Stronger (8 page)

After putting on the gray slacks and matching long-sleeve top, I study my blonde-haired self. I practice my name. Jewel. Jewel didn’t see her whole crew of co-workers killed, there’s no reason for the haunted gleam in her eye. Before I check into the dorm room, I need to get my tats and finish my transformation.

I enter the heart of the Deb portion of the city, hunching against the wind. Luckily I’m making my way through a back alley when I hear the evening transmission start a street over. Out of view of the crowd, I don’t have to stop and pretend to listen to the Orions’ lies. I cut through an empty lot and come out onto a main street just as the transmission ends. I notice there’s no news on the big holo-screen about the accident, no talk on the street about the loss of life, no recognition at all that a whole crew of greenhouse workers just died to feed the Vals. Just business as normal. What do the deaths of a few Debs matter? The hover buses and flying pods pass over my head, their wind rustling my hair and making the cold bite even harder. I shove my hands into my pockets and bury my nose in my jacket.

Tattoo parlors fill this part of the city—the Deb sector—and their lines are always long. For those who can’t afford the parlors, there are other places to go, back-alley establishments where the price is cheap, but the risks high. Lots of Debs have died at the hands of incompetent underground inkers.

Lucky for me, there are tons of spots to get warrior-tats so I choose one I never visited in my old life. In front of this place, holographic images depict the various tats that can be temporarily transferred onto the skin. If done right, the color and texture modifications will remain on the skin for weeks before they fade away. The burn on Bryant’s arm is the most popular one today, but the crimson zigzag on my brother’s neck is a close second.

I want to honor Ty so I decide to get his tat on my neck. Maybe I have enough points to get a few of Bryant’s too.

The other Debs in line talk about yesterday’s not-a-drill and the explosion at the Sacred Square. Even away from the school, no one knows what happened to the planes. One subject never comes up: the greenhouse accident. A bitter taste lines the inside of my mouth when no mentions those who died this morning working the groves. At least other Debs should care.

Finally it’s my turn. I step forward to the receptionist. She’s sporting so many beautiful warrior-tats that it’s hard not to stare.

“Hi, I’d like the Bryant burn on the back of my arm and the one on his hand. And I want the Ty one right here.” I zigzag my finger across the side of my neck. “And that one.” I point to a cheek scar on the screen behind her. I don’t know if it’s Jonathan’s, but it should make me less recognizable.

The ones I request are the biggest and the most expensive. I hesitate when she announces the price—I’ve had to miss a lot of meals over the years when my points ran out—but Ty gave me these points to help me stay hidden, and my life may depend on it. “This is more important than food,” I say to myself as she scans my ID to accept the credits

She grins. “I agree. Art is everything. I’ve skipped a meal or two to get a new tat, if it was a really good one.”

I force a smile. “Yeah.”

She takes me back to one of the chairs. Waist high partitions wall me off from the other six chairs. I slide off my coat and relish the heat of the studio. The walls are a landscape of rolling hills that morph into a forest of giant truffs, with domed caps twelve feet off the ground and multi-hued gills underneath glowing in the twilight. The display fades into a frozen pond with Vals skating across the surface. I’m entranced with the flowing scenery, with the grace and physical talent. It shifts to the deadly beauty of blossoming fruit trees. All I can see are dead bodies and glassy eyes.

“It’s my favorite customer.”

My hands spasm in my lap as I look up. The blood drains from my face. Shooting stars! It’s Ansel, the most talented inkers there is. He’s my favorite, but he knows me!

“I thought you worked at Heavenly Henna’s?”

“I did until a week ago. Emily, right?”

I choke on my own spit. “Uh, Jewel?” why did it come out as a question. I toss my hair over my shoulder in an attempt to make my unease look like flirting.

His eyebrows pull together. “Oh.’ He studies my chart. “Sorry about that.”

I wave my hand as if to dismiss the mistake. “No problem. You have lots of customers.”

