Shadus shuffles, a gesture that’s almost nervous and definitely wasn’t in his broody alien prince repertoire at the beginning of the year. In the dim light shining from the girl’s dorm, his face cast in half-shadow, I realize just how handsome he is.

And then somehow, I’m leaning in. Suddenly I’m so much closer than I was to him, my body moving without my direction. Our shoulders touch, my chest glancing his. My EVE organ feels weightless, light and bouncy beneath my ribs. Shadus’ eyes widen as my face nears, and then, just when I think he’s going to back off or call me a disgusting human, he reaches his hand up to barely graze my cheek.

And it is the end of me.

FEAR ME NOT

A novel by Sara Wolf

Book 1 of The EVE Chronicles

For S, who’s been with me since the beginning. You’ve gone through it all. Here is your swan song.

Sara Wolf

FEAR ME NOT

Copyright ©2013 by Sara Wolf

All rights reserved. This work or any portion thereof may not be utilized or reproduced in any way, with exception of review purposes, without the written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real persons, events, names, or locations are coincidental and a product of the author’s imagination.

For questions, concerns, or comments, please contact the author at sarawolfbooks@gmail.com

1. The Fool

All fifty-seven of us in this cafeteria are going to be eaten.

The irony isn’t lost on me - we’re going to be eaten, and we’re sitting in a cafeteria. That’s like having hamburger in a cattle corral, or roast chicken legs while standing in a chicken coop. I glare at the teachers with clipboards. They’re typical; cardigans, slacks, faint smiles that reek of affability. Exactly what you’d expect at a government-run school.

The tables crowd with murmuring students. It’s been twenty minutes since Dad - weary, paint-stained overalls Dad - dropped me off. Twenty minutes since I waved goodbye to my sister Alisa, her golden hair bobbing in the truck as she watched me from the back window. Twenty minutes since my last nervous cigarette behind a fancy hedge. Twenty minutes since I left my old life behind to come here and be eaten by aliens.

Under my ribs my dark, scarred stitch trembles. That’s where the doctor put the EVE organ in me. It stores every emotion I feel - harvests it like a bottle harvesting pure water from a mountain drip. An organ like that? Definitely alien tech. Over the next year, the organ will fill up with emotions, converting it to a nourishing liquid the aliens can eat, and will be drained when it gets full. Creepy? Without a doubt. Worth a hundred thousand dollars?

Hell yes.

My sister’s life is worth way more than that. My life? Not so much. I’m a bit of a fuck-up. Volunteering to be an EVE is the only thing I’ve really done right. It’s the only thing I’ve done that’s made Dad smile, instead of get angry. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done to help my broken family.

The principal, a balding old man in a sweater, walks up to the podium and claps his hands.

“Welcome, students, to your new school. Green Hills High School is the world’s first non-segregated human-alien school. It’s an attempt between our government and aliens to promote understanding between our two races. But you know this. You had to read that god-awful contract before signing it, after all.”

Uneasy laughter moves through the crowd. The principal smiles. I roll my eyes so hard I have to check to make sure they’re still in my head.

“No doubt you are eager to get to your dorms and explore the grounds. Before you leave, please know this; Green Hills is not just a school. It is a symbol.”

He waves his hand to the cafeteria door. It darkens with the silhouettes of a new crowd coming in. I twist my hands together, trying to ignore the clawing in my stomach. The hundreds of students all fall quiet at once.

The newcomers look my age. They look like humans, but we all know that’s just a ruse. Those bodies are shells they cloned and implanted themselves into in order not to freak us out. They are elegant, their steps even and refined. They are tall, and well-proportioned, none of them overweight or short. All of them have the same dark brown hair. It’s a sea of dark hair and long lashes as they settle in the tables opposite us. They all have the same gray eyes, like water frozen over. Alien adults lead them in.

Someone behind me whispers ‘freaks’. The principal smiles, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it.

“We’ve assembled,” He says. “Wonderful. Let me reiterate; this school is a symbol. The world you are growing up in is a new world. You all remember the day our Gutter friends landed, don’t you?”

A nod goes around the human side. The Principal turns to the pale-eyed alien crowd.

“And you all remember the day you landed on Earth, correct?”

The Gutters nod.

“That moment in history is shared among you. It ties you to each other. We hope you make many such memories here. We will advise you to interact with the other race. This may make you uncomfortable. This may make you afraid. But know this - fear is a positive thing. To the Gutters, emotion is energy, food, the very lifeblood in their bodies. To humans, emotions like fear change you, challenge you, and forge you into better people. So don’t be afraid of fear. Embrace it.”

I don’t believe that bullshit for a second. Fear is never good, and it’s hanging in this cafeteria like an unsettling fog. I take the Gutters in. We call them Gutters because they eat emotions, and the only way to harvest emotions from humans was by transplanting the freaky EVE organ into our guts. At first glance they all look the same, but then I notice their faces are subtly different; big eyebrows here, large ears there, tall foreheads or sharp jaws. Their human shells are convincing. I’ve never seen one close up, let alone fifty of them at once. Their fingers are long. Grey eyes, small grey eyes, slanted grey eyes -

Brown eyes. I do a double take.

They aren’t quite brown, more like rust. The irises streak with red, like the color of blood. They belong to a male Gutter. His eyes are shadowed by thick lashes and long bangs, his hair unkempt and messy. He’s slouched, elbows on the table behind him. His body is lean, like he doesn’t eat properly. His cheekbones are razor sharp and his shoulders are broad, his expression completely bored on his olive skin.

Our eyes meet for a split second, and he glowers. I look away instantly, my skin tingling with equal parts warning bells and startled shock.

I glance at the other aliens, trying to find another color abnormality. A girl Gutter wearing a fluffy skirt and blouse has the same streaked pattern in her eyes, but bright blue. She’s gorgeous, with long limbs and doe-eyes. An Abercrombie-handsome male who looks like he works out 24/7 has brilliant gold streaks in his narrow eyes. Three out of a hundred teenage Gutters are different. Why are they different? No, scratch that - why do I care? They’re all freaks out to eat our emotions. They don’t matter to me. All that matters is I get the money for feeding these weirdoes.

All that matters is I get the money for Alisa.

The Principal claps his hands.

“Each of you is going to be paired with a member of the opposite race in order to promote cooperation. This is your culture partner for the year. Many academic and extracurricular activities will be done with your partner in order to help further this school’s goal of interracial cooperation. When I call your name, please stand and wait for me to call your partner. Ms. Hayfield here will tell you your dorm room number. Since the Gutters have been on campus longer, I’d like them to escort their human partners to the dorms. The day will be yours to explore. Respect the rules, and each other. Classes start at seven a.m. tomorrow. I look forward to a wonderful year with you all.”

Nothing about the Principal’s smile is contrived or forced. He’s genuinely happy to be here. I wish I could say the same for me. I’ve never liked aliens – Mom and I shared that. She protested them at convention centers and during politician’s speeches. That’s what got her killed. It was a stampede, panicked people crushing her underfoot after someone fired a gun at a politician speaking about the EVE program. The police never let us see her body. There wasn’t much left to see.

But that’s the past. My past. And it’s tragic and fuzzy and broke my family into a million shards and all we can do is move forward now.

This is for the money, I remind myself. This is for Dad. Working three jobs to pay for Alisa’s piling medical bills is killing him slowly - dark circles under his eyes, weary smiles. He barely sleeps anymore, and when he’s not sleeping he’s drinking himself to death to escape the memory of Mom. I couldn’t take it anymore. I signed up to be tested at the EVE clinic a block from our apartment, and now I’m right where I don’t want to be. But a hundred thousand dollars is more money than I could ever make getting a job at McDonald’s.

The Principal calls names. EVEs and Gutters stand, going off in different directions together as pairs. This forced buddy-buddy thing will get old, quick, but I’ll suck it up and deal. My family can’t afford anything less.

“Victoria Hale?”

I stand and shove my hands in my pockets. My neck hair prickles, my breathing shallow. The EVE organ beneath my ribs gives a weird little twitch, like it’s responding to my nerves. I wait for the other name - to see which alien I’m stuck with.

“Shadus.”

The Gutters kept their alien-language names. They apparently don’t have an equivalent of a last name. The Gutter with red eyes stands like it’s killing him, and my stomach drops through my feet. We walk to Ms. Hayfield, careful space kept between his shoulder and mine. He’s taller than me, a feat in itself - my freakish, flat-as-a-board 5’10 is nothing to sniff at. Ms. Hayfield flashes a cheerful smile.

“Room 104, dear. Your bags should already be there. Please watch over each other.”

“Sure. Whatever,” I breathe. I stay behind Shadus as he leads me from the cafeteria. Three steps behind, like Dad taught me, like living in the inner city taught me. Three steps behind and you can always see someone tense for attack with enough time to still get away.

Whitewashed halls give way to windows open to the fall-bloom atrium. Leaves blaze red and filter sunlight into hazy orange. Motivational posters and lockers, classroom doors and water fountains. It’s neater than my old high school, but the cleanliness adds to the creepy factor. There’s no gum, no shoeprints, no scribbled ‘Jenny loves Cole’, no nothing. It’s clean and new and built just for us – for the first EVE/Gutter school ever.

We walk in silence. The hum of the cafeteria crowd talk fades.

Shadus’ stride is long and lazy. I watch his back - black shirt, jeans, combat boots. Nothing special. If I squint I can pretend he isn’t an alien. That I’m not his food.

“Why are you staring at me?” His hoarse, deep voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

“Wasn’t staring,” I murmur.

His voice stays monotone. “Try not to lie. It wastes my time.”

“I’ll lie if I want to, creep.”

He halts. My breath hitches. He inclines his head over his shoulder so I can barely see his profile. All I can think of are the rumors; before they got human bodies, Gutters were seven feet of lizard skin and razor sharp teeth - stronger than gorillas and faster than any cheetah. He’s flesh and bone like me, now. They all are. How far the mighty have fallen.

The moment fractures. The edge of his iris glows redder in the sunlight. I’m afraid. His nostrils flare, as if he can smell my fear. Then his lip curls in a sneer, and he starts walking again.

I have to do this. I can’t let Dad and Alisa suffer any more than they already have. I’m sorry, Mom. I know you hated them. I don’t like them either. But I have to do this.

My fists tremble as I ball them up and follow Shadus.

Every part of me burns with fear.

***

Eleven years ago, aliens landed on Earth.

Everyone remembers that day. Dad remembers 9/11, the twin towers collapsing. Before Grandma died, she used to tell me about JFK’s assassination. For us it’ll always be ‘the day the aliens landed’. I was five. Alisa was two. We were watching cartoons and slopping cheerios around when NASA announced they detected an object hurtling towards Earth’s atmosphere. The black alien ship, looking like a craggy meteor, crash landed in a remote desert in New Mexico. The military had it surrounded in two minutes.

The aliens came out looking like humans. Dark hair, gray eyes, covered in half-healing plastic surgery scars and wearing affable smiles. Their skin colors were all shades, probably to appeal to a multiracial planet like ours. Their leader spoke perfect English – they told the reporters their ship had broken down, they hadn’t been in space long, and we humans were the first aliens they’d come across.

That got a good laugh out of everyone. Us? Aliens? Yeah right. They were the aliens.

Growing up meant watching a constant stream of alien news, interviews of Gutter leaders on talk shows, politicians making frenzied promises and reassurances the aliens were harmless. The riots screamed with molotovs to kill the Gutters. Religious leaders preached Gutters were angels, demons, heralds of the end. U.N. sessions were televised to discuss the Gutters. They were going to take a few years to rebuild their ship, and then they would leave. That’s what they said. That was all. They weren’t here for world domination, or to suck us dry. They basically had a road accident, so to speak. It’s been eleven years, and they haven’t tried anything shady. So we have to believe them. The alien takeover I’d read about in old comics and books was supposed to be violent, filled with lasers and warp-speeds. I should’ve known better. Aliens advanced enough to travel through space would know exactly how to subtly integrate themselves in our society - through our TVs, newspapers, and ads. A few of them even star in movies, and model. Some of the world’s best scientists and engineers are Gutters.

Shadus takes a right turn. I veer around the corner. He moves slow, like he wants me to catch up. I’m not falling for it - I’ll stay behind him if it’s the last thing I do.

“Suspicious of me, are you?” He asks.

“I just don’t like walking with strangers.”

“I can’t hurt you, you know. We’re just like you now.”

“No,” I take in his cheekbones, his eerie red eyes. “You aren’t.”

He stares at me, the crimson like dying embers, and then he turns and keeps walking.

The high fence arcing around the school is easy to see from the windows – signs warn that it’s electrified. The electricity is one of the advancements made possible by alien technology; it gradually paralyzes anyone who touches it, like a snake bite. Makes the trespasser easy pickings for patrolling security. Electric fences aren’t the only things Gutters improved for us. Medical advances happen daily. Machines streamline assemblies. Computers are faster. The government keeps a close eye on everything they do, and in exchange for a bit of cultural freedom, Gutters work with us to develop new technologies. But that doesn’t change the fact they got Mom killed. Doesn’t change the fact they feed on us like cattle.

“So, what? Can’t learn at the school on your reservation? Did Colorado get too cold for you?” I ask Shadus as he opens the main hall doors and strides down the sidewalk. It’s hostile, but I don’t know how to be anything else with these aliens.

“The reservation’s temperature is not relevant at this moment,” He deadpans.

“Shoot me for asking a civil question, then.” I glower.

There’s a beat of quiet. Shadus plucks a leaf as we pass a tree.

“The cold of Earth has never bothered me. Our planet is much colder. It’s child’s flay in comparison.”

“Play.”

He quirks a brow. I clear my throat.

“Child’s play. Not flay. That’s how the saying goes.”

“Your language is entirely verbal. Even after eleven years, it’s very hard to get used to.” He says in clipped tones.

“I didn’t mean to like, offend you, or whatever. Just wanted to make sure you knew the right way to say it.”

He scoffs, the sound like a wolf barking. “And yet you’d do miserably at learning my language.”

“Yeah?” I bristle. “How can you be so sure? I’m smart. Sort of. I mean, obviously I’m not smart at all since I decided to come here and get stuck with you, but I’m smart study-wise. ”

“No matter how much one studies, a human would never be able to speak our language. You speak with words. We speak with scent. But you humans have taken even that from us, now.”

I’m quiet. Speaking with smells? That sounds half-ridiculous and half-radical.

“We’ve taken it from you?”

Shadus nods, dark hair shifting as he motions to his lithe body.

“These are human shells we hastily constructed in order to come out of the ship without being shot at. We can’t communicate with scent. We don’t have the proper glands, anymore. We have to use harsh vocals. It’s like if you lost your eyesight and your voice all at once, and were forced to communicate with hand gestures.”

I flinch. Shadus shakes his head.

“But that’s useless. Me telling you that is useless. You’ll never understand the sacrifices we’ve made just to survive on this planet. And you’ll never care. Because you’re a human. And all they do is pretend to care.”

He strides off, and I follow quickly. He’s right. I don’t care. I’m just here for the money. But something about what he said made my gut twinge in guilt, and sadness.

Shadus leads me to the girl’s dorm, a massive brick building with ivy covering the white pillars and French windows. It’s fancy and beautiful, just like every other building on this campus. Inside, the walls are pale yellow with flowers. White lace curtains grace the windows. Other Gutter and EVE culture partners mill in the halls, stiff and awkward conversation being attempted. There are green velvet loveseats and massive oak tables, the common room flooded with sunlight.

“Wow.” My mouth drops open. Shadus stops and raises an eyebrow at me.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s like a dollhouse.” I run my fingers along a polished banister. “Way, way nicer than anything I’ve ever lived in.”

“It’s nothing impressive,” Shadus snorts. “Human architecture is dull.”

“Candies in a bowl!” I lean over and pick a caramel out. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! This place really is fancy.”

“Is there something special about those items?” Shadus asks.

“Uh, hello? It’s cand – oh. That’s right. You guys can’t eat human food,” I unwrap one. “Your loss. These are sweet and delicious.”

“Different emotions have different tastes,” He glances at me from under his dark bangs. “I know what sweet is. Happiness is sweet. So is excitement, and anticipation.”

I stuff as many caramels into my pockets as I can. “Protip; don’t talk to humans about your creepy eating habits.”

He starts up the stairs to floor two. “You’re particularly abrasive for a human.”

“And you use too many big words,” I snap back. The second floor has huge windows and beautiful wood doors. I wish Alisa was here to see this place. She’d love it.

“104.” Shadus motions to a door - my dorm room.

“Where’s the lock?” I raise an eyebrow. There’s a panel on the side of the door, glowing with an electronic pulse.

“Handprint recognition. It also remotely tests your DNA against the computer’s database,” Shadus murmurs. I press my hand to the panel. The door clicks open.

“I don’t know what’s creepier - tech that can probably lock me out of my own room, or aliens who made themselves human bodies.”

Shadus grimaces. “You talk too much.”

“Is that an insult?”

“That’s a personal observation of mine.”

“What’s wrong with your eyes? They’re red,” I fire back.

“I can see perfectly. Your concern is touching but unneeded. Let’s not pretend to care about each other when no faculty members are present. It wastes energy, and we both know it’s  a farce.” He looks down the hall. “Laundry room to your left. Bathrooms to your right. Dinner is at six.”

There’s a long, awkward pause. Shadus stares at me with that bored, irritated expression, like he’s willing me to disappear. I get the message and edge into my room. His footsteps echo down the hall. With his crimson gaze off me, I feel like I can breathe easier. I regret what I said – it was rude, but it’s hard to be polite when you’re a foot away from one of the reasons your Mom died.

But he didn’t kill her, a voice echoes in my head. No Gutter touched her. Humans did.

I shake that thought clean out of my head and look around.

The room is simple. There’s two twin beds, a closet and dressers and desks. One Gutter of the same sex is supposed to room with one human. My suitcase is propped at the foot of a bed. I flop on the floral comforter and wrinkle my nose. Roses are more Alisa’s thing, but it’ll do.

I stare at the ceiling fan. I’m officially an EVE, now. This room cements it.

I finger the EVE scar on my belly, right above my stomach.

What the doctors at the EVE clinic told me reverberates in my head; the Gutters can’t eat Gutter emotions. It has to be another sentient being; us. They can only eat emotion if it’s in a certain chemical form - the EVE organ converts emotion into that chemical. And finally; only certain people can be EVEs. Everybody knows that. Genetic dispositions, blood types, health; all of it’s a factor. The clinics test humans for a specific genetic marker that makes it easier for the body to accept the EVE organ.

The first EVEs were those the government scooped up - the homeless and the poor who tested positive and needed cash. But the emotions they produced weren’t hearty enough. The aliens needed fatter, healthier humans. They needed middle America. Posters at the grocery store for recruitment sprang up overnight, government workers on curbs handing out flyers about the benefits and fancy paid housing an EVE got. Middle America started caving with the promise of a good salary on the heels of a bad recession.

And that was just the beginning. Now, there’s an entire desegregated school for Gutters and humans. It’s never been done before. Green Hills is the first of its kind. EVEs usually live on the Gutter reservation in Colorado, but putting teenage EVEs and teenage Gutters together at a boarding school? It’s almost crazy. It’ll either work, or go up in flames. We need to board here, since the EVE organ has to be monitored closely in case something goes wrong.

I crack open the window by my bed. Outside the grass is dried golden, and fallen leaves scatter like bright red wounds into the earth. This school borders a small town in the hills of Napa wine country. I take a deep breath. It smells crisp, better than the oppressive smog of Los Angeles I’d lived in all my life. Alisa is still smelling that smog, and with her intense asthma, it affects her much worse. I squeeze my eyes shut. She just has to hold on a little longer. I’m here to bring her somewhere new - to get her the fancy hospital and the fancy house in a clean-aired place that she deserves. I’m here to give Dad the break he deserves.

I rummage through my coat and tap a cigarette from my pack. I look at the ceiling - smoke detectors? The EVE contract said no drinking, no being out after curfew, and to refrain from ‘staying over’ at the opposite gender’s dorm, but they didn’t say anything about smoking. Still, I won’t take the chance of getting kicked out. I pull my hoodie on. Before I can open the door, it bashes my nose and my head splits down the middle with hot agony. Through my tearing vision I see dark hair in a long sheet, with blunt bangs framing a pointed face. Her eye color is streaked with sky blue. It’s the girl Gutter I saw earlier. She smells like roses.

“Oh, kiheresh!” She hisses. “Are you okay, human? Do you have a name?”

“O-Ow. My name is Ow.”

She laughs, nervously. “Really?”

I glare through the pain. “It’s Victoria.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Raine. Your roommate. Sorry about the door to your cranium.” She holds out her slender hand. I don’t take it, but she smiles and mimes shaking my hand anyway. She flops on the other bed, smoothing out the covers. That pose of hers suddenly makes me realize something.

“I know you.” I point at her groggily. “My sister reads magazines all the time and you’re in them. You’re that…that Gutter model everyone talks about.”

She smiles. “I’m surprised you recognized me. Most people think Gutters all look the same.”

“You’re skinnier than the rest of them. Like a skeleton.”

“I do try to keep a decent figure.”

“I guess starving yourself for vanity is popular with aliens, too,” I grumble and start for the door.

“Not very pleasant, are you?” She singsongs. “No wonder you got Shadus as a culture partner.”

I freeze, my fingers on the handle. “Is he unpleasant? I didn’t notice.”

“Your sarcasm mastery is levels above mine,” Raine chimes happily.

“Your eyes are like his.”

She laughs. “You really don’t know much about us, do you? Are you a Gutter-hater, perhaps? One of those people who refuses to learn about our culture when we’ve learned so much about yours?”

I look back at her. Raine just smiles, voice patient.

“We Gutters are divided into three groups. Illuminators – those who supply the facts and technology. Scientists, if you will. They are represented by the color blue. The Adjudicators – keepers of the laws, and deciders of the punishments, much like your policemen and judges. They use the color gold.  And finally; the Executioners. Those who carry out orders. Those who kill, to defend and to punish. Our military. Red is their banner.”

I’m quiet, and Raine delights in my silence, continuing with gusto.

“We do not have presidents, or kings. We have sotho – the leading families. Each faction is led by a family who has ruled since ancient times. The sotho have different colored eyes. This is what sets us apart, and denotes our rank among commoners.”

“Red eyes for Shadus. Blue for you. Yellow for that last guy. And gray for everybody else.” I say. “So you three are like, royalty.”

“Yes, very good.” Raine smiles. “There may be hope for you, yet.”

“Thanks for the condescending culture lesson, Your Highness.”

I wrench the door open. The hall crowds with ambling girls, mostly human. I mince around groups, listening to the chatter.

“You’re from Nebraska? I’m from Connecticut. California is way too hot for me already.”

“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.

“Of course not.” The principal smiles. “There are cameras in every corner of this building. Faculty like myself will double check that the misdemeanor was legitimate from the camera feeds. Now, please. Club Day is in two weeks. For now, focus on getting to your class before the bell rings. Go on, shoo.”

The crowd’s ruckus grows, and people stream away down the hall. The principal and Taj talk, and then the principal leaves, and Taj walks over to us.

“Shadus.” He nods. Taj is much broader in the shoulders and chest than Shadus, but Shadus is slightly taller. It’s like a pitbull and a greyhound staring each other down.

“Do you expect me to congratulate you on diffusing a pathetic situation, or on your newly appointed human lapdog title?” Shadus asks. Taj grins crookedly.

“Not bothering to pretend you have a nice personality, I see. Didn’t the elders and our parents tell us to keep a happy face up while we’re here?”

“I will never hide behind something false just to put humans at ease,” Shadus says shortly.

“I pity your EVE, then.” Taj looks to me. “Is this her?”

“Nah, I’m just a really humanoid paperweight,” I offer.

“He’s very difficult.” Taj ignores my jab. “You won’t last a month as his EVE.”

“Uh, sorry buddy, but if you think this grump is going to scare me off a hundred thousand dollars, you’re a moron.”

I can feel Shadus’ crimson eyes on my face. Taj sputters for a moment, then laughs, thumping Shadus on the back.

“You’re in luck. Human greed might win out over your gift to drive people away. Maybe this one will stick around long enough for you to get a snack from her, hm?”

Taj looks to me, smile fading.

“You know, your face says it all. Greed and anger. Not the best taste combination. Fear is savory and strong, the best taste there is. Being in a school full of aliens must scare you, right? Be more afraid . It’ll make my dinner tastier.”

“Kiss my ass,” I snarl. Taj just laughs and waves as he walks away.

“Defiance is sour. Enjoy your curdled meal, Shadus.”

The blonde-streaked head disappears in the crowd. Shadus pushes off the wall, and I start after him.

“What was that all about?” I demand.

“Taj is Adjudicator sotho,” Shadus says simply. “A sotho is –”

“I know what it is - the leading family.”

The crowd around us sounds dim and far away. Shadus’ stoic expression cracks, incredulity peeking through.

“How did you know that?”

“Raine told me. She’s my roommate.”

Shadus raises a brow. “Of course she is.”

He pulls open the door to math. He picks a seat in the very back, and I pick a seat in the very back on the opposite side so as to remain as far from him as possible. I doodle in my notebook and start to think. The Gutters listened to Taj even before the principal said he was the leader of the Student Enforcers. Adjudicators get to give out punishments according to the law, and the Gutters listen to them.

Shadus is Executioner sotho. Does that make him a soldier? Does he know how to kill like the rest of his faction? Suddenly, his high cheekbones and blood-red irises make the fear in my chest boil higher. My EVE organ gives twinges of anxiety every time he looks my way, which isn’t often. He just sort of glances. He glances at everyone – never stopping to look at one person too long before he stares out the window again, bored. He’s bored with us all. I’m afraid of him and pissed off at him and frustrated with him all at once.

“Shadus,” Mr. Weylan taps the whiteboard. “Could you come up here and solve the problem, please?”

The whole class turns to watch him get out of his desk and walk up slowly, without a care, to the board. He sighs, uncaps a pen, and reads the equation. I’m not a math genius, but I’m not an idiot, either. The equation isn’t something we’re supposed to tackle until next year. It’s monstrous, and complicated. Shadus reads it for three seconds. And then he starts scribbling. Neat, even numbers and letters and symbols. When he’s finished, he puts the pen back, and looks to Mr. Weylan.

“I’m going back to my seat, now. I understand it is your job to teach me mathematic principles. As you can see, I know them. I expect you will not request public displays of my ability for the remainder of the semester.”

Mr. Weylan’s eyes are wide as he double-checks the equation. The class murmurs behind his back. Shadus sweeps back to his seat and puts his chin in his hand, looking out the window with utmost listlessness. After a moment, Mr. Weylan clears his throat and fixes his crooked glasses. Shadus was obviously correct.

“Yes, well. Let’s move on. Today we’re going to apply the value of a matrix to –”

I tune Weylan out and look at Shadus incredulously. Who does he think he is? The way he spoke to Mr. Weylan dripped of entitlement and arrogance. When we have a free period to do our worksheets in a group, I sit in the empty desk in front of Shadus, who’s now sleeping with his head against the window. I crumple up a ball of paper and throw it at his face. It bounces off his nose and he wakes up, glaring grumpily at me.

“Did you do that?”

“Uh, I dunno, did you just act like a massive ass in front of the whole class?” He opens his mouth, but I interrupt. “The answer you’re looking for is yes, by the way.”

“I know all these things already,” Shadus yawns, tears forming in his eyes. “Gutters are gifted at rote memory. Mathematics are simple for us. I’m not special. All the Gutters you see here are pretending to be learning. How they can stand it, I have no idea.”

“Why pretend?” I hiss.

“To look good for the humans. To look as though we are cooperating.” He sighs. “It’s a play. A farce. We know nearly everything your teachers will instruct you on, but we pretend we don’t to make you humans feel as though you’re contributing to our learning. It’s pathetic.”

“Then why send Gutters here at all?”

“Again, to look good,” He insists. “We’re here with you. Learning your ways. You’re learning ours. We’ll all get along. Cooperation. Isn’t it beautiful?”

He smiles, but it’s angry and sharp.

“You’re wrong,” I whisper. “You are different from the rest of the Gutters. You just can’t bear to pretend, can you? Your sotho pride won’t let you.”

His eyes turn dark, his voice cold. “You know nothing of sotho. Don’t act as though you do just because Raine’s told you a few things. You know nothing, human. And you will always know nothing.”

The bell rings just then. I watch him gather his books and leave as quickly and smoothly as a winter wind.

***

The food is the only thing I like about Green Hills High. Breakfast is warm chocolate croissants, lunch is fresh green salads, and dinner is skirt steak. Good food. Not tuna casserole four nights in a row. Not food bank boxed meals. Actual food, cooked with fresh herbs and expensive vegetables. Dad can’t afford stuff like this. I haven’t eaten like this since Mom died.

Gutters sit with groups of humans. There’s civil talking. Some people are obviously able to get over the fact we’re their dinner.

The Gutter foodstuffs are vials of clear liquid, each with different labels in a strange, loopily-written alien language - probably to differentiate the tastes. Anger, I hear whispers from Gutters, is spicy. Sadness is mild, starchy. Their Gutter scientists must separate each emotion somehow. The aliens down the liquid like shots of liquor, or sip at them like cocktails. One or two seems to be enough to get them through an entire day.

A long-legged figure parts the cafeteria crowd as she walks. Raine smiles, the Gutters watching her pass. They nod, and she nods to them in what I think is a sotho display of respect. The humans can’t do much beside gape - boys and girls alike. I think she’s a condescending bitch with a princess-complex, but I can’t help admire her effect on people. She knows how to work a crowd. She’s spots me, and walks my way.

“What do you want?” I grunt. She sits daintily opposite me.

“I just came to enjoy lunch with my roommate. Something wrong with that?”

I point to her empty tray. “I’m the only one eating. That’s not lunch. That’s you watching me chew with my mouth open.”

The cafeteria goes back to their business, but a few glances come Raine’s way. She flicks a bit of dried nail polish, voice casual.

“When I was little, in the reservation, they brought us a box of secondhand toys every year. We weren’t allowed to have new ones, or ones the government agents didn’t approve of. I snatched the nail polish up before anyone else could. My new human fingers scared me. But I got used to them by painting them, over and over and over. I learned to like them. I had to. I had no choice but to learn to like everything about my new body.”

How painful had it been? How frightening and disturbing was it to get used to a whole new body?

“That’s why I like clothes,” Raine continues. “And jewelry. And fashion. I poured my heart into learning how to make my human body beautiful. And now I am. And it keeps me strong.”

I pick at my steak, grasping for what to say. But there’s nothing I can say. I see Taj out of the corner of my eye, eating with a bunch of Gutters surrounding him.

“So you’re…not the head of any enforcers or anything?” I ask Raine.

“No. But then again, I don’t need enforcers. I’m not Taj. Brute force is boring and so cliché. I have my own ways of going about things, and keeping my faction in check.” She smiles.

“So why were those two Gutters fighting this morning?”

“The Adjudicator and the Illuminator, I presume? We don’t like Adjudicators. They don’t like us. It’s very simple.”

“And what about Shadus’ people? The Executioners?”

Raine shrugs. “The Illuminators and Adjudicators have fought over the Executioner’s favor since the dawn of our civilization. We fight and scheme against each other for Executioner favor. Always.”

“Because the Executioners have the raw power. Because you want them to back your cause.”

“Precisely.” Raine smiles. “My, you really are getting the hang of this!”

I glance over at a far, empty table. Shadus sits at it, sipping at a single vial. Gutters approach his table, try to strike up a conversation with him, and are turned away with a few short words. His expression is blank and lifeless. They approach him in groups, too afraid to do it alone. Even from here I can feel the imposing air he’s putting off to keep people away. It’s almost pitiful how much he wants to be left alone.

Me? Pitying an alien?

I shake my head and turn back to Raine.

“So that’s it? Everybody on your planet is organized into three neat categories?”

“Oh, no,” Raine laughs. “No, not at all. There are dozens of factions, spread across every continent. Or…there were.”

“Were?” I narrow my eyes.

Raine glances up at me, doe-eyes flashing from morose to light-hearted in an instant. She’s good at hiding her emotions.

“It’s nothing. Forget I ever said anything.”

“You guys said you left your planet on a scouting trip. Your planet’s okay, right? I mean -”

“Our planet is perfectly alright,” Raine interrupts. “In fact, it’s much better off than this alien planet. We don’t pollute it nearly as much.

“This is Earth. It’s not ‘alien’.” I point my fork at her.

“It is alien to me.” She smiles, and gets up, taking her empty tray with her.

The school strives to make this place as normal as possible despite the Gutters. There’s lunch, recess, English and Chemistry, clubs and a football team. Gutters and EVEs have the same curriculum save for one exception - all EVEs have a class on Gutter culture, just as Gutters have a class on human culture. Our culture teacher, Ms. Gianca, is a slender female Gutter who wears her hair in a strict bun, and has thick glasses. There’s a wary silence as she writes on the white board.

“Would anyone care to offer me what they know about Gutters?” Ms. Gianca asks. A girl raises her hand.

“You’re like, frogs or something, right? I mean, before you guys landed you looked different.”

Ms. Gianca frowns. “Please know this now - this class is not meant to highlight the differences between Gutters and humans, but rather, the similarities.”

“But you guys are lizard men, right?” A boy tries.

“To us, Mr. Hannon, you are fleshy monkey men. It is all relative.” Her voice is patient. A laugh goes around the room. Her natural grace reminds me of Raine - she’s probably part of the Illuminator faction.

“We had a planet once, but were forced to leave it. Think of us not as aliens, but as humans such as yourselves - displaced, afraid, low on supplies, and without a home. Humans were kind enough to offer us a rest stop where we needed it most. Without you, without EVEs, we would have surely died. We are grateful, indebted to you until it is time for us to leave.”

Ms. Gianca’s benevolent smile grows kinder.

“It is imperative to remember that we are only temporary guests on your planet. We will leave when our ship is repaired sufficiently and impede upon you no longer. Ideally, by the time you have children of your own, we will be long gone.”

She turns back to the board. “You must know the following for the final exam this semester; Gutters are not dangerous. Despite the rumors, Gutters have no special abilities, or enhanced senses. We are in human bodies, after all. We are as you are. Lastly, Gutters will always do their best to respect the human culture, and we ask the same from you.”

No one knows what to say. Respect? There can be no respect when they’re so painfully different from us. We write it down and try not to think about what it really means, or what she’s really asking of us.

I raise my hand. Ms. Gianca points to me.

“Yes, Ms. Hale?”

“Your noses - you guys have really good smelling, right?”

Ms. Gianca looks shocked, but quickly regains her composure. I press on.

“You said you had no extra powers or senses. But you do. So why did you lie?”

The quiet in the room becomes heavy. Students look to each other warily, shooting looks at Ms. Gianca, who laughs and fails to cover the nervous jingle in the sound.

“Ms. Hale, we do not have any extra senses. We are as normal as you. We are on equal footing.”

“But –”

“On page 48,” she interrupts quickly. “You’ll find an essay question. I’d like for you to write a two-page paper on this question, specifically –”

I tune her out and glower at the textbook. Why did she lie?

