Alienated

Chapter Nineteen

“Culturally speaking, what’s the biggest difference between life on Earth and yours back home?” Mr. Manuel absently dealt study packets to the class, busywork to keep them occupied while he focused on his only love these days: Aelyx.

“I could list our similarities faster than our differences, since we have almost nothing in common.” Aelyx leaned for­ward in his seat and rested his forearms on his knees.

Cara wanted to smack him. She was tired of being ignored.

“Basically,” Aelyx continued, “our only goal from the moment we’re born until the moment we die is to serve L’eihr. We’re raised, educated, and trained together for no other purpose. Here on Earth, your only purpose is to please yourselves.”

“Nice.” She lightly kicked his boot, and it felt surprisingly good. She should’ve done it harder. “I’ll remember that the next time I’m tempted to blow off my plans because you need a ride to the nature preserve.”

Aelyx flinched and got that guilty look on his face—the same one she’d seen every day since he’d given her the cold shoulder.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I shouldn’t generalize.”

Aelyx admitting he was wrong? She wished she knew what was going on inside that supposedly evolved head of his.

“You mentioned harsh punishments and executions,” Mr. Manuel said. “But if your generation’s so flawless—”

Cara muttered, “Aelyx likes to think he’s flawless.”

“—why’s it necessary?”

Aelyx tightened his jaw and shot her a look that said his patience was waning. Good. It was about time.

“There hasn’t been an execution on L’eihr in nearly two hundred years,” he told Mr. Manuel. “But offenses punish­able by death include unauthorized breeding, assault, theft, insubordination—basically any crime that goes against The Way.”

“So,” Mr. Manuel said, “if The Way makes up your cen­tral government, who carries out the laws in each district?”

“A military force similar to yours.”

“What about corruption?” Mr. Manuel asked. “Who keeps them honest and accountable?”

“Remember,” Aelyx said, “it’s impossible to lie during Silent Speech.”

He made it sound so perfect, like allowing the govern­ment inside your head was a good thing. Cara couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “What about the right to privacy?”

“What about it?”

“Urn, you don’t have any.”

“If you’re looking for Utopia, Cah-ra,” he said, matching her snarky tone, “you won’t find it. Not here, and not on L’eihr. Sacrifices are made for the greater good.”

“Well,” she argued, “how can you justify killing your own people, especially since you’re so evolved? Most advanced nations on Earth abandoned capital punishment years ago.”

Aelyx shrugged one shoulder. “Execution’s a logical solu­tion as well as a punishment. If an individual can’t live within the parameters of society, it’s best to remove him or her from it. I’d prefer a quick death to imprisonment or exile. I find your system of incarceration cruel.”

She had a hard time buying that, especially considering he didn’t believe in the afterlife. “What about The Way?” she asked. “Who chooses them?”

“After our assessments,” he said, “the most gifted children are selected for The Way, but they don’t serve until after their Sh’ovah Day. There are always ten members, and each one continues to serve until a more talented citizen’s found to replace him.” He nodded at Cara and added, “Or her.”

She shook her head. What a horrible way to live. “Isn’t there anything democratic about life on L’eihr?”

“No.” He said it unapologetically, as if equally unim­pressed with her government as she was with his.

“And you’re really okay with that?”

“Of course.”

He had to be lying. “I can’t believe it doesn’t bother you.”

“What doesn’t bother me? The corruption within your system of government?” He tapped his textbook as if the proof lay within its pages. “The inefficiency? The uninformed masses choosing whichever candidate made the most outland­ish promises?”

“The lack of freedom, wiseass.”

“Ah, freedom.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, so cocky and sure of himself. “It’s overrated.”

“How would you know?” she asked. “You’ve never tasted it.”

“I’ve sampled enough. The simple truth is most people can’t manage total freedom. They make poor use of it.”

“There’s no such thing as poor use—that’s the whole point. Any use is good use.”

A dry, humorless laugh escaped his lips. “Oh? To bleach insults into your lawn and leave threats in your locker?”

“We’re not free to break the law.”

“Not technically, but your lax consequences aren’t much of a deterrent.”

“Oh, please.” She flapped a hand. “Those hard-ass punish­ments didn’t keep you from rebelling. You just got whipped for it.”

“Which kept me from rebelling further.”

She rolled her eyes. What about his late-night trips into the woods? Innocent people didn’t sneak around under the cover of darkness. He’d been up to something since he came to Earth—she knew it.

“Anyway,” he added, “it’s arrogant to assume the demo­cratic method is best because it’s all you know.”