He winks at me. “Right. Well, I’d never forget your face. The hair’s different but I remember that beautiful canvas of skin you have there.”

I balk. “Beautiful?” I’ve never heard my pale, smooth skin described as beautiful and it makes my cheeks flush. Every Deb wishes for the scarred looks of the Vals, to be able to wear our bravery and heroic deeds like badges of honor. “You must have been pretty upset I turned you down for drinks last time, if you’re resorting to meaningless flattery?”

He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “It’s not flattery, it’s the truth. But don’t think I’m not asking you out again. I totally am.”

“Beautiful?” I’m still caught up on that word. No one has ever called me that before. Could a Deb be beautiful, even to another Deb? With all of the male Debs I’ve known, have I ever been attracted to one?

I look at Ansel with new eyes. His skin is covered with landscapes instead of scars. He is different, attractive in a unique way, but still. My pale, unmarked skin makes me grateful for the cold weather so I always have an excuse to wear long sleeves. “Have you noticed the lack of scars? The lack of honor?”

He shrugs. “I’m an artist. I see the world differently.” The decorations on his skin testify of that. He sits in his chair and starts pulling up my tattoo requests on his flat display. “Why should brutality be the only thing that makes someone attractive? These scars you requested aren’t even from defending the planet, they’re from training exercises.”

“And from rescuing Debs.”

“But mostly from rescuing other Vals. You know most of the time they don’t bother to help us.” He frowns. “They do more terrorizing than protecting.”

My jaw goes slack. I’ve never heard a Deb be so open about how horrible the Vals can be. My eyes dart around the room to make sure no one heard him. Words can be dangerous.

He studies my information, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure Emily isn’t a nickname or something?”

A forced smile spreads across my face as I shake my head. I bat my eyelashes, trying to act flirtatious while my heart slams like a sledgehammer against my ribs. “Nope. Has rejection addled your memory?”

“Huh. My mistake.” His forehead crinkles as he turns back to his monitor.

The door to the studio flies open and two Vals stalk in: Bryant, and Lee. Even before Lee almost killed me a few days ago, I knew his reputation for cruelty. Ansel jumps to his feet, as do the other patrons. I keep my head down as I stand. I don’t want to run the risk of either Bryant or Lee recognizing me. Why hadn’t they come after my tats helped hide my face?

“We’re here for rent,” Lee says.

Judging by the way the receptionist’s face loses color she doesn’t have it. I’ve never been at a rent collection before when they didn’t have the credits, but I’ve heard the whispered horror stories, the things the Vals do for payment.

When I picture Bryant doing them, my stomach turns.

This is a side of him I don’t want to see. My head drops even lower.

The receptionist does a curtsey. “I was told… we had until tomorrow?”

Lee walks toward her and she slinks back. He keeps coming. When she can’t retreat anymore he slams his fist into the wall. She squeaks in terror, her whole body trembling.

“You’re going to have the money by the time the sun rises tomorrow?”

She starts to nod but he grabs her chin. “The truth.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “N-n-no.”

“Then how are you going to pay us?” he demands, leaning closer to her.

She wilts against the wall, her hands pressing into the cement. My hands are clenching at my side. The whole room is silent, waiting for her reply. No one is doing anything.

I’ve never hated the Vals more. And I never really considered Bryant one until this moment. He stands there, his arms crossed, appearing bored as his friend bullies this girl. Doing nothing!

Aren’t they supposed to be the Earth’s protectors? Aren’t we Debs citizens?

The Debs avert their gazes, even Ansel. At times like this it’s hard to believe we all came from the same species. But it makes sense why the Orions chose the Vals to police us. They get power and an easy life to keep us in line. And we let them.

Does being born a Deb really rob us of all courage? And does being a Val automatically make them bullies? Does it really mean they are better than us? That they can simply toss our dead bodies in mass unmarked graves and the whole world goes on without even mentioning it. They were people with loved ones.

