Fear Me Not (The EVE Chronicles) (23 page)

I smile, and he grins crookedly.

It’s ironic that the ceremony of flame is being held for the Gutters during the coldest month of the year. On the calendar, the ceremony is described as ‘a week away for the Gutters to recharge and relax in various alien manners’. Few people know what it actually is, but human curiosity prevails with questions, and everyone knows Illuminators are soft, considerate targets - easy to get answers from. Two days before the ceremony, everyone knows, but the school turns a blind eye, insisting it’s a simple relaxing getaway. Some Gutter students opt to stay at the school instead - the Illuminator who’s going out with the human is one of them. The other Gutters spit bitter things about her - she’s shirking the ceremony because she thinks she’s already found her
ilssa
. A human
ilssa
, no less. They sound disgusted, and say the word ‘human’ as if they’re saying ‘animal’.

The festive atmosphere extends to the humans - study hall is ablaze with chatter and smiles and passed notes.

“Should I even ask about the ceremony?” I raise an eyebrow at Shadus.

“It is a fairly simple concept.”

“You -” My face burns red. “How do you, uhm, choose?”

He looks up over his book. “Choose?”

“You know,” I mutter. “Choose which Gutter you’re going to…you know -”

He laughs suddenly. “The fact you’re implying we’re restricted to one partner is naïve.”

The heat in my face stretches to the roots of my hair.

“You look different when your face is red like that.” He smirks. “What’s the human expression? You look…cuticle?”

“What the hell are you saying?” I snap, my face radiating heat.

“Cute. That’s it.”

Just like that, the heat in my face drains. My hand goes stiff in writing down a note for math. A snap freeze. He doesn’t really know what that word means. I’m not cute. That’s Alisa’s job, not mine. That word is for pretty people like Raine, and soft people like Dakota. Not me. He’s just using it because he’s heard it around. I crack the ice with a laugh.

“Aliens shouldn’t use words they don’t know the meaning of.”

“In Rahm, it’s
mora
. Raine told me it means roughly the same thing. Small, endearing, attractive.”

“Shut up!” I slam my book shut. “Just shut up, okay?”

“You’re getting very red.” His smirk gets bigger. “Your ears, your neck, your collarbone -”

“Would you shut the hell up?” I stand so fast my chair pushes back. Everyone in the library rivets their gazes to me. 

“Ms. Hale!” The librarian calls. “Please keep your voice down!”

I ease into my seat, Shadus’ low chuckling like salt in my embarrassed wound. Grabbing a book, I storm over to the shelf to put it back. Why can’t I be a normal girl; take the compliment in stride and laugh it off like the rest of them do so easily? I put the book back and lean my forehead against a row of cool leather spines. 

“I’m sorry,” Shadus’ voice says.

My eyes slide over – Shadus is standing right next to me, leaning on the bookshelf. I close my eyes and sigh.

“Don’t be. It’s me. Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know how to react like a normal person. Jeers, whispers, sneers, those are fine. I ignore them, punch something to make them hurt less. Compliments? I don’t know what to do with those.”

“You’re different. That’s not necessarily bad,” He offers. His long fingers skim over a row of books and he picks one out, flipping through the pages. “More literature in which the protagonist kisses his interest. Is it all your human writers are interested in? It hardly seems worthy enough to devote entire books to.”

 “It’s not so bad,” I defend. “Kissing.”

“You speak from experience?” He asks.

“Second grade during the school play. Arnold Grady. We were backstage, behind the curtain. I thought it was a good time to go for it.”

“It was enjoyable, then?”

“Too wet.” I laugh, the memory burning like an old tattoo of embarrassment. “He was shorter than me - all the boys were. They’ve only started catching up this year, really.”

“I’m jealous.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What? Of the short boys?”

“Of your kiss. You speak of it fondly. Even if it was lacking technique, you still remember it. It must have been an important experience. I assume I will never know that sort of feeling - ”

I step into him. He jolts back, hitting the bookshelf. It shakes, and settles. I point up at him.