“Aelyx makes a good point,” Mr. Manuel said. “There are countless systems of government in existence, and none of them is flawless.” He pushed his reading glasses atop his head and settled in a vacant desk near his star pupil. “L’eihr reminds me of one of our ancient societies. They were called the Sp—”

“Yes, the Spartans,” Aelyx finished. “I knew you’d make that comparison. But you’re forgetting Sparta was a brutal warrior nation—quite savage, actually. Slavery, infanticide, ritual murder. L’eihrs aren’t aggressive.”

“Right,” Cara said. “L’eihrs just strip your basic human rights instead.”

Aelyx’s voice darkened. “They’re called human rights for a reason. We’re not human. Once again, you’re being arr—”

“Time out,” Mr. Manuel declared, using his hands like a referee to form a T. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

She and Aelyx glared at each other.

“I’ve wanted to hear more about space travel,” Mr. Manuel said. “What fuels your ships?”

Cara knew the answer—an element called XE-2—and she had no interest in the new topic and even less interest in her study packet. She needed to get away from Aelyx and calm down before she smacked the fash out of him.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

Mr. Manuel nodded. “Take the pass.”

The bathroom pass, a rhinestone-bedazzled toilet seat designed to embarrass students and thus decrease requests to leave, hung on a nail beside the door. When she moved from her seat, Aelyx caught her wrist and released it just as quickly.

“What about Officer Borsch?” he asked. “He should walk with you.”

Instead of snapping, Why do you care? she scraped together a few crumbs of maturity and said, “I’m going to the bathroom, not to Beirut. What horrible fate do you think’s waiting for me in there? Death by toilet swirly?”

“Fine.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming after you.”

“Suit yourself.” She grabbed the jeweled bathroom pass, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.

As she ambled down the vacant corridor, she wondered for the hundredth time what Aelyx’s problem was. She knew he’d wanted to be with her that day in his room—the physi­cal evidence was unmistakable. He’d even snagged her in the hallway for another covert kiss before dinner that night. But the next morning—

Movement in her peripheral vision stopped Cara mid-stride, and she backed up, peering down the side hallway that led to her locker. A girl was standing on tiptoe, shoving a folded note through the door vents.

A girl? She’d assumed Marcus was behind the threats.

Cara pivoted on her heel and charged toward her locker, tightening her grip on the toilet seat in case she needed to use it as a weapon. Heat rose into her face and her pulse rushed with each step, but as Cara approached her locker, she recog­nized the girl’s blond curls.

“Brandi?” She was behind the threats? They hadn’t been friends in a long time, but Cara thought she knew Brandi better than that. Maybe Marcus had put her up to it.

At the sound of her name, Brandi’s head whipped around, gold ringlets slapping her cheeks. Her already wide doe eyes bulged in shock as she flinched back and then lurched forward again, scrambling to remove the folded paper still wedged in the locker vent.

Trying to destroy the evidence? Oh, hell no!

Gripping the toilet seat in both hands, Cara sprinted toward Brandi and used it like a battering ram to knock her aside. Brandi stumbled to the ground, landing right on her moneymaker, but she didn’t stay down long enough for Cara to tug the note free. Scrambling to her feet, Brandi charged Cara, crashing into her shoulder, and a full-on shoving match ensued, complete with hair pulling, swearing, scratching, and slapping. Finally, Cara threw the bejeweled hall pass at Brandi, distracting her long enough to push her backward. She faced her locker and tried to push the note all the way inside.

It didn’t work. Brandi kicked the backs of Cara’s knees, causing her to collapse to the floor while Brandi grabbed the note and shoved it down the front of her skintight jeans.

Ew. No way Cara wanted it now. She’d let Blake retrieve the evidence.

Panting, Brandi pushed a snarled lock of hair away from her face. “That’s not for you!”

Cara pushed to her knees and tried to catch her breath. “Then why’d you stick it in my locker?”

“For Aelyx.”

“Threatening him is just as bad!”

Brandi straightened, her brows disappearing into her bangs. “What do you mean, threatening him?”

“Oh, come off it. I know you wrote the other notes, Humanist.”

“What other notes?”

“You know, traitor bitch, I’m watching you.” Cara snatched the toilet seat, now missing half its plastic gems, off the ground. “Gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I swear this is the only one,” Brandi insisted, pointing to her crotch. “But I won’t write any more.” She backed away defensively and added, “I just did it because he won’t answer my texts.”

“Wait.” Cara wasn’t following. “What’s in that note?”

“I . . . um . . .” Brandi retreated a step and swallowed hard. “Asked if he wanted to hook up sometime.”