Or is Shadus actually lying?

The window shows the front lawn and the steel fence around the perimeter of the school. It isn’t to keep us in. It’s to keep the world out. Today, the protestors went home early, wrappers and water bottles as their footprints. Discarded signs litter the lawn; Alien Scum Endangering Our Sons, Bring Our Kids Home, Racial Purity>Money.

I hug my books to my chest and shuffle to study hall. We aren’t the first teenage EVEs. It’s not the fact we’re EVEs the people outside are mad about. It’s the fact we’re living and learning alongside Gutters.

The library is all dark wood and looming shelves. Gutter and EVE pairs litter the tables - the librarian had gone around the room and corralled us to sit beside our assigned culture partner. Shadus sits across from me, white shirt sleeves rolled up and showing the delicate skin of his wrist. He leafs through a book, sunlight reflecting in his ruby eyes.

“Ms. Gianca said you guys don’t have good smelling,” I say. Shadus doesn’t even look up.

“Ms. Gianca is a liar.”

“Why would she lie?”

“Because they’ve been told to lie by the sotho. Humans must never know what we’re truly capable of. Otherwise, we’d be in danger. We’d be locked behind more bars than just the reservation.”

“So why did you tell me? I could tell someone and get you guys in trouble.”

“Don’t be dense. I’ve studied your history. No one believes a teenage human’s word.”

I laugh for the first time in this place - a warm, true laugh. Shadus looks alarmed.

“Is something humorous?”

“Yeah,” I wipe my eyes. “It’s hilarious, because it’s absolutely true. And shitty. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hilarious.”

He frowns and turns the page of his book.

“Something wrong, Creeps?”

He blinks. “Creeps?”

“Yeah, it’s a nickname. Ever heard of them?”

“Nicknames are something humans give to those they feel affection for.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s obviously not the case here.”

“Obviously,” he drawls.

“If you don’t wanna say their real name, nicknames are viable.”

“Viable?” Shadus looks up, a bare wisp of a smirk pulling at his mouth. It’s the first positive emotion I’ve seen him express. “Look who’s using big words now.”

I bury the laugh threatening to come out in my notebook. I can’t believe he and I are having a civil conversation. We watch the librarian move between shelves, the sun catching his wild hair.

“Sha,” Shadus says finally. “In our language, it means ‘herald’. Dus - ‘light of a new day’.”

“I thought you said you used smell-language?”

“We use both vocalizations and scents, but rely much more on scents, with vocalizations as modifiers.”

“So, you’re the herald of the sun-”

“- Sunrise.” He finishes, nodding.

“Victoria’s easier. Victor - you know that word, right?”

“Old English for ‘he who wins’,” Shadus says automatically.

“Right. Slap an ‘a’ on it and it becomes a girl’s name.”

“She who wins,” He tries. I nod.

“Most people call me Vic.”

“Names are the same everywhere in the universe, I think,” He muses. “They always have strange yet hopeful meanings. Every parent wishes for a child to be prosperous and happy, so they give them such names.”

I nod. “My Mom named me.”

“My mother named me as well.”

“Where is she? Back on the reservation?”

“Dead,” He flips a page in his book. “She died in our crash to Earth. She died shielding me.”

His red eyes dull to a dark wine color, and the stiff posture he always has loosens, as though something heavy is on his shoulders. His honesty jolts me down to my core, down to my EVE organ. Being honest deserves honesty in return.

“My mom’s dead, too. Stampede during a Gutter protest.”

He looks up, eyes briefly flickering with something I can’t pinpoint. Relief?

“She died protecting you then, as well.”

“What?” I wrinkle my nose. “No. She died because of you. Because of your people.”

“She was protesting us. She was protesting the danger we represented. Any mother would want to protect her children – you - from unknown, strange newcomers.”

It’s been years. But this new way of looking at it snaps something hard and bitter in my decade-old armor, and I don’t know if I like it. Shadus’s eyes burn into mine.

“Yes, she died because of us. But she died protecting you. Never doubt that.”

There’s a silence as I try to piece together my broken voice.

“Great. It’s real great you think you can just waltz in here and tell me why my own Mom died. That’s a great fucking way to make friends.”

“I’m not trying to make friends. I’m an Executioner. My duty is to deal death. Friends don’t tend to stick around when your job is to behead people.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” I snarl.

“It’s supposed to warn you,” he says, voice gravelly and low. “These conversations must remain light. We must not become friendly. Bad things will happen to the Gutter and human who openly become friends first. Do you not understand that? We are being watched. This entire school is being watched.”

“Yeah, duh, the paparazzi is right outside the front gate –”

“Not by the paparazzi outside,” He interrupts. “But by people inside. Teachers. Faculty. Other students. Not everyone here is dedicated to building bridges. Some are here to burn the bridges right when they begin to be built.”

I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about? No one’s plotting anything. This isn’t a spy movie. I mean, yeah, it won’t be sunshine and rainbows – ”

“No. It won’t. It will be death, and blood. I’ve seen it enough in my life to know when it is coming.”

“What the fuck are you trying to say?”

The bell rings. He stands, looming over my chair with a book under one arm, his searing glare piercing my suspicious one.

“I am saying this is a bloodbath waiting to happen. Don’t trust anyone here. Not even me.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“Smart girl.” He smirks again, and walks off.

3. The Emperor

The sky is an ice-blue flower. I watch it through the office window, sitting on the table while the Gutter school doctor readies a needle. The EVE scar under my ribs pulses with my anxiety. I’m here in the nurse’s office for the mandatory monthly EVE checkup.

“This is a simple procedure. There will be a small amount of pain.” Dr. Yulan looks me in the eyes, his gray ones pale. The school nurse is a Gutter. Of course he is.

“Can we just get it over with, already?”

Yulan smiles. “If that’s what you wish.”

He swipes my skin with a cotton ball of tingly stuff. The needle prods in and sucks up blood. My arm goes cold. He bandages the tiny bleeding hole.

“I do hope that wasn’t too painful.”

“Masterfully done, good sir,” I imitate his stiff accent. He holds up the needle filled with my blood and writes something about it. His long fingers move gracefully over the paper. When I first saw Yulan, I mistook him for a woman at a distance. With his thin nose and fine lips, he’s the most effeminate, no, most beautiful, Gutter I’ve seen so far. His dark hair is kept in a ponytail that trails down his back. It suits him.

“You’re an Illuminator, aren’t you?” I ask. Yulan looks at me over his thin glasses.

“Did you cover factions in Gutter Culture class already?”

“Nah. My roommate told me. Raine. You know her, right? She’s your sotho.”

“Yes,” Yulan nods. “Her family is very dear to me. I was a poor farm hand in my childhood. Raine’s father visited the farm on one of his tours, and saw potential in me. He paid for my schooling. I owe them a very great debt.”

They obviously chose Yulan as school nurse for a reason. He has a disarming way of smiling - it wipes your anxiety clean. His voice is soft and barely hits a normal volume. It’s soothing. He’s not creepy in the slightest.

“Your blood looks clean,” He says, after running the vial of it through a blue-light machine of some sort that looks like a rice cooker. “The EVE organ is taking very well to you, and it’s filling up quite nicely. Do you have any complaints, or concerns?”

“It twinges sometimes, when I’m feeling real angry or scared. But the EVE clinic dudes told me that’s normal.”

“It is. But if those twinges become painful and frequent , that would be cause for you to come see me, and for us to do an examination. Those are warning signs of a rupture.”

A rupture is when the EVE organ bursts due to high emotional stress. It’s rare, but fatal. We’re encouraged to stay calm and get lots of rest, but other than that it’s an extreme emergency that can only be treated, not prevented. It’s the thing Dad was most worried about, until the doctors told him there was a point two percent chance of it ever happening to me.

“I know, I know.” I sigh. “They told me about ruptures at the clinic. I’ll be careful. Can I go now?”

“In a moment. Let’s go over your measurements again. Height?” He asks.

“Six foot seven,” I tease. He scribbles ‘five foot nine’.

“Blood type?”

“ABCDEFG.”

He puts his pen down. “You don’t have to be so evasive, Victoria. This information is confidential. I need it in order to treat you more accurately.”

“Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood. It’s hard to stay happy in this weirdo farm.”

His gentle, down-turned eyes observe me. “If you need to talk, I’m here to listen.”

‘Don’t trust anyone.’ Shadus’ voice echoes.

“Yup. That’s what they all say. Right before they stab you in the back.”

“You are a mistrustful individual.”

“You could say that.”

He scans the paper on the clipboard. “It says here your mother -”

I clench my jaw. All the feeling in my body drains away - the scar quieting its nervous throbs as it starts to burn, acidic and searing. His voice lowers to a sympathetic murmur as he reads further.

“She sounds like she was a very strong woman.”

“Type A.” I spit my blood type, jump off the table, and slam the office door behind me hard enough to have people staring and windows rattling.

Yulan’s nice. But stupid as hell.

***

Dodgeball is the perfect sport for taking my frustrations out on other people legally. I’m crap at sports, but I’m the best at being angry. I lob a ball at a guy’s face and watch him duck in genuine fear. I throw another and hit a girl’s calf hard enough to make her squeal.

“Hale! Get over here!” Mr. Targe barks. I jog over. “What are you doing out there?”

“Playing dodge ball. Pretty well, too.”

“You’re just throwing a ball wanting to hurt people. You’re out for ten minutes. Cool off.”

I flop on the bench beside another girl and pick at my gym shorts.

“Your shoes.”

The voice is so timid I barely hear it. I look over - an EVE sits next to me. Her hair is in a bun, face round and button-nosed cute, her eyes dark. She stares at the floor.

“What about them?” I ask.

“They’re falling apart,” She murmurs.

My converse are dirty, with frayed laces. I’d patched parts that wore thin with black duct tape to make them last longer. It made me nervous to ask for new shoes when we could barely afford Alisa’s medicine.

“After I get out of here, I’ll buy some really expensive new ones. Gold-plated,” I joke. She smiles, a timid crescent.

“My dad’s making me put it in my college fund.”

“Your dad’s a smart guy.”

“I-It doesn’t matter. I won’t get into a really good college anyway. I’m not smart enough.” She shakes her head. “S-Sorry. College is a really boring thing to t-talk about.”

We’re quiet, watching the game and listening to the sneakers squeak on the floor and taunts fly between sides. I swing my legs.

“I’m Victoria, by the way.”

“Dakota,” She says.

“Why’re you on the bench?”

“I’m really uncoordinated. I get tagged out on the first ball thrown.”

“You can’t be that bad.”

Her smile grows. “J-Just wait till we’re back on the court. You’ll see.”

Mr. Targe lets us in on the next game. I toss Dakota a ball. She screws up her face and throws it with all her might. A boy catches it with little effort and tosses it back almost guiltily, and though Dakota braces to dodge she ends up flailing into the ball. She catches my eye.

“S-See? Definitely the worst.”

“It was a graceful sort of ‘worst’, though,” I laugh.

“What’s so funny?” A girl on our team smacks her gum. “She’s total shit. Next time don’t even bother playing.”

“You looked like a dying fish,” Another girl laughs. Dakota flushes and her eyes glue to the floor.

“I hope I never look that stupid. Ever. You’ll tell me if I look that stupid, right?” The gum-smacker looks to her friend.

Anger flares in me, a lion prodded, an ember meeting oxygen. Alisa was teased just like this, every day. And I’m not there to stop it. But I can stop it here, and now. I throw my ball as hard as I can. It smashes into gum-smacker’s chest. She stumbles, gasps, and swallows her gum.

“Don’t talk shit, assface,” I snarl. “Makes you look even uglier.”

“Hale! Get over here right now!” Mr. Targe snaps. He points threateningly. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t like it. Detention. Meet me here after school. You’ll be cleaning the court.”

“Did you hear what she was saying?” I protest. “That’s straight bullying!”

“And what you did was no better,” Targe insists. “Another word out of your mouth and it’ll be double detention.”

I gape like a dying fish, bury my fury, and flop on the bench beside Dakota. She shoots me a look.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that. I’m used to it. They don’t affect me anymore.”

“It’s okay. I just can’t stand hearing crap like that.” I tighten my ponytail and glower at Targe’s back. She looks at the floor sheepishly.

Mr. Targe makes me haul crates of traffic cones and baseball bats into a closet for hours. I slide a crate of basketballs across the polished floor. Targe walks to the gym door.

“I’m going to get a few more things. I don’t want to catch you slacking, you hear? The faster you finish, the faster you can leave.”

I make a sarcastic salute. “Sir!”

He rolls his eyes and pushes out of the gym. I’m alone. The basketball hoop hangs like a misused spider web.

“How’s the weather up there?” I shout at it. It flutters a little. I stand at the free throw line and toss a ball. Miss.

“Assigned detention already, human? You’re pathetic.” Taj walks onto the court. I heave a sigh.

“Just leave me in peace, Buttercup. I wanna finish and get out.”

“Buttercup?” He bristles at the nickname.

“Your hair kills my eyes. Were you intentionally going for the ‘over-bleached surfer’ look? Maybe it makes you stand out - that’s important when your peers all look like clones of you. Gives you some pride.”

He stares at me, gold eyes easier to look at than the smoldering crimson of Shadus or the piercing sky blue of Raine. A faint smile plays on his mouth - a real smile. Not a smirk or triumphant snicker.

“Congratulations, human. You’re the only one who seems to get it.” He finally says. “The Gutters don’t understand. My family, especially, doesn’t understand.”

“Talk to more humans. We all understand that sort of thing. Why do you think we get tattoos and pierce our ears?”

“I assumed general stupidity.” He shoves his hands in his jean pockets. “Is Targe around? I was supposed to meet with him.”

“He’ll be back as soon as he’s done pulling his head out of his ass.”

Taj’s gold eyes take in the crate of basketballs. He walks over and picks up the ball I threw.

“I don’t normally offer my valuable time and assistance, but there’s nothing better to do at the moment. I’ll help you in your punishment. Consider yourself lucky.”

Strong arms throw the ball. I catch it and toss it in the crate.

“Beefy jock like you must’ve gotten lots of exercise on your spaceship as a kid, huh?” I try. Taj throws me another basketball.

“Curious about our ship, are you? Most humans are. It’s more beautiful than anything you humans could dream of constructing.”

“I saw it when I was a kid on TV.” I dribble the ball a bit. “Kinda looks like a poop-rock.”

Taj’s face turns the color of a boiled beet. “It’s not a – I refuse to allow you to call it a poop-rock!”

“What’re you gonna do, give me detention?” I smirk and motion around at the fact I’m already in detention. He silently fumes until I sigh.

“Okay, sorry. It’s not a poop-rock.”

“It’s a masterpiece of intergalactic technology,” He says slowly, and I repeat it with him.

“ – masterpiece of intergalactic technology.”

Seemingly satisfied but still a little peeved, he passes me another basketball a little harder than necessary. I catch it and wince.

“You guys must’ve wrecked it bad to be taking this long in repairs.”

“We hit the Earth at over a thousand miles an hour. Even with our polarized field cushioning the bottom of the ship, gravity ripped right through the hull. It’s a miracle we all lived. Well. We didn’t all live. The Executioner sotho’alev died.”

“Shadus’ mom,” I clarify. Taj looks surprised.

“Yes. How did you –”

“Shadus told me.”

“Shadus doesn’t tell anyone anything.”

“He told me.”

Taj takes me in, like he’s seeing me in a whole new light. I’m quiet. I watch him dribble a ball with practiced expertise. His gold eyes reflect the polished floor.

“I still remember it like it was yesterday. Yulan and his team had just finished transferring me to my new body. My human legs wouldn’t work right - I couldn’t understand how to make them move. The sirens of the ship were wailing. We were crashing. Things were falling. I couldn’t even put my arms up to shield my face.”

He seems to jolt out of his memories, and frowns at me.

“We’re working as hard and as fast as we can to rebuild. It’s simply difficult to find the proper materials, and your government delays us by studying every facet of our space travel technology. You don’t think we want to leave as soon as possible? This world is annoying, and practically hostile - ”

“Hale! What’s going on here?” Targe’s voice booms as he comes back. Taj trots up to him and they begin talking.

My arms are sore when I finally push out of the gym, and the scar under my ribs throbs with the dull pain of exhaustion. It really does react to how I feel. I can’t decide if that’s scary as hell or sort of interesting. The EVE clinic I’d tested at took some blood and my measurements, and though they talked about how my body would react to the organ, they never really said anything about how the organ would react to me. It’s like a small, amazing creature inside me, mirroring my every feeling.

No protestors clog the gates today. It’s a relief to not see the angry words and hear the chanting. The groundskeepers sift leaves into piles. I watch them work from the dumpster alcove where I smoke. The groundskeepers are adult Gutters - hair tied back and pale eyes hidden behind sunglasses. They look peaceful, and I catch some of them stopping and admiring the trees and hills. I wonder if their home planet had trees. I wonder if they remember their home planet at all.

“You.”

I look up. Shadus stands where the sun meets the shadow. I choke on my smoke and crush the cigarette under my foot.

“‘Sup, Creeps?”

“You were smoking.”

“Aw, that’s nice of you. I don’t get called hot all that often.”

His face is blank, like the joke flew right over him. I mentally beg the cold wind to wick away the smell of smoke faster. A car putters over the sound of rakes scraping.

“You’re my cultural partner.”  He turns to fit between the dumpsters and get to me. I pull my hood around my head tighter. My EVE organ burns with an acid nervousness.

“Kinda knew that already, Creeps.”

“Give me them,” Shadus demands.

“Give you what? I don’t have anything.”

He puts a hand against the wall over my shoulder and leans in. From under his dark bangs, the red irises stand out like two pools of blood. At this close range, the color makes my stomach churn. I can handle him at a distance - but this is not distance. This is his jacket and my hoodie pressing together, my hand accidentally grazing his jeans. This is the first time I’ve smelled him. The only other Gutter I’ve gotten close enough to smell is Raine, and she’s all perfume. Shadus smells neutral, like ash. There’s only a hint of some kind of boy-shampoo.

“Your cigarettes,” Shadus says. “Give me them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I laugh like the sound will drown the nervous clawing in my stomach and the sudden heartbeat-like tremble below my EVE scar. “I don’t smoke.”

He breathes in. “Menthols. You’ve smoked menthols for almost two years.”

He breathes in deeper this time.

“You’re approximately sixteen years old. You don’t do much physical labor. Your last meal was pizza. You use mint shampoo and pear conditioner. Your period is due in four days.”

I flinch, a blush creeping up my face. “You can tell all that just from your nose?”

“Like I said,” he pulls away. “We have a very good sense of smell. But I know things that don’t relate to smell, also. Your sister has type one brittle asthma. Your father works at a steel mill by night and as a bartender during the day, as well as a house-painting job. A hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money for your family.”

“You read my file or something?” I snap. He ignores me.

“Smoking directly affects the human body in adverse ways. The carcinogens could affect the emotions in the EVE organ. You’ll be kicked out if they find you smoking.”

“Is that a threat?” I set my jaw. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“You and your family need the money. I’m trying to help.”

“Don’t pretend to care about my family,” My laugh is bitter. “You just don’t want your food tasting like smoke. I get it.”

He holds his hand out, waiting. I grumble threats and rummage in my pocket, slapping the crumpled pack in his palm. I walk away. He doesn’t follow. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I was risking all of it by smoking, and the last thing I want to do is mess this deal up. It’s amazing I didn’t get caught before he confronted me.

The piles of leaves on the lawn tempt me. I look around. No one’s watching. Shadus is out of sight. The groundskeepers are gone. I expel a frustrated breath and fall backwards into a pile of leaves. They spiral in all directions. From this golden throne of decomposition the school is a faint white line of stone. It looks harmless, less complicated than it really is.

“What are you doing?”

I look up. Shadus looms over me and blocks the watery sun.

“Go away.” I shut my eyes. “Haven’t you bothered me enough already?”

“Is it customary for humans to sit in decaying matter when they’re stressed?”

“You should try it sometime.”

“It looks disgusting.” He wrinkles his nose. I stand and brush my jeans off.

“What, you Executioner royalty-types not used to getting your hands dirty?” I sneer.

“Malice is a typical passive-aggressive reaction for humans.” He nudges the edge of the pile with his shoe, as if expecting it to come to life. Revenge is forefront in my mind. I shove his back and he stumbles into the pile face-first, scattering most of it on the ground. He comes up spitting leaves and swearing in Gutter.

“San’grat!”

“You got a little bit of something in your hair there.” I point. He glowers. There’s offense in those red irises, and incredulity. I’d actually dared to push him? But he won’t let me win. He composes himself, and leans back.

“This pile is nothing special. It’s not comfortable at all.”

“Is that why you’re still sitting in it?” I smirk.

He won’t dignify me with a response, but we both know he likes it. There’s quiet, and a rusted golden light reflecting off the dying leaves. I take a deep breath.

“My mom used to take me and my sister leaf diving. Right before Thanksgiving every year. It was our girl’s-day-out sort of thing. Apple cider. Scarves. Didn’t get much better than that.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. He spins a dead leaf in his fingers - the blood red of it matching his eyes. Blood. Blood smearing on the sidewalk, on the grass of the park. People screaming. Nobody knows I was there when it happened. Not even Dad. I ran. I tried to meet Mom and I saw her in the crowd, and she waved, and then someone fired the gun and she went under a sea of people, blood oozing out from the place she stood seconds before.

I was eight.

No one knows and no one should ever know. It would kill Dad. It would hurt Alisa.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You’re pale.” Shadus’ low, even voice brings me out of the memory. My head snaps up. He’s standing now, close to me, looking almost worried. But that’s impossible. A Gutter would never care about a human.

The bloodstain in my mind fades. I clutch the EVE scar above my rib and wince as it burns, forcing a smile.

“Hope you like the taste of tragedy, Creeps.”

***

Alisa doesn’t answer her phone tonight. Dad does.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Dad? Where’s Alisa?”

“I had to take her to the ER. She’s had another attack.”

I feel my legs give out, the bed catching me. Raine shoots me a questioning look, but I shake my head and go outside, in the hall where she can’t hear me.

“Is she – is she gonna be okay?” I ask.

“The doctors think so, yeah. I’ve got the bill covered, don’t you worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worrying.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “I know you worry. About me, about her. About money. Don’t try to fool me. We both know that’s why you’re there.”

I’m quiet. Dad sighs.

“Look, kiddo. I’m proud of you. But I’m worried about you. Calling me every other day isn’t enough. I see all these reporters and protestors on the TV, and all I can think about is your Mom.”

“I’m not her, Dad. I’m not in any danger, okay? There’s lots of guards here, and cameras, and fences.”

“I know. It’s not the people outside I’m worried about. It’s the people inside.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…just promise me, sweetie. Use the buddy system. Call me more often. Don’t leave your room at night.”

“Dad, you’re freaking me out –”

“I’m hearing things, that’s all. Rumors travel. Just be careful, alright? Promise me.”

“Yeah, I promise.”

He sounds relieved. “Good. I have to go, the doctors want to talk to me.”

“Can you tell Alisa – ”

“I’ll have her call you as soon as she’s able.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No, sweetie. Thank you. Stay strong.”

The click on the other line feels like a door closing. The hall is empty, everyone mostly in bed thanks to curfew. I hug my knees and sink down against the wall. Buddy system. Be more careful. My EVE organ twinges, anxious. Sitting in an empty hall is not being careful. I slip into the room and try not to think about Dad’s words, or how stressed he must be, or about how sick Alisa is, or how much more often she’s having attacks.

“Everything okay, Vic?” Raine asks, brushing her hair out in slow strokes. The look on her face is one of pure concern, but I can’t be sure if she’s faking it, using it to be cordial and get on my good side like she does with so many other people.

“I’m fine. And it’s Victoria to you.” I hug my blanket closer and face the wall.

“Oh.” Her voice sounds hurt. “Alright.”

It’s a long time before she gets done brushing and turns off her bedside lamp, but even then the tension in our silence can be felt like a steel curtain on my lungs.

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.”

“And finally, there is Shototh, the Great Mother of Ocean. Shototh is the schemer, the planner, the one who twists the fabric of us mortals to her bidding. She wishes only to be entertained. Anything that is interesting will do, even suffering. With her honeyed words, Shototh manipulates Umala’s rage so that she will do great and terrible things for Shototh to take delight in.”

Someone raises their hand. “So none of them are evil? Or is Umala the bad guy? Like Satan?”

Gianca smiles patiently. “There are no good and evil goddesses. There is only right and wrong. Some things they do are right, and some things they do are wrong, just like us.”

The bell trills, and I wait until the class leaves to walk up to her desk.

“Hello, Victoria,” Gianca looks up from her papers. “What did you need from me?”

“I was wondering if you could teach me how to say a sentence in Rahm.”

She smiles. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

She writes it down and teaches me to purse my lips just so to make the hissing sound. There’s an awkward quiet after I master that particular phrase. I want to say it to Shadus, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get the opportunity. Maybe it’s stupid, learning this just to say it to him. But it’s worth a try, I think.

Or is it?

Why am I trying at all, if I’m just here for the money?

I look at Ms. Gianca carefully. She doesn’t look any older than twenty five. We all know Gutters are prone to looking youthful. It’s why so many cosmetic companies and modeling agencies snapped them up. I wonder what her real age is.

“Why do the Gutter factions hate each other?” I blurt. She raises an eyebrow.

“Each Gutter does not hate his fellow, rather, healthy competition is considered best for keeping our minds and bodies sharp and alert. The factions give Gutters something to take pride in - just as humans have national pride for their countries.”

She reaches over and pats my hand.

“But do be careful. Sometimes the younger generation forgets that the competition is merely friendly.”

“Right. Thanks.”

There’s a beat of quiet.

“What if I told you I know you guys have really good noses?” I ask.

“I would ask you who told you that,” Ms. Gianca smiles patiently.

“What would happen if I told you who told me it?”

“They would be punished by Gutter law, of course,” Ms. Gianca says automatically. “Anyone who compromises our security on this planet must be dealt with.” She covers her mouth, and tries to make her smile extra sugary, as though she let something slip. “But that’s assuming it was true. It’s not, so you don’t need to worry, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She shoos me out of the door and closes it behind me.

It’s obvious not all Gutters have the frigid self-control of Shadus, or Taj, or hell, even Raine. Ms. Gianca is considerably easier to crack. I store that in my mental notes, and start towards PE.

***

It’s midnight when someone decides to start throwing pebbles at my window.

Clink.

I groan and pull the pillow over my head.

Clink-clink.

“Raine, get that,” I mumble. But then I realize Raine isn’t here. She’s taking leave for two days for her photoshoot. A bunch of Gutter bodyguards in black suits drove up in a likewise black SUV and shuttled her off. Public relations for Gutters is apparently real serious business – more serious than putting on a good show at the world’s first segregated school. And Raine is the flagship – the most popular Gutter by leaps and bounds. It has to be stressful on her, to be under so much pressure to appear appealing to humans. But she never shows it.

I tumble out of bed and blearily rub my eyes so I can see out the window. I rub them harder when I realize who it is. Shadus. He’s in a sweater and jeans. I open the window just in time for him to pelt me with one last pebble to the forehead.

“Ow! Cut it out, Creeps!”

“A crepe is a French pancake filled with fruit and cream,” He deadpans.

“Uh.”

“It sounds like Creeps. Crepes. Creeps,” He tries experimentally. There’s a silence. “That was my attempt at human humor.”

“Okay, that’s great and all, but did you forget you’re throwing rocks at my window for some reason?” I hiss, not wanting to alarm any of the night guards patrolling.

“Get dressed and come downstairs.”

“And get expelled? No thanks!”

“You won’t get caught. Not if you’re with me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Get dressed. Meet me at the dumpsters you usually sulk behind.”

“I don’t sul-”

He’s gone into the shadows before I have the chance to defend myself. I sigh and massage my forehead. Why the hell does he want me to break curfew? If I get caught, that’s a hundred thousand dollars down the drain. But Taj’s words echo in my sleepy head.

I’ve never seen him speak or interact with a Gutter the way he does with you.

I throw off my blankets and pull on my jeans. The October air is freezing, so I grab a sweatshirt and take the stairs quietly. The guards only really patrol the downstairs. I wait until a guard passes, then dart out the side door in the lobby – the front door is rigged with an alarm. A girl learned that the hard way the first week.

I miraculously make it to the dumpster alcove without alerting any guards patrolling. Shadus is leaning against the wall, waiting. He looks up, crimson eyes glimmering like bloodstones in the moonlight.

“Finally. You’re slower than a lemak in a sandstorm. Let’s go.”

“What about the cameras?” I hiss breathlessly. “I wasn’t seen, but they’ve got cameras everywhere –”

“The cameras are taken care of. Let’s go.”

He starts off across the lawn, keeping to the shadows of the trees and walls. I try to keep up, but it’s like he’s got perfect reflexes. He feet ahead of me, and the only thing keeping us remotely close is the fact he pauses every so often to inhale deeply.

“Where the shit are we going?” I press when we stop behind a bush. The dark forest that borders the school looms high before us.

“There’s something you should see,” He says. “I’d explain, but we don’t have a lot of time before it’s over. This way.”

We duck around the bush and he stops suddenly. He pushes me back, his hands on my shoulders as he pins me to the wall of the maintenance shed and puts his finger to his lips. A guard jingles past, keys and flashlight swaying. Shadus’ hand is rough, and strong, and the smell of ash and boy wafts up from him. For a second, I feel like screaming. Getting pressed like this to a wall in LA is a sure sign something bad is going to happen to you. But then I realize a single scream and dozens of guards would come running. For now, I’m fine. For now, I try to concentrate on how else I feel. A surge of jitters crawls up my body and down it all in one flash second. Boys and me don’t exactly mix. I’ve always been too preoccupied with protecting Alisa to hang out after school, or go on dates. The one guy I ever liked called me a gloomy skeleton when I asked him out in middle school. So Shadus touching me now is something entirely new. He’s an alien, so it doesn’t really count, and I know he doesn’t like me like that, but still. It’s different. It’s something I never thought the gloomy skeleton would get to experience in her life.

“Apologies,” Shadus whispers when the guard is gone, and releases his grip on me. “I miscalculated and had to hide both of us quickly.”

He starts off, and I follow.

“I-It’s fine,” I struggle to say. “You just scared me.”

“Exactly. I scared you. It’s not fine. Human females are physically weaker than the males. You must be wary of them at all times. I took advantage of that just now. It will not happen again.”

We pause when we get to the safety of the forest’s treeline. The oaks and pines are dark, and shade us from view. No human guy would ever say something like that. He must see my confusion, because he explains himself quickly.

“There is no sexual dimorphism in Gutters. Females are equally physically powerful as males. Though now, we are all human. That has changed. We were taught not to abuse this change, and to display courtesy to the fact human females had to account for it in their lives. Hence, my apology.”

“Look, it’s really fine. You don’t need to talk like a robot. Let’s just go.”

“Your compliments are unneeded.” Shadus says.

“What?”

“A robot has advanced logic capabilities compared to a human. You were complimenting me, were you not?”

I smack my hand to my forehead. “Sure.”

He looks deeper into the forest, and points to the west.

“This way.”

We muck over roots and rocks, our footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of pine needles. It starts to lightly rain, but the trees are close enough to keep us mostly dry. Just as I’m considering calling the whole thing off and going back to my warm bed, I see the burnt outline of what used to be a house – it’s fireplace and doorframes the only thing left standing. It must be one of those old bottling facilities Raine was talking about. Shadus walks over to it, and pulls open a dusty hatch in the molding wood floor. A square of bright, warm light bursts from it, the sound of people cheering wafting out. Shadus’ face, now lit by the glow, flashes me a smirk that’s childlike in its deviousness.

“I believe this is the part where human men say ‘Ladies first’.”

I slowly walk forward. “What’s gotten into you?”

His grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“You’re like a…a totally different person.”

I see the familiar coldness wrap around his features, as if I reminded him to compose himself. I regret it instantly as he looks me over with bored, listless eyes.

“Is this any better?” He asks, voice laced with venom.

“Look, no,” I scrabble. “It wasn’t bad. Shit. Shit. I didn’t mean it like it was bad.”

“I wanted to show you this.” He sighs. “So come now. Let’s have it done with.”

“No.” I plant my feet. “I’m…I’m not going down there unless you go back to the way you were.”

“And what way was I?” He asks coolly.

“Happy. Happier. Not-bored. Whatever. Just don’t put that cold face on again. Go back. It was nicer.”

“I’m sorry I don’t cater my facial expressions to what you consider nice,” He snarls.

“Jesus, okay, okay! You win. I’m sorry I ever brought it up. Be nasty. Be mean. Just don’t be surprised if it doesn’t get you a lot of fans.”

“I don’t need fans. I have an entire faction at my command when my father dies.”

“Then don’t be surprised if it doesn’t make me like you.”

I brush past him and descend the steps into the warm basement. The air is hot and nearly suffocating with so many people inside. They gather in a circle around an empty space of concrete, musty barrels and broken boxes pushed away to make room. There’s gotta be at least forty people in here, all of them Gutters. They cheer and shout louder than I’ve ever seen them be at school. They’re smiling more, too.

Two female Gutters face off against each other in the center of the crowd-circle, wearing flowing silver clothes that almost look like judo uniforms, but with sweeping sleeves that extend well past their fingers, and high collars. The female Gutters are fighting, but it’s like no fighting I’ve ever seen. Their strikes are lightning-quick, too quick to follow with the naked eye, and they sway in a strange dance-like stance. One girl throws a chop forward, but the other girl ducks, moving like water to evade. She crouches, and in the blink of an eye leaps to the ceiling, and hangs there. By her palms. My eyes bug out. The crowd cheers wildly as she peels away from the wall and descends with a sweeping kick that the other girl dodges.

Shadus walks down, and closes the hatch behind us. Several Gutters stop to look at him, but most are riveted to the fight. Two boys walk over.

“Raj-ilmai.” One Gutter says to Shadus in Rahm, and makes a small bow.

“Raj-sutuya.” Shadus nods back. “I came to observe the fight.”

“Of course,” The other Gutter says, shooting me a wary look. “But, sotho, you must understand. No humans are allowed here. It’s the last and only place we have to ourselves on this restrictive campus. If word got out -”

“I will take the responsibility,” Shadus says. “It will be mine alone.”

The Gutters look unconvinced, but finally relent, and go back to the circle. Gutters ask them what’s going on, and they assure them everything is fine.

“You wanted to show me this girlfight?” I ask.

“It’s patra. A battle for honor. Look at the girl in the middle, with the short hair.”

I squint, taking in the girl’s familiar face.

“That’s Melune,” I say. “The girl who started that fight on the first day.”

“Yes. She’s defending herself against Gira, who insists she had no right to confront her Illuminator friend. This is how our personal disagreements are settled, through observed combat. The winner is the correct one.”

“Last time I checked, being a human gecko is sort of a special ability.” I motion to the girl who clings to the wall this time, her feet and hands seemingly acting like suction cups. She jumps off and swipes at the other girl, who dances out of the way and counters with her own attack.

Shadus’ smirk barely blossoms. “Noticed that, did you?”

“What are the rules?” I ask. “Do you guys just beat each other into the ground, and whoever can’t get up is the winner?”