“Be thankful. You guys have the ceremony of flame. You don’t waste time with petty shit and he-likes-her-she-likes-him crap. Your future is arranged by your family. But us? Humans? We fish around blindly in a pool of seven billion people, hoping one of them isn’t too crazy or too incompatible with us, and we get so desperate that when we find someone we can stand for two minutes we decide to marry them for life, when in reality they’re all wrong for us. But we keep pretending they’re right, until we can’t anymore, and then we divorce them or break up and we get up and try again, and again, and it chips away at our tiny human hearts.”

He stares at me intently, as if I’m lecturing him and he’s trying his hardest to learn something from it. I snort.

“You’re lucky, Creeps. All you Gutters are lucky.”

“What you call ‘lucky’, I call ‘boring’,” He says. “The human way of things may be more painful, but it sounds much more fun.”

I stride up to him, get in his face. His chest is rising and falling, his fists balled up. His ruby eyes stare down at me.

“Don’t do it,” He murmurs.

“Do what?”  I singsong.

He struggles with something inside himself, a pained look coming over his expression.

“Victoria -”

I press my head into the cradle where his neck meets his shoulder. I let my breath tickle the skin there. Every movie I’ve ever seen goes like this - filled with cheesy pauses and overdramatic teasing. If he wants human, he’ll get human, Hollywood ideals and all. Lips drag along his neck, a tiny lip-press against the corner of his mouth, not really a kiss. More like a promise, a sensual threat of warmth and sweetness. I only half know what I’m doing - but damn if I’m going to let inexperience ruin this. I’m losing myself, getting carried away with acting. I feel like someone else is pressing her lips to his shocked ones, someone else is drawing her tongue against his upper lip, begging for entrance. Some other girl lets out a sound halfway between a mewl and a moan into his mouth - not me.

“What is going on here?”

He shoves me away, so hard I nearly hit the bookcase behind me. Ms. Gianca stands at the end of the aisle, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently.

“I – I,” I stutter. “I was trying to reach a book over his head!”

Ms. Gianca quirks a brow at Shadus, who clears his throat and nods.

“They should put more footstools in here.”

Ms. Gianca’s eyes dart from me to Shadus, and then back again, like she’s watching a tennis match. I squirm – how much did she see? Finally, she breaks the silence.

“Get back to your seats, and your studies. Now.” 

I expect Shadus to get all proud and
sotho
-y, but he immediately complies, and I do the same. We can’t meet each other’s eyes. Ms. Gianca talks to the librarian quietly for a few minutes, and then leaves.

“T-That was stupid of me,” I say. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget that…”

“Forget what?” He insists when I trial off.

“That I’m not a Gutter. And that you’re not a human.”

His red gaze goes from soft to sharp in a millisecond.

“Don’t
ever
forget that.”

I nod. The bell rings, and he stands and leaves quickly, and somehow I get the feeling I did something wrong, at the wrong time, in the wrong way.

Something that can’t be undone.

***

The buses for the ceremony of flame are arriving tonight. Raine packs her bag lightly - pretty blouses and skirts.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” She asks. “Alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Shadus said it himself – the
mharata
are taking their time, in order to be extra sure. They won’t do anything for a couple days, at least.”

Raine sighs. “Alright. But Yulan has my number. He’ll alert us right away if something happens.”

“Where is the ceremony?” I ask, trying to get her off the subject.

“A closed-for-renovations ski resort. At least it’s a change from other years - I was getting bored of the Flame Cloister at the reservation. I do love room service.”

“Ski slopes,” I sigh longingly.

“We won’t be doing much skiing.”

My ears burn. Raine laughs behind her hand.

“I’ve always been impressed with human chastity. America in particular seems sensitive to the topic. Other countries are much more lenient.”

I throw her a bra she motions for. Her voice takes on a singsong tone.

“Anyone in particular you want me to report on while we’re there?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Taj is supposedly rather…
gifted
. I wouldn’t know, I consider him rather dry and boring and never tried, but still. It is good to know isn’t it?”

I mime vomiting. Raine laughs and taps her chin.

“I prefer other Illuminators. Adjudicators are decent, but sometimes too slow, and Executioners are passionate, but quite rough.”

“Do I really need to know any of this?” I toss her toothbrush over. She catches it.

“Do you? Shadus is -”

“I can’t hear you!” I smother my ears with my pillow. After a moment I unplug them, and Raine continues merrily on.

