Phoenix (6 page)

Kyra drops her eyes. "No."

"Well, hand it here. Let's see what people are saying."

She reluctantly gives me the tablet. There are over a dozen feeds – all about Beck, Ryker, and me. How dangerous is Beck? Who is on Team Beck versus Team Ryker?

"Seriously," I say. "As if there is any competition. Beck loves me, and Ryker wants to kill me."

"You have to see this." Kyra giggles. "This one has the best charts. Look at all the pro's Beck has. My favorite is that his eyes match yours. It's so romantic."

"Oh, nutter," I say looking at the lists. "Ryker gets a pro for looking handsome in his Enforcer uniform?" I blush as I toss the tablet aside, remembering the way the fitted suit hugged his muscular body. "This can't be real."

"It's what everyone is talking about. Forget the food crisis." Kyra throws her head back and laughs. "Ryker gets points for being part Asian. Beck gets points for being so good with his lacrosse stick. Ohhh...now that's something I've been meaning to ask you, how good is he with that stick?"

Heat sears my cheeks. "Kyra!"

"What? I tell you everything."

"You tell me more than I want or care to know."

"And yet you never say to stop. Why is that, Lark? Hmmm?"
 

I roll off the bed and onto the floor. "I don't care if you never tell me about your sex life again."

"Prude."

"Maybe so, but I think some things need to stay private."

"Does this mean you don't want to read this article about '34 Ways to Please Your Man in Bed'?"

My blush deepens. "Never!"

She snickers. "Okay. I'm done messing with you. Let's get the boys and go out. I haven't had fun in ages, and I'm bored."

"Annalise won't allow it," I say. "I snuck over here without permission."

Kyra lifts an eyebrow. "Naughty, naughty, Lark. She's going to be all over you now."

I sigh. "I know. I can't go anywhere. Besides, I can't be seen with Beck." I twist my ponytail around my finger. "But I do need to put these rumors and gossip to sleep." I rub the base of my neck. "Henry and Annalise want me to do a press conference in a few days. I'm beginning to think they're right. "

"Good luck with that, Miss Sunshine."

"What does that mean?"

Kyra gives an exasperated huff. "Only that everyone thinks you've gone completely
deso
."

"So I'll smile more. Would that make it better?"

Kyra shrugs. "I don't know, but I do know you have an image problem, and we need to fix it."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Step one of Kyra trying to fix my image problem: act as the third wheel to her and Maz at the Opera. It only took endless pleading on both our parts to get Annalise to agree. However, I must not talk to anyone and sneak in after the final seating call. I can be seen, but not heard.
And
I must travel with a full guard of six.

I thought coming-of-age and being in control of the State would give me more freedom. Little did I know.

My retinue and I transport in to the secure zone just after the final seating is signaled. My dress tonight is a gauzy fuchsia number Kyra picked out. It floats around me as I walk, and I worry a little about tripping on the hem and tearing it.
 

"You look gorgeous," Kyra says. She smiles at me, waiting for a return compliment.

Her dress is made entirely of gray ombré feathers. It's stunning.

"You are the height of fashion as always," I say, a little envious of her dress. Mine is just a normal dress – nothing overly special - but hers is a showstopper. I need to remember to pick my dress before Kyra gets her hands on them.

Unlike the last time we went out – when I set the underground nightclub on fire -- the Opera is full of Statespeople and a perfectly acceptable place for the Head of State to be seen. I catch a glimpse of myself in a gilded mirror. I may not be wearing feathers, but how can they miss me in this color?

Step two of Kyra's plan: have me smile and court the cameras, but don't talk to them. We agreed on this with Annalise. The less I say (nothing), the better. At least until after the press conference.

Our private box is cozy and overlooks the whole of the Opera. Below me, Statespeople turn toward our box and pretend not to be interested in the fact that I'm standing here. But their hurried glances and whispers give them away.
 

Behind me, Kyra and Maz hide in the shadows, groping at each other. It's a little uncomfortable to say the least, and you'd think they'd be past that phase by now.

