Hannah's Hero - Ruby Dixon Page 0,10
just laugh at me. I stare at Devi, who’s lost in her own little world. “I think I’ll go see if I can get Devi to stop.”
“Someone should,” Flor calls after me as I move forward. “You have fun.”
I walk down the beach, toward the waves where Devi crouches, knife in hand. I’m not really paying attention to her. I’m too fixed on my own sadness. To think I was handed the world only to have it snatched away again. It hurts so badly to think about everything I’ve lost. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t be here. The aliens wanted slaves. Of course they grabbed Samantha, who’s gorgeous. Of course they picked pretty, delicate Flordeliza and willowy Devi. Or Lauren, or Callie, or Marisol. They’re all so pretty and appealing.
I’m just Hannah, and apparently I annoy everyone with my obsessive need to control a situation I have absolutely no control over.
“Wait!” Devi yelps, catching my attention. She raises a hand in the air, palm in my direction. “Stop right there! You’re going to step on it.”
I look down at my feet. “Step on what?” It looks like scattered bits of creature all over the sand. It’s…disgusting. She’s spread the organs out in neat little rows and pulled the spidery legs off and done the same. The poor husk of the thing looks like it’s been ravaged and torn to pieces. “This mess?”
Devi gets to her feet, an exasperated look on her face. “I’m studying it, Hannah. You’re going to step on my specimens.” And she picks up the limp scorpion thing in her hand and moves to my side, gently pushing me out of the way. “You’re stepping on the stomach gland. Or at least I think it’s the stomach gland. I’ll need to find one with food in it to be able to tell for sure.”
I stare at her in horror, lifting my foot. “Where…”
She points next to her side. “Come stand here so you don’t mess anything up.”
I do as she says, but I can’t help but point out, “Mess anything up? Devi, you’re carving up dead things on the beach. The others are worried about you.”
Devi gives me a curious look. “Worried about me?”
“Psychotic breakdown?”
She blinks, digesting that, and then shakes the dead thing in her hand at me. “This is perfect, though! The people here use everything—all the meat, the organs, the bones, the skin—so I can’t exactly take pieces of what we’re using and study it. But with the dead things on the beach, we’re not going to eat them, so I’m free to do as I like!” The words rush out of her and she shakes the scorpion thing at me again. “Do you know this thing has a spine? Isn’t that exciting?”
“Yippee?”
A frustrated sound rises out of her throat. “Hannah, crustaceans back home don’t have spines. They’re arthropods.” When I continue to stare at her blankly, she purses her lips and then continues. “I thought these were crustaceans because they have hard shells, you know? And claws. But then I found the spine and it got me excited, because if they have spines, they’re not arthropods at all. I’m still thinking in terms of earth species.” Her eyes glitter with enthusiasm and she gestures at the mess of critter parts on the beach. “So I’m trying to see what the differences are, and did you know that these are entirely different species? There are at least three types of beach scorpions, all with very different characteristics.” She picks up the claw of the one in her hand and opens it. “Look at the hinge here. Look at the serration on the edge of the claw. That’s unique to this particular subset. I’ve found at least two others that don’t have the same features, so I’m trying to find more examples to see if this is just an anomaly or if we really do have different species living alongside each other in this ecosystem…” Her excitement dies when I remain silent and eventually she drops her hand, the beach scorpion drooping at her side. “I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say that.” I put my hands in the air. “I mean, some people might be saying it, but not me. Remember, I’m the one that counts everything.” I’d never call another person crazy for keeping themselves from snapping. “I get being bored, but maybe this isn’t the way to do it?”
“Phyology,” Devi says, toying with the pincher of her dead scorpion.
“Huh?”
“I was working on my doctorate.