T
he next morning, Cara pulled on her blue knitted cap, grabbed her backpack, and headed outside to wait for Aelyx.
A gust of wind from the east sent hundreds of burnt orange leaves bursting from their branches and whirling through the air. She lingered on the back steps to watch the sheets of foliage flutter to the ground like sunset-colored rain. Aelyx was right—sometimes her planet’s beauty overwhelmed the senses.
Soon he joined her.
“Ready?” His breath condensed, lingering in the air, and he immediately wedged both hands deep inside his coat pockets and shivered. He didn’t seem to tolerate the cold any better than the heat—probably spoiled by L’eihr’s controlled climate.
They traveled the wooded path a while, chatting over the crunch of fallen leaves, until a girl’s shrill voice called out from behind.
“Wait!” Brandi Greene jogged toward them, blond curls bouncing around her deceptively angelic face.
“Hey,” Cara said, making an effort to play nice. She should have known better.
“Hi, Aelyx.” Brandi ignored Cara’s greeting and flashed her pearly whites at Aelyx. “I watched your interview three times! Literally!”
Aelyx didn’t give Brandi the slightest glance. Cara knew because she watched his face. Not that she cared or anything.
“Wonderful.” With an eye roll, he turned and marched onward.
“Tell me more about babies on your planet.” Brandi cozied up to Aelyx, and he veered away, colliding with Cara’s hip. Since he needed a wider berth, she fell back on the narrow dirt path and walked behind them.
“You said there’s no unauthorized breeding,” Brandi said without missing a beat. “So you have to have, like, a license or something? ’Cause I think it’s messed up that I have to get a permit to have a yard sale, but any idiot can have a baby.”
“No, there aren’t licenses for reproduction. You need to remember that our societies are different. On Earth you procreate for love—”
Cara scoffed. Midtown High boasted a dozen teen pregnancies each year, and most of those babies were conceived via sloppy drunken hookup, not love. “Or because we’re wasted.”
Aelyx quickened his pace and heaved a sigh. “As I was saying, before we abandoned the breeding program, scientists tracked each citizen’s genetic material to determine which pairings would yield the most favorable result.”
“No way!” Brandi’s voice sounded delightfully scandalized. “So they literally told people who to have sex with? What if the guy was ugly or something?”
“Sexual intercourse wasn’t required.”
“What?”
Cara and Brandi said in unison.
“Genetic material from the male and female was combined artificially.” Aelyx turned and glanced at Cara. “This shouldn’t be surprising. You’ve had this technology on Earth for many years.” He faced forward and continued walking. “Then the embryo was developed in an artificial womb, same as the clones. Our females haven’t been burdened with pregnancy in over nine hundred years.”
That last part sounded pretty cool. Mom loved to tell labor and delivery horror stories, and sometimes Cara wondered if it was Mom’s passive-aggressive way of trying to scare her into abstinence. Which was totally working. To have a baby without any pain sounded perfect. Women on L’eihr were lucky—well, if you didn’t count the weird clone thing and the total lack of individuality.
“Whoa, that’s wild. But you still have sex, right?” When Brandi tried to lean against Aelyx’s shoulder, he darted away.
“Some of our citizens choose to engage in physical intimacy, but it’s rare. That kind of connection sometimes causes complications.”
That sparked Cara’s interest. “Wait a minute,” she said. “How’s it possible for a whole planet full of people to avoid sex?”
“Most take advantage of the hormone regulators.”
“Hormone regulators?” Brandi asked. “Like birth control pills?”
“No. The regulators suppress reproductive urges.”
Holy frick, that was creepy as hell.
“Do you take the hormone pills?” Brandi’s voice oozed seduction.
“Not anymore. They’re weaning my generation off of them.” Aelyx turned around and gave Cara a look that said,
A little help, please?
Jogging forward, Cara wedged herself between the two. “You feeling better, Aelyx?” When he shot her a questioning look, she added, “I heard you sneezing like crazy last night.”
“Oh, right.” He played along, sniffling and dragging a hand beneath his nose. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Allergies, I guess.”
“Remember not to touch anything,” Cara said darkly. “Especially after what happened
last time
.”
He gave a slow nod. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”
Brandi studied him for a moment before taking the bait. “What happened?”