Every so often a camera flies into my view, and I smile into the blinding light, pretending like there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

"Kyra," I whisper, so the cameras don't hear me. "Does the performance start soon?"

She untangles herself from Maz. "After they serve the first course." It's a dinner Opera and something I've never been to before.
 

"And when is that?" I ask

"Soon."

I'm not sure if I can take much more of the Kyra and Maz show happening next to me, but I'm stuck. To get up and leave would look bad.

All around me Statespeople buzz with excitement. My box - Mother's former spot - sits in the prime location, middle of the room, directly before the stage. To my left is Minister Sun-Wei's, and on my right, which is empty tonight, is a box labeled 'Special Guests,' most likely for visiting dignitaries.

There's a knock on our door, and Maz leisurely reaches to open it, but Kyra blocks him and orders, "Who's there?"
 

One of my guards on the outside responds, "Minister Sun-Wei to see Miss Lark."

Kyra gives me a questioning look, and I nod my head giving her permission to allow Sun-Wei in.

The door swings open, and the Minister stands before me. "Lark," he says in his hoarse whisper voice. "It's so good to see you up and about."

I'm supposed to talk to no one, but surely Sun-Wei means me no harm. "Thank you, Minister. You look dapper this evening."

He bows his head. "Thank you."

A camera floats closer to me, trying to pick up the exchange, no doubt, and I immediately shut down.
 

"If you don't mind, Minister," Kyra says, "Lark needs to get to her seat. The first course is being delivered."

Sun-Wei nods. "Of course. Enjoy your evening, Miss Lark." His added formality makes me shiver.
 

As he turns to leave, the first course is delivered to our box, a lovely mixed green salad with strawberries, almonds, and pomegranate dressing. My hunger makes me want to devour it, but I'm conscious of the cameras watching my every move.

"This is sooo good," Kyra exclaims. "I can't wait to see what's next."

I nod absent-mindedly. What I wouldn't give to have Beck here with me. At least I'd have someone to talk to. When I told him of my plans for the night, he looked disappointed. He didn't say anything except to tell me to have fun, but I could tell he'd rather I stay in - and I almost did. Until Eloise insisted I go. She thought it would be good for people to see me out.

So far, even with Sun-Wei approaching me, being out hasn't been too terrible. If I had to battle the throngs of people I had imagined, I'm not sure I would have lasted.

The lights flash on and off, signaling the start of the show. A hush falls over the crowd as a petite woman takes the stage. She wears an elaborately beaded gown and holds an old-fashioned microphone in one hand.
 

"Thank you for coming tonight," she says in a baby doll voice. "I hope you enjoy the performance."

She exits stage left, just as the main course is served. I stare down at the onion tartlet for a long moment. It looks delicious, but a thought strikes me.

"Excuse me?" I say to the server, breaking the promise of silence.

"Yes, madam?"

"Where did the food for tonight's dinner come from?"

The server gives me a strange look, like I've lost my mind. "The Agricultural Centers. We received a fresh shipment today."

"I see."

A camera whirls overhead, zooming in on my plate of food.

"Kyra," I whisper behind my hand. "What feed is that camera attached to?"

She eyes it for a second. "Gossip One, I think."

"Look it up."

Kyra fiddles with her wristlet. "Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no."

My heart sinks. "Tell me."

"Head of State, Lark Greene feasts," Kyra's voice shakes. "This isn't good. You look like a greedy glutton."

I slink around the table and take my coat from the hook hanging on the corner. "I'm going home. This was a bad idea."

"But the show--"

"Will be
fabo,
I'm sure, but I can't be seen eating like this. The Splinter group will hold it against me." I place my napkin on the table and slip on my faux fur coat. "I'd rather be home with Beck, anyway."

Hushed voices surround us, and I look up to see all eyes on me, not the stage.
 

Wonderful. I can't pretend I have to use the bathroom because I'm clutching my coat.
 

Kyra looks around the room and sighs. "Fine, but I'm telling you, this is a bad idea. You shouldn't leave."
 