He shakes his head. “It’s much simpler than that. Whoever gets hit first loses.”

I watch the fight more closely. What I thought were hits and strikes never actually connect at all. The girls evade each other at the last minute, twisting and ducking away. It’s hard for my eyes to follow, but the Gutters seem to be having no problems at all, a loud ‘oohing’ going around when one of the girl’s hands almost touches the other girl’s shoulder. I think. It’s real difficult to tell when everything is a superhero-like blur. The girls put Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon to shame.

“Ms. Gianca is one hell of a liar,” I say, awe tinging my voice as the second girl does a string of graceful backflips. Someone walks up to us out of the crowd. Taj, his face flushed and his curly hair askew, grins at me first, then Shadus.

“I underestimated how much he likes you,” Taj says. “Bringing her to a patra? You really do trust this girl.”

“I trust no one,” Shadus snarls. “Least of all her. I merely wanted to expose her to the truth of our culture. That’s what this school is for, isn’t it?”

“Ouch,” I pretend to be hurt, but the sting is half-real. “And here I thought we were going to be best friends.”

Taj chuckles. “The day Shadus makes friends is the day we go back home.”

“Quiet,” Shadus snaps. I look to Taj.

“What brings you here, Buttercup? Thought you were all about rules, and sneaking out to have fist fights in the middle of the night is definitely not in the rules.”

He shrugs. “I recognize and value the importance of rules. But I also value my race’s traditions, and especially at a time like this. We’re displaced – far from the reservation, far from our parents, far from our home planet. What little niche we carved out using our own culture is thousands of miles away in Colorado.”

A look passes between Shadus and Taj. Shadus glowers. Taj shakes his head.

“What he isn’t saying,” Shadus interrupts. “Is that before us adolescent Gutters were sent here, our elders warned us to act as much like humans as possible. They encouraged us – no – threatened us to keep our secrets and our culture to ourselves.”

“But that’s – that’s the opposite of what this school was built to do, right? We’re supposed to cooperate. Share. Learn. Right?” I ask. Taj sighs.

“Shadus, that’s enough. I don’t think she –”

“We are being watched,” Shadus interrupts bluntly. “Not only by you humans, the government, and your paparazzi. We’re being watched by our own people. Every Gutter teacher has strict orders to make sure no Gutter acts impolite, or brings yali to the Gutters.”

I knit my brows, confused.

“Shame. Dishonor.” Taj clarifies. Shadus continues.

“Melune very nearly got sent back to the reservation for her actions the first day. And being sent back would mean a deep yali would fall on her family. She would never mate well. She and her family would be shunned socially and politically.”

“So you guys - you guys are forced to be nice? No, it’s more than that, isn’t it? You can’t be angry, or sad, or anything other than perfectly fine. At least not in front of the humans.”

Taj frowns and looks away, but Shadus glances at me, that faint smirk returning.

“Binga.”

I burst out laughing. Some of the Gutters eye me warily, but quickly look to the fight again.

“It’s ‘bingo’, Creeps. Not ‘binga’.”

“I was close,” Shadus says, clearly miffed. The more I laugh, the quieter Taj becomes. I try to focus on the patra. The girls undulate around each other, until suddenly the blows stop altogether. One girl bows to the other, and the circle of Gutters widens, people stepping back and humming. The humming becomes rapid, low chanting in Rahm, the same words over and over. It’s like an applause, almost, but more reverent and respectful. Melune and Gira step out of the circle, and take off their robes, putting them in a half-broken crate against the wall. I flush, realizing they’re only in their underwear, but they don’t seem to care at all. They quickly dress in their normal clothes. The circle of Gutters are now talking to each other, smiling and laughing like a regular social gathering had taken place, not a fight for honor.

“What happened?” I ask Shadus.

“You didn’t see it? Melune won. She touched Gira’s arm.”

“No, sorry, I don’t have crazy-good eagle eyes. Lizard eyes. Whatever.”

“Our eyesight is average in these bodies, and very poor in our original bodies,” Shadus corrects.

“Then how…how do you guys follow all those fast movements?”

“It’s hard to explain,” He muses. “But I can try to show you. If you’ll permit me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Invade your personal space. Again.”

My curiosity overwhelms me. “Sure, fine. Go ahead. Just don’t bite me or anything.”

He leans in, so close I can count his eyelashes. His body heat radiates from his sweater, even in the already-stifling basement. The world around me dims, the voices of the other Gutters fading to a buzz. I can only hear my own heart beating.

“It’s like this,” he says, voice low. He slowly rolls up the sleeve of my hoodie, and then he raises his hand, glancing his palm across my arm without touching it. I can feel the heat from his skin move along my skin. The hairs on my forearm tingle.

“And now, close your eyes.”

My EVE organ contracts, shuddering against my ribcage at his request. I close my eyes. The world is nothing but black. He moves his palm closer, and closer. The heat becomes brighter, hotter. I can feel what he’s doing, his movements, without seeing them. It’s new, and strange, and every bit of me likes it. Wants more of it.

And then he pulls his hand away. I open my eyes, and he’s looking right at me.

“That’s how Gutters see without seeing.”

“Heat vision?” I ask. He nods.

“Surprisingly, human DNA takes to advanced heat gland modification much more readily than advanced scent gland modification. The Illuminator scientists believe it has something to do with your mammalian lineage.”

I feel flustered, like I can’t breathe properly. My face is on fire, and it’s not just from the heat in the basement.

“Whenever you’re done divulging all our secrets to a human girl, Shadus,” Taj drawls. While Shadus was demonstrating, Taj changed into a silver patra robe. He looks even broader and more intimidating, like a silver wolf. “I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Just one?” Shadus cocks a brow. “Would that word be patra?”

“It’s long overdue,” Taj agrees coolly. “We haven’t tested our skills against each other since we were hatchlings.”

The Gutters have been surreptitiously shooting Taj and Shadus looks, listening in on their conversation. And now, the crowd falls quiet, murmurs circulating in bare whispers.

“A patra between sotho?” A girl hisses to a boy. “But that means –”

The girl shoots a look at me. I try to keep a blank face, so they don’t assume anything. But what are they assuming in the first place?

“There’s no way,” The boy sneers to the girl. “She’s a human. Sotho wouldn’t look twice at her.”

“Then why would Taj issue a patra?” The girl insists. “He could’ve asked for a mokson, or even a tulji! A patra would only mean –”

They stare at me, and I squirm uncomfortably. Shadus and Taj glare at each other, a tense quiet threading between them in place of their usual begrudging acquaintance. Finally, Shadus breaks it off and walks to the crate of silver robes. He pulls his sweater over his head in one graceful movement, then takes off his white shirt, leaving a full view of his sharp shoulder blades and long spine. Taj has far more bulk, but Shadus isn’t without muscle – his are just more lean and defined. The Gutter lack of shame is incredible. None of them look away like I do when Shadus unbuttons his jeans.

Taj puts a hand on my shoulder. “Not used to nudity?”

“It’s j-just…weird. It feels wrong, to be seeing this.”

He nods. “We have similar concepts. Being seen with your frill flared is the most private of things, and reserved for family or mates only.”

“Why did you ask for a patra?” I inquire. “Seriously. Why does everyone look so confused? I thought patras were pretty normal.”

Taj smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Just watch.”

I peek back, Shadus now fully dressed in the silver uniform. The circle of Gutters forms again, and he and Taj take their places within it. They bow to each other, then touch the concrete floor with two fingers on one hand, and then the other hand. Finally, they turn and bow to the crowd, who bows back. It’s surreal and ritualistic.

A Gutter from the crowd steps forward.

“Asara son’e raszek!” He shouts, the three words ringing. Son’e. I vaguely remember that from Ms. Gianca’s class. It means ‘listen’. Asara listens to blank. Shadus and Taj move slowly around each other, like two sharks circling in a tank. Taj lashes out first. Shadus slides cleanly out of the way. Taj does a handstand-walk over and in one fluid motion strikes for Shadus’ neck. Shadus ducks instantly. A murmur goes around the Gutter circle again.

“Sotho are really on another level.”

“Of course. They train with the Black Sands.”

“Melune was good, but Shadus is much better.”

“Don’t be stupid. Taj was champion of the Rain Ceremony for three years. He will win.”

“Shadus is Executioner, though. Their life is fighting.”

The conversation is drowned out when the crowd cheers wildly. Shadus spiraled away from Taj, and he’s now hanging from the ceiling by one finger, smirking down at him. Taj’s frown deepens, and Shadus falls to the floor.

“Are you going to strike me at all, Shadus?” Taj asks as they circle each other. “Or am I fighting a shadow with no spine?”

“You wanted this fight. Not me,” Shadus retorts lazily, flicking his bangs. His mannerisms say he isn’t taking it seriously, but his hard, ruby eyes say otherwise.

Gold meets crimson, and for a second, neither of them moves. Then Taj lunges, so quick I barely follow it. Shadus’ eyes widen and he ducks just in time to have Taj’s hand soaring over his head. Shadus backs up, putting space between them, and Taj snorts, cracking his neck. Sweat drips from his brow, and sweat trickles down Shadus’ collarbone.

“I call a patra, and you aren’t willing to fight,” Taj sneers. “Despicable.”

“She isn’t Raine,” Shadus says. “You’re confusing everyone.”

“Let them be confused. I simply wanted to test your abilities.”

Shadus laughs. He actually throws his head back and laughs. His iron mask of seriousness is gone, shattered. He laughs until he runs out of breath, and then he looks down at Taj with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“You’re so transparent, Taj. You always have been. I guess this human-Gutter integration is working a little too well on you, isn’t it?”

Shadus looks at me, and Taj’s eyes flicker over to me too. But it only lasts a second, because Taj snarls and leaps for Shadus. Shadus keeps his wicked smile on. I must be seeing things. Shadus’ face is changing because it’s hot in here and I’m having a heatstroke, not because that’s reality. The way his pupils snap into vertical slivers like a cat’s instantly isn’t reality. The way his canines seem to grow a little longer past his lips isn’t reality. The shiny blue-black tinge that starts to grow around his neck and creeps to his forehead isn’t reality. The low growl-hiss reverberating in the room, like a giant snake’s, isn’t coming from him. It isn’t reality.

But I’m not seeing things, because the Gutters fall deathly quiet. They see it too.

Taj sees it too late. His gold eyes widen in shock – no, fear - and he tries to pull back from his assault but momentum carries him forward, into Shadus’ waiting arms. Shadus raises his hand, now decorated with vicious looking, blackened nails. Talons.

He’s going to hurt Taj.

Fear courses through me, but under that is panic. The crowd of Gutters turns to the crowd of PFE protestors, their faces melding. The smell of the park, grass and hot cement, wafts from somewhere, the dull drone of the politician giving his speech on the stage rising in my ears. My vision blurs and Taj fades, Mom replacing him. Blonde hair. Red sweater. Terrified green eyes. Her body will hit the ground, and she’ll get trampled. Shadus will trample her. They’ll all trample her. She’ll die in front of me all over again.

The entire world slows. My body feels heavy, sluggish, like I’m wading through tar instead of air. I shove Gutters aside.  I stumble into the fighting circle and thrust myself in the small space between Shadus and Taj, and grab Taj. The full weight of his gravity falls on me, but I throw my arm out to support us both. The bones in it scream as we crush into the cement.

I groan, my head aching as I try to sit up. Taj scrambles off me, face red.

“Asara tu’vak,” he swears. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Nothing’s broken,” I wince. “I think.”

He offers me his hand up, and I take it. Shadus is hanging back, watching the both of us with an aloof, cold gaze. His face is normal again - olive skin, round pupils, no elongated teeth. The crowd’s shock wears off. I did something wrong. I did something very wrong, by the dark looks on their faces.

“She interrupted.”

“The penalty is –”

“She’s a human, our laws don’t apply.”

“Human or not, she interrupted a patra. The penalty is –”

“Death,” Shadus interrupts, then tilts his head. “What say you, Adjudicator?”

He looks to Taj, who starts as though someone poked him. He quickly clears his throat.

“It is death.”

“Look, I’m real sorry,” I blurt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll just go –”

The Gutter circle tightens, their faces set and serious. Fear rises in my throat like bile, strong and acidic, and the EVE organ gives a sharp pang in my side. I’m the only human here. They could kill me out here, and no one would be the wiser. They’d hide my body well, in pieces. Probably rip out my EVE organ and eat it right here, too.

“Thankfully for you, we’ve banned all death penalties from our traditions temporarily,” Shadus says lightly. My knees instantly feel weak. “We can’t be executing people when there are only a few of us left on the planet now, can we?”

“But there must be a punishment for her!” Someone calls. Taj glowers at them.

“Indeed,” Shadus agrees. “And I took responsibility for this human by bringing her here. What is a fitting punishment, Adjudicator?”

He looks to Taj, who narrows his eyes. Something unspoken passes between them.

“A great yali should be placed on your head.” Taj turns to the Gutter circle. “All in favor, raise your hand.”

Nearly everyone raises their hand. Taj nods.

“Therefore, Executioner Shadus now has great yali. Let it be known.”

“Let it be known,” The Gutters echo. I look to Shadus, expecting him to protest or snark or argue, but he just bows to the crowd, a grim frown on his face. The Gutter circle parts around him, every scornful eye on him as he leaves quietly through the trapdoor. Only when he’s gone do the Gutters burst into chatter, cheerfully leaving the basement with smiles on their faces as they enthusiastically discuss the fight, me, Shadus, and how to sneak back into their dorms. Soon, Taj and I are the only ones left in the basement. He sheds the patra robe, and I pivot to give him some privacy.

“I’m…shit. I’m really sorry,” I say.

“It isn’t me you should be giving your apologies to,” Taj says evenly. “Shadus just took on a massive amount of yali for you. The only thing worse than interrupting a patra is, well. Unwanted mating, and murder.”

I suck in a breath.

“But it’s not all bad,” Taj says. “This was a very keen move on Shadus’ part. We punished him as a race, together. The sense of belonging and morale will skyrocket when word gets out among the Gutters. It’ll give them hope – hope that our culture hasn’t completely vanished. Hope that we still honor our laws, not the humans’.”

“But he didn’t do anything! I did!”

“Then you have someone you need to be apologizing to, don’t you?”

I ball my fists and turn. But before I can leave, a gentle hand lands near my neck. Taj. He sweeps my sheet of hair to the side, and inhales. A jolt runs up my spine.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whirl around. “You’re being even creepier than Creeps!”

“I apologize. I haven’t smelled fear that strong and delicious in a long time. And when you and I fell together, I – being in such close proximity -”

Taj looks at the floor, something like shame darkening his features.

“It’s good to know I’m just food to you,” I snarl, and storm up the stairs. It’s not the nicest thing to say, but everything about tonight set me right on the edge, and Taj’s little neck-sniffing pushed me over it. The cool night air engulfs me, and I start mowing through the pine needles with anger fueling my legs. I’m mad at Taj, at Shadus for bringing me, at myself for fucking it all up.

“Why did you do it?”

Shadus’ voice. He steps out from behind a tree, still in the silver uniform and looking somber.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry –”

“I asked for an explanation, not an apology.”

I swallow hard, and muster what’s left of my bravery.

“My mom. I don’t know what happened, but I had a flashback, and Taj was my mom, and you were the crowd, and you were going to trample her, and I freaked, okay? I freaked. I freaked out and ruined everything. So go ahead and get mad at me.” He doesn’t. “C’mon. Let’s go. Time’s wasting.”

“I’m not going to get mad at you for having a flashback,” He says evenly.

“Why not?”

“Because I have them sometimes, too.”

His words splinter the cool night air like icicles, frozen lightning. The tightness in my chest, the shame, suddenly loosens. I’m not the only one. I’m not the only one, and I forgot that. Shadus touches a tree, looking up at its ancient branches.

“And, because I knew when I brought you here you’d do something wrong and get me yali.”

“Then why bring me? Aren’t you going to be shunned now? You’ll never get a good mate, or whatever, your family will –”

He smirks. “My family will nothing. My family will choose a mate for me as they always have for their offspring. I am Executioner sotho. Our shame never lasts long. People are very willing to forgive us. Besides, I’ve always been alone. Shunning me won’t make a trick of difference.”

“Um. Lick? It’s a ‘lick’ of difference.”

He looks confused. “But you can’t lick difference. It’s intangible. That makes no sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense is why you’re so damn cavalier about this yali!”

“I wanted this yali.”

“So your people would feel united for punishing you, right?”

His smirk falters, and his eyes grow dark, and just by his expression I know I’m right.

“That’s sick. That’s masochistic –”

“It’s what sotho must do. We must lead. We must give examples. We must know when to sacrifice, and what is a proper sacrifice. My yali is worth a few weeks of cheerfulness in this restrictive place, don’t you think?”

I’m quiet. I don’t know what to say. But thankfully, I don’t have to say anything at all.

“Come on.” Shadus motions for me to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

The guards are just as clockwork as when we came out. Shadus’ keen senses and reflexes get us back to my room in record time. At my door, I look at Shadus.

“How were the cameras taken care of?” I ask. “I mean, I know you guys can climb walls or whatever –”

“We don’t ‘climb walls’, we use the sum attractive force between epidermal molecules to -”

I give him the ‘don’t test me after a long night’ look.

“We climb walls,” He says quickly.

“And that’s how you guys took them offline?”

He shakes his head in a ‘no’.

“Okay, you’re smart, but these are like, the best cameras in the world. There’s no way you hacked them.”

“We didn’t hack them.”

“Then how?”

Shadus’ face grows dark, but there’s the barest hint of a smirk there before he turns and leaves.

“I said it once, and I’ll say it again. You know nothing about us, human. And you never will. But you’re welcome to keep trying.”

5. The Wheel of Fortune

You can’t see the rumor about Shadus’ yali spread, because the Gutters are very careful about making sure no adult finds out. They have to be, otherwise their secret fighting club would get nixed. So you don’t hear it spread, you see it. The Gutters start ignoring Shadus. Teachers ask them to pass papers to him, and they drop the paper instead, or never pass it to him at all, forcing him to get up to get one. Taj doesn’t look at Shadus anymore. He looks through him, like he’s glass, a ghost, something clear and not really there. The Gutters who kept coming up to Shadus’ table at lunch have abandoned that endeavor completely. Shadus looks almost smug about it, until he downs a vial in one gulp, and slowly turns white. He races from the cafeteria, and the Gutters watch him go with satisfied expressions.

“Why’d you run out of the cafeteria like that?” I ask Shadus the next day in the library. Shadus leafs through a book calmly.

“They switched my food with a vial of water.”

When I give him a blank look, he sighs and turns a page.

“Dihydrogen monoxide causes severe diarrhea for Gutters.”

I muffle the yelp of laughter that threatens to escape. And then the confusion comes.

“But – but you’re in human bodies. Water’s great for us!”

“Our internal organ structures are entirely Gutter. We merely reconfigured our skeletal systems and musculature to fit within your skins. Thankfully, oxygen fuels our aerobic respiration as well. It would’ve been much more difficult to adapt to the bodies if we couldn’t process Earth’s air.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet.

“So you pooped a lot yesterday,” I say finally.

He groans. “For years.”

“You still think it’s worth taking on the yali?”

He motions to a group of distant Gutters, who are laughing and pointing at something in a book. They don’t look lost. They don’t look nervous. Their posture is loose, at ease for once.

“You tell me.”

***

When Raine comes back from the shoot, she’s different. She’s happier. But something about her happiness feels wrong, forced. Her smiles are too brittle to be real. She bounces from clique to clique, throwing compliments and casual conversation with the ferocity of a polite yet ravenous tiger. She barely stops to bother me anymore. She’s absent in the cafeteria at mealtimes. The only time I see her is before bed, and she always comes in right before curfew, kicks off her heels, and falls asleep instantly. She throws herself into clubs and activities. She’s head of the cheerleader squad, and then suddenly she has the starring role in the drama club’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream, and then she somehow finds time to be the treasurer of student council. Her duties keep her flitting from place to place on campus like a hummingbird on crack.

I don’t mind the sudden solitude. Not at all. It doesn’t bug me that she isn’t here to sit at my table during meals or anything. It doesn’t bug me that she doesn’t talk to me anymore. She’s a Gutter. I’m a human. Whatever we have can’t go beyond wary acquaintance.

It’s better this way.

I didn’t like her, anyway.

That’s what I tell myself for three days. Dakota keeps me company, the both of us pretty much outcasts. We go to the library and read together or play games on our phones, or we go out on the lawn when it’s sunny. We talk about nothing. And everything. College, family, dreams. She’s from Georgia, but I always tease her that she’s from North Dakota. She wants to go to Alaska and research wolves. Her mother’s addicted to oxycodone. Her father divorced her when Dakota was ten.  Her stutter’s been with her ever since. She’s been teased relentlessly all her life for it. Hearing about her past makes me remember other people have it shittier than I do.

It’s nice to spend time with a human, with someone who knows what a hot pocket is and the anguish of getting something less than an A+ on a test.

And then, on the fourth day, when Dakota has a make up test to do at lunch, I go back to the dorm to take a nap. When I walk in, Raine is at the mirror over her desk, applying make-up over the brightest, darkest bruise I’ve ever seen.

It’s above her cheek, just below her eye. The bloodstreaked purple color turns to green on the edges, and swallows nearly half her delicate, fox-like face. Her blue eyes widen, and she slaps her hand on her cheek and smiles.

“Vic, you – crap, I mean – Victoria. What are you doing here so early?”

“Where did you get that from?”

“Get what?” She laughs, breathlessly. “I’m just touching up my makeup for drama rehearsal –”

“Don’t lie to me,” I snap. “I saw it. Who gave you that?”

“I tripped,” She says smoothly. “There’s so much stuff lying around the stage, you wouldn’t believe it –”

“So you tripped and landed right on your cheek, and only on your cheek? I find that a little hard to believe.”

“It happens all the time to other people.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t ‘other people’. You’re a Gutter. I’ve seen you guys in action. You don’t trip.”

Raine’s blue eyes darken to steel. “Ah yes. You’ve seen a lot of us, haven’t you? The patra. My informants told me all about that.”

“Informants?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She smiles wider. “I meant ‘friends’. That’s what I call them out loud.”

“But in your head, it’s ‘informants’.”

“Yes. Shallow of me, isn’t it? Using false friendships for information. But that’s how the Illuminator sotho have always conducted themselves. Information first. Everything else in life second. That’s what father taught me.”

“Is he the one who gave you that bruise?”

Raine’s eyes grow instantly cold and then she lightens them, forces them to grow warm again to appear normal. She trills a little laugh.

“Of course not. My father is miles away on the reservation!”

She lifts her hand and quickly begins applying foundation to cover it. She doesn’t wince outwardly, but I can see her shoulders tremble every time she presses on the bruised flesh. I’ve seen Alisa do the same thing in the hospital. She’s used to pain. She wears it well, and that tells me all I need to know – this isn’t the first time it’s happened. And it’s not the last. In an obvious attempt to get me to stop asking questions about it, she sighs prettily.

“Did you know sotho are forbidden to engage in patra with other sotho?”

“Oh yeah? Then why did Shadus and Taj –”

“The only time it is permitted,” She smiles at me with all her teeth. “Is when two sotho seek the same mate.”

My stomach sinks faster than the Titanic. Shadus’ words that night to Taj echo in my head. ‘She’s not Raine. You’re confusing all of them’.

“But – But that’s impossible. Y-You –”

“Shadus’ father and my own have arranged our mating since we were hatchlings, though it’s not set in stone. Taj’s mother, of course, wants him to mate me, not Shadus. Taj’s brothers and Shadus’ cousins have declared patra many times to fight over sotho females. But Taj and Shadus? Never. Never once have they held a patra over me.”

“S-So? So what? That doesn’t mean shit,” My voice cracks.

“It means something very interesting is brewing, Victoria,” Raine smiles crookedly. “Shototh be praised. This place was getting so boring.”

***

I finally get why the Gutters freaked out about the patra that night. But now that I get it, I just wanna dig a hole in the ground and die. But then I stop myself – why am I ashamed? Why am I embarrassed at all? These are Gutters we’re talking about. They’ve got weird traditions and even weirder logic. Taj and Shadus would never fight over a creepy, depressing, mean bag of bones like me. There’s probably another reason, or tradition, or rule. Something. Anything.

The Halloween fair tries to make us forget about the angry protestors. The security is as tight as ever, but we’re allowed to roam around the lawn in costumes and bob for apples and drink cider at the booths the faculty’s set up. It’s like they’re trying their best to ease the tension from the inside and the outside, but candy corn and fake blood packets only go so far. Students are laughing though, and the Gutters look equal parts excited and bewildered at all the strange, giant carved gourds and witch hats.

The corridors flood with humans wearing costumes and face paint. Even Mr. Weylan’s taken the time to put on Frankenstein make-up. People laugh and call to one another. Mr. Targe, dressed like a football player, yells at students for running in the halls. Candy apples wave in sticky hands, candy corn necklaces rattling and goblin masks hiding the truth behind plastic. Orange glitter coats the floor like the insides of a gutted pumpkin. The janitor and the groundskeepers pile wood into a stone-rimmed pit for the bonfire. The sky slowly deepens from chilly ice-blue to a sable navy dusk.

Mr. Targe lights the bonfire’s tinder. The flames feast eagerly, cracking logs with red-hot tongues. The bonfire gives off heat I feel even from my place on the hill. The teachers and EVEs stand close to the fire, talking. The Gutters seem unsure of what to do, hanging back at the edges as though giant fires aren’t their thing. Shadus stands close to the bonfire, the frigid October wind mussing his hair around.

He doesn’t see me walk up. I clear my throat.

“Ya’an nhilir sid’hamorovan. Kuna ele’an mej.”

Shadus turns. He takes me in for a second, as if not really believing I just said that.

“My face is a what?”

“Did I say it wrong?” I start eagerly. “Because I swear I had that last particle down pat like, two hours ago.”

“You said my face was the butt of a horse, and that smiling would improve it.”

“Oh, I did say it right then.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I got Ms. Gianca to teach it to me.”

He raises a brow.

“With…some adjustments on my part,” I add. His grimace blossoms into a wane smile. But it’s still a smile. There’s a pause.

“You were right,” I say. “We probably shouldn’t be friends. That’d be dangerous. But, I mean. We can be not-friends.”

“Not-friends?” He looks up. I struggle for words.

“Like, acquaintances. You know, talking partners. People who converse with each other sometimes. I mean, I like talking. Not in general. But. Uh. With you, it’s interesting. And I learn stuff. And contrary to what Taj says, you aren’t completely humorless. Just mostly.”

I hear Shadus snort, and under my bangs I glance his way. Our eyes meet, and I instantly look away.

“Friends are impossible for me, Victoria. It never works out. They think they want to be my friend, but then they see the real me. The ‘humorless’ me. The boring me. The nasty, cruel, terrifying me. And they leave, because it’s not worth sticking around. So. I’ll mostly ignore you. You mostly ignore me. It’ll be easier that way. It always is.”

The tone of his voice scoops my insides out and leaves the void to burn. He sounds like Alisa does on her worst days, despondent and hopeless. But I’m an expert at cheering people up – hell, I pretty much perfected it during the nights beside Alisa’s hospital bed, during the nights Dad drank alone at the kitchen table at two in the morning. I take a huge breath.

“What if I don’t want it to be easy?”

He knits his eyebrows. I shrug.

“I’m not the best at people stuff. I don’t have a lot of friends now, but I used to. In elementary school. Before –” Before Mom died. “I mean, I can help you with the friend-basics at least. Show you how it works, see if we can’t get you a buddy or two.”

He watches the fire crackle. “It’s impossible.”

“Eleven years ago, people said meeting aliens was impossible, too.”

There’s a deep silence.

“Friends, huh?” Shadus murmurs. The bonfire crackles and snaps. The smile that blossoms makes him look like a different person. He looks up at me. A little bit of happiness, and the dark sadness on his face dissolves and leaves behind a boy. A boy who looks very, very human. A boy who looks hopeful.

“I’d like that,” He says.

***

Oliver Sanders is the first EVE to get kicked out of Green Hills High.

Nobody knows about it until the groundskeepers start piling his luggage in the main hall on a Wednesday afternon. Oliver stands nearby, leaning on the water fountain with his head in his hands. Oliver’s Gutter roommate pats him on the back awkwardly, but Oliver bats his hand away. His parents arrive in a green sedan looking absolutely livid but in that special tamped-down, passive-aggressive way only parents can manage. They pack his luggage in the trunk, and drive off with him looking morose in the front seat.

Nobody knows what he did, but the rumor spreads anyway. Alcohol. His roommate, two other EVEs, and Oliver were caught on the roof of the boy’s dorm with a smuggled flask of whiskey. Oliver was the only one to have taken any sips. The rumor says Oliver’s EVE organ would’ve been worth seventy thousand. And he threw that all away. The EVE clinic doctors will take it out, and he’ll get zero money. No wonder his parents looked pissed.

As I watch them go, I’m grateful more than ever that I can’t smoke anymore. Even if it means I get the shakes, and feel like vomiting all the time. Withdrawal is a small price to pay. It could’ve just as easily been me sent home if Shadus hadn’t stepped in. I do miss Mom, and the smell-memory of her. That’s a little bigger price to pay. But I pay it because no one else will.

Because I’m the only one who can help my family.

I walk up to Yulan’s office door. It’s time for my monthly EVE checkup again. Just as I’m about to knock, I notice the door is slightly cracked, and voices are filtering out. Two voices I know well.

“ – are you saying? The test results can be unreliable,” Raine hisses.

“You know just as well as I do our EVE technology is flawless. There is no mistake. Her blood says she’s reacting. After eleven years, someone is finally reacting,” Yulan’s voice whispers. There’s a long pause before Raine sighs.

“Father and his scientist groupies will be thrilled.”

“May I remind you I’m one of those ‘groupies’,” Yulan chides gently.

“Don’t play games. You’re different. You’re the only one on my side.”

“The right side,” Yulan corrects her. “The side that doesn’t want war.”

“I won’t tell father,” Raine concludes. “Keep monitoring her. Do not speak of this to anyone, especially not Taj. The Adjudicators could ruin everything if they found out.”

“And what about Shadus?”

“I’ll approach him with the news - test the waters. He’s unpredictable. He isn’t bound to the law like Taj, so we must be careful. We need him, but he’s the wildcard, and he could rob us of all our power if he chooses wrongly.”

There’s another pause, and then Raine speaks.

“He’s my father, but I won’t let him get away with it, Yulan. Don’t let your memories of the old Jerai cloud your determination now. That Jerai is long gone, replaced with a madman.”

Yulan lets out a breath. “I know.”

The door opens suddenly, and Raine and I come face to face. Her expression is startled.

“V-Victoria?”

“Hi,” I make my voice pant-y, like I’d run here. “I’m here for my monthly check-up.”

Raine smiles, relieved. “Oh? Go on in, then. I’ve got a cheer practice to lead. I’ll see you tonight.”

She waves as she leaves. Maybe she noticed my lie. Maybe she didn’t. Why did I lie at all? I have no idea. Shadus told me to trust no one. Dad told me to be careful. So I’m being extra not-trusty and careful.

Yulan smiles and ushers me to sit on a pleather stool. He readies the blood-drawing needle while I stare at his back.

“Something the matter, Victoria? You’re awfully quiet this time around.”

His smile is genuine, his eyes innocent and sky-gray, almost like he hadn’t been talking about clandestine secrets just a moment before.

“It’s nothing,” I shake my head. “I’m just tired.”

“Be sure to get lots of rest, and drink water.” He insists. I watch him draw my blood and put the vial of it in the machine emitting blue light.

“That thing scans my blood, right?”

Yulan looks at me almost too sharply. Then he regains his smile.

“Yes. It also measures the health of your EVE organ.”

“And I’m doing fine?”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” He assures me. I swear I heard a tremble in his voice, but I brush it off.

“Why are some EVEs getting more money and some less?” I ask.

Yulan adjusts his glasses. “Some EVEs are simply more compatible with the organ than others. The greater the compatibility, the higher quality the emotions will be. I wouldn’t pay the same price for a regular mushroom and a truffle now, would I?”

I shake my head.

“Your blood looks fine,” Yulan says as he inspects the paper the blue-light machine prints out. “And your EVE organ is doing remarkable. Keep this up, and your family will be well taken care of.”

I leave his office and pause at the door. Curiosity burns in my lungs, so I open it a tiny crack. Yulan sits at the counter, staring at my blood paperwork. He murmurs to himself, lowly and brokenly.

“Asara help us all.”

6. The Temperance

I’ve got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s the sort of feeling I got when the hours would waste into the night and Dad still wouldn’t be home. The feeling I got in the polive station, waiting for Dad to pick me up after I saw Mom killed. A sick, burning feeling, like I’m going to burst into flame at any second.

‘After eleven years, someone is finally reacting’.

Yulan’s words reverberate in my head like a muffled tape recorder. I can’t look Raine right in the eyes, anymore, but I force myself to so she won’t suspect something’s wrong. She’s good at faking body language, and even better at reading fakers. What are she and Yulan planning? Her father, Jerai, is plotting something too? And she and Yulan are plotting against him?

‘I’m on the right side. The side that doesn’t want war’.

War. That word coming from a Gutter’s mouth sends cold dread dripping down my vertebrae. And who is the ‘she’ they talked about? The one who’s blood is reacting? It can’t be mine. I’m normal. I’m fine.

I have to tell someone about this. Anyone. But I can’t trust anyone, not here. I don’t like anyone enough to trust them. No one’s been truthful with me. No one except –

The only person I can trust is the person who told me not to trust anyone. The person who told me about his mom when I told him about mine.

I track down Shadus at his locker. He looks weary, dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones sharper than ever.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask. Shadus looks up and shrugs. It’s then I notice the half-healing scratches covering his hands. “Jesus - what happened?”

“Yali,” he says hoarsely. I give him a stern look, but he doesn’t explain further. “It’s none of your concern. Why did you wish to speak to me?”

“I can’t be concerned about you, now?”

“That would be becoming friendly. And we agreed not to do that,” He points out. “Now, why did you seek me out?”

I frown. He’s getting injured by the yali, and it’s my fault. It’s supposed to be my yali.

“If they’re hurting you, yali is officially a sick tradition. I don’t care if that’s racist. That aspect of your culture is sick and wrong.”

“It’s how we do things,” He sighs. “Please, just tell me what you’re here for, so you can leave.”

“Why do you want me gone so bad? Do I stink or something?” I sniff at myself. “Do I smell like really good food? Because Taj sniffed me, and frankly I don’t want you sniffing me either.”

Shadus looks amused for a split second. “Taj…sniffed you? Of course he did. He’s always had terrible control over his impulses.”

“It was even creepier than you, Creeps.”

Shadus chuckles, but his face quickly goes dark.

“It’s not you that stinks. It’s my locker.” He motions to the closed locker. I lean in and wrinkle my nose. I catch the faint whiff of something rotting.

“Ugh, what is that?”

Shadus sniffs. “Dead amphibian. Frog, perhaps.”

“Is that part of the yali? You have to clean dead frog out of your locker too?”

