloon, We Have the Best Balls in Town.
“Nice shirt,” I told Tiger.
“Nice pants,” he shot back, grinning.
“You’re going to watch Molly while I’m gone,” I told him in my most no-nonsense tone. “Make sure she doesn’t push herself too hard, and that she gets enough sleep. She’ll probably need a nap today after getting up so early, make sure you let her rest.”
“Did you seriously just declare my naptime?” Molly asked wryly.
At the same time, Tiger saluted me and said, “Aye, aye, Momma Bear, Stassi.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned over to give Molly a gentle hug goodbye.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promised her.
“You better,” she whispered back, squeezing me hard with her bony arms.
Next I gave Tiger a quick hug, which surprised us both.
Molly must be rubbing off on me, I thought. Normally she and Gaige were only two people I touched.
“Don’t worry, Stassi, I’m never letting her out of my sight again,” Tiger whispered in my ear and I could hear the regret heavy in his voice. It didn’t take a
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