"Should I stay and gorge myself while the people outside of San Francisco starve?" I whisper.

She stares at me blankly.

"Kyra?"

"I don't know. I just don't know, Lark, okay?" she snaps.
 

Both she and Maz grab their coats and follow me to the exit. I don't worry about paying the check because I know they just send it to my office tomorrow.

We leave the Opera, and because of the chilly night air, scurry to the secure transporting zone.
 

"Oh no," Kyra says again. I'm beginning to think she needs a new catch phrase.

"What is it?"

"Now they're saying you think you're better than everyone else."

I stare at her in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because we left the show. The performers are upset."
 

I close my eyes and shake my head. When I open them, I say, "For all they know there could have been a State emergency."

Kyra shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you."

I can't win. No matter what I do, it's wrong. "Well, I don't know either. Why do I have to have all the answers?" My voice is louder than normal.

"Because," Kyra says, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. "You are the Head of State. You're supposed to make the right decision
all the time
. It's what people expect of you."

An empty hollowness fills me up. I'm always supposed to be right. I am the State, and the State doesn't make mistakes.

And yet, I make them time and again.
 

Maybe taking control of the State wasn't such a good idea after all.
 

#

"How'd it go?" Beck asks. He's sitting in a plush chair reading a tablet. His hair is damp, and he smells like soap. I inhale deeply before giving him a kiss on the cheek.
 

"I think I caused an international incident."

He sits up, and concern creeps into the lines around his eyes. "What happened?"

"Well first, there was so much food, Beck. Tons of it. All fresh. I asked where it came from, and the server said the Ag Centers, but we both know that can't be. We're struggling to meet production demands."

"So what happened?" he asks, holding my hand. His warmth flows into me, and my heartbeat steadies a little.

"The gossip feeds said I was a greedy glutton, so we left."

He cocks his head and gives me a quizzical look. "What happened next?"

"I was accused of being snobbish for leaving the show."

Beck exhales loudly. "So much for fixing your image problem. You're going to have to do the press conference for sure now."

"I know."

I study Beck's easy demeanor, and it's impossible to believe this is the same person Henry accused of being erratic earlier in the day.
 

"Come a little closer," he says, and I curl in his lap. Beck runs his hand over the sheer back of my gown. "It's going to be okay. Right now, they're just testing you out. Remember all the things they'd write about Malin?"

I nod. Mother's every move was analyzed. Her hair and clothes studied; her smile or lack there of, a blessing or an insult; her attendance, approval.

I don't know if I can live like that.

Beck wraps his arms around me tightly. "So have you decided?"

"Decided what?"

He chuckles. "Are you Team Beck or Team Ryker?"
 

I push on his chest and laugh. "Not you too. Please tell me you haven't been reading that garbage."

"It's fascinating."

"No, it's not." I shift so that my knees are on his thighs, and I'm looking down at him. "There is only one Team, and that's Team You and Me."

He reaches up to me and pulls my face down toward his. "I like that." He kisses me softly.
 

I'm messing up everywhere else in my life, but Beck and I are okay.
 

We're going to be okay.
 

I hope.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I'm not convinced this is a good idea," Henry says, looking up from a tablet covered in gossip feeds. "It's one thing to give the people a good look at you before the Ball and for them to see you are fit to govern - especially after last night - but the Beck and Ryker issue..."

I reach for my Uncle's hand. "If you coach me correctly, I'll do fine. There is nothing to worry about. Besides, wasn't this your idea?"

My uncle slowly nods his head. "Things have changed."

Annalise stands with her hands on her hips. "The rumors are rampant, Henry. This is the best place to do it. We all know." She presses her lips together. "We can control the story
if
Lark plays along."
 

A small camera Annalise secured buzzes overhead – practice for the real event.
 

"Lark, it's important you remain calm. No outbursts. I specifically picked this newscaster for his softball questions." Annalise takes a deep breath. "Which means he'll only ask what we tell him to."