“When we were at the exchange party in Manhattan,” Cara said, “Aelyx shook this guy’s hand. No big deal, right? But half an hour later, the guy’s palm turned red and splotchy with little white blisters all over it.”
“And?” Brandi asked.
Cara shook her head seriously. “It took forever to figure it out. Aelyx had sneezed into his hands and didn’t get a chance to wash up before he met that poor guy. Apparently, L’eihr saliva’s super acidic. Who knew?”
“Well,” he said, “you have to remember I’m not human. My body, including the pH level of my fluids, differs from yours.”
Nice one.
Cara cupped a hand over her mouth and whispered in Brandi’s ear, “Can you imagine kissing him?” She shuddered in mock disgust. “Anyway, that’s why he needs to keep his distance.” She pointed to Aelyx and asked, “Hey, when was the last time you washed your hands?”
Aelyx stared at his palms. “You know, I can’t remember.”
Brandi almost tripped over herself darting ahead of him on the path. This new development didn’t drive her away, but at least she gave Aelyx a few inches of personal space as she started asking about L’eihr drugs.
Cara smiled. It turned out Aelyx was almost as good of a liar as she was.
“Conflict’s a natural part of life. It exists on L’eihr—I know it—and I won’t believe anything you say till I see it for myself.” Cara brought a pencil to her lips and shrugged one shoulder casually, but her cerulean eyes flashed with passion. Aelyx loved it. His spirited debates with Cara and her World Studies instructor were the only pleasurable activities taking place for him inside Midtown High.
“I’m inclined to agree.” Mr. Manuel perched on the corner of his desk, ignoring the other students, who had turned their attention to the cellular phones concealed beneath their desks.
“I never said conflict was nonexistent,” Aelyx told her. “Only violence.”
“But that’s natural, too,” she countered.
“You’re only half right.” Aelyx leaned back and stretched out his legs, resting his feet on the steel bookrack beneath Cara’s desk. “Physical aggression is natural. We use rigorous sports to tame it.” The clones did, anyway. Aelyx didn’t mention his Elders had stopped feeling aggression decades ago, when they’d virtually died inside. “Violence isn’t tolerated. Tempting as it may be to resolve conflicts with our fists, the promise of harsh consequences keeps us compliant.”
“Consequences?” Mr. Manuel asked, sitting a bit straighter.
Cara perked up as well, giving a little sneer. “Like what? They chop off your hands for fighting?”
Aelyx held both palms forward. “I still have mine.”
“
You
were in a fight, Mr. Perfect?”
“Just once.” Only a fool would repeat an infraction after twelve lashes from the
iphet
. He could almost feel its blazing electricity stinging his flesh, and half a lifetime had passed since the incident. “Yes, our punishments are harsh, but we’re also trained from infancy to follow The Way. And don’t forget, my generation is cloned from the archives, so—”
“So,” Mr. Manuel interrupted, “they hand-selected a generation of ideal L’eihrs? That has disaster written all over it.”
Aelyx didn’t see the problem. “Why regenerate flawed citizens?”
“Newsflash,” Cara said. “You’re flawed, too.”
“Big time,” someone muttered from behind.
“Perhaps, but still evolved. Our last war ended thousands of years ago. Your wars in the Middle East have barely ceased, and already there’s conflict simmering again. Humans have yet to move beyond the cycle of aggression.” And they never would. He’d wager his life on it. “That’s the main difference between us.” The reason their societies should never coexist.
Before the debate could continue, a bell chimed in three short bursts through the loudspeaker, and noisy chatter erupted as students filed out of the classroom. In their customary fashion, he and Cara waited until the room emptied before departing for lunch.
The clamor of a hundred simultaneous conversations reverberated through the halls, joined by the squeak of rubber-soled shoes against tile floors. The acrid scent of tacos weighted the air, and he inwardly thanked Cara for packing his lunch again. He only wished it were pot roast instead of cheese and crackers.
“Keep putting ’em up, assholes,” she muttered as they passed a HALO recruitment poster taped to the wall. It proclaimed, H
ELL
, N
O
! L’
EIHRS
G
OTTA
G
O
! Not very creative, but then again, they weren’t the brightest among humans. “Because this feels great.” She tore it down and shoved it into a nearby recycling bin.
“See? There’s a healthy way to—” Aelyx stopped, distracted by the odd behavior of several students around him. As soon as they caught a glimpse of his face, they’d fling themselves from his path as if his touch might turn them to stone. Not that he was complaining—he preferred this to humans like Brandi clinging to him like religion.
