Fear Me Not (The EVE Chronicles) (7 page)

4. The Chariot

Taj loves to stride around during breaks and hand out detentions like candy. He gives them to people for breaking dress code, to excessive people who like to makeout with a lot of tongue, and to anybody who goes any faster than a leisurely snail’s pace in the halls. He’s earned the nicknames piss-boy, Hitler, and Buttercup, the last one used exclusively by me. He’s real adamant about stopping fights before they start, and about being fair, and it’s all a little too white-knighty for me. Teachers love him, though. We’re pretty sure Mrs. Hayfield’s got a massive cradle-robbing crush on him.

She’s not the only one who’s got the hots for an E.T. Girls are arguing about who gets to ask which Gutter boy out first. Boys are arguing about which Gutter girl is the hottest. It usually ends up being Raine, but the fact they’re arguing about it at all is disturbing. They’re
aliens
! Lizard people! But even if I say that, people won’t care. People don’t care if they’re lizards, because they look like hot-ass people now. And that’s hypocritical and dangerous. That means they only like them for how they look, and I’m worried.

But then again, I’m worried about most everything.

And I’m irritated. Having your smokes taken from you will do that. But it’s more than that. Mom used to smoke that exact brand. It was my way of keeping her alive just as much as it was a habit. And now? Now I don’t even have that. Now, she’s really gone from my life.

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was juvenile – risking cancer just to keep Mom close. Every memory I have of her was punctuated by the smell of menthols. She didn’t leave any trinkets, or necklaces, or heirlooms. Dad threw out all her stuff, because it was too painful to keep. He didn’t even keep the photographs.

But every time I smoked, I could pretend she was still alive again. I could pretend she was with me. Dad knew. Of course he knew. But he was no better at keeping Mom close – he used alcohol. He wasn’t a mean drunk, thank god, but the times he staggered home and collapsed drunk-asleep in the doorway were too many to count. Alisa and I would always do our best to drag him inside and put a blanket over him. Sometimes, he’d wake up and call Alisa by Mom’s name, and then start crying.

Alisa had her own ways, much less damaging than either of us. She cooked a lot. Baked, mostly. Mom did that a lot, too, and Alisa kept her recipe book alive and well. But it wasn’t all sunshine. Alisa got sad more frequently than both of us. She was the one who cried most. She was only six when it happened. She barely had the chance to know Mom at all.  

I sigh and grab my dinner tray. I hate sitting at a table with people on it. Or Gutters. Anyone, really. Just because I’m an EVE doesn’t mean I fit in – I’m still That-Tall-Scary-Girl-With-Too-Much-Eyeliner-Who-Frowns-A-Lot. The only empty table in the cafeteria has a girl Gutter at it. I slide my tray onto it. The Gutter looks up - Raine.

“Oh great. Hi Barbie,” I groan.

“Hello. Who is ‘
Barb
’ie? Her name sounds rather thorny.”

“She has hard little plastic boobs. Those could be considered thorns,” I snort into my bite of mac and cheese. Raine knits her eyebrows. “Barbara,” I sigh. “Barbie is short for Barbara. It’s a plastic doll with unrealistic proportions girls like to play with.”

“Is it? That makes much more sense.”

Her tray is empty of any glass vials of emotion-liquid. Why isn’t she eating? Is she trying to starve herself? Alisa went on strange diets and cleanses she got from magazines all the time, and I hated it. Neither of them need to lose weight. They’re beautiful, feminine in all the right ways. Raine looks into her compact and dabs at her face with a napkin, as if the smooth porcelain of her skin has blemishes.

“Not eating?” I ask. “You should. Food’s sort of good for you.”

She shakes her head. “I have a photoshoot in a week for Seventeen magazine. You’ll read it when it comes out, right?”

“Do I look like the type of airhead who reads Seventeen?”

“Certainly not. If you had air in your head, you would die. Your internal skull pressure would destabilize, and your brain would start -”

“It means idiot, okay? Airhead means idiot.”

She giggles, a saccharine thing. Her wrists look glass-fragile, and she’s a little pale. Raine talks about two things - clothes and herself. She snores when she sleeps, takes up the mirror for hours in the morning, and contemptuously eyes my fashion, but she doesn’t bother me like Shadus. Doesn’t ask questions. And for that, I’m grateful.

