Fear Me Not (The EVE Chronicles) (3 page)

“I can’t stand fancy places like this.”

“Did you see their eyes? Oh my god, they’re so pale and freaky!”

In the main hall, Gutters and humans stand separately in tight knit circles, eyeing each other from afar. The Gutter body language is stiff and mechanical - their arms over their chests and miles of space kept between them. A clique of human girls giggles with every Gutter male that passes. They’re good looking, I guess, but that doesn’t take away from the fact they are
lizard aliens inside human bodies
. Some of us are just too stupid to remember that, apparently. I shove the main doors open, two boy EVEs talking just outside.

“I don’t think I can take a whole year sitting in the same room as these freaks, but my mom would kill me if I messed this up. She’s gonna use the money to pay off dad’s gambling debts -” 

“Yeah? My mom forced me here, bro, so I can ‘pay for my own college’. It’s so stupid. I don’t even wanna go to college –”

The grounds are open and friendly. There’s no dark spot for me to huddle in and smoke without being noticed. I find a space behind the gym - a brick cove with dumpsters blocking the view. The smoke rises in a comforting spiral and tickles my throat. My nerves melt away. Gutters or no Gutters, I’ll stay and get that money. Shadus is an arrogant piece of work. Raine is too happy-preppy. Even normal, gray-eyed Gutters seem uptight and frigid.

I eye the protestors at the front gate. Signs wave, peeking between the fence with hateful words. The chanting is a dull buzz. News vans spill cords and cameras and lights, reporters with coiffed hair gesture in front of voracious lenses. I duck lower behind the dumpster. The security at the gates holds the protestors and reporters back, night sticks and stun guns hanging on their hips. Not everyone is happy aliens and humans are going to school together. ‘
Too dangerous’
, the protestors shout. But dangerous for who? Gutters, or us? I spot anti-alien logos on shirts. PFE - People for Free Earth. The sight of the logo, an orange circle enclosing a bird wing, punctures my stomach with splinters. Mom’s group.

A faint PA voice from the school announces lunch. I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to see those pale-eyed faces, how they eat at the table,
what
they’re eating. I sure as hell don’t want to see Shadus. I’ve got a Gutter for a roommate, a Gutter for a culture partner. I’m surrounded. I suck in a breath and try to call up Alisa’s happy face, Dad’s weary grin. Mom’s death, caused by the Gutters, destroyed us.

But because of the Gutters, I can start to put us back together again.

2. The Devil

Raine snores like a congested elephant, the last thing I expected of a seemingly perfect pretty alien-girl. It makes it hard to get a wink in edgewise. I pull the covers over my head and text on my phone with Alisa. She says to call. The phone rings once, and she picks up.

“Vic! Okay, tell me all about it. What do they look like? How old do they look? Are they pretty? Are the boys hot? Or are they just plain freaky? Do you have your own room?”

Raine chokes on a snore, and rolls over. Alisa giggles at the sound.

“I have an alien for a roommate,” I whisper. “You know Raine? That model you’re always going on about in your magazines?”

“That’s her?” Alisa squeals. “Oh my god, you have to get her autograph for me.”

“Gimme a break.”

“Please, Vic?
Please
?” She uses her pouty voice, the one that punches hole in my heart. I bite my lip.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll get you an autograph.”

“Yes!” She hisses in victory.

“How’s Dad?”

Her giggles fade. “Oh, you know. Tired. Same as always. He had four shifts today. I’m making muffins for him to try and perk him up.”

“I miss your muffins. I miss him. I miss you.”

I hate the crack in my voice as I say it.

“Vic…” Alisa trails off. “We miss you, too. It’s hard. Being alone. Going to school alone.”

“Do those girls still bother you?”

“It’s okay, really. I’m taking the long way so they won’t -”

“Alisa, you have to stand up for yourself!”

“I’m fine! It’s okay. I’ll manage until you get back.”

I wince, my eyebrows pinching painfully. Alisa’s asthma made her a target for girls at her school. I walked with her every day to and from school, her shield against the jeers. How can I be her shield if I’m so far away, now?

“Promise you’ll call a lot, Vic?” Alisa murmurs.

“I will. I promise.”