Shadus’ red eyes bore into me patiently, and I sigh.

“Fine, fine! Whatever. It’s your duty, or some shit like that. I just – I just wanted to tell you something. About something I overheard.”

He quirks a dark brow. “Oh?”

As I relay what I heard in the nurse’s office, Shadus’ eyes get progressively more surprised. There’s a long silence when I finish, people pushing around us to get to their next class. Shadus stares at me, then out the window, then looks back at me as if he’s about to speak.

“Victoria!” Dakota pushes through the crowd. When she sees Shadus, her smile falls off.

“Hey.” I smile for her, and a thought hits me. Dakota is nice to the point of shyness, and she’s a decent human being. She’d be a perfect first friend for a Gutter. I clear my throat. “Dakota, this is Shadus. Shadus, Dakota. She’s really good at dodge ball.”

The last comment makes Dakota grin a little, but she’s still nervous. Shadus looks to me, confused.

“She’s kind of a friend of mine,” I stress.

A look of realization crosses his face as he nods at Dakota.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“N-Nice to meet you, too.”

There’s a pause, both of them looking away from each other. I sigh.

“Right, so this is the part where you skip the messy bonding bits and become best friends in two seconds.”

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing.” Shadus raises an eyebrow and turns to Dakota. “She lied to me. She’s clearly more socially inept than I am.”

I’m about to quip something when Dakota’s round face darkens with anger.

“She’s not! She might b-be really blunt and angry-looking, but she’s really nice!”

Shadus stares at her with his signature searing gaze, but she doesn’t cower. The Dakota who avoids everyone’s eye contact is stubbornly staring back. Shadus raises an eyebrow at me.

“It seems you have a loyal defender.”

“Friend,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”

The bell rings for second period, a shrill knife between the two halves of clashing silence. Shadus nods.

“It was good meeting you, Dakota.” He looks to me. “You and I will talk next week, in study hall.”

Dakota’s red face only subsides when he walks away. I put my arm around her shoulder.

“What was that all about? You were pretty cool.”

“I-I just don’t want him to say things that hurt you.”

“That’s just how we are,” I laugh. “Him and I decided to actively not be friends.”

“But – he’s your culture partner,” Dakota insists. “I’m sort of friends with mine. A-Aren’t we supposed to be?”

I shrug. “It just feels forced. And there could be trouble, you know. For partners that get too friendly.”

Dakota frowns. “Just b-because there’ll be trouble doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.”

I don’t know how right she is, or how wrong I am. But her words ring in the halls purer and truer than mine.

***

As the dying autumn begins to lose color the school blooms with it - frost blues, regal golds, and blood reds. Thanksgiving comes and goes without much ceremony, other than turkey with cranberry sauce served for dinner that day. Of course the faculty wouldn’t want to make a big deal of it – Thanksgiving is a celebration of the beginning of colonialism in America, when the Europeans essentially invaded the Native American’s lands. It strikes too close to home, with the Gutters crash landing in America and all.

Shadus seems keenly aware of this fact. The next time we have study hall is right after Thanksgiving.

“The Native American people and Gutters share many similarities,” he says lightly as he puts a book back on a shelf. “We are a proud, noble people. We’ve both been confined to reservations by the same people. And we are monitored closely and controlled by your government.”

“Except there’s the fact you come from outer space. Oh, and they’re mammals. And you’re reptiles.”

“We do have scales, and our young hatch from eggs,” He says thoughtfully. “But we aren’t cold-blooded, and we don’t eat our own kind. Your human scientists haven’t come up with a definition for us, yet.”

“Ooh, ooh, I’ve got one!” I raise my hand. “Emotionus Eaterus.”

He rolls his eyes, a very human gesture I’ve never seen him do before.

“Regardless, after Thankspitying comes the Gutter holiday of Owakess. We’ve reconciled our 902-cycle calendar with Earth’s 365-day calendar, so Owakess always falls on the first of December.”

“Lemme guess,” I wad up a spare paper and chuck it at him. He dodges smoothly, (without looking, the showoff) and keeps returning books to shelves like it never happened. “Owakess involves ritual fighting. Maybe some blood. Someone’s fingers get broke, also.”

Shadus smirks. “You really know nothing.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Owakess is a night of dancing to commemorate the end of the Grand War three thousand ujuns ago.”

I stare at him blankly. He translates.

“Seven thousand years.”

I feel my jaw drop a little. He’s pleased at my reaction, because he barrels on.

“The Grand War was fought between Asara and Umala. It divided the four continents and caused a civil war among the Gutters. Brother fought brother. Sister assassinated Sister.”

“Wait, wait! But Asara and Umala…those are your goddesses. They aren’t real.”

Shadus smiles. “Asara and Umala were very real. As were Shototh and Latori. They weren’t born from Yu. There was no Great Father Yu. That’s just religious embellishment. They were female Gutters born to other Gutters who lived in ancient times.”

“B-But – But why are they –”

“Revered as gods now? That’s simple. They were born with power.”

“Power?”

“The power of zol,” Shadus snaps his fingers. “To explode.”

I’m at a loss. Shadus sits at the table, crossing his arms in front of him and a serious look growing in his ruby eyes.

“On our planet, we farm a species of animal known as lemak. We used to hunt them, but after years of advancing our technology, we discovered it was easier to breed and keep them. Lemak come in many types, and flavors, and they are plentiful. But most importantly, they are the only animal on our planet capable of producing rotssa - tangible emotions.”

I quirk a brow. Shadus leans in, voice lowering.

“It’s like a cloud that follows them. Your human mystics would call it an ‘aura’, but it’s more real than that. It is a field of organic electromagnetic waves that emit from the creature’s heads. They produce it in great quantity, and use it to communicate with each other.”

I open my mouth, and he holds up a finger.

“Before you harp on me about how it’s inhumane, know this – their emotion-producing capabilities are strong, but their intelligence is borderline. They’re no smarter or more self-aware than your average deer.”

“So you guys evolved to hunt them.”

“Precisely. We are highly specialized creatures whose evolution revolved around chasing, hunting, and eating lemak. Humans needed sight to hunt buffalo and mastodons. We needed our sense of smell to follow the lemak’s waves. You humans evolved to eat many different kinds of foods. We have only ever eaten one.”

“So, back to Asara and Umala –”

“Right, right,” Shadus claps his hands softly and leans back. “As I was saying, we’ve evolved to hunt lemak. We have fangs, tails, claws. We are tripedal to ensure maximum speeds on sand and maximum balance on mountains the lemak like to hide in.”

“Tripedal?” I hiss. “Like, three legs?”

He nods, smirking. “If it’s too strange, I’ll stop here – ”

Curiosity makes me jump in. “No, no it’s fine. Keep going.”

“We’ve evolved all these different body parts, all these different senses, just to hunt lemak. But Asara and Umala…they evolved beyond that. Evolution gave them a hunting weapon more powerful than any claw. Asara and Umala were Gutters who could manipulate the electromagnetic field of a lemak and turn it in on the lemak’s own brain. The result was a massive electrostatic surge that wiped out all vital nervous systems of the lemak.”

Shadus’ smirk grows somber, but it’s still full of pride.

“Herds would simply drop dead, their emotions free for the eating. The Gutters would pick them clean, use the fur for beds and the bones for tools, and the meat would go to our pets and work animals. In a time when lemak were scarce and the Gutter civilization was dwindling, Asara and Umala were saviors. They were heroes.”

I run my hands through my hair. “So where did it go wrong?”

Shadus smiles bitterly. “Asara and Umala had a falling out.”

“Over what?”

“A mate, of course. Jealousy is not exclusive to humans. Asara continued to help build the Gutter civilization, and under her leadership great cities rose. Ships were built, connecting the continents and uniting our people. Technology advanced. But Umala went down a darker path. She went into seclusion, honing her zol in the Deadlands. She used all manner of test subjects, and soon, lemak weren’t the only things she could kill with a mere thought.”

Shadus clears his throat.

“She returned to the cities. And she waged war. She cut down thousands, and persuaded thousands more. Asara repelled her, but the damage had been done. Gutters joined Umala’s side. And so began the Grand War.”

“And Latori and Shototh were –”

“Asara and Umala’s lieutenants, respectively. They didn’t have zol, but they were clever, strong warriors, and well-trusted.”

“And who won?”

“Shototh eventually betrayed Umala. Umala was arrested by the Adjudicators, killed by the Executioners, and her body kept for research by the Illuminators. And the story was immortalized over the years, first as myths, then as Ki’eth. It’s a miracle we still know the real story at all. But Latori’s painstakingly recorded scrolls were discovered in 665, and we’ve known since then. Even in the face of the true history, Ki’eth’s only grown stronger as the dominant religion.”

We’re quiet. The golden sun filters through our window. I pull my hoodie over my head. Shadus doesn’t seemed bothered by the light - running his hands through his hair when it gets in his eyes. I scribble a hole in my worksheet.

“You probably shouldn’t have told me all that. I doubt the Gutters will be happy if a human knows this much.”

“Like I said, no one would believe you.”

“What about what I told you? About Raine and Yulan’s talk?”

Shadus nods. “I’ve thought it over. I understand as much as you. Jerai is Raine’s father, and head of the Illuminators. Tall, skinny, constantly looks sick. He and his scientists are always tinkling with some new and horrible contraption.”

“Tinkering. Tinkling means peeing,” I interject.

“Regardless,” Shadus coughs. “He and his team invented the EVE organs by melding Gutter arterial glands, lemak marrow, and human liver DNA. He is smart, possibly the smartest Gutter we have. If Jerai was ‘planning’ something, he’s already gotten away with it. He’s sneaky and quick and never gets caught. It’s already too late to stop him. Raine’s attempt is foolish.”

“But –”

“My guess is she’s trying to overthrow him in a bid for his title. She’s next in line, but she’s never had much patience for waiting. If this thing Jerai has done is something illegal and she’s found proof of it, she’ll keep it for herself and then hand it over to Taj.”

“No – she’ll come to you first and try to get your support before she goes to the Adjudicators,” I correct.

Shadus smirks at me. “You’ve been hanging around me too much. Don’t you have a nice human male friend who, I don’t know, isn’t involved in a delicate game of extraterrestrial politics?”

“Yeah, but they all know what tinkling means. I can’t correct them and feel instantly superior.”

“Ah, so that’s why you hang around.”

He reads his book with a smirk that lessens into his usual frown. I stare at him. Even with the Gutter’s technology, forcing hundreds of Gutters into human shapes must have been painful. Messy. He still looks a little alien; they all do. His face is so sharp at every angle, nothing soft or round. Those red eyes are deep-set under thick, hawk-like brows. He’s not ruggedly handsome like Taj, but there’s something that makes people do a double take.

“Don’t glare so much.” I point to his eyes. “Those things are scary enough without you glaring. Humans can see a lot in a person’s eyes. They won’t run off so fast if you keep a neutral face, at least. Smiling’s even better.”

Shadus snorts. “I don’t smile very well.”

“The trick to it is thinking about something nice. Do you have like, nice memories?”

“A few. Most from our time on the ship.”

I pull a bottle of water from my bag and sneak sips when the librarian isn’t looking. “What about some Gutter expressions? Tell me about those.”

“Like what?”

“Anger. Happiness. How would your body react to that?”

“Happiness is a tail wag, I suppose. If it’s anger, the spines on our backs would stand up. We might snarl to show our teeth. Much of our emotional changes were relayed through pheromones. For humans it’s more in the eyebrows. Those were very hard to learn to control. The hardest concept to wrap our heads around was kissing. We watched human movies, of course, and practiced with each other, but it still felt awkward. I don’t know why your race is so entranced with it.”

I nearly the gulp from my water bottle across the desk.

“There are so many things wrong with that. I don’t even know where to start,” I rub my forehead. He keeps going, unaware of my discomfort.

“Procreation, we can understand. Those basic mechanics are the same in our species as well. But why the mouth? Is it because so many of your nerve clusters reside in the lips?”

“I, uh, I guess?”

“So it’s less a show of affection and more a pursuit of physical pleasure.”

“No!” I shake my head. “I mean, it can be both, depending on who - why are we even talking about this? You think it’s so gross, but I bet your Gutter version is way weirder.”

“It involves much less unsanitary saliva, that is for certain.”

I sigh and hide my face in my hands. An EVE walks up to our table and clears her throat.

“Here’s the attendance sign-in sheet.” She holds out a notebook. I look up from my hands, and before Shadus can glower I pull on his sleeve.

“Take the sheet and smile,” I murmur. He curls his lip.

“Why?”

“Just try it.”

He turns back to the EVE and takes the book, grinning in that disarming way I’d only seen at the bonfire. “Thank you.”

The EVE blushes. Shadus watches her go with surprise.

“That was a different reaction.”

“You think? Smile more and I promise people will like you.”

“If all I need to do is smile, your culture is highly dependent on the shallowness of outer appearances.”

“Yeah,” I laugh.  “We know. A million dead philosophers have told us before.”

The bell rings. The setting sun paints the sky in fire outside the windows. The smell of something stew-y wafts down the hall and makes my stomach gurgle. I don’t even notice Shadus and I are walking to the cafeteria together, until I do, and I start back to put space between us, but he just keeps walking.

So I keep walking, too.

***

Raine finishes toweling off her hair after her shower and admires her figure in the long mirror on our dorm’s door.

“Do you ever comb your hair?” She asks. “It always looks so tangled. It’s hard to see your face.”

“That’s why I keep it long.” I look up from my math notebook and scoff. “So nobody has to see the horror of my face.”

“You are not so ugly as to require a hair veil.” Raine walks over, and experimentally takes a strand of my hair in her palm, brushing it gently. “You’re much like the Ukrainian models I know.”

“You can say it. I look like a skeleton. It’s been said before.”

“No,” Raine says patiently. “You’re just...artistic-looking.”

“Like Picasso’s cube people,” I offer.

“Like a stylized Renaissance girl,” She corrects.

I laugh, the sound acid even to my own ears. “Why does that matter? I don’t have curves, I’ll never get boobs, I don’t have big pretty eyes like yours, or big lips. My hair’s thin. Everything about me is thin and sharp and mean-looking and I hate it.”

Raine’s silent. I fume, breaking my pencil lead and sharpening it again.

“Whoever said you look like a skeleton was jealous,” She says.

“It was a boy,” I snap.

“He was not worthy of your attention,” Raine says without missing a beat.

“What would you know about attention? You guys are just all paired up, mated like two halves of a sandwich. You don’t get to choose.”

“And because I don’t get to choose, I don’t know anything about love?” Raine’s voice drops to a subzero level. I flinch.

“No, that’s not what I –”

“Then what did you mean?”

I look up at her. Her blue eyes are ice, sharp and impervious. She grabs my hands, never before daring to touch me or get too close.

“Listen to me carefully, Victoria,” She says. “I am an alien. We are different species, from different planets. But we feel the same things. We feel anger, and joy, and love, just as you do. We feel the same. And that is how I know peace between us is possible. Not the half-peace we have now. But true, lasting peace.”

I swallow, hard, and her eyes soften.

“I am an alien. We have different ideas of beauty. We chose these symmetric bodies for their appeal to humans, not ourselves. But to us, sharpness is beautiful. Strength is beautiful. A strong emotional scent is beautiful. And you have those in abundance.”

She motions out the window to the humans walking on the lawn.

“They judge with their eyes alone. There is nothing wrong with you. There is something very wrong with them.”

I feel something hot and prickly in the corner of my eye. Raine lets go of my hands, and picks the hairbrush back up, running it through my ends.

And I let her.

7. The Hanged Man

Shadus gets the hang of smiling real quick. In classes we have together, he’s suddenly surrounded by a tableful of overeager humans - guys and girls his own age. The humans don’t treat him like a pawn, something to be friends with for his power. They even sometimes make him laugh. Laugh. Shadus, laughing. It’s almost disturbing, but at the same time hearing him laugh and seeing his face so happy makes something warm in the pit of my stomach flare up. The humans start eating lunch with him. He’s been adopted into a little clique all his own.

And he hasn’t so much as looked at me in two weeks.

Not like I care. I’m his culture partner, but that doesn’t mean we have to hang out at all times. But, you know. A simple ‘hi’ would be nice. Wouldn’t kill him to say two measly letters. Maybe this is for the best. I can distance myself. No more weird talks in which I explain to him the purpose of butter, or why the middle finger is an offensive thing. No more strange moments of quiet between us, or sideways glances. We were getting too close, anyway. And that would be both dangerous and against our mutual agreement of staying cordial.

I scrub the shampoo into my hair harder. The showers are quiet at night. It’s easier to wash when a dozen pairs of eyes aren’t scrutinizing my every rib and joint. I walk out from the showers, my slippers squeaking in the hall and my bathrobe half-done. Girls squeeze past me, laughing. I close the door and throw my dirty clothes towards the laundry basket without looking.

“Ow.”

The muffled voice isn’t Raine. I turn. Someone wearing jeans is sitting on Raine’s computer chair, arms over his chest. My clothes hang off his head. I run over and fling them away.

“You!”

“You spilled tomato soup on that shirt,” Shadus coughs, his nose twitching.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I hiss and pull my robe over my exposed clavicle.

“Raine pulled me in and then left. Told me to make you less ‘mop-ey’, whatever that entails. You have been avoiding me.”

“Me?” I splutter. “Avoiding you? You’re the one who -”

“With your advice, started to make some actual friends?” He quirks a brow.

“Yes! No!” I inhale. “Look, just get out before someone catches you. We can talk some other time.”

“I want to talk now.” He spins slowly in the chair.

“About what?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” He repeats. “Why?”

“I haven’t.”

He stops spinning, eyes dead on me. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t?”

I expel a frustrated breath. “I just thought – I just thought it would be easier for you to make friends if I wasn’t around. I’m not the best at getting along with people, okay? I scare them off, or I get mean, and I just mess things up. So. So I didn’t want to mess up what you had – have - going on.”

“You haven’t scared me off. Or Taj. Or Raine.”

“That’s because you’re Gutters and you’re weird,” I hiss. “Good weird. Uh. Not bad weird. You just have different standards. I’m not so popular with the humans, okay? Never have been. I’m the weird emo goth girl who’s too tall and wears too much black.”

“Why would being tall matter? Or wearing black?” He cocks his head. “Dakota likes you well enough.”

“Dakota is a loner,” I say. “She and I aren’t the kind of people who do well with big groups, okay? And I didn’t want to mess your big group thing up. And I still don’t want to. So it’s better if we just stick to doing the bare minimum, okay? I’ll show up at study hall, we’ll be culture partners there, and that’s it. No more lunches, no more bonfire talks, and certainly no more breaking-into-my-room incidents.”

“I didn’t break in, Raine brought me here,” He sniffs with great dignity.

“You let her bring you here.”

“Yes, because I wanted to talk to you. Because you are a friend.”

Panic grips my insides. Friends? With a Gutter? Mom would hate it. My heart inflates, but my words sink. “I’m not.”

A shard of pain flickers through Shadus’ expression, but it disappears quickly.

“I was unaware you disagreed. This changes things. However, it doesn’t change the fact I am grateful to you for all you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t be modest. You showed me the door. I stepped through it. Humans are much more agreeable than Gutters. It took several months of you showing me that until I actually opened my eyes to the truth of it. So, I am in your debt.”

“But –”

“I would like,” He speaks over me. “To offer you an invitation to Owakess. It’s not much in the way of repayment, but the faculty has promised there will be food, human food. Of the ‘junk’ kind.”

“I wasn’t planning on going,” I say carefully. “Not a lot of humans are.”

“I know,” Shadus says. “But I was hoping you would.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Anything red will do.”

“Why red? Is it for the Executioners or something?”

He nods. “It symbolizes them, yes.”

“And what would I do there?”

“Watch the ceremonial dance with me. Eat. Perhaps break a glass or two.”

I smirk, then sigh. “Okay. It sounds fine.”

“Good,” Shadus stands from the chair. “I’ll pick you up here on Thursday, at eight.”

I watch him go with something like regret festering in my stomach. I’d said we weren’t friends, but that was reflex. That was Mom’s hate for Gutters leaking through me. I want to be friends. I want friends, period.

I want Shadus to smile at me like he does his other human friends.

But that’s stupid, and selfish.

***

My phone buzzes at two in the morning. I groggily reach for it, but sit bolt upright when I see the name. My nerves start to burn.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“Vic, honey -” He sounds breathless, as though he’d been running. “I didn’t want to wake you up, sorry. Alisa, she -”

My heart drops into my stomach. “Is it bad?”

“Worse than the last.”

“Worse than the one in April?”

“No, thankfully. I don’t want to worry you, kiddo. Just needed to let you know we’ll be in the hospital for a few days while they monitor her. They’ve got her on some kind of experimental vapor that’s come in from Sweden. It’s supposed to work better than the beta stuff did.”

“I’ll come in,” I start. “I can get an off-campus pass and take the bus -”

“No, Vic, listen. I don’t want you jumping over here every time. Alisa wouldn’t want it either.”

“She needs me, Dad.”

“She has me. If it gets worse, I’ll call you and you can come then. Sleep, baby. Sleep and study hard.”

“Tell her to -”

“Call you when she can talk again.” I can hear him smiling. “I know.”

I hear the familiar chime of the ER doors opening on his end. I’d memorized that sound. I’d fallen asleep to that sound countless times. I can hear the reception nurse Gladys yelling at Dad, asking how he’s been. I can almost smell the weak coffee they serve, taste the staleness that had been my only comfort some days. I clung to that scent so many times, trying to drown out the reality that Alisa was convulsing in the next room.

“Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you more,” I mumble. The phone goes dark.

“Is your sister all right, Victoria?” Raine’s sleepy voice resounds as she sits up. I want to say yes and brush it off, but the regret gnaws at me. This is the first time I won’t be there for Alisa. Another hospital visit means another huge medical bill Dad can’t afford. More shifts and more sleepless nights for him. I grit my teeth and hug my knees to my chest.

“I want it to stop.”

I hear Raine shift off the bed.

“I don’t want her to hurt, anymore. I don’t want Dad to worry, anymore.” My fingers claw at my shoulders.

Raine just stands there. I feel hands ghost over my head, my back, shades of unformed comfort. She doesn’t know what to do, but she’s still trying. I wipe the tears away and sniff.

“I’m fine. You can go back to sleep.”

I expect her to argue, to chime something happy and insist on staying up with me. She drops her hand and glides back to her bed without another word. It’s better than comfort. It’s respect - for my words, for my need to cry in peace, alone and in the dark.

In the morning Raine asks if I’m going to eat four cinnamon rolls like last Friday. Tells me I’ll bloat if I keep going, won’t fit in my ripped skinny jeans anymore. My eyes are puffy and red and she tells me makeup can fix it all, and when I reach for a foundation stick she slaps my hand away and tells me to let her do it. The bustle in the hall is normal - shrieking, laughing, tripping. I’m grateful. When I reach the edge, fall over the ledge, break down with shame and tears, it’s good to know the world has the courtesy to keep moving like it had seen nothing.

I’m supposed to be the strong one.

And Alisa calls, and pretends to be strong instead.

And that  breaks me more than anything else in this world.

***

I’ve never seen Shadus this content before.

There was always something throwing him off, keeping him on the dark edge between frustration and hopelessness. But now he smirks more, and talks more, and the Gutters still chuck butt-tons of yali at him but he brushes it all off and keeps conversing with his new human friends. It’s like he’s found some sort of inner strength he never knew he had.

Now, I’m not the only one close enough to see the yali. His human friends see it too. In the lunch line one day, when Shadus asks a Gutter to move and the Gutter merely throws him a nasty look, a blonde guy named Aiden steps up to defend him.

“Hey, Shadus asked you nicely to move. Are you deaf, or stupid?”

The Gutter gives Aiden a withering, pale-eyed glare. Before he can turn around, Aiden grabs his shoulder.

“I asked you; are you deaf or stupid?” Aiden shouts. He’s getting looks from everyone in the cafeteria, now. Shadus puts a hand on his shoulder and murmurs to him.

“It’s fine, Aiden.”

“Like shit it’s fine! I’ve seen him being nasty to you all week. He’s a piece of fucking work!”

Aiden grabs the Gutter’s shoulder and whirls him around. The Gutter pulls away, but Aiden throws a punch. The entire cafeteria goes silent as the sound of flesh-on-flesh resounds, and blood flies onto the silver countertop. The Gutter is thrown against the glass protecting the food, and he snarls something in Rahm and wipes his bloody nose as he lunges forward. Aiden ducks, but the Gutter’s leg slams into his stomach and he doubles over. The lunch ladies gasp. People start crowding around, chanting ‘fight’. Taj and the security officers run in seconds later, tearing Aiden and the Gutter off each other.

“That’s enough!” Taj shouts, holding the Gutter’s arms behind his back. The Gutter flails, trying to get to Aiden, and the security guard holding Aiden struggles to hold him back, too.

“Let me go!” Aiden yells. “I’ll kick his shit in!”

“I’m tired of it,” The Gutter snarls to Taj. “Just let me fight one human. Let me punch just one, Taj! They deserve it! They all deserve it.”

Taj and the Gutter move towards the door, Aiden and the officers trailing behind.

“Nothing here to see. Sit down, and calm down.” A security officer calls, striding between lunch tables. “Go back to what you were doing before.”

Shadus says something to his group of friends, who all looked worried, and walks over to my table. He sits, expression cold.

“Bad things happened because he was friends with me,” He says finally.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say softly. “There was going to be an interracial fight. It was only a matter of time.”

“But because he was friends with me, he was the one it happened to first.” Shadus looks over at the rest of his friends. “And it’s only a matter of time before something happens to them, too.”

“Aiden’s just an idiot, Shadus. Shadus!” I snap. “Look at me!”

His eyes rivet on me, startled.

“Listen carefully,” I lean in. “Aiden’s kind of a moron. He’s hot-tempered. The fight just now had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Aiden’s temper.”

“He doesn’t know about the yali,” Shadus says. “I should have told him, and then he wouldn’t have –”

“You think he’d understand yali? You think any of your friends would understand? They’re humans. They like you. None of them would just stand by while you were being bullied. Especially not Aiden.”

“You did.” Shadus’ voice is almost accusatory.

“Because I’m trying to cultivate a goddamn respect for your culture,” I hiss. My anger at him and the stress of worrying about Alisa all compound on each other, making my voice acidic. “Because you told me you wanted it. Because – because I thought that’s what you wanted!”

“I wanted you to be my friend,” He says sharply.

“But you said we shouldn’t be!”

“I said that out of concern for your safety. I wanted to see if you’d value your morals over my culture. But what I wanted –”

“People don’t become your friends when you decide you want them to, or not want them to! There has to be trust, and mutual attraction, and – shit – the other person has to want to be friends too! It’s not just what you want that fucking matters! I’m not going to drop everything and become your friend suddenly just because you say so, because the next day you’ll say you don’t want to be friends again, and it’s just a shitty roller coaster ride, and I’m done with it!”

I slam my tray down. Shadus’ eyes are two hard, frigid rubies staring up at me. I barely hear the high-pitched whine through my fury, but it grows so loud in a split second I can’t ignore it. Shadus looks around cautiously. The entire crowd searches for its source, and someone shouts.

“The oven!”

Everyone’s head rivets to the kitchen behind the food counter, where smoke billows from one of the stovetops. One oven is glowing with an unholy greenish light, like it’s on fire from the inside. The lunch ladies shriek and wave towels at it, one of them running for a fire hydrant. There’s a split second of panic, students shrieking and Gutters yelling ‘fire’, and then the high-pitched whine reaches its zenith.

Shadus’ eyes widen as he lunges across the table and pulls me under it in one smooth movement.

“Get down!”

The explosion rocks the cafeteria, drowning out the screams. A blaze of white light blinds me, a heatwave rolling through the air like a bursting star. The force of it steals the breath from my lungs and the temperature makes me flash-sweat. The noise clears before the smoke. People are crying, screaming, the sound of sneakers squeaking on linoleum as they run away. Security is shouting, and as my vision clears from the flash, I see them running in and out of the cafeteria, dozens of them steering students and lunch ladies safely around the twisted metal debris of the lunch counter. Food falls as charred ash in the air. The explosion stopped short of the tables, but the kitchen is a massive, blackened hole in the cement. Mr. Targe and Ms. Gianca run in with fire extinguishers, but there’s no fire to extinguish. All that’s left is ash and smoke.

Shadus slowly helps me out from the table. He clenches his fists, eyes riveted to the kitchen as people scream and run in front of him like a panicked herd.

“Wh-What,” I catch my voice. “What was that?”

Shadus turns to me, expression quietly terrified.

“Zol.”

***

“That’s impossible!” Ms. Gianca says, pacing the principal’s office. “Zol is impossible.”

“It was zol,” Shadus insists, head held high. Principal Freeson quirks a brow at him. Ms. Gianca snarls.

“Yulan, tell them zol is impossible.”

Yulan, hands behind his back, patiently evens out his voice.

“Shadus, you know as well as I zol hasn’t been seen for over seven thousand years. Not since Asara and Umala.”

“Ask anyone in that cafeteria. Ask the humans, even,” Shadus insists. “They’ll tell you the oven was glowing green and smoking before it exploded.”

“It could’ve been a leaky gas main,” Principal Freeson offers.

“Nonsense,” The head security, a beefy man with a nametag that reads BROWN shakes his head. “CIA sent in maintenance to check and recheck all the mains before school started. We’re the safest-built building next to the Pentagon.”

“He’s right. This had nothing to do with human technology flaws. You saw it yourself, Gianca – there was no fire to put out afterwards. It was not combustion,” Shadus says. Gianca throws him the nastiest look I’ve seen from her yet.

“Zol is impossible –”

“I am aware this is a legendary ability your goddesses had, am I correct?” Freeson asks. Yulan and Gianca nod in sync. “And that’s all very well and good, but we can’t go basing things blindly on your religious figures. If you’ll pardon my brashness in saying so.”

“Exactly,” Gianca points to Shadus. “And it’s childish to assume otherwise.”

“I assume inspectors will be called to determine the cause of the accident?” Yulan asks the principal. He nods.

“Of course. Until then, I’d appreciate it if we’d keep these discussions private. The President has briefed me on my course of action – I’m to hold a press conference outside the gates and tell the world the cause is being determined. In the meantime, we as faculty must strive to keep students and parents calm. A leaky gas main is a very viable conclusion.”

Yulan smiles, obviously agreeing. Shadus’ frown is deep and carved in shadow, but he doesn’t say anything more. Principal Freeson looks to me, and grins.

“Thank you, Victoria and Shadus, for coming in. We appreciate every student’s account of the event, as it helps us determine the truth. You’re free to go.”

My nervous legs take me outside, following Shadus’ clipped gait. When the door is closed and at least three halls behind us, Shadus scoffs.

“Unbelievable. I can’t believe your government approved these idiots to run this school.”

“I’m just glad…shit, I’m glad no one died.”

“There are burns,” he says. “The lunch ladies are burned quite badly. As is Raine.”

My heart sinks. “She jumped over the counter just before it, didn’t she? I saw her blue skirt, but I didn’t know if that was really her.”

“She’s brave,” Shadus snorts. “Brave and stupid. She saved that lunch lady’s life.”

“That wasn’t really zol,” I say. “Right?”

Shadus lifts his head higher. Students crowd in the halls, rumors flying about the explosion – a terrorist attack? Accident? Or was it the Gutters? The Gutters murmur that it was the humans. Everyone is suspicious of everyone else.

“It was zol,” Shadus says. “There are scent-tapes we found in Latori’s library that describe the smell of zol. I’ve smelled it during my studies. And that – the smell of it just before – that matched perfectly.”

“And the green light?”

“A side effect of zol as well. Creatures and objects being manipulated glow pale green. Zol was primarily used on electromagnetic fields of living things, but it seems it has an effect on the electricity of your human technology as well.”

“So one of the Gutters in the cafeteria –” I swallow. “One of the Gutters has zol.”

“And Gianca is denying it,” Shadus says. “Your human police will no doubt be called out, and investigations conducted. They won’t find evidence of arson, or even accidental combustion. There is no mechanical error to find. So they’ll lie, and blame it on a burst gas line.”

“The sotho aren’t going to like this either,” I add.  Shadus smiles bitterly at me.

“Oh, no. You misunderstand how they think. The sotho will be overjoyed. They’ll send mharata to sniff the zol user out. And then they’ll start fighting over who gets to control the zol. This will turn the tides of everything – the faction power balance, our society, the Ki’eth faith.”

Shadus puts a hand on my shoulder, his touch feather light and hesitant. He smells like wood ash and the sharp scent of boy - sweat and soap.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for our argument. I was being an ass. And I was wrong.”

“I was wrong too. I lied. You and I can definitely be friends. I want to be friends,” I insist, my words harder and truer.

Shadus smiles, now much more practiced. It’s soft, and he aims it at me with a certain gentle sorrow in his ruby eyes.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

His smile renders me quiet. It suits him much more than his usual glare. His cheekbones and profile aren't quite so savage, his expression isn't twisted. He almost looks happy, for once. Sunlight filters like gold bars through the windows as we stand in the hall, watching each other. I’m watching an alien who’s proven to me he’s so much more than that, and he’s watching a human girl who is covered in scars, and risking another scar by being honest.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he says finally. I grin crookedly.

“Welcome to Earth. Nothing is ever easy.”

The investigators come in a black van later that day, flanked by police. White letters on their jackets read CIA, and BOMB SQUAD. They quarantine the entire west wing of the main building, thick yellow DO NOT CROSS tape cutting us off, and gruff policemen guarding the borders. Security patrols tighten up, and Shadus tells me the patra fights in the forest have been called off for now. The faculty is edgy – the principal doing daily rounds of the campus and ordering Taj to give out even more detentions for tardiness or skipping class.

The thick air of suspicion doesn’t lift, even with Owakess approaching. The Gutters should be happy, filled with holiday spirit, but instead Ms. Gianca is snappish, Yulan always looks tired, and none of the Gutters will look at a human without at least slightly glaring. There are exceptions, of course. Some Gutters and EVEs stay good friends, like Dakota and her Adjudicator. But everyone else is too torn by fear to try to fake friendly anymore.

“Everyone will calm down when they release a statement,” Dakota insists around a mouthful of fish sticks. Principal Freeson set up a surrogate cafeteria in A building, but it’s crowded and noisy, so most of us like to sit on the lawn for meals instead. It means being glared at by patrolling police and hearing the faint screams of frenzying reporters and protestors, but at least there’s fresh air and space.

“I’m not sure about that.” Ulsi, Dakota’s culture partner and a Gutter with the longest hair I’ve ever seen, grimaces. Her pale gray eyes stand out beautifully against her velvety, dark skin. “Gutters aren’t so quick to forget, and even slower to forgive. And we’re very suspicious. Even if the investigators tell us the real reason, I doubt any Gutter will be put at ease by it.”

She downs a vial of emotion, and I sigh and lay back on the grass.

“My Dad’s been calling non-stop. He wants me to come home.”

“M-Mine too!” Dakota’s eyes widen.

“And mine as well,” Ulsi agrees.

“But I can’t go home,” I continue, staring up at a single puffy cloud as it scoots across the sky. “We need the money.”