I sniff one of the candles on the table. Strings of paper bats flicker on the ceiling with every puff of the heating system. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were setting someone up to be strangled. A hanging body would add to the Halloween vibe they’re going for.

“So, let me clarify this.” Raine looks up from her compact. “Hellowinner is when human children dress up as monsters and beg for candy.”

“
Halloween
. But yeah, more or less.”

“I understand the Hallo part, but the ‘ween’? What is a ‘ween’?”

“Uh –”

“And why monsters? Why not heroes, or saints, something more socially acceptable?”

“Kids dress up as heroes all the time. Batman, Spiderman - ”

“A man made of spiders and bats? That is
truly
monstrous. What were you for Halloween?”

“Snow White. For eight years.”

Raine purses her lips, applying a new coat of gloss. “Snow White! I remember her story. She was the one with the seven stunted humans looking after her. She cooked and cleaned and one day ate a radioactive fruit of some sort, and the creatures put her in a glass preservation tube and cried.”

I blink. “That sounds a little different than the one I remember.”

“Our teacher modified the story so it would make more sense in a Gutter context. The best part of the story was when she came back to life as an animated corpse.”

“How did that happen?”

“Instant degeneration of the vestigial nervous system combined with neuron reconfiguration surgery, as per usual. She was also kissed by a prince.”

I laugh until my lungs are sore. The worry that was heavy on my heart dissipates into nothingness for this moment. Raine smiles, bewildered and asking what’s so funny on repeat. And the steel curtain between us lifts a little.

                        ***

Alisa calls me the next day, and I return it at lunch. She seems positive, and better, but she always tries real hard to sound like that so I don’t worry. I’ve seen her do it with Dad. She insists she had an attack because she inhaled smoke from burned rice in cooking class, but I don’t believe that for a second. We both know she has random attacks, and with increasing frequency. She just wants to blame it on something so it doesn’t seem like she’s getting worse.

But she is.

I have to get that money, no matter what happens to me here at the school.

Which is why, when the gum-smacker who picked on Dakota in PE tracks me down during break and tries to fight me, I do a whole lot of ducking.

“We can talk this out,” I say. The girl laughs, shrilly, her two friends on either side of her blocking my escape down the hall.

“You think so? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“Look, you’re mad I stood up for Dakota. That’s fine. Ever think about yourself, though? How does beating me up look to everyone else? And you have to do it with two other girls? You’ll look like a coward.”

“I don’t care if people know I did it, or if they see, or what I look like,” Gum-smacker sneers. “You insulted me and threw a ball at my face! You walk around all high and mighty, like the bitch you are. You deserve what’s coming to you. And it’s coming right now.”

They advance on me, smirking, and I back up to the wall.

“Whoa, wait, wait! What if someone catches us fighting? Aren’t you afraid of being expelled? You’re gonna give up a hundred thousand dollars just to beat me up?”

“A hundred thou? You’re getting a
hundred
? Yeah right.” Gum-smacker sneers.

“Isn’t that…” I trail off. “That’s what the EVE clinic guys tell everyone.”

One girl to her left shakes her head. “Nu-uh. They said I’d getting twenty.”

The other girl shrugs. “Fifty.”

“Fifty?” Gum-smacker turns to the girl and shoves her shoulder. “Fuck you! You didn’t tell me! I’m only getting ten!”

“What makes you so special?” The twenty thousand girl snarls at me. Gum-smacker suddenly remembers what she came here to do, and reaches for my hair.

“Ugh, let’s just get it over with. I’ve been waiting forever to punch her stupid face in.”

I hold my arms up and curl into a ball. If I don’t fight back, maybe they won’t expel me. If I don’t fight back, there’s still a chance for Alisa, and Dad. But it’s going to hurt. I watch as Gum-smacker raises her hand to slap me, her nails long and sharp and painted red, like claws.

Oh yeah. It’s going to hurt.

“What’s going on here?”

I’d recognize that authoritative voice anywhere. Taj is striding towards us, anger furrowing his brows. The girls scatter instantly. He darts off after them, then sighs and gives up the chase, walking towards me instead.

“Nothing happened,” I say quickly.

“It looked like they were about to fight you,” Taj says. Now that he’s close, I can see every muscle under his plaid shirt.

“It was nothing. Really. They were just…just asking me answers to some homework questions! That’s all.”