Her serious tone lightens, and she barrels into a story about discount shopping at the mall. The pressure of the day hits me like a sledgehammer, and my eyelids ease closed. Her cheery voice lulls me to sleep.

When I wake up, her text awaits, full of smilies; ‘
Try to stay awake next time, dork
J’
.

Those stupid text faces give me strength.

Dressing for the first day of school is the same as outfitting yourself for battle. It makes the first impression - tells people where you’ve been for the summer, or how well off you are. It’s the outermost layer of the stinking onion that is every person in the world. Some layers are shinier than others. My layer is made of frayed jeans and mismatching socks. Gutters seem to understand how important clothes are to humans - Raine has an entire closet of couture clothes she picks over carefully. The Gutters yesterday dressed in decent, clean-looking things. Even Shadus’ combat boots looked shiny and new.  

“You guys study our fashions or something?” I pull my faded shirt over my head. Raine turns at the question.

“We’ve grown up studying human culture in order to fit in better, clothes included.”

“Yeah? What about when you were lizards? Did you guys wear clothes in your original bodies?”

“No. Our harder skin did not need protection as yours does. Our sensitive areas were protected naturally by plates of keratin. But we arranged our fringes in different fashions, wore bone and xelan jewelry, and dyed our scales according to our moods. The concept is the same.”

Scales
.
Fringes
. I shake my head to clear it of the image - Godzilla wearing necklaces, his body dyed in pink and purple stripes. Raine’s mouth twists into a smile as she decides on a floaty white dress, grabs her books, and taps her feet into leather sandals.

“I am excited for this year,” She says. When I don’t say anything, she keeps on. “Teenage EVEs are supposed to give off the most delicious emotions, what with your hormones causing your lives to have much emotional fluctuation.”

“Sounds like good eating.” I roll my eyes. She smiles, oblivious to how grossed-out I am.

“It is. The taste of the emotions is much stronger than an adult’s.”

I shudder. Raine just smiles wider.

“Have a good day, Victoria.”

The door shuts behind her. She’s obviously never been to a human high school. There are no good days.

I zip my hoodie up and lock the room behind me. The hall floods with perfume and cheery laughter and the gauzy glitter of sun glancing off first-day-of-school makeup. 

 Every girl has a story. It shines in the color they choose for their nails, the way they dress their hair. Raine is impeccable; fashionable side ponytail, pale blue nails. I’m lackluster; my dishwater blonde hair is pin-straight with split ends for days; my nails are bitten short and dotted with flaking black polish I haven’t redone in weeks. I’m wearing mostly black. I’m tall, but that’s the only good thing about me. I’ve got no curves, not like Raine. The EVE girls come in all shades – preppy girls with metallic polish and updo’s, wholesome suburbanites with braids, the goths with purple lipstick and pinstripe socks, and the anime nerds with their iron-on Naruto patches and baggy jeans. The Gutter girls are almost all the same – their fashion is carefully neutral, yet contemporary and stylish; skinny jeans, blouses, blazers, with modest makeup and jewelry. They look fine, but none of them stand out or look unique.

Some girls recognize Raine and stop her in the hall, squealing about her latest spread in such-and-such magazine. Raine takes it all with a gracious smile. She has no trouble speaking with humans, and she pisses none of them off. She could teach Shadus a thing or two, that’s for fucking sure.

The protestors are up bright and early, marching along the front gate. Camera bulbs flash as reporters take pictures of the school. Security patrols up and down the lawn, ushering us to get to class. One protestor screams hysterically, loud enough for me to hear.

“Run while you still can, kids! Run! Run while you have the chance!”

Students stop to stare at her. A security guard pulls his hat further over his eyes and waves his hands as he grunts.

“Keep walking, please. That’s it, just keep walking. The sooner we get you inside, the better.”

“Why do they want us inside?” A girl whispers to her friend.

“The protestors might throw things,” I answer automatically. “The PFE’s there, too.”

“PFE? Who’re they?”

Her friend rolls her eyes. “Those people who had that stampede back in the day? At that protest? We were, I dunno, seven?”