Dakota shoots a look to Ulsi, and then tries to perk up the conversation.

“Aiden’s got d-detention, but he gets to stay. I bet if t-the explosion didn’t happen right after, they would’ve expelled him.”

“Melune is leaving, back to the reservation,” Ulsi adds. “And Trok, and Saqiri. A lot of Illuminators are leaving.”

“Why?” I knit my brows. Ulsi shrugs, smiling.

“They are cowardly. They always run at the first sign of hardship, or danger.”

“Not all of them. Raine saved that lunch lady.”

Ulsi is quiet for a moment, as if thinking about it. She downs the rest of her emotions and nods.

“Yes. But she is sotho. She is different.”

“What about your holiday? Kisakiss? They can’t just c-cancel Kisakiss.” Dakota frowns.

“They won’t,” Ulsi says. “It is important now more than ever.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because, it’s the dance-story of the Grand War. Zol was used in that explosion, and the dance-story warns of the dangers of zol. It is perfect.”

“So it really was zol?” I tilt my head. Ulsi nods hers furiously.

“Oh, without a doubt. Every Gutter in the cafeteria smelled it.”

“What the heck is s-soul?” Dakota asks. Ulsi starts explaining it to her, and I take it as my cue to say goodbye, chuck my dinner trash away, and go for a walk. The sunset is weak, barely dusting the naked treeline with pink and indigo. Security patrols, but they ignore me, mostly focusing on the building, and the protestors on the fence. The explosion only fueled their madness, and the media frenzy. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep when they chant all through the night.

A Gutter in the cafeteria used zol. Purposefully? Accidentally? I don’t know. The fact I don’t know who it is makes me wary of nearly every Gutter that passes me on the path around the school grounds. I can’t even look them in the eye, anymore. I’m not helping the problem of suspicion between the races, I’m just adding to it, but I can’t bring myself to do anything else. I’m scared. Fear courses through me like lava. If the Gutter did that to an oven, I know exactly what they’d do to my brain.

They could kill me. They could kill anyone, at any time.

“Victoria!”

I look backwards. Taj jogs towards me, and catches up quickly.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” He pants.

“Why?”

“Come on. I’ve got a surprise.”

I plant my feet as he tries to drag me by the arm, but he sighs.

“Come on! If we don’t hurry, they’ll get there before we do.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Do you want to see Raine or not?” Taj clips. I follow him without question as he leads me into the main building and down the corridor, towards Yulan’s office. Raine and the two injured lunch ladies were transferred to a nearby hospital for emergency care, but Raine was quickly released back to the school, were Yulan could treat her more effectively with medicine meant for Gutters. Police guarded Yulan’s office constantly, letting only Yulan himself and whoever Yulan allowed in, and that didn’t include me. When the office comes into view, I notice the police are gone. Taj ushers me in, the door wide open.

“How did you manage this?” I hiss.

“Just get in there and say hello,” He whispers back. “She’s been asking for you. I’ll keep watch.”

Taj stands just inside the door as I edge into the back of Yulan’s office. It’s as white and quiet as ever, small vases filled with flowers on the windowsills, and most of the beds in the back for resting patients empty. All except one.

Raine lies on the pillows, dark hair fanning around her. Half of her face is swathed in white bandages, covering her left eye and cheek. She’s staring out the window at the sun and the birds chirping outside, but when she hears my footsteps she turns, and a small smile pulls at her chapped lips.

“Victoria.”

It hurts to look at her like this. I used to dislike her, but now? Now my feelings for her are different, and softer. I pull up a chair, and sit at her bedside.

“Call me Vic,” I say. Her smile grows wider, and she laughs. But under that laugh, a single tear escapes. She wipes it away quickly with a bandaged hand, and musters up her voice.

“Okay. Hi, Vic.”

“Hey.” I smile. “You look great.”

“I look like a mummy,” She insists.

“And like a mummy. But a hot mummy.”

She stifles another laugh, and her amused expression dulls to seriousness. She tries to sit up, but I motion for her to say still.

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine. Just a little burn. It’s just my face, and my hand.”

“Can they do a skin graft?”

“Yeah. But I won’t let them.”

“What?” I feel my stomach drop. “Why?”

She grins. “No one will want me to model when I’m like this. The humans don’t take kindly to scars. So there’s no point. I won’t have to do it anymore. I’ll be free.”

“But –”

“Hush,” Raine puts a finger to her lips. “I’m grateful for this burn. It means I don’t have to show the world my face. I don’t have to represent us to the human public. My sisters will no doubt fill the gap, like they’ve always wanted to. And I can just…I can just be normal. I’ll still be sotho, but I won’t have to play the part of a mindless doll anymore.”

I’m quiet. I never thought of whether or not Raine wanted to be a model. I just assumed she did. All girls wanted to wear fancy clothes and jewels and have the spotlight on them, so I assumed she did, too. But I never considered that she might hate it. Raine’s hand grabbing mine snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Vic, listen. You need to leave.”

“Taj just brought me here. Can’t I stay a little longer –”

“No, you misunderstand. You need to leave the campus. They’re letting students go back home. You need to go.”

“I can’t, Raine. I have to get that money.”

“This is more important than money,” She says slowly. “This is about your safety.”

“Uh, I’m sorry,” I feel the anger rising in me. “But Alisa needs treatment. I need that money. My safety comes second.”

“No, listen!” Raine snaps. “Listen to me. Your safety doesn’t come second. You are the one my father has been looking for. Your EVE organ –”

“Hey, officer!” Taj’s voice booms. “I thought I heard a firework go off in the bathroom –”

“I have to go,” I say, and duck away. Raine grasps for my hand, but I dart around the office and through the door when the officer’s head is turned. I slink down the hall and Taj relents the conversation and lets the officer go into the nurse’s, following me.

“Did you get to talk to her?” He asks.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear all that.”

Taj sighs. “Fine. You got me.”

“You let me talk to her so you could hear what she’s up to.”

“And you’re her friend! I’m not entirely heartless,” He smirks, then gets serious. “She said you’re the one Jerai has been looking for.”

“I have no idea what that means, so don’t ask me.”

Taj’s handsome face screws up thoughtfully.

“Don’t strain your jock-brain too hard,” I tease. He looks up.

“Right after we crashed, Jerai requested access to a file locked in the ship’s containment freezer.”

“A file? In a freezer?”

“Files of organic matter. Parts of lemak, yopi, most creatures indigenous to our home planet, and exceptional Gutters who were deemed to have above-average bodies that would aid future sciences.”

“So? He requested those files to use them to make the EVE organ, right?”

“Right. We had to eat somehow, and quickly. We tried to clone the lemak, but they all died. So he turned to the idea of an EVE organ. He used Gutter DNA, but –” Taj shakes his head. “I’ve always thought it was odd.”

“What’s odd? Don’t string me along.”

“The DNA he used – it was Umala’s.”

My blood goes cold, and spidery tingles inch over my spine.

“Umala? The Umala?”

Taj nods. “No one knows that, of course. Nobody but the Adjudicator sotho. He had to file a request form, and my mother had to approve it. I remember sitting at the table when she signed it.”

“Your mother approved it?” I hiss.

“We were desperate!” Taj defends. “We needed to eat. We were willing to try anything!”

It doesn’t sound right. He’s not lying, but something about it nags at me. I’m missing something.

“But if Jerai used Umala’s DNA, then that means it’s inside every single EVE,” I say. “And it still – it still doesn’t make sense. Why would I be the one Jerai is ‘looking’ for?”

Taj walks up to me. I can smell him – sunscreen and faint cologne. His gold eyes stare down at me as he reaches out, rough, warm hands enveloping my shoulders.

“I don’t know. But I promise you now, I’ll protect you.”

I scoff. “Don’t bother.”

“I’m serious, Victoria.”

“So am I.”

“You doubt I can protect you?”

“I doubt I need protecting at all. I’m not special, or dainty. I don’t need you Gutters looking after me. I make my own decisions. I’ve protected myself for sixteen years. I can do it for sixteen more.”

“I’m not Raine, alright? I’m not asking you to leave.”

“Good. Because I won’t.”

He chuckles under his breath. “I know.”

8. The Justice

Dad keeps trying to get me to come home.

He has the power to pull me out, of course, and he keeps threatening to do it. But he never does. We just argue about it. If he really wanted me home, he’d have done it already. But he’s reluctant to. For all his worry, the lure of a hundred thou is too juicy to resist. We need it too badly. Even when the CIA investigation squad releases the statement that the explosion was due to a burst gas main (Shadus was right, they lied), Dad doesn’t stop nagging for me to come back. I nag right back, and tell him how many cops are on campus now, and how safe we are. It doesn’t ease his worry, but it buys me time. And that’s what I need now more than ever.

The first snow of the winter falls right before Owakess. The wind is sharp and the air lung-searingly cold. The hills of the valley are dusted with soft white, and the sun seems brighter than ever, but it doesn’t take long for footprints and dark rain to compact everything into sleet.

Yulan keeps asking me to come to his office, but I ignore the summons. I know he’s doing it on Raine’s orders. Raine wants to persuade me to leave, but I’m not falling for it. Whatever danger she thinks I’m in, I can handle it. I have to handle it. For Alisa.

The faculty starts decorating for Owakess. Banners of red, yellow, and blue silk adorn the walls, and strange white paper symbols that look like stars, but twisted and inverted, are placed at strategic points. Ulsi informs me it’s the symbol of Asara, and that there should also be torches of green boron fire among the decorations. I inform her even the faintest threat of arson is frowned on in most human buildings. She laughs.

Taj starts sticking by me like a flea on an unwashed dog. He’s there to walk me to my next class, or to bring me to the stand-in cafeteria for dinner. It’s like having a bodyguard that talks too much about football and rules. And sometimes the rules of football. But mostly he’s polite, even if he’s trying too hard to get to know me.

“Look,” I pile my tray full of lasagna as he takes an emotion vial. “You don’t have to try so hard, okay? You don’t really like me as a person, you’re just getting to know me so you’ll stay in the loop. I get it. You don’t need to pretend.”

Taj blinks like I hit him. “But I do. Like you.”

I snort. “No.”

“Yes,” He insists. “You’re witty, and smart, and leagues ahead of the other humans in terms of rationale. You observe a lot, and you’re considerate of others. You’re very much the sort of person I like.”

All the compliments make me scrunch my shoulders up. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I’m being genuine. You’re the first exceptional human I’ve encountered.”

His smile is sincere. I study it, then scoff and take my lasagna outside the cafeteria. I don’t trust it, or him. Too many people have said they like me, and then done a one-eighty and left me in the dust. I sit on a bench, watching the snow fall outside the glass walls of the main hall, and he joins me. We eat in silence, fat flakes of white drifting slowly to earth.

“My Mom used to say every snowflake was a ballerina dancer,” I say. “Dressed in white.”

“Ballet is remarkable,” Taj agrees. “And snow even moreso.”

“Do you guys have snow?”

“Not on our planet, no. We have wuve, a crystalized acid rain that falls in needles to the surface during the redsky season. It’s purple, and coats the ground. You can slide on it, much like ice. But you can’t touch it with your bare skin. It will eat you to the bone.”

“Jesus. Your planet doesn’t sound very friendly.”

Taj laughs. “No. Compared to your soft planet, ours must seem dreadful. But we’ve adapted. To us, it is normal.”

“Do the Gutters back home know where you guys are?”

Taj shakes his head, downing his vial in one gulp. “Unfortunately not. Our beacon was destroyed by your solar system’s asteroid field.”

“Is that what made you crash? The asteroid field?”

“I – I don’t know. Perhaps. They’ve never told us hatchlings.”

I scrunch my face up. That’s bizarre. Why hide the truth from the kids? Taj laughs suddenly. I look up.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your nose. It’s very…what’s the word? Endearing? Cute. The skin folds around it get all smashed together. It’s cute.”

I feel a heat rise in my cheeks, and stuff lasagna in my mouth, chewing with my mouth open.

“Not sho cute nao, huh?”

Taj just shakes his head and chuckles.

“Trying to scare him off won’t work. He’s seen worse.” The deep, dark voice behind us makes us turn. Shadus looks down at us, arms folded over his chest. Taj’s face falls instantly.

“Like your cousin, Gheri?” Taj asks. Shadus smiles sourly.

“Don’t insult my family, Taj. You know I don’t care a single yath about them.”

“Then what do you care about?” Taj asks smoothly. Shadus and he stare each other down until I clear my throat.

“Uh, so, I hate to interrupt the dickwhipping that’s going on between you two right now, but I’m trying to eat and it’s a little distracting.”

“Something managing to distract you from food?” Shadus mock-gasps. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh, be quiet.” I flush. Taj looks confused.

“What’s ‘dickwhipping’?”

“A competition of pride between dudes. You know, when guys get all up in each other’s face, and prickly. Haha. Prick. Get it? Prick-ly.”

I laugh, but Shadus and Taj just look lost.

“I assume we’re still on for tomorrow night,” Shadus clears his throat, all business.

“Huh? Oh, right. Owakess. Yeah, we’re on. I’ve got a red sweater. I’ll wear that.”

“Excellent.” Shadus shoots Taj a weird sort of smug smirk, then looks to me. “I’ll see you then.”

“I’m going to Owakess too,” Taj insists, a little harder than he needs to.

“Yeah? Uh, that’s cool. See you there.”

The bell rings, and I start towards the dorm. Dakota catches up to me, Ulsi at her side.

“V-Vic! Were you talking to Taj just now?”

“Yeah, why?”

Dakota giggles and elbows Ulsi, who blushes a bright red.

“What?” Ulsi snaps.

“Ulsi h-has a crush,” Dakota blurts.

“I do not!”

“W-Why did you stalk him during break then?”

“I wasn’t stalking! I was observing his methods for conversing with humans. For tips. He’s very good at it.”

“You ‘converse’ just fine with us.” I smirk. Ulsi pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes.

“Asara tu-valek olyi.”

“Just admit it! I-It’s a crush!” Dakota squeals. Ulsi sighs.

“It matters not. I’m not sotho. He would never look at me twice. Besides,” She shoots a look at me. “It seems he has a thing for humans.”

Dakota gapes. “What? Vic?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” I protest. “Taj is just using me to get close to Shadus, and Raine. He’s nosy, and I’m the best vein of info right now. He’s just trying to dance the weird sotho supremacy dance by getting to know me, nothing more.”

Ulsi’s eyes soften, but she doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

“I was there during the patra you interrupted. He was very concerned for you when you two fell.”

“Like I said – he hangs around me to get info on Shadus. It’s not anything serious. Are you going to Owakess, Ulsi?”

She nods. “With Dakota. She’s very –”

“I’m very excited!” Dakota shrills. She lowers her voice. “I mean, ahem. I’m v-very excited.”

I snicker. “It’s nice to see you yelling. You’d never do it a while ago.”

“I know. I-I used to think it was rude. But somewhere along the way I realized it was actually r-really fun!”

Even Ulsi laughs this time.

***

Since the cafeteria is being rebuilt, Owakess is being held in the auditorium – the fancy place where the school plays are held. The walls are draped with sheets of blue, gold, and red silk embossed with Asara’s symbol in white. Green boron torches are placed high up, where no one can reach them, the flames moving like hazy liquid emeralds. Refreshment stands laden with fruit punch, soda, cookies, and candy line the lobby, and two entire tables of different kinds of emotion vials are left out for the Gutters to choose from. We all mill in the lobby while the Owakess dancers prepare the stage. The Gutters all wear the same robe – it looks identical to the patra uniform, but instead of silver, each Gutter wears their corresponding faction color. I show up in my red sweater, feeling a little lost. The Gutter faculty is here, too, wearing their colors. Ms. Gianca nods at me, and Yulan smiles. Even Mr. Targe’s showed up, with a female Gutter teacher who’s an Executioner. He, likewise, wears red. It seems everyone’s in pairs. The people who came alone or without wearing red, gold, or blue. The latter are quickly pulled to the side by the Gutter faculty and given a colored uniform to wear over their normal clothes.

Besides the weird mandatory dress code, the air of excitement is palpable. The Gutters look thrilled, and pleased, like they weren’t expecting anywhere near this lavish a celebration. I hear some of them murmuring how lucky they are the human government decided to throw an Owakess at all. It almost makes me feel bad for them. But then they gasp and point at the refreshment table, apparently surprised at how many vials of fear there are.

“I haven’t had fear since last Owakess!”

“Oh, it’s going to be delicious!”

“They have fear-tsori, too! That’s amazing!”

They talk about it like it’s candy, some kind of treat. My stomach twists a little, my EVE organ twitching. I wave at Dakota and Ulsi across the room, Dakota wearing a t-shirt with a yellow daisy on it. Shadus said he had to go to the bathroom, and took off. While I wait, I meander over to the refreshment table and grab some M&M’s and a can of root beer. I spot Taj walking through the crowd, stopping humans from running in the lobby with stern reprimands. He’s wearing a gold robe with really long sleeves, and white Rahm symbols embroidered into it. I look around for Raine uselessly – there’s no way she’d be here; she’s still recovering. But I eat my own words when the doors open, cold air wafting in.

It’s Raine.

The crowd goes quiet. Undeterred, she walks normally, her head held high. The bandages are off. Her long hair is swept back in a ponytail, displaying the ghastly, mottled burn on her face. It burned her eyebrow off, and scarred her cheek like a tear-trail from the corner of her eye. Her top eyelid fused with her brow, but her bright blue eyes still twinkle. Her left hand is likewise dappled brown and white, like ripples in a pond. Certain patches of skin stretch over each other, healed at awkward angles. But somehow, it doesn’t detract from her beauty in the slightest. She’s all smiles, the crowd watching her. Her good eye is perfectly done with makeup, her lips plump and pink with gloss and her earrings glistening with tiny sapphires. The nails on her bad hand are painted with perfectly sky-blue polish, and the blue silk uniform she wears is a five times longer in the sleeves than the other Gutter uniforms. It’s embroidered all over with hundreds of symbols; Rahm symbols. But unlike Taj, the symbols are evenly split down the middle – half of them done in white thread, the other half in black. She wears bright blue killer heels to match, and waves at me.

“Vic! There you are!”

I steel myself as we come face-to-face.

“I’m not leaving Green Hills, Raine,” I say. Her blue eyes go wide with astonishment, then she smiles.

“Don’t worry about that tonight, okay? It’s Owakess. Tonight is only about celebrating. I won’t try to convince you of anything other than to eat more human candy.”

She claps her hands in delight when she sees the emotion vials.

“Tvak’ra! And guree! Oh, I’m going to eat well tonight.”

“You look good,” I say. “Sorry. I should’ve said that first.”

“The crowd doesn’t seem to think so,” She sighs, picking up a vial. They’re murmuring, staring at her intently. I glare at a few, and they cower and scuttle away.

“They’ll get used to it,” I assure her. She turns to me and smiles, her voice shaking.

“The humans will definitely get used to it. You’re charming like that. But the Gutters? You have to understand, Vic, Gutter culture doesn’t understand deformities. Our medical technology can erase them all, and always has. They’ll never understand why someone would choose to remain like this.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I echo her words back at her. “But there’s something very wrong with them.”

She looks up, blue eyes watering. She looks back down at the vial in her shaking hands, and it happens in a blur. She hugs me, tight and around the neck.

“Thank you,” She murmurs. Over her shoulder I see Shadus coming out of the bathroom, now in a blood-red robe that matches his eyes, the sleeves long like Raine’s and the Rahm embroidery black instead of Taj’s white. He catches my eye, looks at Raine hugging me, and nods. It’s grim, and dour, but it carries weight.

‘The first human and Gutter to be friends openly won’t be well-received,’ his voice echoes in my head.

‘Just b-because there’ll be trouble doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it,’ Dakota’s voice echoes too.

I hug Raine back.

The crowd slowly goes back to their own conversations. The glances and wary looks still come Raine’s way, but it isn’t so isolated and obvious. The lights of the lobby dim suddenly, and a Gutter teacher acting as the usher announces the Owakess is about to begin. People start moving to the theater. Raine smiles, wiping at her eyes.

“Let’s go. The last thing you want is a bad seat.”

We meet up with Ulsi and Dakota, and I introduce them to Raine. We pick seats in the middle-left, squirming excitedly as the theater fills up. Taj slides in to sit by Ulsi. Shadus spots us and sits to the right of Raine. And for a second, we’re all together, united and just okay with each other.

And then the lights go down, and a hush blankets the crowd. The purple velvet curtain lifts, and Raine gasps.

“A square stage? Not round?”

“It’s traditional in human theater,” Shadus clarifies.

“Shhh!” Dakota hisses, and they instantly shut up. When the actors slowly file out from the sides, my mouth nearly drops open. Every single one of them is dressed in a beautiful, skintight suit, colored with mottled greens, purples, and blues. The hues are iridescent and luminous, like a butterfly’s wing, and shimmer under the theater lights. Some are darker, some lighter, some purples look almost black and others are so pale they seem white. Their faces are made up with make up to blend into the suit, their hair covered and replaced by rigid fabric spikes that line down their spine. The suits must be implanted with lights, because they glow from the inside in faint pulses.

Taj seems particularly shook up at the sight, his eyes a little moist.

“It’s a pale mockery,” Raine whispers to me, “And it lacks so many things, but those are our skins. Our old bodies. Some actors have color contacts in to represent key players of the Grand War who were sotho.”

I spot red eyes, gold, blue, and other colors I haven’t seen on sotho before – bright orange, white, pale pink, and a deep forest green. Other factions, probably. But their skin is so beautiful, I only pay seconds of attention to the eye colors. The actors line up, bowing to the crowd. The Gutter crowd stands and bows, and us humans scrabble to bow quickly with them.

“Um’saa tir rosak!” The actors shout in unison.

“Um’saa ellu morata!” The crowd shouts back, and sits. And the dance begins.

Child Gutters play the roles of child Asara and Umala, one of them dressed in pure white, the other in pure black. They leap and bound across the stage with such grace it’s hard to believe they’re kids. It looks like they’ve been dancing all their lives. Unlike human dance, Gutter dance is a constant movement, and it looks more like a martial art than anything. Asara and Umala kick and jab around each other, never touching. It’s almost patra, but much slower so as not to give humans any clue they have superior reflexes, and more ceremonial – after every few ‘mock’ fights, the actors bow to one another, and go back to leaping across the stage. Sometimes they stop and shout in Rahm at each other, an entire conversation taking place that we can’t understand. Raine tries to translate, but they speak too fast, and I hush her so she can pay attention to the dance. She’s obviously enraptured – her face glowing. She’s not the only one; even Shadus looks happy, his mouth curved in a smile. Every Gutter is paying close attention. Sometimes, the actors will turn to the crowd and shout a question in Rahm, and the crowd will shout many answers back, like they’re telling the actors what to do. There’s no music, but several musicians stand in the center, chanting in so many tones it almost sounds like singing. Sometimes they’re loud, other times they’re so quiet you can barely hear them. Their voices emulate the wind – hissing and wailing – or they screech in symphony to emulate the dying cry of a lemak.

The dance tells the story of Asara and Umala’s childhood – as twin sisters living in a remote village in the desert. Asara and Umala have fun together, and are very close. They discover their zol power one day when they’re out hunting with their fathers. An actor dressed up as a lemak - a massive hairy beast, like a Chinese dancing lion but with a flat face, more horns, and rust-colored fur - glows green and keels over dead.

I didn’t notice it before because of the beautiful, distracting skin, but the background of the play is a black canvas. Actors in likewise black suits, who almost blend in, use what look like bo staves with long hairs on each end to paint a picture on the canvas. Their movements look like martial arts, too, but they only move, and therefore paint, when the actors say a line in Rahm, or dance out an important scene. Then the bo staves are like pinwheels, fast and nigh-invisible, save for the broad streaks of color they leave behind – red, green, pink, yellow.

The child actors for Umala and Asara are replaced with adult versions, and they dance the meeting of Umala, Asara, and a Gutter called Ferek, whom Umala and Asara both instantly fall in love with. Ferek courts them both. When Asara giggles or Umala sighs in a lovestruck way, the black canvas in the back blossoms with rosy pinks and bright, happy oranges that meld like a sunset. But then Umala and Asara start to fight over Ferek’s affection, and the canvas is switched out, replaced with a fresh one that is quickly doused in bloody reds and deep, ominous blues. The musician’s chants turn harsh and biting, like the barks of a dog across broken glass. Ferek chooses Asara, and Umala is heartbroken, the canvas all dark, royal purples and tortured, confused neon yellows.

When Asara and Umala part - Umala leaving for the mountains and Asara staying - the canvas is spotted in gentle arcs of sorrowful lavender and light, tearful grays. The musicians wail, their voices soft, as if they’re begging someone to come back. But Umala’s fury and resentment can’t be stopped. She leaves and comes back, striking down Gutters with nothing more than a wave of her hand.

“Hey,” Dakota pulls at my sleeve. “W-Where did Raine and Taj go?”

I look around – Shadus is gone from his seat, too. Ulsi leans over to us and murmurs.

“They are taking their places for the final battle.”

“They’re p-part of this?” Dakota asks.

“Watch,” Ulsi says simply.

The dancers playing Asara and Umala dart offstage, the other dancers covering their exit by doing an elaborate battle-dance. Red and brown paint splashes on the canvas, with broad, angry strokes. The chanters sing aggressive, rapid tones. And then all at once, it goes quiet, the paint stops and the Gutters fall to the ground. Standing on the right side of the stage is Taj, on the left side is Shadus, and in the center is Raine.

“E’n mirias tokk Umala berei, oual!” Taj shouts. The crowd shouts back, but this time they all respond the same way, in one thunderous roar;

“Av Umala il’fai!”

It’s a simple sentence. Even I can understand it. Umala must die.

Raine walks over to Shadus, and they bow to each other. Suddenly, Shadus lashes out, Raine ducking his blows as the two of them move backwards across the stage. Shadus leaps, lunges, and Raine bobs and weaves, leading him ever closer to Taj. When they’re close enough to touch, Raine leaps away, and Taj strikes out at Shadus, holding his open hand like a blade just above Shadus’ neck. One long, bold white streak is slathered on the canvas, and the musicians, who had been hissing ever louder, go quiet.

The crowd is silent, and then it goes wild, cheering and jubilant shouting rising into the ceiling. Taj, Raine, and Shadus bow to the crowd, the dancers and musicians and painters coming out and bowing with them. The humans clap, not really knowing what else to do. The cheering is so loud the applause is lost. The quiet, well-mannered Gutters are erupting, and it’s both unsettling and nice to see. They’re finally smiling. They’re finally getting to show their true emotions, instead of being forced to wear the polite mask all the time. This is their culture, I think as I watch Shadus and the others bow. This is who they are, and how they exist.

This is their world, too.

After Owakess is over, people filter back to their dorms. The December air is crisp, and bites at exposed hands and faces. Raine stops to talk to Yulan, and waves me off, saying she’ll see me back at the dorm. Dakota skips ahead of me, Ulsi calling after her to slow down. Taj took off right after dance was over. Only Shadus walks with us. Me. He hangs back, behind Ulsi and Dakota, and keeps pace with me. I shiver a little, and before I can stop him he sheds the red silk robe and offers it to me.

“You’re cold. Use this.”

“I’m fine, Creeps.”

“Is it customary for humans to call their friends by very inaccurate nicknames?”

“Inaccurate?” I sputter.

“If you call me Creeps, perhaps I should call you Homely?”

I glare. “That means ugly.”

“Exactly. It’s very inaccurate.”

Suddenly the night air doesn’t feel so cold. My face gives off waves of heat around my scarf.

“L-Lots of people would disagree with you on that one,” I stutter like Dakota. Shadus quirks a brow.

“Then those people would be wrong. Or blind. I’d forgive them for their transgressions if they were blind.”

I let out a half-frustrated, half-overwhelmedly embarrassed breath. “I don’t understand! You and Taj and Raine all seem to think…I’m somehow prettier than I really am. No one’s ever called me pretty in my life. It’s like you’re trying to butter me up!”

“You mistake me. I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m stating the truth.”

“Riiiight.”

“Many of the Gutters agree as well,” He presses. “You have a face that pleases us.”

“Why? Because it looks like a snake-lizard-thing’s?” I scoff.

“Because it is strong. You have strong, clear, noble features. We admire strength.” He reaches over and puts the red robe around my shoulders. It smells like him, faintly.

“So I look strong, like a big burly wrestler?”

His face crinkles as he chuckles. “No. You are far too delicate and slender to be a wrestler.”

I hate and love being called delicate all at once – the effect spreading like a sweet, cold fire in my chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ll cease,” Shadus says. “This is obviously making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s just…weird. This is the first time anyone’s complimented me like this.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure it won’t be the last.”

We pause on the steps of the girl’s dorm. I give him back the robe, and the tension in the air suddenly thickens unbearably. The night’s so cold I can feel the faint heat his body gives off even from here. He shuffles, a gesture that’s almost nervous and definitely wasn’t in his broody alien prince repertoire at the beginning of the year. In the dim light shining from the girl’s dorm, his face cast in half-shadow, I realize just how handsome he is.

And then somehow, I’m leaning in. Suddenly I’m so much closer than I was to him, my body moving without my direction. Our shoulders touch, my chest glancing his. My EVE organ feels weightless, light and bouncy beneath my ribs. Shadus’ eyes widen as my face nears, and then, just when I think he’s going to back off or call me a disgusting human, he reaches his hand up to barely graze my cheek.

And it is the end of me.

The explosion sounds like thunder, slicing between us and the serene winter night. Gravel goes flying, metal parts whizzing past us. Something hot slices against my knee and I collapse, Shadus collapsing with me and covering me with his arms. It’s over in a second, a cloud of smoke engulfing us as we look up at the burnt shell of the parked car that was there moments ago. It’s blackened, hollowed out with only the seats and steering wheel remaining. Molten metal and bits of dashboard fall to the ground like heavy rain. Girls on the dorm steps scream, faculty and security and police and CIA all come running, but Shadus and I are locked with our gazes on each others’.

“It was you, Victoria,” Shadus says solemnly. Panic rises in my throat like bile.

“What?”

Ruby eyes burn into mine.

“I smelled it, much more clearly this time. Without a doubt, the zol came from you.”

***

The second explosion ruins what high spirits Owakess managed to cultivate. The protestors are practically rabid now, the media won’t stop talking about terrorists supposedly bombing us, and security has tripled. The CIA forces double, men and women in dark jumpsuits and jackets patrolling the halls and pulling faculty aside for extensive discussions, even in the middle of class. The police start parking their cars on the lawn, pushing their way into bathrooms, and bossing the hell out of anyone who looks at them funny. Bomb dogs are brought in by the dozens. Parents – both Gutter and human – pull their kids out of Green Hills left and right. Classes empty out to half their full capacity. Even the lunch ladies resign, and are quickly replaced. Principal Freeson answers calls and fields questions from police, CIA, and teachers so often he doesn’t even have time to leave his office or go home during the night – working full and multiple days in a row.

It’s very carefully held-together chaos, but it’s still pretty much chaos.

People start whispering the school will close, and in a lot of ways, it definitely feels like it will. It feels like the brittle threads holding the chaos together will shatter at the slightest touch, and we’re all standing on needles, waiting for that touch.

The security ushered Shadus and I away to separate rooms for questioning after the explosion, and after we were checked for wounds. I don’t know what Shadus told them, but I told them the truth – that a car had exploded nearby. No, I didn’t see anyone or anything suspicious. They didn’t even ask me about zol, which I was grateful for. They’re humans. Of course they wouldn’t ask me about it.

Just the word makes my stomach dance. Zol. Shadus said he smelled it coming from me. But that would mean I blew up the car. And I blew up the oven in the cafeteria.

But that’s utter bullshit. There’s no way in hell I did that. I can’t. I’m not a Gutter. And I’m sure as hell not Umala or Asara. It had to be another Gutter somewhere nearby.

Raine has been mysteriously absent from the dorm room. I caught her one night, smuggling her toothbrush and a pillow out. Taj says he’s seen her going in and out of Yulan’s office, so she’s probably sleeping there. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it’s bizarre she hasn’t approached me yet.

Taj, on the other hand, sticks to me like a fly on a carcass. It makes lunches with Ulsi and Dakota a little awkward. But I don’t have the heart to turn him away – he’s got dark circles under his eyes, and he always starts nodding off during breaks, catching a few moments of sleep wherever he can. Like any student, he isn’t allowed after curfew, but I’m a hundred percent positive he’s sneaking out and patrolling in his own way.

I poke at his arm during breakfast. He sleepily lifts his head from the table, curly hair mussed and gold eyes hooded.

“What?”

“It’s against the rules,” I whisper. “To be out after curfew.”

His eyes darken. “I’m not out after curfew.”

I give him the ‘let’s-not-kid-ourselves-here’ look. He sighs.

“It’s against the rules, but the greater justice demands I participate. I went to the CIA and police heads and asked to join the night patrols, but they refused me! They said I wasn’t capable of it.”

“So you’re going to drive yourself into an early grave to prove them wrong?”

‘To help,” He murmurs, eyes drooping. “To help keep justice. That is…that is…” He yawns hugely and his head falls back on his arms. “…the Adjudicator duty.”

I feel a smile tug at my lips. With all the added security, it must be five times as hard to sneak out and back in now, even for a Gutter. But he does it anyway. I don’t know if his dedication is insane, genetic, or admirable. Probably a little bit of all of that.

Taj’s presence helps keep away the memory of that night – Shadus’ silky fingertips glancing over my jaw, down to my neck. I’d been paralyzed by that touch in the strangest way; my every nerve on fire and frozen all at once. But I wasn’t scared. I’d been…excited.

I flush and shake Taj awake. He follows me as I drop my oatmeal bowl off and start towards class. Being excited about a guy is nonsense. Being excited about an alien is anathema to everything Mom believed in.

I can’t betray her memory any more than I already have, because her memory is all I have left.

Shadus and I have avoided each other since that night. Or, I’m avoiding him. I can’t meet his gaze. Even sitting across from him in the library generates a static buzz of anxiety and guilt in my head that makes it impossible to talk to him. What would I say, anyway? ‘I’m sorry I tried to kiss you’? Was kissing even what I was going for? I had no idea. Maybe a ‘sorry you think I can use zol’ would do. Or maybe not. I’m so unsure of so much. He’s been wary of me, reluctant to breach the silence with a bridge of words first. Sometimes in his bloodstone eyes I catch a flicker of fear, but he always looks away too fast for me to confirm it. Why would Executioner sotho be afraid of me? His reflexes are better than mine; he’s stronger than me, and taller. It’s not me he’s afraid of. It’s the zol. The zol I can’t actually have.

There’s fear and suspicion in the air, like insidious, infectious pollen.

And then the mharata arrive.

Four black SUVs pull up to the gravel roundabout six days after the second explosion. Adult Gutters in sharp black suits get out. Unlike every Gutter I’ve seen, these Gutters have shaved their heads. Even the females. They wear identical thick sunglasses.

“What’s with the Agent Smiths?” I wonder aloud. Dakota, sitting on the bench next to me with a cup of cocoa, tilts her head curiously. Ulsi goes pale, and stiff.