“We can give you a tattoo. Several Vals enjoy getting troop insignias needle inked on their arms and necks. Or a temporary warrior-tat if you want,” the receptionist offers, not meeting his gaze.

Lee laughs and so does Bryant. “Why would we want a warrior-tat? We
earn
ours. Ours are real.” Lee’s smile makes him seem even more sinister. “I know, what if we give
you
a tattoo. You’ll be able to make up the credits you’re short by providing us with some entertainment.”

She nods but starts to tremble.

“Of course, I don’t know how to use the machine, so it might hurt more than normal.”

Ansel tenses beside me. Apparently the threat isn’t idle. Lee stands back and the girl steps out and takes two steps before she collapses. The sound of Bryant’s laughter stabs me in the chest with a jagged blade of hurt.

“Pick her up and put her in a chair,” Lee says.

“She’s out cold,” Bryant argues. “Our work here is done. You’ve had your fun.” Bryant holds up his hand. “Let’s move on.”

“But we didn’t get paid. She said I could give her a tattoo. I’m feeling artistic.”

Is no one going to help her? Is she going to end up deformed or dead and no one will care, just like the people who died in the greenhouse this morning?

I can’t imagine another Deb dying such a senseless death and no one doing anything about it. Someone has to do something, something has to change. Olivia’s face flashes in my mind. I can feel the threads of her hair as I pulled myself to freedom, the smell of the damp earth where they tossed her like a piece of trash. My insides freeze, expanding until I feel like I’ll explode out of my skin.

I don’t even realize I step forward until I’m speaking. “Do me instead.”

“What are you doing?” Ansel whispers.

“Saving her. Someone has to,” I snap.

Bryant’s gaze lands on me, his head tilting. He recognizes me despite the hair change. “You don’t want to do that. Step back little Deb, this isn’t your fight.”

“A brave Deb? I don’t believe it.” Lee clasps his fingers together. The cruel gleam in his eyes isn’t because he recognizes me. He’s just evil. “Sounds good to me!”

I settle in the chair I recently vacated and hold my breath as the two encircle me. Bryant is still studying me, and Lee’s eyes are dancing with anticipation.

Ansel steps forward, offering him the tinting brush. “May I show you how to apply the colors?” he asks.

But Lee shoves aside the applicator used for Deb skin and reaches for one of the needle machines used for Vals. “This is what I’m looking for.”

Lee stabs the vibrating needle firmly into my skin, drawing blood. “Oops.” Lee’s smile never diminishes.

I refuse to whimper. My eyes never leave his. Yes, I’m challenging him but I don’t care. He’s not better than me and someday he’ll realize the Debs aren’t the enemy that his bosses are. It hurts, I can taste the blood in my mouth as I gnaw on my cheek. My fingers clench onto the chair’s arms. I’m sweating and tears are collecting behind my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. Or beg for mercy. My back arches off the chair and my nails dig into the armrest. The smell of blood permeates the air.

Son of a Musk! It hurts.

My eyes connect with Bryant briefly, but I look away, choosing to focus instead on the wall and its changing imagery. I count the leaves on the trees instead of the needles jabbing in my arm.

The picture he gives me is obscene—or at least it would be if he weren’t such a lousy artist. He adds a blotchy spot to my face that looks like an apple, and a swear word below the picture on my forearm. Blood is dripping from my arm and cheek.

“Want me to stop?” he asks with a sneer.

“I can go all day.” I shrug even though my muscles are so tense it hurts to move. “Unless that needle is getting too heavy for you.”

He throws the equipment against the wall and surges to his feet. He grabs my shoulder and slaps me across my face. My teeth rattle and my head snaps to the side. A slight buzz resonates in one ear. Blood drips through a cut his ring left against my lip. Tears fall down my cheek as I glare at him.

“Stupid Deb! Someone needs to put you in your place.” He balls up his fist but Bryant grabs him.

