She’s called me by name! A bubble of happiness rises in me as I plop the last beetle into my small collection jar and secure that to my hip pouch. They’ll ride with me tonight. Perhaps I can slip out to the field and return them after dinner. Downstairs, on second tier hallway I peer into the room Thorn shares with Radius. The beds are made, school notes are in a neat pile on the desks and burn suits are hung on pegs. No Thorn though. And Radius must already be downstairs.
Downstairs, Thorn’s not in the parlor or the dining room. The hair on my neck stands up when I think of him lost and I’m just about to run out into the fields when he slips through the kitchen door and peels off his burn suit. He glances over at me and away. His liquid brown eyes, usually full of silent messages, are mysteriously veiled.
Dinner is quiet. Everyone seems intent on eating, as if they’re still keeping secret about their project—if they even have one yet. As soon as dinner’s over, Blane invites us down to play soccer, and when I try to bow out, he insists.
“Come on, show us what you can do, fighter,” he says with the hint of a smile. I’m pulled in by his hint of warmth against my own will.
Blane assigns Armonk to Jan and Vesper’s team, and Bea, Radius plus me to his team. I should be flattered, but every time I look at Armonk’s swelled up face with its cut, I’m reminded that Blane is one mean guy no matter how much he suffered, no matter if he’s given me one lopsided grin. Armonk doesn’t protest the team choice though. He seems content for the moment anyway, that his message for Blane to show respect hit the mark. Blane gives Armonk his space now, and he hasn’t gotten physical with me again.
Thorn refuses to play. He sits on the sidelines, nibbling his fingernails and pocketing the half-moon shards. He’s compulsive in a few ways, but I’ve not yet seen this one. It worries me. If only there were someone closer to his age to play with. Not that he had many friends back at home. How does a kid play with someone who won’t talk?
Radius scores our first goal. I manage to kick the ball once to him for his second score. “Nice assist,” Bea admits.
I feel badly for Armonk, limping around on that too-short leg, and I hope, for his sake that Dr. Varik makes an appearance in Skull’s Wrath soon. But Armonk is adept at kicking with his other leg. He also performs a spectacular head slam, which lands the ball straight into the goal. According to Blane, head-butts are an official part of soccer. Sure is a strange rule, and I worry when I see that Armonk’s cut is reopened from the indirect impact though it does get him a begrudging compliment from Vesper.
Jan, on the other team is the best player, hands down. He swivels past us like an oiled snake to score goal after goal. Jan’s team ends up with a score of thirty, to our dismal three.
“You didn’t bring much to the equation,” Blane mutters as we trudge upstairs. I resent how he’s making me feel like I’m the one who’s disappointed him, and I rethink my decision to give them all a second chance. Sometimes trauma just makes you hardcore mean.
As I’m in the bathroom that night getting ready for bed, the manic Stream blasts in my head, scaring me so badly I squeeze toothpaste all over the sink.
Huzzah, Fireseeders! George Axiom here. We in Vegas-by-the-Sea are putting finishing touches on our new convention center and Axiom Skye Ryde so your contest finalists will be feted in complete luxury. So, craft those projects with special care.
Brought to you by NanoPearl, a proud sponsor of the Axiom Contest,
Where nanogear is as priceless as rare Orient pearl.
Who knows what the heck they’re talking about in these crazy blasts and ads? All I know is that I thought I’d love to be connected but all I feel is startled.
Later, I toss in bed, trying to avoid taking the Oblivion powder. I have half of what I came here with and should save it for emergencies. I could try to make Oblivion from the Spatters, but who knows what I’d end up with. The moon glows a bloody red as my mind reeks with rancid images of Stiles’ hairy face and luring words. “Come here, my child,” he coaxed the time he cut my fingers. “It won’t hurt, not that much.” I throw off my covers. I’m hot, claustrophobic.
The sound of Bea’s voice startles me. I thought that her soft, steady breathing signaled she was asleep. I’ll have to take that into account in my nighttime forays. “Do you have insomnia?” she asks.
“Nightmares,” I tell her, swinging my feet over the bedside.
“About what? Your cult?”
I’m tired of hearing that word, but this is the first time she’s ever cared to ask me anything. “Someone in it,” I say.
“That’s too bad,” she says. “Did you find anything today?”
I’m not sure I should reveal my incredible finds. This is a competition, after all. I don’t trust these people. Why should I? Though Bea seems friendlier now. She called me Ruby earlier. I won’t tell her about the lizards, it’s too big a find. “One thing, want to see?”
“Okay.” She pads over to my side of the room in a long sheer nightgown, her blond hair flowing in waves. I unbind the collection box from my suit belt, open the top just enough for her to peek in. “Whoa, I’ve never seen those guys! Such sculptural antennae.” She’s referring to the Antlered Purples.