“Ulsi?” Dakota pokes her arm. “What’s w-wrong?”

“Mharata,” She breathes. “The sotho have sent the mharata here.”

“Shadus said something about them, too,” I lead.

“Who are t-they?” Dakota asks. Ulsi clears her throat, but doesn’t take her eyes off the mharata as they pass us, walking up the stairs and into the main hall in perfect formation.

“They are priests of Ki’eth. They swear vows of deprivation – they do not mate, and they are above belonging to factions. They have no family, and devote themselves to the scrolls and prophecies. They are a neutral party who only involve themselves if Ki’eth is being threatened.”

“Or if someone starts using zol,” I murmur. Ulsi nods.

“W-Why do you look so scared of them, Ulsi?” Dakota asks.

Ulsi doesn’t meet our gazes. She looks at the snow-dusted grass instead.

“It’s nothing.”

The mharata keep sunglasses on at all times, but I see the sides of their eyes as they pass – irises a translucent pink like albino rats. They stand in the halls, their posture rigid, hands clasped behind their backs, and heads shifting. They must have excellent hearing – when I round corners their gaze is already riveted on me. They don’t speak, not even to other Gutters, and they’re stationed in every hall – even the dorms. The irritability of the explosion aftermath is dampened by the creepy mharata. No one wants to start a fight and see what they’re hiding under those emotionless gazes. Whispers fly among the Gutters; is the zol user a Gutter teacher? Or a sotho, like Taj? The Gutter rumors differ, but they all have one thing in common; they are terrified of the mharata. Some Gutters avoid a hall entirely if a mharata is in it. Us humans might be slow, but we aren’t stupid – the Gutter’s fear is picked up on, and human students start avoiding the mharata too, even if we don’t know why.

Principal Freeson holds an assembly in the auditorium. It looks different now that it isn’t swathed in the colors of Owakess. I’m seven rows back, but I can still see the weariness etched into every line of his face.

“Hello,” he speaks into the mic. “And good morning. I hope you all slept well.”

The chatter in the auditorium dulls, and Freeson tries a wane smile.

“I understand that things are hard for you all. And they are only getting harder. I apologize. You’re growing up. This is the most difficult time of your life, and due to our negligence it’s been made even more difficult for you. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

The auditorium is dead silent, now, even the troublemakers falling quiet at his heartfelt apology. Freeson looks like he’s about to break down, but he clears his throat and looks up, eyes strong.

“We promised your parents we’d keep you safe. Gutter, or human, we resolved to never let anything harm you while you were here at Green Hills. But as you know, things have been happening that are less than safe for all involved. This is why you see so much new security, and this is why I must now introduce our friends, the mharata.”

He sweeps his arms to the side, and several mharata filter out of stage right. They stand, hands behind their backs, posture perfect, all of them in a straight line. Freeson looks back to us.

“In order to catch the offender who has breached our protection, the Gutters have loaned us some of their best officers.”

“Officers? Why are they calling them that?” I whisper to Taj.

“They would never tell human students about zol,” Taj says. “Or the paparazzi. Or the humans, period. Perhaps Freeson himself doesn’t even know. So the mharata are posing as advanced security officers.”

“And in reality?”

“In reality, they’re here to locate the zol user, and take them back to the reservation for, Asara, I don’t know. Study? Seclusion? Worship? Training?” He shudders. “I don’t envy whoever it is. The factions will tear themselves apart trying to use their power. But the mharata will protect the zol at all costs.”

His shudder this time is almost violent as he looks at the silent mharata on stage.

“Why do they scare you so much?” I whisper.

Taj just shakes his head. Frustrated, I tune back in to Freeson’s words. He says the mharata are to be treated with respect, and that they are harmless to any who follow the rules. He apologizes again, and extends the offer for any EVE or Gutter to contact their parents to be taken home. I look around the auditorium – a third of the students have already gone home. Any more, and this will practically be a summer camp, not a proper high school. Taj and I leave, walking along the lawn. The protester’s chants are audible even from here.

“It’s like a fairy tale,” Taj says. “We’ve heard about zol; stories and songs are sung about its power. But they are fiction - bedtime stories told to hatchlings. Asara and Umala are so storied they’ve been made into gods, so long dead they are nothing more than fantastic ghosts.”

I watch him, his gold eyes like molten amber in the weak winter sunlight.

“But now, zol is real. Zol has returned, and all the stories come flooding back to us. It is terrifying. More terrifying than our crash landing. More terrifying than the thought of never going home again. Zol enabled the Grand War on our planet. It was a massacre of our own people, a genocide. When I think about what kind of war zol would cause on this planet, with two races –”

His gaze is far-off, focused on something I can’t see and will never see. His fist clenches, and his jaw sets.

“I won’t let that happen,” He says finally. “As sotho, I will do everything in my power to prevent it.”

“I wish I –” I swallow. “I wish I could help. I wish I had influence, or, shit. Some kind of power. Then I could help. Then I could make a difference.”

Taj grins at me grimly. “But you do. You have the power to change the fate of your sister, do you not?” He must see my shock, because he quickly explains. “Shadus told Raine and I of your predicament. You are very noble.”

I scoff. “I’m just greedy, like every other human.”

“Greedy to make things better for those you love. That isn’t greed at all. That is…well…love. And love is always noble. You have the power, you saw you had the power, and you signed the contract. You decided to use that power. You are helping, Victoria. You are making a very big difference.”

The wind teases my hair. I pull it back, and sigh.

“My mom was the kind to make a bigger difference. She went out and protested. She organized marches. She lobbied politicians and worked tirelessly, and even though it was for a stupid cause, her determination was incredible. She got shit done, and got it done well.”

Taj is quiet, and then he clears his throat.

“Not many humans would come here of their own volition, to a strange new school in the middle of your high school career. Fewer still would stay amid explosions, and bullying, and still find the heart to embrace an alien culture. You are every bit as determined as she was.”

I feel my heart squeeze, my EVE organ flaring up with equal parts remorse and gratitude.

“I miss her,” My voice cracks. Hot tears gather in the corner of my eyes. I try to stop them but gravity pulls them down and I’m crying, crying in front of an alien. Again. He must think I’m weak, or stupid, or –

Strong arms wrap around my shoulders, and suddenly I’m in Taj’s arms, my face against his shirt. I don’t pull away. My shaking hands lift, and I lace my arms around his torso and let the tears flow.

***

The tense, gray dread reaches its peak just in time for the countdown to Christmas to begin.

In spite of, or maybe because of the recent downer events, the human faculty isn’t skimping out on the Christmas celebrations in the slightest. There’s a whole masquerade ball being held, called the Winter Ball, replete with costumes and masquerade masks. Supposedly a few media reporters will be let in to take pictures of the event, which is huge, since no reporter has been allowed to set foot on the grounds until now.

Even with the mharata hanging around and the general fear that things could possibly go boom at any time, it doesn’t take long for the anticipation of the dance to blow completely out of proportion. Excitement hums in the air. Our EVE organs are filling with elation and dread and disappointment all at once. Boys hesitate before storming over to a girl and blurting what sounds like an invitation. Girls isolate their target and go in for a quieter kill. Gutters look lost but they seem to understand this human ritual better than Halloween - they watch the interactions with knowing smirks, some of them asking each other to the dance. A Gutter and human couple is rare, but talked about in hushed whispers and laughter.

The last Friday before the dance is reserved for a special lesson; ballroom dancing.

“It was once a vital aspect of human culture, and today is considered the most refined dance style in the world.” Our homeroom teacher coughs. His flush evidences how excited he is to teach us how to step on each other’s toes.

“Also known as the most boring thing on the face of the planet,” I whisper to Raine and Dakota. Raine rolls her eyes. Dakota laughs behind her hand.

“I have two hats here,” Our teacher continues. “One for young women and one for young men, from which you’ll choose a piece of paper with a number on it. Find the person with the matching number; they will be your partner for this lesson. There’s an even number of genders. It’s the small mercies that make my job easier.”

I watch panic flicker through girls’ eyes as they look at their numbers, scanning the crowd of boys. No one wants the guy that smells weird, or the guy that likes knives and military stuff way too much. Bossy Taj is also on the list of least desirables. Raine is paired with an Illuminator with a lisp, but she smiles gracefully the whole time. Dakota is paired with Aiden - tall, dark-eyed Aiden. She flushes and trips over herself more than usual.

Taj clutches my hand like it’s a life-ring thrown overboard. As we turn with the rest of the class, he accidentally kicks my shin. I bite my lip. I’m going to be graceful about this, like Raine. Yes. Just like Raine -

“Ow! That’s the third time you kicked me!”

“Your hand is all sweaty!” He shoots back.

“My hand? Yours feels like you climbed out of a freaking river!”

“Children,” Raine singsongs as she glides by with her partner. “Do play nice.”

I flip her off with my free hand and rub it on my jeans. “There. It’s dry. Let’s try again.”

Taj dries his hand on his sweatshirt, too. We kick each other like we’re in a soccer match.

“You’re doing good, but you’re too fast,” I sigh. “How can you be so good at fighting, and so bad at this?”

“Your steps are too big,” He snaps back.

“Fine, let’s just take it really slow.”

By the end of it, we’re not injuring each other, and moving at a decent pace. Taj smiles.

“Pas’ara. Doesn’t seem so hard anymore.”

“You have a date?” I raise an eyebrow. “You should mention you’re a dancing master when you ask them out.”

“I’m not going to ask anyone,” He laughs despondently. “Who would want to go with me? I give people detentions. I’m ‘Hitler’. They all resent me.”

I’m quiet for a moment. The class shuffles out, and he grabs his bag. I start after him.

“Oi, wait up. Go with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“To the Christmas dance. Go with me.”

He smirks. “No offense, but tall, blonde, and human isn’t exactly my type.”

I feel my eyebrow twitch. “Look, I’ll meet you outside the boy’s dorm at seven. How’s that sound?”

Taj frowns. “Isn’t this important for human girls? Asking males to go with them to school functions?”

“Uh, yeah? That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Don’t waste your asking on me. Ask someone you really wish to.”

“But I do. Go with me. Please?”

Taj’s face flushes, and he fights to contain it and fails, the red creeping up to his curls. Finally, he nods and walks away. Raine comes up from behind me, clicking her tongue.

“My my, you must have been very taken with him.”

“You think anyone else was gonna ask him?”

“They might have; he’s quite the charmer. When he isn’t restraining people against walls.”

She makes me promise to decide on one of her dresses by tonight. I’ve tried them all on – every dress of red velvet, blue silk, and green gauze. I don’t like how any of them look on me. I’m too bony and flat to fill anything out nicely. I’d probably look better in a tux. Or a paper bag. I choose the least-fancy one. It’s a weird color - pale jade green with long sleeves, but it’s warm and covers my ass, and that’s all I really ask from a dress. Some frilly fabric is dangling from the back, but I can suck it up and deal. Or use it as a makeshift noose when I decide to kill myself out of boredom tonight.

“I’m so out of my element.” I sigh.

“It will be fun!” Raine helps me zip up the back of the dress. “Just smile more often, and you‘ll be the prettiest girl there. Besides me, of course.”

Raine hasn’t been back to the dorm much, but this is an exception. She still hasn’t broached the subject of me leaving again, which I appreciate. In the mirror I stand taller than Raine, her blue lamé dress elegant. Her hair’s piled on top of her head in curly waves. She runs a hair brush through my hair and cuts with scissors here and there.

“What are you doing?” I snap.

“Just cutting the dead ends. Don’t ‘flip a bowel movement’.”

When she’s done it doesn’t look much different. She combs some hair product through.

“It’s shiny,” I marvel.

“If there’s one thing humans have mastered, it is the art of making themselves look not-terrible.” She stuffs a few sticks of makeup in my hands. “Put those on. I assume you know how. Liner to the eyes, gloss to the mouth, and concealer on parts you want no one to notice.”

“I know how to do it. I’ve got a little sister. I’m anti-give-a-shit, not anti-makeup.” I swat her hand away. She laughs.

Girls filter into the hall, all in nice dresses. Some look awkward, but all of them look pretty, and well-suited to their dresses. Raine walks with me, drawing envious looks. Her face might be torqued, but her figure is as beautiful and model-esque as ever. My dress sags because I don’t have enough boobage to hold it up. I don’t belong in it, and the thought of being in a room full of people seeing me wearing it has me in cold sweats.

“This is stupid.” I stop. “I look stupid. I’m gonna go back and change.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Raine grabs my arm tighter. “You have a date. Keeping a date waiting is unforgivable by adolescent human movie standards.”

The air is freezing, the stars crystal punctures in the dark bowl of the sky. Raine walks me to the boy’s dorm. Taj walks out, in a well-fitted tux that makes him look taller, and barely conceals his musculature. His gold eyes dart nervously as he searches the steps. He sees me and I nod in greeting.

“Hey.”

“Good evening.”

“Don’t get all formal now. Where’s the hellbent Taj I know?”

He smirks. We start toward the reception hall in the teacher’s building.

“Hargan told me human females like polite guys,” He says.

“Hargan’s a moron,” I say. “Just loosen up and be you.”

The open doors of the ballroom spill light. Teachers smile in their black-tie attire as they sign students in on clipboards. I wave to Yulan, and he waves back. He looks different in a crisp suit; more masculine. Ms. Gianca is stunning in a tiny black, backless dress. It seems like mostly Gutter teachers are here - the human teachers have somewhere to be on Christmas Eve.

I’ve never been in the teacher’s dorms before. The red carpeting, the polished stone walls; it looks like a hotel. In the dining room are marble tiles and a vast glass dome for a roof. Centered around an ice sculpture of a swan on the refreshment table are plates of shrimp cocktails, bacon-wrapped oysters, and raw salmon slices with lemon. The punch bowl gleams hot pink, and below it are the desserts - tiny éclairs, miniature tea cakes with frosting flowers, fresh fruits glittering with sugar and ice. On the other side are the Gutter vials.

“Sometimes I envy you,” Taj sighs next to me, eyes glued to the human side of the table. “You put a lot of care into the presentation of your food. It makes it look very appetizing.”

“You can do that for your food too, right?” I ask.

“Look at it - it’s in a vial. It looks like water. Nothing much you can do with that. Gutter chefs can mix and match different types of emotions for a different taste, though.”

“What’s your favorite taste?”

“Humans don’t like to know that. It scares them.”

“Try me.”

“I like the subtle flavor of satisfaction, but the sharper taste of grief is good with pretty much everything.”

“And fear?” I trail off.

“Oh, everybody likes fear.” He smiles. “It’s definitely the best taste. Sort of how caviar is to you - high class and expensive. But it tastes much better than those salted fish eggs.”

There’s a DJ towards the back, but at his side sits a quartet of classical musicians. The DJ has a more classical piece going, the musicians piping in and enhancing the music. People start to crowd. Masks go on. Blue with sequins and hooked bird-noses, feminine white masks with gold glitter, red ones with ridged eyebrows and tiny horns. Taj and I stand near a pillar, me munching on salmon and him pointing out Gutters he knows.

“There’s Nemaw, he’s got a massive rip in the crotch of his suit. He was complaining about it for hours. Jeia’s with Uryot again, as usual. They might as well be ilssa at this rate.”

“Ilssa?” I nibble on a lemon slice. Taj shrugs.

“Soul mates? But more than that.” I wait for him to elaborate. He looks reluctant to, suddenly shy again. “I don’t think I can explain it.”

“Go slow.”

“It’s, well, ilssa are not real. Or at least, not in the empirical sense. Gutters use the term to describe a mated pair who get along very well. Ilssa are myths, essentially. Every good Gutter fairy tale hero has an ilssa in the story.”

“How do you find them?”

“You don’t. They just…come to you.”

I raise an eyebrow. The music gets louder, very classic now. This was one of the songs they were teaching us in dance class. Girls drag boys to the floor, couples littering the marble and moving at the same time, clumsy but earnest whirlwinds of color.

“Like I said, they are mythical. A legend, not something that occurs in real life. Ilssa are destined mates. But they’re more than just mates. They’re extra limbs, extensions of each other and at the same time, mirror reflections. Two faces of one coin and all that. Even when they’re far away, they’re always with each other. That is how deep their bond is.”

I cock my head. “Do they fight? Have arguments? Go on breaks?”

Taj laughs. “Of course. But they always end up together again.”

“Do you have an ilssa?”

His flush is dark now. “No. Of course not. Ilssa don’t really exist.”

For not thinking ilssa exist, he sure knows a lot about them. I don’t say that, though. I see Raine on the dance floor, her bright purple mask unmistakable. The music is lilting and easy, and Taj is obviously uncomfortable after that conversation.

“Let’s dance,” I say.

“What? N-No, I –”

“Why’d we go through those painful lessons then, huh? We have to put it to some use.”

He sucks in a breath and follows. I put my mask on - the silver wings of the moth-shape glittering in the light. I put his hand on my waist, and we slip in at the edge of the crowd. He’s shaking a little. I am too. The whole room’s eyes are on us, maybe not us specifically, but us as a movement, as dancers. He trips over my shoes and I nearly send us tumbling backwards.

“Don’t think so much.” I straighten. “Just go with the music, listen to its beat and melody.”

His grip relaxes. He leads more naturally, now. A Gutter girl in a white dress by the punchbowl waves at him, and he waves back. Her dark hair is straight and short, cheeks round and face sweet. She talks with some other Gutters, her mask in her hand.

“She’s cute.” I smile.

“Her name is Meytari.” He nods, blushing.

“Have you talked to her?”

“Of course. We’ve…we’ve been together during the ceremony of flame, so we know each other a little.”

The song ends. The DJ puts on something more modern, and the EVEs respond to it explosively, jumping onto the dance floor. The lights dim, strobes pulsing from somewhere. The quartet doesn’t leave, so it’s not the end of the stuffy dancing, but for now, the humans get a turn with the music they really like.

“Punch?” I offer Taj a cup of punch from the Gutter-friendly bowl, and he takes it with a smile. I spot Shadus while I’m drinking - standing in a corner, arms crossed over his chest. His group of friends surrounds him, a girl EVE in a pale yellow dress tugging his arm towards the dance floor. He pushes her off playfully, smiling. It’s almost sweet. My EVE organ gives a little spasm of a dark, burning feeling, but I ignore it. Suddenly, someone pokes me in the sides. I whirl around.

“Dakota! Shit, you scared me.”

She smiles. Her reddish-brown dress is modest, hair in a braid. “Y-You look really pretty, Vic.”

“You too. Seriously, who knew you were hiding those?” I point at her chest. She flushes, and Taj coughs and looks away. “Sorry, my inner creepy old man coming out there.”

Ulsi, who is standing beside her in a very short white-and-gold tube dress and looking absolutely stunning, nods to me.

“Your dress suits you, Victoria.”

“Thanks!” My eyes dart from Taj to Ulsi. “Uh, Ulsi, this is Taj, Taj this is –”

“Ulsi. It’s nice to see you again,” Taj nods. Ulsi’s blush spreads across her delicate shoulders.

“Y-You as well. I hope you are enjoying your night.”

“Very much so,” Taj answers, equally stiffly and awkwardly. “I find human dancing tolerable, yet unexciting.”

“They are very eager and passionate, though. There is something to be said for that.” She points to a guy doing the worm on the dancefloor. Taj smiles, but he hides it quickly.

“I’m going to get some food.” He motions to the table, and walks off.

“Look, Ulsi,” I say. “I’m sorry about coming to the dance with Taj.”

“Why?” She clears her throat, a little louder than normal.

“Uh, you like him? So, I’m sorry? You should be the one who -”

“Who likes Taj?” Raine breathlessly chimes as she skips up to us. Ulsi goes pale, and knits her lips shut. Shit. That’s what she was warning me about. But Raine seems to forget the comment entirely, looking Dakota over and clapping softly in approval.

“Taj looks better in his tux,” Dakota giggles.

“Good clothes do wonders. They can make even the densest barbarian seem elegant,” Raine sighs.

“Raine.” I take a sip of punch. “What’s the ceremony of flame? Taj said something about it.”

“My, that straight forward, is he?”

Ulsi goes red down to her toes and tries to pretend the EVE doing the worm is the most interesting thing in the world right now.

“What is it?” I press.

“I don’t know how I can put this delicately,” Raine muses.

“Then don’t.”

She leans in, we lean in.

“Gutters are encouraged to…mingle. Um. Sex. Procreation en masse.”

Dakota pales. “W-What?”

“You’re kidding me,” I laugh. “That’s the ceremony of flame?”

“More or less. It encourages healthy interaction with the opposite sex, and instructs adolescent Gutters on appropriate sexual conduct. Most of all, it gives us a chance to…um…be with others, before we are mated for life to the one our parents choose. Sometimes, lucky Gutters with more non-traditional parents are allowed to choose who they will, and they often choose those they’ve developed a bond with at the ceremony over the years.”

I stare at Taj’s back. “And here I was thinking the rulebook-thumping purist had never even gotten to first base.”

“Bu-But,” Dakota stutters. “Pregnancies?”

Raine smiles. “Those are medically suppressed with injections until the female Gutter is mated, and then they have a child together.”

“Does it transcend factions?” Dakota asks. “I m-mean, you guys are allowed to date people from other factions, right?”

“Yes, otherwise the genetic pools would become too singular. The male takes the female’s faction on as his own when they become mated.”

“But if you’re in human bodies - “

“We’ll have human-looking babies,” Ulsi chimes in, voice hoarse. “But I assure you, their genetic code and core physiology will be Gutter.”

Dakota and I take it in, our brows furrowing. The thumping music fades, replaced by the classical quartet again. I itch under my mask and watch the couples twirl with a little more grace than at the beginning of the night. Taj’s veered off to talk to Meytari, their conversation genial. Ulsi glowers. Raine entertains an entire circle of people single-handedly. Greg, Dakota’s dancing partner from class, has struck up a tentative conversation with her.

I nudge Ulsi in the ribs.

“So?”

“So what.” She grunts.

“You like Taj. Why not ask him to dance?”

“I’ve told you repeatedly. He wouldn’t like me. He is sotho.”

“But, I mean. You don’t have to get mated. You guys can just do the ceremony of flame together.”

“I’ve already approached him with that intent. He turned me down,” She snaps. The force in her voice almost makes me back up, but she seems to realize how harsh she sounded, and sighs. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s not a pleasant memory.”

“Hey,” I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Unrequited love sucks. I know.”

“You do?” She looks up.

“Of course! The only dude I ever liked, I liked him for years. Since kindergarten. I asked him out in eighth grade. Do you know what he said to me?”

Ulsi shakes her head. I lean in.

“He said he didn’t date….gloomy girls.”

Ulsi makes an offended face. “Gloomy? You are hardly that.”

“I used to be. Still am, pretty much. Anyway, then he said I was anorexic and he didn’t date those types of girls either, and he ollied out of my life. Made fun of me behind my back. The next day, everyone knew I asked him out and was turned down. Worst year of my life.”

“Asara,” Ulsi hisses. “If it was me, I would have jebar-inol’d this boy’s yasa noi.”

“I feel you.”

We’re quiet. Ulsi drinks a vial of emotion, then sighs.

“Taj gave no such reasons. He simply denied. I should be thankful he wasn’t cruel, as yours was.”

“Well, rejection still blows chunks. I don’t know much about Gutter courting, but I hope you somehow work it out. Everybody deserves to be happy, no matter what race they are.”

Ulsi looks at me, then her serious face cracks in a grin.

“You are a very good human, Victoria. Thank you.”

I watch her go. The dancing is formal again, the quartet singing in violins and cellos. It’s a freeform dance, so partners are sort of assigned as we go, according to the footwork. I pull my silver mask on and squeeze in the girl’s line towards the end. The boy’s line faces us. The music changes, signifying the start. One step forward. Two steps to the right. We weave between each other as the lines merge and separate again. I watch the girls on either side of me for cues when to turn, put my hand up, separate with the person opposite me. I look up, and Shadus and I are suddenly partners. His black mask has a long bird nose.

I back off and assume a looser stance. His hand on my back is shaking slightly.

“Nervous?” My smirk is small. “Shouldn’t be. Your dancing’s fine.”

He doesn’t say anything. We turn, my feet careful not to step on his shoes.

“Nice mask,” I try. He inclines his head.

“Nice dress.”

“Thanks. I think it looks dumb, to be honest.”

“Not at all. It suits you.”

I go quiet, my cheeks heating with the compliment. I don’t comment on the way his hand seems to fit nicely over mine - like two pieces of a puzzle. The music ends, the couples dipping the girls toward the floor. Some people fall or slip. Laughter resounds. The fallen get up with sheepish smiles. Shadus tips me back, his strong arm supporting me all the way to the floor.

“Nice work.” I straighten out of his grasp and smile. “Ten points to Slytherin for teamwork.”

“I was slithering, was I?” He cocks his head. I laugh.

“It’s an old book. Nevermind.”

His crimson eyes glance outside, and then he looks back at me.

“I could do for some fresh air. Will you accompany me?”

I do a mock-curtsy. “Why of course, your highness.”

Snow dusts the walkways, the lamps glowing with a friendly warmth as they light our path. Other couples mill around, watching the stars or holding each other, and I try to ignore the fact we’re surrounded by people in love. We just wanted some air. That’s all. Security patrols, too, breaking up couples who are PDAing too hard, or shooing kids who wander too far back to the dance.

“The CIA agents look like they want to murder someone,” Shadus motions to the disgruntled looking agents. I smirk.

“Yeah, well. Babysitting isn’t generally in their job description. It’s more ‘taking down bad guys’ and ‘saving the country’. Looking after horny teenagers is practically a demotion.”

Shadus looks confused. “You have horns and you never told me?”

I sigh. “Nevermind.”

“No, this is important. If you have horns –”

“It means turned on, okay? In the mood? Down to clown? Are none of these understandable?”

Shadus’ mouth makes a little ‘o’. “You mean mate-ready.”

“Yeah. That.”

There’s an awkward silence. Shadus chuckles softly, and I feel a blush growing under my neck, but I ignore it. I shiver - I forgot my coat. We stop under a tree. He leans against it, and begins rolling his left sleeve up.

“I wanted to show you something.”

I quirk a brow. He rolls his sleeve past his elbow, and then he grabs his finger with his other hand. And he pulls. His skin comes off, and I almost scream, except I realize there isn’t any blood, or red muscle. The skin-glove hangs limply in his other hand, and the hand it was on is dark blue. With scales.

“Is that –”

“The prosthetic sleeve hides it. Fits it, makes it look normal.”

There are five fingers. They have more joints than mine, and the claws are thick and black and blunt on the ends. His palm is still broad, and warm. Small scars scratch his scales, the universal footprints of life and the injuries it inflicts equally. It’s like a velociraptor’s hand, but so much more humanoid. The skin is a dark blue, with paler stripes of green and a light green blotch at the elbow, where his human stump and Gutter arm is grafted together.

“When my mother threw herself on me,” He starts. “She saved me. But she couldn’t save my arm. Neither could the Illuminators. So they sewed my old one on back on, and gave me a human sleeve to cover it.”

“It’s amazing,” I finally work up the courage to say. “I’ve never…I’ve never seen anything this cool. It’s like CG but, but it’s real! Holy shit!”

He studies my face, probably looking for the honesty in me. He finds it, because he smiles, the crescent a little crooked.

“It has its advantages. I am much faster with it, and stronger. Of course, no one knows that. Outside of my father and Jerai, who put the arm back on, no Gutters know I even lost it. It’s how I disabled the cameras – the arm is strong enough to open the faceplates, and fast enough to reconfigure the wiring without any security measures going off.”

“A magician is never supposed to reveal his secrets,” I nudge him. He laughs, but it dies as his gaze turns sad. He stares at the arm, as if remembering how it came to be. Remembering his Mom.

I reach out for the claw, and hold it. Shadus tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip. It’s warm, the scales smooth and seamlessly tucked under one another. On a school field trip I’d touched a boa constrictor. It’s almost the same.

“Doesn’t it disgust you?” He mutters. “Frighten you?”

“It probably would have. Months ago. But now? Now it’s just amazing. I learn so much more about you guys every day. And it’s…it’s incredible. I’m so incredibly lucky I get to learn these things at all. So thank you. For showing me this.”

I mess my hair up and laugh.

“That arm doesn’t scare me, if that’s what you worried about. I’m more worried about the explosions, and the fact you said -”

I look out at the stars.

“That you said I was zol. That’s terrifying to think about, you know? Even if it doesn’t seem possible. Any one person having that much power, even if it isn’t me. Shit, especially if it’s me. That’s more frightening than anything else in this world.”

I feel him walk up behind me. For a moment, I think he’ll try to recreate what happened that night on Owakess. He leans in, until his mouth is even with my ear, and he inhales softly.

“Taj is right. You do smell good.”

“Lemme guess – like delicious food.”

“Yes. But also your perfume.”

“I didn’t wear any,” I flush.

“Oh. Your shampoo, then. The smell of your skin, as it is naturally. You smell very charming.”

“Even if I smell like zol?”

“You only smell like it when you use it.”

We’re quiet, but he doesn’t lean back, instead nearing his lips to my ear.

“Even if you are zol, I will be with you. I promise.”

“Be with me?” I stutter and whirl around.

“I won’t run. If you’re really zol, people will run from you, or shun you. But I never will. I promise. You can rely on me, always.”

“You told me not to trust anyone. Not even you.”

“But you trusted me anyway,” He says. “You told me of your mother. And you listened to me about the cigarettes. You have trusted me in small ways, and for that I’m grateful. You were the first human to do so. So, thank you.”

A soft warmth spreads in my chest. The driveway and buildings are empty, the hills spread with lights like jetsam nets of opal. The stripped trees reach out to nothing. I shiver.

“You’ll catch a cold. Go back inside,” He says.

“Go back to your planet,” I counter with a smirk.

He laughs, warm and openly. There’s a good, clean, gentle silence. Diamond dust falls between us, the frozen air glittering. And in this moment, everything is easy, and beautiful, and nothing hurts.

It won’t last.

But I try to make it.

***

I stand outside Yulan’s door for my December check-up, and everything in me screams not to go in. Even though she was nice to me leading up to the Winter Ball, Raine and Yulan together will try to get me to leave again. But I screw my face up and push it open. For Alisa.

I’m greeted, not by Raine, but by a Gutter who looks almost exactly like an older, male version of her. He has a slender fox-like face, narrow, bright blue eyes, and a height that dwarfs even Yulan, who looks over a clipboard with him. The man’s skin, unlike Raine’s, is sickly-looking and pale. His head snaps up.

“Ah, you have a student visitor, Yulan.”

A flicker of panic crosses Yulan’s face when he sees me, but he quashes it quickly.

“Could you come back at another time? We’ll do your check-up then.”

“But –” I start.

“What’s the harm, Yulan?” The man laughs. “A check-up takes minutes. I can amuse myself until then.”

Yulan makes a little bow at him, and that’s when I realize he’s sotho. Illuminator sotho. Of course he is, with the eyes and all. But that bow cements it in my brain. Yulan sends me a sharp look as he readies the needle and blood analyzer.

“Don’t be afraid, child,” The man says. “Please, have a seat. I am Jerai, of the Illuminator sotho. I trust they’ve taught you what a sotho is here, at least?”

“Duh. That was like, the first thing,” I say, and sit on the stool slowly. Jerai chuckles.

“Indeed.”

I don’t particularily like the way this guy talks, but he’s Raine’s dad. I feel obligated to ask semi-polite questions, at least.

“So, do you come here often, Jerai? I mean, I haven’t seen many sotho who are adults on campus. Makes sense, since Colorado is so far away.”

Jerai nods. “I check up on things here every few months. It’s the money the Illuminator’s earned improving your human technology that funds this place, after all.”

“Ah, so you’re the guy who built it.”

“Your government helped,” He smiles, but nothing about his words sound modest. “Your people are very good at toiling away in the dirt.”

It’s a backhanded compliment. I tighten my expression so he can’t see my anger. Yulan shoots me another sharp, angry look as he draws my blood. Yulan? Angry? Never. It’s almost like he’s acting purposely out of character. But why?

Yulan’s fingers fumble with the vial, blood splattering in a flower of red on the tile. Yulan curses.

“Oh, pas’ara. I’ll get another one and wipe that up. Just give me a second.”

Jerai smiles at me. “You’ll have to forgive Yulan. He’s always been a bit lacking in the professionalism department.”

Yulan doesn’t even react to the insult, fishing out a rag and disinfectant spray and dutifully scrubbing at the floor.

“Yulan’s been more professional than any human doctor I’ve met,” I snap.

“Yes, well, that isn’t very hard now, is it?” Jerai’s smile crinkles his eyes, but he doesn’t blink. We stare at each other for a moment, me glaring and him glaring with his smile, until Yulan stands up and blocks our vision. He returns with a new needle and swabs my arm. As he’s drawing blood, he looks up at me. His eyes flicker to the door and back to me repeatedly. Does he want me to leave? Why can’t he say it out loud?

“Kusun!” The door suddenly bangs open, and Raine walks in. She stops, looks around at what’s happening and bows quickly. “I-I apologize for interrupting.”

She doesn’t say anything more, or even straighten. Jerai looks her over, his eyes glazing with what is clearly irritation. He sighs.

“Daa’ma.”

Raine straightens instantly upon hearing that.  “The human Principal wishes to see you. Something about a fund deficit?”

“And why would you have been speaking to him at all?” Jerai questions coolly. “We agreed you would not speak to figures of authority at this school. It is not your place.”

Raine’s too good. She wants to bristle, I know that look, but she doesn’t. She bows again, more shallow.

“I apologize. He called me in to question me on my whereabouts during the zol.”

At the word ‘zol’, Jerai looks sharply to me. I keep my face carefully blank, and he seems to be relieved by it. Yulan is taking his sweet time putting the blood vial in the analyzer, his hands moving slowly and fumbling. Since when does he fumble so much?

“We will speak of your word choice later,” Jerai says to Raine. “Not that a human would know of zol.”

He shoots me an oily sneer, and I resist the urge to sneer right back. He takes his leave without so much as a goodbye to Yulan or I, or even a glance at his daughter. When his footsteps fade, Raine strides over and grabs my hand.

“It was the most inopportune moment,” Yulan says quickly. “I’m sorry –”

“Don’t concern yourself, it was not your fault,” Raine says. “I’ve got it from here.”

“Ow, shit! You’re hurting my wrist, Raine,” I snap. “Oh, and newsflash; your dad’s a piece of fucking work.”

“There’s no time,” Raine replies. “You must come with me.”

“Uh, but my checkup – ”

“Your checkup nearly ruined everything just now,” Raine says. “Now come with me. I’ll explain when we’re in a place that’s safe to talk.”

“Yulan?” I look at him for help, but he shakes his head.

“It’s time you knew the truth, Victoria,” he sighs. “Asara save us all.”

“What? What truth? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on!” Raine pulls me. She’s surprisingly strong for her fragile body. She leads me through the halls, carefully avoiding the mharata and the path to the principal’s office. After what feels like an eternity of confused walking, she pulls me into a storeroom and shuts the door. It’s dim, a single lightbulb shedding light on shelves of cleaning supplies and boxes of extra toilet paper. Taj sits on an overturned bucket, jiggling his leg nervously, and Shadus leans against the wall with his eyes closed. But at the sound of us coming in, both of them start up.