“ - known to bite.”

“Okay!” My voice is high. “Let’s shut up now.”

She laughs and zips her bag closed. “While I’m gone, no ferreting through my makeup. You can wear my clothes if you really want.”

“And risk looking moderately fabulous? Never.”

She pats my hand. From the window I watch the buses that pull up for the Gutters - flanked by black SUVs chock full with security. The Gutter students look happier than ever, like they’re going on holiday. It
is
a holiday for them. The driveway is blissfully scarce of protestors thanks to the cold, and the buses round the corner and are gone. The only company I have left are Shadus’ friends and Dakota.

“Don’t pout, Serena. You look like a squashed bulldog.”

“Screw you,” Serena spits at Nate. He laughs and pats me on the back.

“You too, Vic. Chin up. He won’t be gone for long.”

“I don’t care either way,” I sniff.

“I hope he comes back with the stick worked out of his butt. He’s been wound up lately,” Hailey muses.

“As long as he doesn’t start beating me over the head with it,” Nate scoffs.  

“You guys really like h-him, huh?” Dakota smiles. Aiden adjusts his glasses and looks over to me.

“As much as we like a wet cat with razor sharp claws.”

“Aiden likes to be a contrarian.” Nate shakes his head.

“Aw, look at you with your big words and your tiny brain,” Aiden snickers.

“Tiny brain? You asshole!” An open ketchup packet goes flying. We all duck at the same time.

The school feels crippled. The absence of Gutters is almost,
almost
missed. The empty desks are open sores, reminders of just how often aliens surround us. The crowd mumblings are all English - generic and monotone. With Taj gone, dire crimes like graffiti in the bathroom and running in the halls triples. I wonder if he’s worrying about the chaos in his absence. And the weirdest part of all - when did I start worrying about what Taj was worrying about?

In town, Dakota and I find a magazine with Raine in it - looking ethereal even in black leather and neon makeup. She’s, for lack of a better word,
unearthly
. I’d seen enough Gutters by now to spot the subtle differences in their faces, and to know that Raine is the prettiest. She hadn’t said it, but I’m sure she’s who everyone wants at the ceremony of flame.

Dakota smirks sideways at me. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Not thinking about any of them. I hope Ulsi is luckier with Taj this year.”

I flick through the magazine with a frown. An ad with a shirtless male model and a girl draped over each other blares at me. That’s what the Gutters are doing at this moment. That’s what Shadus is doing at this moment. The male model’s too beefy to be him, but still. Who’s the girl he’s with? Girls, plural! Does he, like Raine, prefer Illuminators? Or maybe he likes short girls? Friendlier girls? Girls with more curves? Do they come on to him or does he come on to them?

I flip to a different page and hit my face with the magazine a few times. I don’t need to think about this. It’s just curiosity - not jealousy. Like I’d be jealous of some alien girls. 

The protestors around the school gates were few, today, but the protestors in town are thick. They stand on curbs handing out fliers, others pace the sidewalks wearing cardboard signs with anti-Gutter slogans. A particularly dumb one - ‘Cutting through our government funds like butter - Gutters!’.

“You two look like sensible girls.” A woman smiles and shoves a flier into my hand as Dakota and I wait for the crosswalk signal. “Would you like to sign up for our monthly newsletters? Protest organizations, meetings with refreshments - it’s all there.”

“No thanks.”

“Oh, you must be student EVEs at Green Hills!” Another protestor marvels. “You look healthy enough. Are they feeding you well, or do the Gutters take priority?”

“EVEs are a crime against nature,” A third protestor interjects, brows drawn. “Your bodies are filthy and defiled with alien flesh.”

The first woman who approached us is staring at me as the other two berate us. Her eyes go wide.

“Alexandra?”

I go stiff at the name. The woman nods, smile growing.

“Yes! I thought you looked familiar! You…you’re Alexandra’s daughter, aren’t you? You’re the spitting image of her.”

The other two women join in, one pressing her hand to her mouth.

“Oh my god, you’re right. I thought Jon was joking when he said her daughter was an EVE.”

Dakota shifts uneasily next to me, as if holding something in. I set my grimace.