While Cara charged forward, ripping posters off the dingy cinder block wall, a dark-haired female
click-click-click
ed over in platform heels and tugged Cara’s sweater. It took Aelyx a moment to recognize the girl as Tori. She’d cut her long hair last week and now wore it cropped at an angle that followed her jawline. A revealing skirt had replaced knee-length gym shorts, and she’d rimmed her eyes in jet-black goo, no doubt in an attempt to attract a mate. He wondered which male she’d targeted.
“I just found this in my locker.” Tori thrust a folded note at Cara, and he moved in to peer over her shoulder.
TRAITOR BITCH
was all it said.
Cara glanced at him and away just as quickly. “Yeah. I got that, too.”
“What?” Aelyx dropped his notebook and fumbled to catch it. “When?”
“Right before World Studies.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” His chest expanded with…what? Anger? Fear? No, this was a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite place.
“It’s no big deal. I’ve been called worse.”
Tori raised her chin—now four inches higher than usual due to her ridiculous shoes—and glared at him. “I got kicked off student government and the soccer team.” She blew a lock of hair out of her eye. “But for some reason, I’m still hanging with you. I hope you appreciate this.”
Tori clearly wanted him to return to L’eihr. He wanted to leave even more than she wanted him gone, but he couldn’t very well tell her that.
“I’m sorry, Tor,” Cara said, snatching another poster off a metal locker bank. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah,” Tori said flatly, “it’s so rewarding. I feel all warm and fuzz—”
“What the hell?” shouted an enormous male with a mop of mahogany hair. The boy used one hand to shove his way through the crowd while tugging Brandi Greene along with the other. He wore a Midtown lacrosse sweatshirt and a fierce scowl. Nodding at the poster in Cara’s hand, the boy growled, “You’re gonna put that back up.”
“Sure, Marcus.” Cara flung the paper into the bin and shoved it down with her textbook. “Just hold your breath and wait.”
So this was Marcus Johnson—lacrosse captain, HALO recruiter, and recently dethroned valedictorian. Aelyx had heard volumes from Cara about this hulking animal, none of it positive. Even Brandi seemed subdued around him, dropping her gaze to the tile as if to make herself invisible. The closer the boy moved to Cara, the more Aelyx’s muscles tightened against his will.
“I know you wrote this.” Tori shook her note at Marcus. “Grow some berries and say it to my face next time.”
If a smile could be described as evil, that’s precisely what curved Marcus’s lips. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”
Tori flashed one of her fingers in what Aelyx assumed was an insult and told Marcus to do something anatomically impossible. Meanwhile, Cara ripped another flyer off the wall, crumpled it into a ball, and launched it into the recycling receptacle.
Marcus’s grin faded, jaw tensing visibly as he dropped Brandi’s hand and pointed to the bin. “Get it out.”
Cara stepped within an inch of the boy and lifted her face to his. “Get bent.”
“I’m not fu—” His eyes darted over Cara’s shoulder to Aelyx, seeming to notice him for the first time. “Brandi says his spit can eat your face off like acid.” Marcus cocked his head to the side and sneered at Cara. “But for you that’d be an improvement.”
Despite the heat rising into his skull, Aelyx reminded himself that violence and anger were markers of the weak. He was above it. But then Marcus put his hands on Cara, roughly shoving her to the floor, and Aelyx’s mind emptied. His body trembled. Without thinking, he struck back with all his strength and slammed Marcus’s shoulder with the heel of one hand, sending the boy spinning into the locker bank, where he landed with a loud metallic
clang
that stung Aelyx’s eardrums.
Aelyx’s body flushed with fever. He couldn’t believe what he’d done…or how natural it had felt. He wanted to do it again. Great bleeding gods, what was wrong with him?
The hall fell silent as a hundred pairs of eyes widened in shock. Marcus grasped his upper arm and howled in pain. In seconds, an instructor rushed into the hall demanding to know what had happened.
Aelyx and Cara spent the rest of the hour in the office, where the secretary, Mrs. Greene, glared at them while answering calls and writing hall passes. A pity the woman didn’t share her daughter’s fascination with him, because Aelyx could have used some help. If the ambassador discovered what he’d done, it would mean the
iphet
—six lashes, at least.