member of congress.
“More exciting than the rebellion,” I say, snapping out of my thoughts.
“Well, my grandma made me peanut butter cookies, knowing damn well I’m allergic to peanuts, so unless your story has a near death experience, I think I’ve got you beat.”
A laugh bubbles inside of me, the idea that his family knows so little about him is almost funny. Then I pause, wondering if I should tell him.
“A pike touched me today.”
He immediately sits up in my bed, looking down at me, shadows falling across his face. “Those repulsive freaks touched you?” There’s anger in his voice, and I have to shush him because I’m worried my mother will hear us. “Are you okay? I told you, you should stop going there.” He lifts my chin as if to make sure my neck is intact.
“Ayden, I’m fine.” I turn my head out of his hand. “It wasn’t like that. It was a completely contained situation,” I lie. “I was evaluating Forty-four with my mother, and I think he might have,” I pause trying to find another word for compel. “I think he tried to speak, and then he touched my hand … twice.”
Ayden’s chestnut eyes are the biggest I’ve ever seen them, and darkness settles into them. He’s furious, and I now know I shouldn’t have said anything at all. He folds his arms over his knees and stares at the wall across from us in the tiny room. He doesn’t speak for a minute. Anger rolls off of him in waves, and I sit up next to him, wondering if he even heard me.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
“Twice? How did he touch you twice?” His voice is quieter now like he’s thinking out loud. “Where were the guards? Security couldn’t prevent one of those freaks from touching you not once but twice? How did he speak? I thought they were collared or something. Did he ask you to do something for him?” he asks in a ramble, touching the side of my face again, but softly this time. “Tell me if he tried to get you to donate blood because trust me, it’s a trap.”
I roll my eyes at his ability to find humor even when he’s angry. He’s still holding my face in his hand, and I let him. It reminds me of when he kissed me last summer, right before we got the rejection letter on our unity request. It was a soft kiss, the only kiss I’ve ever had.
He looks at my lips, possibly thinking about the very same memory. His brows pinch together as he releases a long breath, and a sad look crosses his face. He drops his hand and lies back down.
“He didn’t hurt you, though, right?” he asks in a whisper.
The bed dips slightly as I lie down next to him and rest my head on his arm once more. He reflexively brings it around my shoulder.
It’s warm and it’s calm. Everything about us is a little slice of peace.
“No, not at all.”
The quiet seeps into the room. Shadows linger heavily against the walls as the night passes slowly and my mind replays the day over and over. Ayden’s even breaths are the only noise that drifts through the room as I recall the strange tingling feeling the pike gave me. My body tries to imitate what it had felt like but I’m not able to.
It was probably just nerves. It was probably nothing.
Then why am I still thinking about it?
I wake the next morning alone, like always. Warm morning air sneaks in to heat my skin. Nothing more than twisted sheets accompany me in my bed. Not completely alone, Ripper reminds me, whimpering by the door. I stumble to my closet and pull out black jeans and a black top, identical to the clothes I wore yesterday. The insulated coolant that lines our clothes helps a little in the ever-rising heat.
Our community has adjusted to the weather over the centuries. Our skin is tan and hair is dark. Most have dark eyes to match. Ayden is a perfect example of survival of the fittest. While my mother has blonde hair, her skin is still tan. I inherited her eyes, and I notice strangers stare at my light eyes. An abnormality. Some find beauty in my eyes, and some find an ugliness that sets me apart from others.
It isn’t good to be different.
Not even slightly.
Ripper and I wander outside into the dry air, and the sun beats harshly down