“That was them?” The girl’s voice pitches up. They take the left fork, I take the right and try to quell my roiling stomach at the mention of the stampede. The hall packs with overdressed people. Boys have their hair gelled, the strong scent of an ungodly amount of Axe stinging my nose. But boy Gutters are the same as the girls – stylish, yet homogenous. The Gutters nod and smile, looking a little lost in all the boisterous human energy. Voices are shrill with nervousness, students calling to each other like they’re best friends already. We’re from all over the country - there’s no way anyone’s made friends yet. Or maybe they have. Maybe all the cliques magically formed overnight, and I’m alone.

Who am I kidding? I don’t care about cliques, or ‘belonging’. I’m just here for the money.

I glance at my map. My math class is up ahead. If I squeeze past this guy -

“I said watch where you’re going!”

The voice is volatile. It blankets a hush over the crowd, and I freeze. I step on the bottom of a pillar and look over everyone’s head. In the middle are two Gutters and two EVEs. The girl Gutter is livid. The boy Gutter looks like he sucked on a lemon.

“Your EVE shoved mine, Illuminator. Tell her to apologize,” The girl Gutter says airily.

“Talia didn’t shove anyone.” The boy Gutter glares. The girl Gutter laughs.

“We all saw it.”

From behind her loom more Gutters. The boy Gutter is outnumbered. The EVEs shoot glances at one another, and the EVE called Talia tries a smile.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to -”

“Don’t apologize,” Boy Gutter snaps. “You don’t need to say sorry to trash like them.”

“Trash, is it?” The female Gutter’s smile widens. “You’re no more than a
sa’hern inajek
.”

Her lapse into the strange language makes the male Gutter’s face grow darker. The crowd murmurs.

“Are they gonna fight?”

“On the first day?”

“How pathetic.” That voice is familiar. I look over my shoulder. Shadus stands by me, arms folded on his chest.

“Do you guys fight a lot?” I ask.

“Fighting is the Gutter way of life. Petty squabbles are not. They’re just overwhelmed. A new place, new stresses. The smell of the high-strung emotions from you EVEs isn’t helping, either.”

I raise a brow. “You guys can smell us?”

“Of course,” He snorts. “We may have lost our scent glands, but we’ve modified our noses to be very keen.”

“So our smell is stressing you guys out?”

“It’s…titillating us, for lack of a better word. It’s like you humans smelling delicious, roasting meat constantly. It makes you hungry, edgy, ready to do anything to get a bite.”

I shiver. Shadus continues.

“But Melune has always been like this. She’s just using EVEs as an excuse to confront Illuminators. She hates them.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Break it up!” An authoritative voice cuts between the tension.

Another Gutter comes between the arguers. He has broad shoulders and a roman profile. His dark hair is highlighted with bleached stripes, and curly. It’s the Abercrombie-looking guy. The color of his eyes flashes for a brief second - a bright gold. 

“Taj!” Melune sighs. “Thank
Asara
, this Illuminator’s EVE -”

Taj holds up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. You disgrace the Adjudicators with your violent outbursts, Melune. And on the first day? I should have you in detention for months.”

“No!” Melune protests. “His EVE is the one who -”

“Composure, Melune. Learn it,” Taj snaps. His tone silences her. He turns to the Gutters backing her.

“If you were to fight this Illuminator, a good battle is not seven versus one. Adjudicators embody honor, not pack tactics. Go, before I stick you with detention as well.”

Melune and her posse glare, but disperse without another word. Her EVE follows her. Taj turns to the boy Gutter and his EVE, and makes a small bow.

“I apologize for my faction, Illuminator. This doesn’t excuse you, however. Staying to pick a fight with us is never a smart idea. You would do well to remember that.”

The Illuminator scoffs as he and Talia walk away. Taj turns to the crowd.

“There is nothing more to observe. Continue to your classes, unless you prefer getting a tardy slip from me personally.”

“Yeah?” A human guy snaps. “And who’re you to give out slips? You’re not a teacher. You’re just a freak.”

“That’s odd,” A voice says, the principal walking up from behind Taj. “For a minute there, I thought I heard you call one of our students a name, Johnathon.”

The Johnathon goes red down to his roots. The principal claps Taj on the shoulder.

“Taj is the leader of the Student Enforcers. They are a club that takes it upon themselves to enforce the rules. They can give out detention if they see a misdemeanor occurring, yes. Anyone is welcome to join this club, be they human or Gutter.”

“So anybody can give anybody they don’t like detention?” Johnathon presses.