‘Eight.’
‘It was rhetorical, but . . . thank you. This is . . . the first time . . . this has happened. It’s also . . . the first time . . . somebody . . . surprised you . . . while dancing. So, we know . . . to avoid this . . . next time.’
One of the modders approached them with a cup of water. ‘Here ya go,’ he said, handing it to Sidra.
‘You’re very kind,’ Sidra said, accepting it. She took a sip, for show. Water did nothing for her, but she was grateful for the gesture.
‘Take it easy,’ the Human man said. ‘We’ve all been there.’ He gave a warm, slightly inebriated smile, then returned to his friends.
Sidra stared into the cup, watching the ripples bounce off each other. ‘I’m sorry for screwing things up for you,’ she said, remembering Tak’s happy face when the other Aeluon started dancing with him.
Tak looked confused, then laughed. ‘Ah, don’t worry . . . about it. That . . . kind of thing . . . will come around . . . again.’ He patted her hand. ‘Let’s get you . . . mellowed out, then I’ll . . . take you home.’
She started to object, started to tell him to stay, to have fun, to go get laid – but she didn’t. She didn’t want to head home alone. She couldn’t be alone. There was no telling when there’d be another system alert, another well-meaning stranger sending her into a panic. Tak would hand her off to Pepper and Blue, who would hand her off to Tak again the next time she wanted to go out. Like a child. They didn’t see her that way, she knew, but it didn’t matter how nice they wanted to be to her. Being nice didn’t change the way things were.
JANE, AGE 14
I could die today.
That was the first thing that shot through her head that morning, same as it had every morning since she dragged herself back to the shuttle two weeks before. The words showed up the second she was awake enough to start thinking, and they stuck with her all day, like a heartbeat, like a bug crawling on her ear, until she fell back into bed at night, relieved that she’d been wrong. Okay, she’d think. Today wasn’t it. Then she’d sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep meant not thinking. But then Owl would bring the lights up, and the whole thing started over again.
I could die today.
She hadn’t left the shuttle since she’d got back. Her leg was still weak and painful, but it was healing, and the splint she’d thrown together allowed her to hobble around. She’d fixed the weapon, too, and she had the means to build a new wagon. She could go out, if she stayed close to home. Except . . . she couldn’t. She couldn’t go out. She couldn’t do anything.
Owl hadn’t said anything about Jane staying home, which was weird. Usually Owl nagged her about the chores she hadn’t done or stuff that needed fixing, but not now. Jane was glad of that, though she hadn’t said so.
She tugged her worn blanket around her shoulders and headed for the kitchen. She opened the stasie and stared at the shrinking stacks of dog meat and mushrooms. She needed to go out. She needed to get more food. But she couldn’t do that, either.
Her stomach churned. She was hungry, but everything in the stasie looked like too much work. She hadn’t done any dishes, either, which she’d have to do before cooking. That would take for ever, and she was hungry now. She grabbed a handful of raw mushrooms and shoved them in her mouth. They were gross that way. She didn’t really care.
‘Are you going out today?’ Owl asked.
Jane pulled the blanket closer and chewed, avoiding eye contact. ‘I dunno,’ she said, though she knew the answer wouldn’t be yes. She thought about going back to bed, but it’d been a while since she’d done laundry, and the sheets were grossing her out. Plus, she knew what would happen if she went back there. She’d just stare at the ceiling, brain all fuzzy and stupid, thinking the same thing over and over. I could die today. She’d be stuck in that thought, and everything would get hot and fuzzy and she couldn’t breathe right, and Owl would try to help but nothing would make it better, and then Jane would just feel even worse for making such a fuss, and – yeah, no. She needed something else to fill up her brain.
She lay down on the couch. The sim cap lay on the floor nearby.
‘What do you want to play?’ Owl asked.
Jane was officially sick of Scorch Squad, and all the other story sims Owl had sounded too loud and fast. Jane felt tired just thinking about them. She didn’t want danger and explosions. She wanted quiet. She wanted her head to shut up. She wanted a hug.
‘Do you want me to pick something for you?’ said Owl.
‘No,’ Jane said. She closed her eyes. ‘It’s . . . it’s stupid.’
‘What is?’
Jane sucked her lips, embarrassed. ‘Can I play Big Bug Crew?’
She couldn’t see Owl’s face, but she could hear the smile. ‘You got it.’