“Finally,” Shadus drawls.

“Why bring Victoria?” Taj frowns.

“I’m just here for the booze,” I joke. But not even Taj smiles. Raine turns to face all of us.

“I have to tell you three at the same time. I was going to do it individually, to minimize suspicion, but there’s no time. The mharata will figure it out soon. So we have to act.”

“You have to tell us what’s going on first before we can act,” Shadus sighs. Raine turns to me, taking a deep breath.

“Victoria, you are the zol,” Raine turns to them. “She is the zol.”

Taj steps back like he’s been punched in the gut. “What?”

Shadus yawns. “I already knew that. I’ve told her that. I was with her when the second zol happened. It has a very potent scent.”

Raine turns to me. “He told you?”

“Yeah, but it’s obviously a joke,” I laugh. “I can’t be the zol. I’m not a Gutter.”

“Yes, she isn’t a Gutter,” Shadus says. “So why can she use zol, Raine?”

“I’m not using zol!” I snarl.

“Correct,” Shadus agrees. “You aren’t using it. Using would imply you have some control over it. But you don’t. It simply happens.”

“A human cannot be zol,” Taj insists.

“They can, if they react to Umala’s DNA,” Raine says icily. Shadus and Taj fall quiet.

“Umala’s?” I glare. “You mean the DNA in my EVE organ?”

Raine looks to Taj and Shadus, ignoring me.

“The sotho – our parents - came together before the implementation of the EVE program. They discovered that the human leaders never intended to let us leave. We are aliens – we provide advanced technology, and an insight into space travel. But most importantly we have a planet to go home to. A planet that houses eleven billion Gutters.”

Taj and I shoot each other confused looks, but Shadus steps in smoothly.

“The humans are afraid we’ll leave, and come back. With an army.”

I feel my breath snag in my throat. Raine nods.

“They’re not going to let us leave, Shadus. They’re going to kill us. All of us. And they’re going to make it look like an accident, so the general public doesn’t suspect anything. They’ve been building the plan for eleven years, and the first steps have been taken to implement it now.”

“This school,” Taj breathes. “Do you mean to say this school –”

“By the UN decree, cameras aren’t allowed on the reservation. They’ve tried to sneak them in before, but we’ve always found them. In here, they are allowed. Required. And there are no adults to destroy them, or protest them.”

I look up at the ceiling. Shadus shakes his head.

“I took care of the ones in here.”

“The US government has been gathering data,” Raine continues. “On us; our patterns, our intelligence quotient, our morals and our culture and our weaknesses.”

“But why would we –” I try to piece together my infuriated thoughts. “Why would kill you when we’re trying so hard to feed you? The EVE program –”

“To make us rely on you. And we do. We are crippled by the fact you are our sole source of food, and the fact the government controls the program. So our parents devised a fail-safe.”

Shadus knits his brows. Taj is so pale his gold eyes look like sap on snow. Raine puts her index fingers together, over her lips.

“The Ki’eth have hired Illuminators for centuries to research Umala’s body, and the secrets of zol. We’ve never been able to successfully grant the gift to any Gutter. Every single test subject dies. But gene AU984, the primary recombinant in charge of the zol gift, has a mortality rate of zero percent when introduced to human tissue. But neither does it produce immediate effects. There is a very, very specific sequence of human DNA that must be present to trigger the chain and set AU984 into active mode.”

“And the chances of that exact DNA sequence being present in a human at any given time?” Shadus asks lowly. Raine chews her lip.

“Approximately five in six billion, four hundred thirty-nine million, seventy-four thousand and twelve.”

“And one of them is here,” Taj breathes, and looks at me. I hold my hands up.

“Hey, wait a second. You want me to believe that out of six billion whatever, it’s me? Six billion? And it’s me? That’s impossible!”

“It is rather fortuitous,” Shadus mulls. “And almost unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable or not, that’s how it is,” Raine’s voice is harsh.

“So mother –” Taj frowns. “Mother and the other sotho planned this?”

“It was a risky gamble,” Shadus says. “Plant Umala in every human who volunteers to feed us, and hope one of them reacted one day. And eleven years later, it works. They planted the seeds of a weapon, and now they want to harvest it.”

“I’m not a weapon! I’m a person!”

“We know. We know, Vic. Zol is –” Raine squeezes her eyes shut. “Zol is power. The smell-tapes I’ve seen…even one zol would be enough to threaten humanity. The sotho want to point the gun at humanity, and demand to be let free. And humankind…despite their bullets, their missiles, their nuclear weapons – all of that pales in comparison to zol.”

“How?” Taj frowns. “I know Umala could kill a few dozen Gutters in a blink, from what the Ki’eth says. But she trained for years, and her methods were lost –”

“The mharata discovered detailed records of Umala’s methods in Latori’s library. They know how to train a zol user to reach Umala’s level of mastery. Human nervous systems react differently. It would be a few dozen Gutters. But by my father’s calculations, it would be hundreds of humans. In a second. And hundreds more in the next second. Not to mention, their technology does not rely on kinetic crysts as ours does. Electricity is their prime energy source. And it’s highly explosive when in contact with zol. The causalities would be devastating.”

“I think you’re all forgetting something,” I say quickly as Taj looks at me with a gleam of fear. “I mean, even if I am this crazy Umala thing - I would never, never do any of that. I would never kill anybody! I swear to you!”

“But what if they had your family?” Shadus hefts off the wall. “What if the sotho had your family at gunpoint? Then you would kill. I know you would. You care too much about your family not to.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he interrupts.

“Even if they didn’t have your family, there would be other ways to convince you. There are drugs derived from Gutter plants that would drive a human insane at the slightest drop. You may not have a choice. In fact, I know it. If the sotho got hold of you, you’d have no choice. Not anymore.”

“I’m stronger than that,” I snarl.

“I know.” His ruby eyes gleam as he smiles. “I know you are. But even you can’t be strong forever. I know how they work. I know what they’d do to you. And that’s not an option.”

I’m quiet.

“But you still have a choice now,” Raine insists. “And we have to act if you want to keep it.”

“How are we going to –” Taj shakes his head. “There’s no way we can keep her a secret forever. Does Jerai know?”

“He came very, very close to knowing just a few moments ago,” Raine sighs. “But no. He doesn’t. He will, soon. Yulan can’t disguise the findings for long. He’ll read her chart and know instantly, if the mharata don’t sniff her out first.”

“Then we have to act. Now,” Taj asserts. Raine nods.

“Yulan and I have been putting together the plan. We’ve bribed so many people I can barely keep track anymore, but we’ve managed to buy a plane ticket, and a driver to get her out of here.”

“Wait, whoa –” I start. “Are you saying I’d just pack up and leave? What about my family? I need the money for Alisa –”

“Yulan and I will arrange it,” Raine cuts me off. “We can pay for her treatment. The sotho won’t dare kidnap a human family, not while they don’t have the zol to threaten the human government with. So you must leave. There’s a family in Switzerland who is willing to shelter you. We have doctored passports, and papers –”

“It won’t work,” Shadus cuts in. Raine shoots him a nasty look.

“What?”

“No matter how well you hide her, it won’t work.”

“We have supporters everywhere. The American government has the least influence in Switzerland. She will be safe –”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. It’s easier to disappear on this planet than it is to frighten a psori into wetting itself. But you’re forgetting something. She’s not trained. The zol won’t go away – the outbursts will only get worse. And then they will certainly find her.”

Raine opens her mouth, then closes it. “You can’t be sure.”

“Your father may have studied the scientific side of zol, and what it really is,” Shadus walks up to her, staring her down. “But my father and I have spent years with the mharata. They know most about how it is controlled. She could just as easily kill a hundred people on accident by blowing up the wrong car, or bus, or plane. Without training, she is just as deadly, and four times as noticeable.”

Raine’s glower turns dark, and they glare each other down. I clear my throat.

“Hey, okay. So say I really am, you know. What do we do about it?”

Shadus looks at Taj. “We give you to the mharata.”

“Are you insane?” Raine hisses.

“And then we take you back, before our parents can get to you,” He finishes. Taj’s eyes widen.

“And that would…that would make us –”

“Correct,” Shadus smirks. “That would make the second generation sotho more powerful than the first. We could overthrow them easily, take control of the Gutters, and stop this nonsense.”

“Nonsense? It’s not nonsense!” I snap. “You guys need to go home. And if my government is really planning something horrible to kill you all, you need to go home quick,” I say. Shadus studies me, then turns to Raine.

“How sure are you of this plan the humans have?”

“Our spies are reliable and widespread. You know that. Your father commands them.”

“But they haven’t been able to get details. They’ve only discovered that a genocidal plan is being put in place,” Shadus leads. Raine agrees. Taj shakes his head.

“This is truly crazy. Asara help us – we’re just hatchlings. We can’t go against our parents! That would be in violation of so many laws –”

“Fuck your laws, Taj,” I say. “The government is planning to kill you all, and you’re worried about your precious laws?”

“The laws are what keep us together in chaotic times like these!” He argues. “We need to follow them now more than ever, or people will get hurt!”

“If you’re not with us, Taj, then you’re against us,” Shadus says smoothly. “Rules will be broken, yes. We’ll have to break many, many rules to prevent the humans from killing us, and the sotho from killing the humans.”

“It could be war,” I say softly.

“It will be war,” Shadus says. “If we aren’t careful.”

“I don’t –” My heart tears down the middle with red-hot pain. “I don’t want to go to the mharata. I don’t want to be part of any of this. I just want – I just wanted Alisa to be okay. And Dad. I just wanted…”

Shadus is near me in a blink, his warm body inches from my own. He puts his fingers under my chin and lifts it, slowly and gently.

“They will be fine. Raine and Yulan will help them with the money.”

“But you’re asking me to – to give myself over to those creepy aliens –”

“Might I remind you I was once a ‘creepy alien’ to you, too.” He smirks, a little crookedly.

“You still are,” I grumble. He laughs, but it dies quickly.

“No, I know. We’re asking something terrifying of you. We’re asking you to step into a completely foreign world, and put yourself at the mercy of our religion. But it’s for the sake of learning control. We don’t – you don’t want to hurt anyone. You said it yourself. Every day you go without control, you risk hurting someone.”

I gnaw on my lip.

“And you – you promise me you’ll get me back before Jerai gets me?”

He grabs my hands and brings them to his chest. “I swear to you, on Asara and Umala, on Latori and Shototh. I won’t let them have you. I’ll amass allies. I’ll set the traps and the spies. And I will come for you.”

I look to Raine, who smiles, her scarred face crinkling.

“You’re my friend, Vic. Of course I’ll come for you.”

Taj steps forward finally, from the shadows. His face is pained, but set and determined.

“If it’s the only way to stop bloodshed, I’ll do it. I said I’d protect you, Victoria. And I meant it.”

I look back to Shadus, who grins.

“It looks like you have some loyal defenders.”

“Friends,” I correct in a repeat of the past, and fight to keep the tears where they belong.

I’m scared.

But I’m not alone.

9. The Empress

Taj, Raine, Shadus, and I devise another plan. It’s fragmented, and a lot of it depends on how things play out, but we can change it at any time. It’s fluid, and it might go terribly wrong, but for now it demands little of me – all I have to do is keep acting normal and wait for the mharata to approach me. They’re following the faint scent I’d left all around school, and eventually they’ll trace it back to me. Raine discussed letting Yulan plant my blood report under Jerai’s nose to make my discovery go faster, but we decided against that. The mharata are the ones we want to get me first, not her weirdo dad. Raine is busy plotting with Yulan to secure funds for Alisa, as well as gathering information on what kind of massacre the humans are really planning for the Gutters. Shadus is doing likewise, but he’s also sending letters in coded Rahm back to the reservation, asking Executioner sotho who are more loyal to him than to his father for help.

Every night I wake up in cold sweats, dreaming of the car explosion and how close it was. I dream of the oven in the cafeteria, and Raine’s horribly burned face, not healed and scarred, but charred, blackened, and crisp with burnt blood, my brain fabricating screams of agony she never actually let out. Sometimes, my dream makes the fire spread to other people. To Ms. Gianca. To Yulan. To Mr. Targe and Principal Freeson and then Taj, Dad, Alisa, Mom. Shadus. And through the fire that feasts on their bodies, a dark-haired woman ghosts towards me. She is paler than the moon, with eyes like amethysts and hair like a raven’s tail, long and messy and black as the burnt piles of ash at her feet that were once my friends and family.

‘Y’sarash,” the woman hisses in Rahm, her eyes glowing gem-like with the remnants of the embers. “Kou’il y’sarash, vikali!”

It’s a command, a demand, an order never to be disobeyed. Her voice rings with power, with anger, with desire for something I can’t quite understand. With the last syllable still ringing in my head, I wake up, my body cold and drenched and my hands clenched achingly so around handfuls of blankets. Sometimes it’s so bad I never want to go to sleep again, and I’ll stay up for consecutive nights to try to keep the woman at bay. But it never works. I have to sleep sometime. I pass out, and the cycle begins all over again.

I am zol. I don’t believe it though, not deep down where I should. It feels surreal, my entire life suddenly feeling like a dream that’s happening to someone else.

They can’t be right. It can’t be right. Not me. Anyone else but me.

To prove it, I brave the security and walk out to the football field during dinner. There are less patrols where no people are, but I still have to duck behind trees to avoid the CIA agent making her rounds.

There’s a clearing nestled in the trees, not quite visible from the football field, but far enough away from the school buildings and parking lot that I don’t risk blowing something up. Or so I hope. Or don’t hope. If something doesn’t blow up, it could mean everyone is wrong, and I’m not zol, and that’s what I want most.

I want this to fail. I squeeze my hand around the battery I took from Raine’s toothbrush before I place it in the clearing. It sits on top of the snow, innocent and brassy. I back up, and narrow my eyes at it. I try to recall how I felt when the car blew up. I was excited. Nervous. I was anticipating, vibrating with the sweetest kind of anxiety. And before that, when the oven exploded, I’d been angry. I’d been arguing. And then it hits me. The common denominator – the thing that was present during both those times - was Shadus. I was interacting with him both times it happened.

He’s not here now, and I don’t know why or how he’d have any affect on it. Maybe it’s because he, what, emotionally triggers me? If the zol is based on emotions, then I need to get feeling.

I screw my face up and focus anger on the battery. The battery doesn’t so much as twitch. Of course it doesn’t. I was stupid for thinking I have zol – everyone is stupid for thinking it’s me. How dare they. How dare they work me up like this, terrify me like this, back me into a corner and tell me what to do just because they thought I was something they could use –

I hear a faint ‘pop’. I whirl around. The battery is sunk into the snow, the brass of it unfurled forcefully, like a torn flower. Dots of battery acid sink slowly into the snow, bits of metal scattered about.

My insides turn to stone. I stare at the exploded battery for what feels like ages, and then I sink to my knees.

No.

No, no, fucking no.

I look around for something, anything that could’ve done it. A machine, a magnet, something. Anything but me.

“Please,” I gasp. “No. Please, please, please. Not me! Anybody! Anybody but me!”

Who am I pleading with? God? It’s too late for me. It’s too late for him to save me. For anyone to save me. I am zol. I am the fear, the monster, the thing all others hinge on. I am the pivot, when I never wanted to be. When all I wanted was for Alisa to be happy, and safe, and healthy. When all I wanted was to protect my family.

The snow-laden trees watch me, uncaring and indifferent, as my world goes up in invisible flames.

***

I proved it to myself.

And I regret every moment of it.

If I hadn’t gone out to that clearing, I could’ve still pretended I wasn’t zol. But now, now it’s undeniable. Now I can’t run from it. I can’t turn a blind eye. I could, but that would be denial piling on top of the truth. And that would drive me crazy. Crazier.

Dakota tries to help in the only way she knows how – by being kind and considerate. But all I can do is snap at her, and she doesn’t deserve that and it makes me feel like a shithead. Because that’s what I’m being; a shithead. She’s done nothing. I’m the one with the problems. I’m the one who’s going to abandon her with no warning, and I can’t even tell her why, or how, for fear it’ll get around to the sotho somehow. Every time she smiles the guilt eats me up inside. Every time she tries to crack a joke, tries so hard just for me, I want to tell her to go find a new friend, one who isn’t shitty.

And then, a human starts dating a Gutter.

The Winter Ball must have included some serious emotional revelations, because not a week later does the first inter-species couple announce their dating status publicly by holding hands.

I watch the two of them - an Illuminator and a boy from my History class. Their fingers are intertwined, something shy in the way they move down the hall. They look happy, smiles and whispered things passed between them. Glances thrown their way. Half of us are adjusting to the alien sight, and the other half are jealous they didn’t have the guts to do it first.

I watch from the doctor’s office window. It’s my monthly check up. Yulan taps my knee, and it jerks. He scribbles on his clipboard and glances where my gaze rivets.

“It is marvelous, isn’t it? I expected something sooner, but perhaps the cultural differences were a larger leap than I thought.”

“They’re not going to make it.” I shake my head. “Gutters don’t exactly think of us as equals. Anything that’s different humans instantly dislike. They’re gonna have it rough.”

“It is more than worth it.”

“If you say so, doc.”

“Lie down, please.”

I lie on the table. He lifts my shirt and presses his hand to my ribs. I wonder how many of his loyal EVE fan girls are dying to have this same exam.

“Have you been abnormally hungry as of late? Any strange sensations in the scar region?” His gray eyes take my scar in.

“It still hurts sometimes, when I get really angry or sad or something, but that’s normal. No hunger.”

“And you haven’t been in for sickness, or any sort of flu.” He nods, cool fingers pushing on the scar. “You should be fit for travel.”

“Can’t wait,” I say. “To be taken away by creepy monks and made into a weapon.”

Yulan’s eyes grow remorseful, but harden quickly. “Normally, I’d schedule you for a draining of your EVE organ, and the school would then pay half of your promised amount. But I’d rather not risk surgery knowing you’ll leave so soon. So Raine and I will forward the money to your father’s account. You should tell them about the surgery though.”

“So I lie?” I ask.

“Just tell them it’s coming up. It will help keep up appearances.”

There’s a knock on the door. Dakota pokes her head in, and Yulan smiles.

“Ah, do come in, Dakota. Have a seat. I’m nearly finished with Victoria.”

She nods and sits on a chair. Yulan walks to the far end of the office. I sit up and look at her.

“Did you see the couple?” I ask.

“Y-Yeah. Everyone’s talking about it. Taj stopped them in the halls. Took them aside and s-said a few words I couldn’t catch.”

We’re quiet. She sighs.

“This is exactly what they wanted when they put u-us together. This is how societies m-merge permanently. The French married in-into the Native American culture and dominated it by absorption. V-Various Chinese clans did it all the time. It’s a t-tactic settlers across h-history employed. Love conquers everything, right?”

Yulan ushers me out, giving me just enough time to say goodbye to Dakota.

Who am I kidding? There’ll never be enough time. I’ll be abandoning her, the first human friend I’ve made in a long while. As I mull that depressing thought over, the halls buzz with opinions on the interracial couple.

“She’s way hotter than he is - she could do better,” An EVE sighs.

“I wonder if she asks him what he tastes like?” A giggle at the double entendre.

“It’s sort of gross, isn’t it? When you think about what they really are. Like being with a dinosaur.”

The couple is in the cafeteria. An Adjudicator at the next table over taps the Illuminator-half of the couple on the shoulder and asks her something that has her face lighting up in red.

“Mark! Hey, Mark!” A shouts resounds from my side - a group of EVE boys gathered by the door who call to the human boy-half of the couple. “Does she kiss like a lizard, too?”

“Shut your face,” I growl at him. The circle breaks to look at me.

“Who’s side are you on anyway?” The EVE laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re a Gutter-lover, too. Gonna sleep with ‘em all? Tell me if they have lizard dicks, will ya?”

I stride over, the group scattering and laughing at my attempts to grab the guy’s collar. A hand wraps around my wrist.

“Let it go, Vic.” Raine’s voice comes from behind me. The guy pulls away and joins his friends, and only then does she release my wrist. My fist itches like crazy to hit the smug bastard. I kick a trash can instead, the metal giving a satisfying crunch. Raine’s eyes mist over as she takes in the couple sitting at the table.

“Aren’t they sweet? It’s nice that they can be together in the open like that. I’m a little jealous at how straightforward they are.” She turns to me. “Where were you headed?”

“Gonna call Alisa. Tell her my fake-surgery’s coming up.” I prop my foot against the cafeteria wall. Alisa’s cell rings once, and she picks up.

“Hey!” Her voice is almost ear-piercingly bright. Happy.

“Hi.” I smile. “Is Dad there?”

“Yeah, why? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just wanted you both to know; my EVE organ is being drained on Saturday.”

“Gross. I mean, a good gross! Definitely good!”

“A good-chunk-of-change gross.” My smile gets bigger. “Tell Dad it’ll be in his bank account soon.”

“Yes ma’am.” I imagine her saluting. I can hear her run into a room. “Dad, Dad!”

A grunt. He’s sleeping between shifts. Alisa shakes him awake.

“Dad, the money! Victoria said it’s coming in. Should I tell her about the house?”

I knit my eyebrows. A mumbled ‘yeah’, and then Alisa comes back on.

“We were gonna save it as a coming-home-for-the-summer surprise, but I don’t think I can! Don’t make me keep it secret, please. I’ll die.”

“Go ahead and say it,” I smile. Her excitement is contagious, no matter how shitty I feel.

“Dad and I picked out a house! It’s kinda small, but there’s open windows and a big kitchen, and a yard. Grass, mostly, but there’s a cherry tree with a swing someone left! The old man said he’d save it for us.”

My heart sinks when I realize I won’t be there to see it. “That’s great.”

“Right? It’s really close to a middle school and a high school. Dad got a raise at the mill, too, so as long as I -”

She cuts off. I can fill in the blanks; as long as she doesn’t have an attack again, we can afford the mortgage.

“Alisa, don’t think like that, okay? You’re too young to be worrying about the money crap.”

“You do it,” She shoots back.

“I’m different, okay? We’ve talked about this. Just hand the phone to Dad, please.”

She makes a grunting noise.

“I love you,” I try.

“Love you,” She grunts again. The phone goes quiet.

“Hey, Vic.” Dad’s groggy voice.

“How much is it?” I ask.

“Vic, you don’t need to -”

“How much, Dad?”

“The owner’s willing to rent it with the option of buying.”

“How much?”

“Fifty thousand is a little more than half of what he’s asking.”

“So my second payment will cover it?”

“I’ll be working, Vic, so it’s not -”

“The money will help, right?”

“Of course, honey, but we’ll put some of that away for your college, too.” He sounds pained. “Look, I never told you how much it means to me, you being there. To us. With all those explosions, you’re risking so much. It must be so scary -”

“I don’t get scared anymore,” I insist. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad I have the right genetic stuff to do this.”

I have the right genetic stuff to be a weapon of mass destruction. But I’d seen the papers before, in the apartment mailbox. Rejection letters from countless EVE tests for him. He’d tried to be one, too. If I didn’t get my ‘right genes’ from Dad, then it must have been Gutter-hating Mom. Which is ironic as hell.

“I gotta go,” I start.

“Call me later, dish the grades and the boy gossip, okay?”

I roll my eyes and snort. “There’s nothing to dish, Dad.”

I can hear his smile. “Love you. Stay safe.”

I want to tell him everything when he says that. Safe, warm Dad. Dad who always knows what to do. I could tell him, and I’d feel less like shit for keeping this secret inside. I’ll be ditching them. I’m going to take off without a word and they’ll think I’m dead, or worse, being hurt. The government won’t tell them the truth. It barely even tells the truth to itself.

I resist the urge to blurt it all, and hang up.

The thorns dig only into me, and I let them.

***

A snowstorm blows through the valley, coating everything in a blanket of white. People roll snowmen and throw snowballs. By lunch the novelty has worn off, and all that’s left on the lawn are slushy footprints and deformed, melting monsters with pencil noses.

Thick jacket; on. Rubber boots; on. I wrap a scarf around my neck and pull my jeans up, and go in search of a fresh patch of snow to enjoy. No one bothered going under the tree by the dumpsters where I used to smoke. A big expanse of pure white snow is all mine. I fall back in it, and spread my arms and legs to make an angel.

“Hey!” A face hovers over me - a girl, hair in a ponytail and nose red with cold. She turns to someone and yells. “She’s over here!”

I dance out the snow in my jeans. Two girls and two boys surround me. EVEs. The girl with the red nose smiles at me.

“I’m Hailey. That’s Nate -” She points to a redhead with gangly arms. He waves. “ - And you know Aiden, right?”

Aiden, who started the fight in the cafeteria. He nods and the other girl – the girl who clung to Shadus at the Winter Ball - waves.

“I’m Serena.”

“I’m Victoria,” I say.

“We know. We thought it was about time we got to know you, right?” Hailey laughs breathlessly.

“She has no idea who we are, Hail.” Nate rolls his eyes and grins at me. “Shadus’ friends. Sorry, Hailey gets enthusiastic and it’s embarrassing.”

“Look, I appreciate the effort,” I start. “But I’m not -”

“You’re kind of hard to get along with,” Nate snorts. “We’ve heard it from Shadus.”

“Yeah.” I fold my arms. “That.”

“What were you doing out here?” Serena smiles.

“Snow angels.” Aiden looks at the ground. “What, are you in kindergarten?”

Serena nudges him sharply. He cradles his ribs. Hailey lies by my imprint, waving her arms and legs to make her own.

“I haven’t done this in forever. Feels kind of nice,” She says.

Aiden picks up a wad of snow and grinds it into Nate’s neck. Nate swears and puts him in a headlock. I step out of the way of the struggle. Serena puts her hand on my arm and smiles.

“Shadus never mentioned how tall you are. I mean, we saw you in the halls and stuff, but seriously! I barely come up to your shoulder.”

“Thanks?” I ease myself from her grip. Aiden rolls his eyes.

“Just because you’re the height of a bedtable, Serena, doesn’t mean everyone else is a giant.”

“Don’t step on her snow angel!” Hailey barks as Aiden stumbles.

“We should’ve introduced ourselves during Owakess,” Serena sighs. “Sorry! Everything was just so crazy.”

I’m quiet. The whole ‘big group of people’ thing isn’t my style. Serena turns and claps.

“Ah, Shadus! There you are!”

He walks toward us, jacket half-zipped as if he’d come out in a rush, black gloves on his hands. Serena bounds over to him. Hailey sits up and waves. Shadus sees me, and nods.

“Hello. I saw you from the library. What are you doing?”

“Nothing, man.” Nate thumps him on the back as Aiden  mashes a chunk of snow on Shadus’ neck.

“Ah, sir’ka!” Shadus jumps, shaking it out of his shirt. “What was that for?”

Aiden shrugs and Nate laughs. “Punishment for being a red-eyed punk?”

“Cut it out, Nate,” Serena snaps.

“I think his eyes are cool,” Hailey chimes.

“They look like something from those old Star Trek shows,” Aiden says.

“I can’t watch those,” Nate groans. “The graphics are fucking horrible. Now this arm,” He pats Shadus’ shoulder. “Is way more realistic.”

“That’s because it is real, you stupid shit,” Aiden snipes. Hailey cracks up laughing and falls back in the snow.

“I knew that, numbnuts!” Nate growls. “I was making a metaphonical comparison or whatever.”

Shadus chuckles, low and honest, and looks to me. “Star Trek?”

“Really old TV show about intergalactic space travel and aliens,” I murmur. His smile gets bright.

“So they’re ‘trekking’ across the ‘stars’. I get it.”

“Welcome to the conversation, lizard-boy,” Nate snickers.

“Leave him alone. It’s cute.” Serena smiles.

“It’s cute,” Nate squeaks in mockery. Hailey throws snow at his head.

Shadus’ friends aren’t bad. They’re boisterous. Loud. I’d come for some peace and fresh snow, and they took all that away but I can’t resent them for it. The way they poke fun at Shadus for being an alien is refreshingly insensitive - it’s the same way they tease Aiden for having glasses, or Serena for being short. He’s just another piece in the puzzle of their dynamic. He doesn’t stand out; he’s not special to them. Well, maybe to Serena, with the way she touches his arm all the time, but even that’s comforting to see. A sign that she sees him as a living thing first and alien second.

I stand with Aiden, watching them throw snow.

“My Gutter’s an Illuminator,” He says, adjusting his glasses. “He doesn’t look at me. Refuses to use English, spouts Rahm all the time. I don’t exist to him. I’m food, nothing more. Serena introduced me to Shadus. Didn’t like him at first – he was too much like me. But he tried. He put in real effort, you know? Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Stubborn. Asked too many questions.”

In the distance Shadus holds his arm up to deflect a snowball, and Serena squeals and ducks behind him.

“If I didn’t know him,” Aiden continues. “I probably would’ve gone through life thinking Gutters were rude assholes who only speak Rahm.”

“A lot of them are,” I point out.

“Some of them are. Some of them used to be, until they came here,” Aiden sighs. “And then they changed. So, despite the fact everything keeps blowing up, maybe, just maybe, this school really does work.”

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.

“So what?” I say.  “I’m an EVE. I’m feeding Gutters. Would you stop to buy a starving man a burger? It’s the same thing.”

The first woman laughs. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend you’re being charitable. They pay you like princes.”

“It’s easier to admit Alexandra’s daughter succumbed to greed than to the taint of the aliens,” Another sneers. “You’re a disgrace to her name.”

“And you’re insane cultists,” I hiss back. Dakota pulls at my sleeve, a pained look on her face.

“The light’s green. Let’s just go.”

I stride after her, white stripes of the crosswalk flashing under my shoes and fury splintering red-hot in my EVE organ. What do they know? They know nothing of how much Mom’s hate made us suffer. Made me suffer.

I drop the flyer in the street for the cars to run over.

On the day the buses return from the ceremony of flame, I wait in the driveway. The cold is bitter, but refreshing. Other people waiting toss snow at each other. There’s someone in a hoodie a distance away, digging around. Probably lost an earring in a snowball fight. Eventually, Shadus’ friends and Dakota join me. The buses pull up and Gutters pour out. EVEs snicker about how the Gutters look - glowy and infinitely pleased with themselves. The teachers pretend not to notice, waving at their returning Gutter colleagues.

Raine trots over in billion inch heels and hugs me around the neck. She smiles at Dakota and kisses her on the cheeks like she’s a fancy lady. Shadus’ friends watch us with shocked expressions. Raine finger-waves at them.

“You four must be Shadus’ posse he can’t stop talking about.”

“Yeah.” Nate puffs his chest, blush evident. “Name’s Nate. Nice to meet you.”

Even Aiden is falling over himself to shake Raine’s hand. Hailey says something about her shoes, but I don’t hear it properly - craning my neck to see the other Gutters coming. Taj and I lock eyes for a second. He gives a curt nod, and I nod back. His Adjudicator friends call him over. Shadus looks the same, dark hair mussed and long legs carrying him through the crowd with ease. He hoists his backpack higher and blows hot air on his hands.

“There’s lizard-boy.” Nate points. Serena squeals. Raine, Dakota, and I watch as the posse dashes towards Shadus like some old-timey movie reunion in a field of flowers. Nate punches him in the shoulder. Hailey grabs one arm, and Serena the other. Aiden pushes up his glasses and asks serious questions. Shadus blushes and snaps at him to mind his own business. Aiden and Nate snicker.

“They’re puke-worthy. Who does the running-at-you-with-my-arms-spread thing anymore, anyway? I’ll tell you who - overeager weirdos,” I say.

“So says the girl who’s smiling and standing on her toes,” Dakota sighs. I look down and flatten my feet.

“They were cold,” I grumble.

“Uh-huh.” Raine smiles, unconvinced, and waves to Shadus. “Do you want the details now, or later?”

“You didn’t,” I gasp.

“Sotho are forbidden from mingling with other sotho. But I’ve heard the stories at breakfast.” She winks.

“I don’t need to hear the ‘stories’. I don’t even care.”

“You haven’t taken your eyes off of Serena’s hand on Shadus’ arm.” She singsongs. “I think you careeee.”

“Don’t care,” I grit out and tear my gaze from them. Raine’s glossed lips twist into a smile as she shrugs. Serena starts chasing Nate around with snowballs for something he said, Hailey in close pursuit. Shadus walks over to us with Aiden. He nods.

“Dakota.”

“W-Welcome back.” Dakota smiles. He looks to me.

“Victoria.”

“‘Sup Creeps?” I force the casual tone. He gives me a disbelieving smile. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Other than the usual blank look of stupidity?” He asks. “No.”

“Nice to see you too, beh-rak,” I snap.

“Oh, so you picked up a little swearing in Rahm? Don’t expect me to be impressed.”

“Don’t expect a hug, lizard-face.”

“I know better.” He grins. Aiden flashes me a thumbs up of insult-approval. Dakota is deep in conversation with Raine about a Chem test. Shadus doesn’t move to join them - instead standing by me on the curb. Side by side like this, I can feel the heat from his every exhale, white clouds puffing into the air. His nose is red with cold, and when I almost catch his eye he rivets his gaze to the sky and pretends to be interested in the non-existent sun. Or a treetop. Anything. Anything other than me.

“Uhm,” I lick my lips. “I guess it’d be dumb to ask how it was?”

“A little dense, yes,” He agrees shortly. “How have you been?”

“Good.” I nod. Busy seeing your head on top of magazine model bodies with girls draped all over you, but good nonetheless. The mental image still squeezes a laugh out of me.

“Is something humorous?” He quirks an eyebrow. His voice spills from the mouth of the bastardized Shadus in my head. I cover my face with my hand.

“I-I’m sorry.” The laughter shakes my shoulders. “Your manboobs are way too big for me to take you seriously.”

“My what?” I can hear the bewildered smile in his tone. “B-Boobs? I don’t have…those.”

I feel Raine’s gentle hand on my back. She pulls my hair off my shoulders and winks over my neck at Shadus.

“This is what they call jealousy, Shadus. It does horrible things to the human mind - warps it like no other. She’s perfectly sane, I promise, if a little transparent.”

“Go away!” I snap, and she trills a laugh and walks back to Dakota. Shadus coughs, and stares out at the lawn.

“If you must know, I didn’t like the ceremony as much as I did other years. It felt…different. Strangely empty,” He mutters. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what it means. All I know is those few words send a blanket of warmth through my chest despite the cold air. Before I know what I’m doing, my arms are laced around his torso in a hug.

I can feel his muscles go still beneath me. Raine’s voice cuts off, and Dakota’s follows suit. Are they staring? I don’t care. Let them. I tighten my grip around his waist and murmur into his chest, the faux-fur collar of his jacket tickling my nose.

“I missed you.”

There’s a beat in which I think he’ll push me away like he did in the library. Like I deserve. His hand slowly raises -

The scream is a needle stab in my ears, piercing through soft brain flesh and the soft moment. It rips us apart, I step back and he steps back. The screams come from Serena collapsed in snow. Nate helps her up, the others watching where she’s pointing with wide eyes. Hailey vomits. The teachers sprint over, curious crowd close behind. Nate scrabbles for his cellphone as we run up.