“Stop it, Lee.”

Lee sputters, his eyes wild. “She has to be taught a lesson.”

“Yeah, but we have two other stores to stop at tonight.” Bryant shakes Lee’s shoulder. “The stories will spread about how you took care of her. You marked her, man. And she’s bleeding; she won’t make it through the night.”

Dots are firing before my eyes. The world rotates in and out of focus.

Lee nods but he doesn’t want to go. Bryant practically drags him away. I sink back onto the chair.

Ansel squats in front of me. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Do you need a medic? I have some… connections.”

Black market connections. It makes sense that Ansel would know some of the doctors who do what they can for Debs, despite the fact that it’s illegal to waste medicine on a Deb. Can my new healing ability fix this much damage? If it can, I need to get out of this chair before anyone finds out. If not, I don’t want these walls to be the last thing I see.

“No, thank you. I know someone,” I lie. Ignoring the spinning of the room, I stand up, moving cautiously, one step at a time, using the wall for support.

“Next time you come in, the tats are on me.” Ansel smiles.

“Thanks.” It hurts to lift my arm in acknowledgment, but I do. My face feels like it’s been stuck with a hot fire poker.

Someone hands me my jacket as I stumble through the door into the foot traffic.

The cold air is like a caress to my tortured face. I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, murmuring apologizes to the people I bump into. I almost pull one Deb down as I latch onto his arm. I get blood on his shirt.

He curses at me and pushes me away. Then he sees my injuries and the anger in his eyes fades.

In the Deb sector, there are fewer holo-displays and more flat images, even a few of the old-fashioned posters that don’t even change. It’s all propaganda though, depictions of hardworking, loyal Debs happily uniting to support the Val warriors and the Orion protectors.

Instead of heading straight back to campus, I angle away from the sea. I know where I want to discover my fate, to see if I’ll heal or not. Past the bright lights of the city lies a footpath. Even though it’s dark, I find it easily. My feet have traveled this trail hundreds of time since I came to school. I leave the blazing glare of the city and follow the dirt path toward the summit. My favorite view of the city and campus is from the peak of this mountain.

The trail switchbacks several times. The air grows thinner and my lungs clench as I press on. When I reach the plateau, I rest my hand on my lower back, my throat burning and chest heaving from the exertion. Normal Debs couldn’t reach this point but I’ve been training with Uncle Charlie since I was five. It takes longer than normal in my injured state.

Blood is still oozing down my cheek and seeping into the sleeve of my shirt when I reach the top. I guess my new ability to heal from small cuts doesn’t extend to something this severe, but I should have known it was too good to be true. I drop onto a flat stone. From my perch, I can see past the first row of Val houses on the bluff. One house in particular is like a balm to my soul after my horrific day: the residence of Dr. and Colonel Hake, my mom and dad. The place where my happy memories were formed, where I knew such joy that the recollection of those days still warms me on cold nights. The light is on in the attic. Mom must be working late. Again. Does my dad bring her cocoa like I always did? I kiss my fingers and blow on the kiss, imagining it traveling on the wind, reaching her forehead.

Will Ty let them know I’m alive? Will they discover the truth only to find me already dead, this time for real?

I can see the top of the roof at Uncle Charlie’s house, merely a few blocks from their home. Did I thank him for teaching me that Debs can be strong too, that I too could fight my enemy? I breathe in the air, the snow still cooling my face.

A melodious sound like crystal chimes draws my attention. In the light of the full moon, I see its source. The sparkling wings of an Orion shimmer, soaring closer to me. A part of me wants to move nearer, to better see the beauty of my enemy. Instead I squeeze myself into a fissure in an outcropping of boulders, and peek out through a crack.

The Orion lands on quiet feet, her velvet robes dusting the ground.

“You don’t have to hide,” she calls out in a voice that could turn mud into honey. “I know you’re there.”