Taj narrows his gold-streaked eyes. I hadn’t noticed before, but his eyes are turned up at the corners, giving him a cat-like look. His lips are broad, and his nose proud. Unlike swarthy Shadus, his skin is pale, with a slight sheen of outdoorsy tan. He could pass for any good-looking American guy.

“Alright,” he says finally. “But if it happens again –”

“It won’t. I tend to actively avoid people who I know want to punch my teeth in.”

Taj chuckles, but he keeps staring at me.  

“Something on my face?” I ask.

“I apologize.” His eyes flicker away. “I know in human culture it’s rude to stare. I’m just…curious.”

“About what? Please don’t say my bra size.”

He chuckles. “No. I know human boys do that, but in Gutter culture it’s severely frowned upon to question after a female’s personal details. Unless they are your mate.”

Mate. They use words like that, instead of girlfriend? I feel myself flush but shake out of it.

“Then what are you curious about?”

“Shadus. Why would he –” Taj shakes his curly-haired head. “It just doesn’t make sense. Shadus is closed off, completely self-contained. He’s been that way since we landed years ago. He barely speaks to any Gutter outside of his father. And even then, that’s only rarely. He has no friends. Gutters try to be his friends because he is Executioner
sotho
and will one day wield great power, but he drives them all away for that exact reason. He trusts no one.  But somehow, he’s seen fit to tell you very private things.”

“He thinks no one will believe me, if that helps,” I say. “He says a teenager has no credibility.”

“That’s true. Still. It’s odd. I’ve never seen him speak or interact with a Gutter the way he does with you.”

The EVE organ gives a little jump under my ribs, but I still it with even breaths. Taj smiles. It’s a sincere smile – nothing like Raine’s affably contrived ones or Shadus’ bitter smirks.

“You’re a very interesting human, Victoria Hale. I hope to see you again.”

“I hope I don’t. See you again. Because that’d mean I’m probably in trouble.”

He chuckles. “Regardless, take care of yourself. The waters of Gutter politics are treacherous. Some may use your connection with Shadus for themselves.”

“Like you?” I say. Gold eyes gleam.

“So you aren’t stupid.”

“No. And neither are you.”

There’s an unspoken agreement that we’ve hit an impasse with each other, and he nods, walking away.

***

Ms. Gianca’s script is large and neat on the whiteboard.

“The Gutters’ native language is known as Rahm. It is primarily a pheromone-based language, with vocal modifiers. Today, every Gutter is taught four human languages; English, Spanish, French, and Mandarin Chinese. This allows better communication with humans no matter where we go. However, I believe it’s time humans learned a few Rahm words as well.”

I copy the basic Rahm words on the board.
Yuosai
; hello.
An’hege oir
; please pass me that. Ms. Gianca pronounces a faint hiss after certain words. It sounds snake-like, soft and lilting at the same time. And then we move on. She writes four words on the board;
Asara
,
Umala
,
Latori
, and
Shototh
.

“Humans have many religions,” Gianca says. “And with that comes many gods. The Gutters too have many religions, but one remains more popular than the rest. It’s called
Ki-eth
, which roughly translates to ‘path of the four’. Four goddesses of unimaginable power govern the universe, or so we believe.”

Gianca throws her pointer on the word
Asara
.

“Asara, the Great Mother of Light. She-Who-Births-All-Things. She is kindness and mercy incarnate, and loves all within the universe unconditionally.”

She points to
Umala
.

“Umala, the Great Mother of Darkness. She-Who-Destroys-All-Things. Umala is destruction, chaos, and fear. Umala is Asara’s sister. Asara’s father, Yu, the Great Father of Nothingness, wanted to kill Umala when she was born from him. But, taking pity on her, Asara hid her sister away within her own body, and Yu could not kill her. Since then, Umala and Asara share a body. They are one, but they are not the same. Umala, in her anger at being seen as inferior, tries to always undo the good that Asara creates in the universe.”

We’re all quiet. Even Gerald, the class clown who never shuts up, is shutting up. It’s the most interesting thing she’s taught so far.

“Latori, the Great Mother of Mountains,” Gianca continues. “She is reclusive, and quiet, and knows and keeps all secrets. She sees everything that will be, or can be, but she never gets involved. She is the great scholar, with her libraries of scrolls that contain the history of the universe, from beginning to end.”