“Serena, what’s wrong?” Aiden shakes her shoulders and looks where her gaze is riveted, glazed and terrified. He gags and starts to dry heave into the snow.

Shadus sees it first. He pivots and puts himself between the sight and me. “Don’t look.”

“What is it? Is it a dead animal or something?” I look up at him. Dakota’s face goes white when she sees it, and Raine lets out a strangled gasp. The teachers start ordering everyone to back up. Screams ricochet off frozen trees. I crane my neck over Shadus’ shoulder. A cavern of snow oozes blood, red and pinks spreading through each crystal. The heat of the blood melted the snow around it - crimson slush clotting dark and a pale dead hand reaching for help that will never come. A mass of hair, long and dark, the strands weaving through pieces of jagged skull. Gray eyes, glassy and eerily lit by the sun off the snow. The dead Gutter is the Illuminator - one half of the talked-about couple with the human boy.

***

The lockdown lifts when the body is carted away. The police car lights rotate in ruby and sapphire long through the night. The yellow crime scene tape flutters in the brewing storm wind. ‘FBI’ stands out in stark white letters on jackets. Forensics trudges around in their rubber boots and plastic caps, picking things up with tweezers and putting placards by points of interest. Camera bulbs flash. The bloody snow goes in bags they take with them. Traces of its pink can still be seen. Teachers and students and Gutters alike gather at the edges of the crime scene tape.

Raine stares out our room window, fingers pressed to the cold glass.

“When a Gutter dies, it is said their spirit goes home to our planet to live with the goddesses.”

The image of the body is seared in my mind. White on red on empty eyes. Raine’s fingers curl, her nails scratching the pane.

“Is it terrible to say I envy her?” She laughs, low, and stops. Her hot breath clouds the glass as she chokes on the words. “Is it terrible to say I want to go home, too?”

10. The Lovers

Gutters don’t have elaborate memorial services, or funerals. To Gutters, death is just a release, a freeing of the spirit. The Illuminator who was killed has her picture in a hall alcove, a small table laden with candles and flowers where people can say goodbye to her physical self in their own way. Her EVE boyfriend stands in front of it listlessly, looking above it. Away from it. His eyes are sunken and no one has the guts to meet his hollow gaze. Even if it was a teenage romance, it meant something to him. Even if she was a lizard alien on the inside, she meant something to him.

It’s my turn to pretend to be drained.

Yulan’s supposed to operate on me. But instead, I just spend the night in his office, like I’m recuperating. It’s a farce, but it helps keep up appearances, as Yulan’s so fond of saying.

I wake up in the middle of the night - it’s dark outside. In the next room a single desk lamp is lit. Yulan bends over papers, checking them off, flipping through and back again. He drinks dregs of jyulo – a diluted emotion drink much like coffee - and rubs his eyes. The long ponytail down his back is tangled. His fingers are stained with ink.

“Doc?” My voice is a croak. He looks up, and stands.

“Victoria. You shouldn’t be walking -”

“I’m fine. What time is it?’

He steers me by the shoulders to sit in a chair. The clock reads four in the morning. I smile groggily.

“You ever sleep, doc?”

“I am prone to insomnia. Tonight is a particularly brutal night.”

“You probably worry too much about stuff.” My arms feel heavy. I fold them in my lap.

“I have to, Victoria. We are at a very vital stage of the process.”

“Process?”

“The process of stopping the war.”

“You think there will really be one?”

Yulan leans back, pen on his lips. “Yes. No. Perhaps. I don’t want there to be one, but my intuition tells me there will be one. It’s been a long time coming. Gutters may pretend to be perfectly in control, but we are a combat-prone race. We enjoy confrontation. It’s a miracle we’ve been able to bow our heads to the humans for this long at all.”

He goes back to the stack of papers. The silence must be too much for him, because he flips the TV on and keeps working. News. Not even the anchor’s toupee can distract me from his words.

“The tragic incident at the nation’s first human-alien integrated school is starting to draw doubts from experts. The murder of a young Gutter at Green Hills High School is throwing into question everything the government is - and isn’t - doing to protect both species. With me today is -”

Yulan abruptly turns the TV off again. The space between his brows grows pinched.

“Do the Gutters have murder?” I ask softly.

“Every species does, I suppose. After Adjudicators conduct an investigation and find they are truly guilty, the murderer is property of the Executioners. Their torture is dragged on longer the more severe the sentence. Some are tortured for their remaining lifespan, never allowed the release of death.”

The medical machines beep.

“You should get more sleep, Victoria,” Yulan suggests.

“Why kill that specific Illuminator? The only thing she did was -”

“Engage in an open relationship with a human,” Yulan interrupts. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes wearily. “This is not a random act of hate driven by fear. It is a carefully calculated strike, a statement.”

“The mharata?”

He shakes his head. “No. Someone far more intimidating, I’m afraid.”

“Jerai?”

Yulan shoots me a sharp look. “Jerai is many things, but he would never resort to senseless murder.”

Chastised, I look at my feet. I forgot how much Yulan respects Jerai, despite how shitty he is to him.

“Is it a teacher, or a student?” I ask.

“We don’t know. I would say a Gutter, personally. However, I don’t know for sure. The police are handling it from here.”

“That’s no excuse!” I grip the sides of my chair. “We can’t let this shit happen again right under our noses!”

Yulan’s gray eyes have a smile in them. “It is not your place to worry about such things. Leave it to us. It’s your job focus on zol, and nothing else.”

“Because that’s all I am. A weapon,” I say bitterly.

“No, because that is the most important thing right now. You are the most important thing right now. So take care of yourself. For our sake, if not your own.”

His pen scratches across paper. I get up and pat him on the back.

“Sleep, doc.”

I push the curtain to the back room aside and crawl into my bed. A few minutes later I hear the curtain move, weak light from the office streaming in. Yulan stands in the doorway. I sit up.

“Doc?”

“Does Raine…” Yulan trails off, then shakes his head and makes to leave. “Nevermind. It was foolish of me.”

“Wait, what was? You can ask me, doc.”

Yulan wages some internal war with himself that shows clearly on his distraught face, but finally he exhales.

“Does Raine speak of me at all? You are close to her, so I assumed –” He shakes his head again. “Please, forget what I just said. I am being nonsensical.”

I watch him return to the desk and work until my eyes grow too heavy to keep open.

***

Principal Freeson’s speech is strained. He struggles with the words on paper he’d prepared. He finally gives up and rubs his hand over his face.

“There is nothing wise to say about death. It happens. The tragedy is that we never expected it to happen here. You are all wonderful students, each with your differences. It is those differences that make us stronger, but it appears someone does not care for them.”

He inhales. The police chief, an older man with graying hair, puts his hand on his shoulder. The principal steps down and makes way for him at the podium.

“We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again,” The chief booms. “If you have any information regarding this event, even the slightest odd sighting, please report it to one of our officers. Thank you again for your cooperation.”

In PE, I pick at my sweatsuit. The yellow field grass crinkles under my feet. The sky is gunmetal gray, washed by a pale sun. The football track is scattered with our running class. A few of Shadus’ friends are in my class too - Serena waves and Nate thumps my back as he passes on his last lap. I sigh and start to jog. Raine is all smooth strides ahead of me.

Dakota lags with me, neither of us athletic - her body too stocky and me with no muscles. The only people slower are a fat EVE who wheezes behind me. I peel off to catch my breath. Dakota doubles over beside me, panting.

“Freaking hate running,” I puff. “Hate it more than history. More than cooking class. I’m ready to trip purposely and get some blood going. Targe will let me off if there’s blood, right?”

Dakota laughs, gulping air. We slowly catch our breath before Dakota breaks thei quiet.

“You don’t seem - I mean, you’re really sad lately -”

I wipe at my forehead. “What?”

“If you’re sad, a-about anything, you can tell me, you know.”

I fluff out my jersey, trying to get cool air on my skin. She knows. Some deep part of her is picking up on the fact I’m going to leave.

“Carlotti! Hale!” Mr. Targe yells. “Get moving before I mark you with an F!”

I sigh and offer her my hand. She takes it and pulls herself up, and we start running again.

I pretend I don’t see Taj on the steps in the distance. I pretend he doesn’t lean on the railing and watch our class - watch me - until the bell rings. He stays so far away.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of what happened to the Illuminator. And he’s guilty he couldn’t stop it. And I know that, because we are (were?) friends.

He’s staying away because we are friends, and being too friendly got someone killed.

***

Four days after the Illuminator Halsi was killed, Mark, her human boyfriend, ruptures.

Standing in front of her memorial one day during lunch, the blood starts bubbling from the corner of his mouth. He coughs, spitting blood. His tear ducts brim with red, and two ribbons of bloody tears pulse down his face.

The security helps him into Yulan’s office just in time.

Mark is, thankfully, saved. His organ is taken out, and he’s sent home to live out his civilian life. Another teenage EVE, a girl with a million piercings from New York, takes his place.

And the world moves on, heartlessly.

11. The Tower

Parents fly in from all over the country after the investigation into the murder is semi-over and students are permitted to leave by the police. EVEs depart with their suitcases rolling behind them, fresh scars on their abdomens where the organs had been drained prematurely. Teary farewells to friends resound in the halls. Classes start to empty even more. How many EVEs will leave? How many Gutters will be left without food because of it?

The mharata patrol like jungle cats, moving silently and quickly down the halls. Everyone notices they’ve begun moving faster, reacting quicker, changing posts more often. Sometimes, they even talk to each other in low, rapid Rahm. Raine insists that means they’re narrowing the list of suspects to only a few.

I hate them. I hate the way they move, the way they stare, the way their eyes follow me. But they’re inevitable. I can’t escape them. The tension stacks higher and higher with every passing day. Sometimes I just want to scream at them; ‘it’s me, you idiots, just take me and let’s get it over with!’.

Alisa and Dad call. Dad’s voice breaks with concern.

“Victoria, I’m not going to tell you twice. You’re coming home, who knows what -”

“We need this money, Dad. They don’t pay the people who leave.”

“Victoria, it’s not safe there!”

“There’s security everywhere! They got even more security. And this killer? The police are pretty sure they’re only targeting Gutters.”

“That’s no excuse! You know what these crazy anti-Gutter groups are like!”

“Four more months, Dad! Just four. And we can have the house and I’ll be back home.”

It’s a lie. It’s the best damn lie I’ve ever told.

I’m sure his mind is flashing with every memory he still has of Mom. We need the money bad. After a minute of strained silence he sighs, long and hard.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. You absolutely swear to me you’ll use the buddy system? Remember everything I taught you?”

“Every last thing.”

He’s quiet. I can hear his heart pulling in two directions - the greater good and my good.

“I can’t lose you too, Vic.”

“You never will.”

Another lie. And this one cracks my heart like a porcelain, dropped thing.

“Call me every day. No exceptions, or I’m coming to get you.”

“Okay.”

Please come get me. Please take me away from all this.

Shadus looks happy enough - laughing with Nate and smiling when Hailey calls his name or Serena grasps his arm. He strides ahead of me on our way to class. During study hall, his gaze is riveted to his book, and sometimes to me.

“Pass me the eraser?” I ask. He looks up and grabs the teddy bear eraser Dakota lent me. He stares at its face for a moment, wrinkles his nose, and passes it to me. There’s a snarky comment in his eyes, but he doesn’t say it.

“S’not mine,” I clarify. “Dakota gave it to me. I tried really hard to not throw it across the room when I first saw it.”

He doesn’t smile. The textbook has all his attention.

“Are you studying for -”

“Don’t,” He growls.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t force yourself to pretend like nothing’s wrong.”

I’m not going to cry. I have to be the brave, bold, always-right girl. The weapon. The strong one. The one who can protect Alisa. And now, apparently, the one who can protect an entire race.

Shadus breaks his stare to get up and move, sitting next to me.

“The mharata are closing in,” He says.

“Duh,” I sniff.

“Now is your last chance. There’s still time to do it Raine’s way. You can choose. You are not powerless.”

“Really?” I gasp, the sound watery. “Because I fucking feel powerless.”

Shadus reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The motion is tender, and sends my heart wrenching every which way. He opens the book he’s holding, and shows it to me. It’s an embossed likeness of Umala and Asara, carved in sandstone and facing each other.

“The power is yours. The choice is yours. You can use the power for progression, or destruction. It is your choice entirely. But you’ll only have that power, and that choice, once the mharata teach you. I’m not going to lie. It will be difficult. You will be injured, in both mind and body. The mharata are ruthless. But your life, too, has been ruthless. You’ve lived through much worse. And I know how strong you are for it. The mharata are nothing compared to the scars you’ve suffered at the hands of life.”

A seed of glowing hope emerges in my chest, but I clutch at my EVE organ.

“If I take it out…would that stop it all?”

“Perhaps. But nothing would change. The sotho would still scheme to leave the planet. The humans would still scheme to kill us all. You would not be part of the picture, anymore. And the war would be inevitable. But that is also a choice you have. Yulan would do it if Raine ordered so. You have many choices. You need to ask yourself what you want. What does Victoria Hale want, more than anything?”

I’m quiet, and then I dig deeper. Past the EVE organ, past my need to protect, past the loss of my Mom and past who I am as Victoria.

“I want…I want to be happy.”

Shadus smiles. “Then you know what you must do.”

“But – but what about you? The Gutters? Without zol, you’ll be –”

“We’ll be fine. I don’t know if anyone’s told you,” he smirks. “But we’re very intelligent. We will outsmart the humans, and leave some way or another. It might take longer, and we may lose a few more Gutters. That’s all.”

Shadus tucks the other strand of hair behind my other ear, and smiles brighter.

“Do what will make you happy, Victoria. That’s all I ask.”

12. The Hermit

In my dreams, my EVE organ is gone. I’m running through the winter woods outside the school, laughing and skipping over rocks and fallen logs. My scar is still under my ribs, but I feel lighter, freer, and I move like a joyful wind.

I come to the school’s front lawn. A red stain melts the snow in the distance. The light feeling drops away as I near it.

Alisa’s body replaces the Illuminator’s in the snow, her head smashed in, her jaw ripped clean off. And as I scream, the tears streaming down my face, the dark-haired, violet-eyed woman glides over the snow, the air around her hazy and distorted with darkness. She smiles that same vicious, insane smile.

“Leave me alone!” I scream at her.

“Tilu’ak mau vasora,” She sneers back, and reaches out to grab me.

I wake up to a dark room, and a darker heart.

13. The Moon

The protestors just won’t fucking give up.

They pace relentlessly, their signs waving. Teachers close the blinds on windows to block our view of them, but you can still hear the noise. You can always hear the hate in their voices. First the opening of an alien school, and now a murderer living at the alien school? Their twisted faces are understandable, but more hate’s not going to do anyone any good. They cheer in the day for parents dragging their EVE kids from the school, and dissipate at night like a pack of hyenas.

The police dart in and out of classrooms to call people for questioning. Classes empty. Teacher cars get their tires slashed. Walls blossom with spray-paint dissent. Some of the graffiti has to come from students; ‘Teachers are useless fucks’, and ‘The Gutter freak deserved to die, she was a bitch’. The janitor scrubs and sighs like he’s the oldest man in the world. Like he’s the only sane man in the world.

My breath clouds on the hall window as I watch him work. Scrub brush, water, bucket. Scrub brush, water, sigh, bucket.

“Victoria?”

I look up. Buttercup highlights and determined gold eyes. The dark circles under his eyes are prominent. He must be pushing himself three times as hard.

“Hey, Taj. Long time no see.”

Taj nods. “I’ve been…busy.”

“Too busy to even say hello?”

He looks guilty, but I quickly backtrack.

“Look, no. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s good to see you again, that’ s all. I’d gotten so used to you hanging around I – ”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

My eyes widen. His harden. “What?”

“The killer’s watching you.”

“You –” I take a step forward. “You know who it is?”

“I know it’s someone who was assigned by the Adjudicator sotho to keep an eye on the relationships within this school,” Taj says. “And if any humans consorted with Gutters in the romantic sense, the killer was given permission to eradicate the Gutter, in order to keep the bloodline ‘pure’.”

“What? That’s insane –”

“It’s not, when you consider humans are almost guaranteed to become pregnant by a single night with a Gutter, and vice versa. The result is –” He shudders. “The result is an abomination. The Illuminators have proven that much in their labs. And it cannot be aborted without killing the mother.”

“So Halsi was - ” I swallow. “She was pregnant?”

“Certainly,” Taj says. “And the sotho would never allow that. Someone slipped her the abortion medicine. It’s messy, but effective. She probably staggered out onto the lawn for help, but never made it that far.”

I wince, the image of her perforated head and broken jaw hanging like a grisly sign on the back of my eyelids. I try desperately to shake it off.

“So it was the sotho. The sotho killed her,” I say.

“No, it was a Gutter in this school. But my sister ordered the killing be allowed, yes.”

“You’re killing your own people?” I hiss. “You’ve killed a girl because – because she was in love?”

Taj’s eyes harden again. “We will do anything to maintain our culture. We won’t let it become sullied, or lost to human consumption and taint. We must stay as we are. We can’t succumb to your influence any more than we already have, or we will become weak, and you humans will have a very easy time killing us all. We must be strong. We must remain solely Gutter.”

“But this school – it’s all about integration! That’s the whole purpose –”

“The whole purpose is to maintain a good cover,” Taj says. “If we refused to collaborate with your government’s idea of desegregation, it would give them cause to wonder if we hate them, or are planning something. So we went along with it to keep our political ties clean.”

“This has all been an act for you? All of it?”

Taj nods sternly. “Every single day.”

“Even being friends with me?” I ask bitterly. Taj opens his mouth, looks away, and then looks back to me, resolve burning in his face.

“Yes.”

“You’re lying,” I snap. “I can see you’re lying.”

“Do not –” He raises his voice. “Speak to me of lying. If you value your life so much, then you’ll stay away from Shadus. Forever.”

“Are you –” I blink. “Are you threatening me? Your voice is bitter, you’ve been avoiding me. Don’t tell me you’re –”

“I won’t speak to you again on this matter,” Taj interrupts coldly, and walks away.

“Jealous,” I finish to thin air. But it sounds stupid, even to my own ears. He’s just warning me, nothing more.

I was a cover for him, and nothing more.

***

The killer is watching me.

But then again, so is everyone else. The mharata, the protestors, Yulan and Raine and Shadus and Taj. Everyone is watching me. I should be used to it, by now. Would the killer still target me, and kill me, if they knew I was zol? Did the killer even ask the mharata if Halsi was zol before they killed her? A sick, hot wave of disgust roils up into my throat. That would be the heartless, practical, Gutter-like thing to do.

I can leave all of it behind. There’s still time to go back to Alisa, and Dad. I want that more than anything. I just want them to take the organ out, give me the money, and go home. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. But now I’m a pawn. As long as the EVE organ is in me, I’m a pawn in this fucked up interracial covert battle.

I take a huge breath in front of Yulan’s office. It’s now or never. He’ll take the organ out, and it’ll be over. I have to do this. This will send me back to the life I want, make me happy.

I push inside. The sharp smell of antiseptic and dry cotton balls greets me. But Yulan isn’t there. A man with dark hair and olive skin sits in Yulan’s usual chair. He’s not facing me.

“Um, hello?” I ask. The man pivots, and I know instantly I’ve made a mistake by coming here. The man’s thin eyes are blood-red. Executioner sotho. But it’s more than that. His face has those same high cheekbones, the same broad lips and thick, hawk-like eyebrows. I’d know that face anywhere; Shadus.

This is his father.

“Yulan is not in at the moment,” The man says, his voice silky and deep, like a lullaby. “I am Osha, of the Executioners. And you are?”

I back up to the door, fumbling for the handle. But it won’t open. I shake and twist frantically, but nothing moves, like someone is holding it closed from the outside.

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” Osha says smoothly. “But I’m afraid you cannot leave just yet. There are things we must discuss.”

“L-Like what?” I steel my stance, folding my arms over my chest and trying to play it off like I wasn’t just desperately trying to get out.

“It occurs to me my son has told you a lie. He offered an out for you – that Yulan could take your EVE organ out. This is false. Yulan cannot do that.”

“He’s done it to a lot of EVE’s who left,” I counter. “He can definitely do it.”

Osha smiles, his mouth barely moving.

“Yes. He can do it. But I won’t allow it.”

“How did you know what Shadus told me?” I narrow my eyes. “We weren’t anywhere near any cameras.”

It’s true. Since the reveal in the janitor’s closet, Taj, Raine, Shadus and I had been taking extra care not to converse in areas heavily populated with cameras. And if there were some, we always kept our voices low and our lips out of sight, so anyone watching would be unable to lip-read. Osha taps his left arm.

“My son has a few upgrades, shall we say. He’s shown them to you. I took the liberty of…enhancing them before he left.”

“You’ve been listening in on him?”

“On everything,” Osha corrects. “I wasn’t going to let my only son into this place without some form of insurance. It seems I was right to do it. Not only have I kept an eye on this hovel, I’ve found the one thing Jerai’s been looking for. No – the one thing we’ve all been looking for.”

He knows. A hard, cold mass solidifies in my throat. He knows I’m zol. Osha stands up, his height looming towards me, and I quickly take inventory of the room – the window. I could make it, if I fake him out. Or could I? Are adult Gutters as fast as the teens? There’s only one way to find out. Like he can read my mind, Osha sighs.

“I would prefer if you wouldn’t resist,” Osha says, matter-of-factly. “It would ensure less injuries on your part.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

“I feel as though I know you already, bad language and all. I do, don’t I? Because everything you’ve said to him, I have heard. You are quite taken with him. I wonder – does he feel the same way about you?”

I flinch, and Osha laughs, the sound like a snake humming. I concentrate on the medical equipment behind him. It’s electric. I dwell on my anger, my fear, my shame, forcing it to burn like a tattoo in the forefront of my brain.

Osha goes still, his laughter fading, replaced by a sinister smile as sharp as a dagger.

“Do not,” He says. “Try it.”

I clench my fists and grimace. His face instantly transforms – a light purple tinge on his cheeks and neck, his pupils snapping into slits. His nails grow long and black in a split-second, his canine teeth lengthening. An inhuman, hissing growl overlays his words.

“Do not try me, human.”

“I said FUCK YOU!” I scream, and dive behind the desk. The medical equipment flashes a bright green and implodes. I hit the ground hard, a sharp ringing bouncing in my skull. Metal and glass embeds in the walls, the floor, and Osha’s back. But he doesn’t even flinch. He walks over to the desk, sticking his terrifying face around it, his sharp incisors gleaming as he smiles.

“It will take more than that, little zol.”

I see his fist split-seconds before he jabs me in the stomach, the sharp pain hammering the breath from me in one final blow.

The world spins. From behind me, I hear the door open like I’m hearing it through water. Shined shoes and suits hover above me. Sunglasses that get taken off. Pink, pale eyes. A mharata. The pink bores into my soul, as if searching for something. I swear they spark with light, but it quickly dies. The mharata looks up and nods at Osha, and that’s all I see, because my head lolls back, my eyelids protest, and the world suddenly goes dark.

14. The Judgment

The policemen think I am pretty. Of course they do. All humans think Gutters are pretty, save for the ones who hate us. They are disturbed by my calm demeanor, and my Gutter blood, but they have seen worse. They deal with the darkest of human scum, after all.

There are two of them – a fat one and a very skinny one. The fat one sits at the desk, and the skinny one stands by the door. My lawyer, hired for me by the Adjudicator sotho, sits to my right. She is a small woman with a large, puffy face and a sharp tongue. The fat policeman leans forward.

“Ulsi, what do you know about the disappearance of Victoria Hale?”

They’ve called in many Gutters to this same room – a disused broom closet in Green Hills High that has been converted to a questioning room. They called in many after the explosions, and many more after the murders. But I am the first to be called in this instance. I am one of the Gutters who knew her best, after all.

I fold my hands over each other before I speak.

“I know she has been missing for a week, now. I know her disappearance triggered the closing of the school, since it was officially deemed ‘unsafe’. I know the last time I saw her was lunch that day. She ate with Dakota and I in the main hall.”

“Did she mention anything? Anything at all? Maybe something that was troubling her? Or something she complained about?”

I smile. “You must not know her very well, detective. Victoria was a very private, closed-off person. It was rare to hear about her troubles, and even rarer for her to share them with me. Dakota was more of the person she felt closer to.”

“But you were friends,” The officer insists.

“We were…acquaintances. She was one of the few humans who was very understanding of me. She was blunt, yes, and swore too much. But underneath that prickly layer, she understood the universal hardships of existing very well.”

The officer knits his brows and shakes his head.

“Okay, alright. So you knew her. And she didn’t seem bothered before she vanished.”

“Oh, no,” I correct quickly. “She seemed progressively more and more bothered by something. It was clearly eating away at her. She was irritable. She snapped at Dakota several times, and I had to remind her gently to stop being so quick to anger. Something was surely bothering her, but she never spoke of it.”

“When did you notice the change?”

I tap my chin. “Sometime before the Winter Ball, I believe. Mid-December.”

“Did you notice any odd behaviors before she went missing?”

I smile again. “She was quite the odd one in general. I didn’t notice anything odd. But I did find it odd she was spending so much time with Shadus. She spent time with all three sotho, and they all seemed to like her very much.”

I recall how Taj looked at her when they were dancing the night of the Winter Ball, but I put it out of my mind. Jealousy is better suited for humans. And my chance with him had long come and gone. I clear my throat.

“But it became clear that month that she and Shadus were…something more. Have you spoke with him? He may know more.”

The officers shoot each other a look that I know very well, a look that’s infamous around the Gutter circles. They’ve already spoken to him. And they’ve found him less-than-agreeable.

“If that’s all, officers, my client needs to return to packing her things,” My lawyer interrupts. The fat officer sighs.

“Yeah, right. Let us know if you think of anything more, later.”

“I will.” I smile. “Thank you.”

My lawyer stays while I leave, since they are calling in yet another Gutter for questioning. She represents most of us in the inefficient and undoubtedly corrupt human court of law. The FBI – supposedly one of the human’s best forces - haven’t solved the murder of Halsi. If it was the Adjudicator tori they would’ve solved it within the week.

Taj and I pass each other. He’s the one they’re calling in, then. He stops and nods at me.

“Ulsi.”

“Sotho,” I make a small bow. “I wish you strength for the questioning.”

He scoffs. “I won’t need it. They are exceptionally weak and ineffectual.”

My chest wells up with a strange lightness, but I keep my face neutral.

“I agree.”

Taj looks very weary, and worn. He’s been extremely snappish since Victoria disappeared. Raine and Shadus have, as well, with Shadus exhibiting the worst of it. But Taj is quietly tortured by her missing status, and everyone can see it.

“I hope they find her soon,” I try. Taj flinches, golden eyes sore.

“If I – if I upheld the laws, she wouldn’t be gone in the first place. It is my fault.”

His voice is so splintered, I can feel the pain in it as clearly as if it were my own. He cares about her. He cares about her very, very much, and I am both saddened and joyful of it.

“Certainly not, sotho. It is the fault of whoever took her. Do not blame yourself. Down the path of self-hate lies untruth,” I say the last part in Rahm, a quote from the Ki’eth.

Taj inhales, then exhales it, and tries a weak smile. “Yes. You’re right. I will try to keep that in mind more often. Thank you.”

I watch him go into the room with renewed, straighter posture. It’s not much, and it may not last, but for a second he looks less troubled, and that is all I could have hoped for.

As I walk to my room, I observe the lawn of the school. The protestors are by the hundreds, now, and the media cameras constantly flash as they take pictures and video. Two explosions, one murder, and a missing persons case – it took far more than it should have to close the school. But the human government, ever stubborn and slow to catch on, finally relented and ordered the complete evacuation the day after Victoria disappeared.

Green Hills High School is finished.

The day after Victoria disappeared, her father came to the campus. Her father begged the principal to find her. He broke into tears and had to be helped to his car by the CIA.

The security presence is dwindling, but very slowly. The mharata are returning to the reservation one by one, and the police leave only the bare minimum of patrolling squadrons. There are rumors the killer got Victoria, and they body just hasn’t been found yet. And there are stranger rumors still – a Gutter swore she saw Osha on campus the day Victoria vanished.

But that is impossible. Osha, unlike Jerai or Kyz, rarely leaves the reservation. He’s done it once – and that was to attend a banquet thrown by the United States President. But that was it. In my memory, he has not left since, preferring the company of his command office in the Executioner tower.

I don’t know what to believe, anymore. But something deep within me is unsettled. Some inexorable feeling of danger creeps through my body with greater weight as each day passes.

Something is about to happen. I do not know what, but it is something important, dark, and unstoppable.

So I pray to Asara from the Ki’eth, my hand clasped over my heart and my eyes fixated on the stars just beginning to peak through the twilight. My Rahm words filter through the empty hall, echoing eerily

“In this moment I am small, and alone, and afraid, Great Mother. In this moment I am far from you, and from everything I know. Find me in the darkness, Great Mother, and lead me into the light, so that I may dance free of my chains, and dance free in your honor.”

15. The World

Alisa bounces in the passenger seat of the truck, blonde ponytail coming undone as she points eagerly out the window.

“Look! That’s the house we wanted at first, but they sold it. That’s the pool, it belongs to the community, so we can go whenever. There’s a convenience store just by it, and if you - Vic! Are you listening to me?”

I look away from the leafy trees rushing past and smile.

“Yeah, all ears.”

“Okay, so the convenience store is sort of small, but right by it is the laundromat -”

Her words fade into the background, the happy tone enough for me. I lean my forehead against the car window. Dad thrums the steering wheel with his fingers. The bushes are heavy with buds ready to explode in colorful flowers of summer, and the trees are green with new, sweet leaves. The houses are white-washed, red tile and blue tile and iron wrought fences. Minivans in the driveways and swings in the trees. Nothing very fancy, but it’s a good family neighborhood. No smog, no ambulances wailing, just sunlight and fresh grass.

Dad pulls over in front of a blue house with white trim. There are steps, a wind chime near the door. The cherry tree in front has a tire swing. We get out to appreciate it, the air clean and warm. Alisa breathes deep and smiles, dragging me by the hand to the tire swing. Dad waits on the curb for the moving truck.

“Dad! Watch!” Alisa shouts. I let the tight-wound swing go. Alisa spins in a blur, ponytail flying. She laughs and gets to her feet when it ends, wobbling.

“That thing is ancient. Be careful,” He sighs.

“Tell it to Vic, she’s the one twisting it!”

“You asked for it, kiddo.” I smirk.

“Yeah? You get in it then. I’ll push.”

I lean back, my feet straight out. The world is mixed by blades of wind, the colors indiscriminate greens. The sky stays the same. The high whistling of the wind sounds familiar - like my screams for help ringing through empty forest air. I dig my heels in and stop the swing. Alisa pats my back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Here, swing’s yours. I’m going to check out the backyard.”

“Okay,” She singsongs softly.

The picket fence keeps in the young grass. Dandelions and wildflowers poke from the warming earth. The patio is worn, but with a fresh coat of paint it’ll be pretty again. I hear the moving truck backing up the driveway. The sound of heavy boxes dropping echoes in the empty house. Alisa opens the patio door and waves. I wave.

“Vic! Come out here for a sec,” Dad calls.

“Coming!” I jog to the front yard. Dad puts his hand on my shoulder and points to the curb in the distance.

“Is that someone you know? They asked for you. I told him you were in the back, but he said not to get you -”

A dark figure stands by the stop sign at the end of the road. What’s left of my heart gives a tortuous flutter. There’s no way he could be here.

“Yeah, I know him. Thanks Dad.”

“When you’re done talking, come in and unpack, alright?”

I can’t hear him, anymore. The dark figure takes all my energy, all my vision and blood and breath. The sidewalk between me and the figure feels so long. If I’ve fallen asleep in the car, it’s okay. I’ll take this dream and make it last. There’s distance between us, but as I get closer his shape gets sharper. As I get closer it gets easier.

“Shadus?”

Crimson irises. Dark hair that’s longer and more mussed than ever. A smile blooms on that familiar, angular face. I want to make words, but they don’t come. My eyes prickle, burn, a hundred things I want to say clambering for first place, words upon words upon words. Words that ask him where he’s been. Words that tell him how much it hurt. He leans down and our foreheads touch, and his skin is hot and his hair is soft and blood sings in my veins.

Maybe we don’t need words.

And then he changes. His form grows curvier, his hair grows longer, his eyes turning to amethysts. In horror, I realize it’s the dark-haired woman. I scramble away, and she throws her head back and laughs that maniacal laughs.

I jolt awake.

Rude white light wrenches me into reality and I come crashing back into my body. The smell of metal and something sweet and strong, like incense, burns at my nose. I’m sore all over, like I got hit by a truck. I sit up, looking around the huge, perfectly white room. The walls and ceilings seem to be one, but I can see a dark door at the end, far away. Strange orbs of light levitate off the ground and shed luminance about. I look down – I’m dressed in a white robe, the kind I’d seen Shadus and the others wear for patra.

What the hell happened to me? Why am I –

It all comes rushing back at once. Osha. Zol. The mharata and Yulan and Raine, Taj’s determined face. And Shadus’ kind one that told me to be happy.

“Victoria.”

I whirl around. The voice has a thick accent, like its European. It belongs to a male, his head shaved and his height intimidating. He’s lean, but his muscles tell of years of hard work. His dark brows are thin, and his eyes even thinner. But even from here I can see his irises are a pale pink.

Mharata.

“Victoria,” He repeats, and bows. He wears a similar robe to mine, but his is gray.

“Where am I?” I scramble backwards. “Who are you?”

The mharata straightens, expression blank. “You are in the Hall of Ascendance, on the Gutter reservation in Colorado. I am Loeth, maester of the mharata and guider of your path.”

Everything in me sinks. My EVE organ splinters with cold pain. Loeth bows again, deeper.

“Welcome, zol. We have waited long for your return.”

Acknowledgments

~To the reader; there is no greater joy for me than knowing you’ve read to the end. I hope you’ll keep reading until the end of time.

~To all the LBs  – this book has been seen by you in its various incarnations, but only now is it a real book. Time flies! Thank you so much for your all the love and support.

~To Katie Ashley, Emily Snow, Michelle Valentine, and all the other wonderful authors-friends I’ve made in the romance indie community along the way – thank you. You have been nothing but kind and loving, and I can only hope to show you the same care and support.

~To the community, reviewers, book bloggers, goodreads librarians – There is a special magic you bring to an author’s life, and I’m so grateful for it. There is nothing I love more than interacting with you, hearing your stories, and talking about the books we love together. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you so, so much.

About the Author

Sara Wolf is the author of the LOVELY VICIOUS series and FEAR ME NOT, the first book in The EVE Chronicles, a YA/Sci-Fi series. She’s currently working on the final book in the LOVELY VICIOUS series. She’s addicted to the Vampire Diaries, The Walking Dead, True Detective, pink Starbursts, pizza, and damaged heroes. For additional books, news, teasers, and giveaways, visit her at sarawolfbooks.blogspot.com or facebook.com/sara.wolf.3304</body>