“That’s it?”

Brandi nodded.

“Then why’d you jump me?” Using the battered lid, Cara pointed to the sparkly battlefield where fake rhinestones lit­tered the hall.

Brandi glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Because you don’t know what Marcus would do to me if he found out. And my mom doesn’t trust Aelyx. She’d kill me if she knew.” She begged with her eyes and said, “Look, Cara. I know we’re not close anymore, but please don’t tell anyone.”

Cara almost felt sorry for Brandi. It must suck to crave popularity so badly that you’d be willing to hang onto a controlling boyfriend just to win a cheap tiara and an extra mention in the yearbook.

“Please,” Brandi said. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t tell.”

“Okay.” Cara couldn’t say no. It was all too pathetic. “I won’t.

Brandi pressed a hand over her heart and exhaled in relief. “Thank you. And I swear I won’t do it again. I’m really sorry—I know you’re into Aelyx, too. That’s probably why he won’t text me back. He wants to be with you, not me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Cara lied. “But even if we weren’t . . . together . . . you can’t get with him. L’eihrs are acidic to humans, remember?”

“Wait. So you two literally can’t do it?” She bit her bot­tom lip. “Not even with protection?”

“Nope. We just cuddle a lot.”

“How’re you gonna handle it when you go to L’eihr and see him with another girl? I mean, if you can’t do it, you can’t stay together. Eventually he’ll end up with one of his own kind.”

Like Syrine, who sees into his soul. “It’s no big deal. We’re not serious.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about the, uh, note.” Brandi smoothed her hair and pointed over her shoulder. “I gotta get back to class.”

While Brandi sashayed down the hall, Cara considered what she’d said. Aelyx would end up with one of his own kind—if not Syrine, then some other pretty L’eihr who could gaze into his eyes to talk. It only made sense. That shouldn’t bother Cara, but she couldn’t deny it did. A frozen bowl­ing ball settled in her stomach when she imagined spending a semester on L’eihr as Aelyx’s third wheel—tagging alongside whichever female his leaders picked for him.

She slumped against her locker, toilet seat in hand, hair in knots, and let herself brood a few more seconds before return­ing to class.

After World Studies, she and Aelyx stood in front of her locker again, popping open its metal door as Officer Blake looked on.

“What’s this?” Aelyx moved to cup her face but seemed to change his mind and instead pointed to the tender scrape Brandi had left on her cheek.

“Nothing. Just scratched myself.”

He pursed his lips dubiously, but then his gaze darted to the floor, where a sheet of paper had fallen facedown at their feet.

“Don’t touch it.” Blake wedged between them, producing a gallon-size Ziploc baggie and a pair of tweezers. Once he’d bagged the evidence, he held it between them all to study its message. With a heavy hand that had pressed the ink nearly through to the other side, it warned: ACCIDENTS HAPPEN, ESPECIALLY ON THE STAIRS. STEP ON A CRACK, BREAK YOUR TRAITOR BACK. —HUMANIST

“That wasn’t here thirty minutes ago.” Something about the way the writer had strained his pen with such force against the paper creeped her out. “I checked my locker when I went to the bathroom.”

Her gut clenched knowing someone had just been there. What if the person had watched the whole exchange with Brandi, waiting for the perfect time to deliver the note? If she’d lingered any longer in the hall after Brandi left, would he have used the opportunity to take his threat to the next level?

“Isn’t your next class upstairs?” Blake must’ve sensed her anxiety, because with a smile and a gentle nudge of his elbow, he teased, “Then let’s make sure we don’t slip on any banana peels on the way.”

The breath she’d been holding whooshed out in a laugh, and for the first time, she felt grateful for her armed escort. Knowing he’d be right behind her in the dark, narrow stair­well was the only thing keeping her heart from pounding out of her chest. She grabbed her books, and together, the three of them inched through the crowded hall, which thickened into a full-on traffic jam as they approached the door to the stairs.

A buzz charged the crowd, and the students in front of her stood on their toes, peering over the heads of those block­ing the way as if a fight had broken out. Which wouldn’t surprise her.

“Just great.” Blake pushed his way through, disappearing into the sea of bodies. A couple of minutes later, he shouted, “Out of the way! Make a hole!”

There was a frantic edge to his voice she’d never heard before. The students who hadn’t already detoured to the other set of stairs inched backward, and Cara peered around shoul­ders, catching a glimpse of Blake as he kicked open the heavy door. He carried a girl in his arms and rushed her toward the office.

Just before he turned the corner, Cara recognized the girl’s orange skin and a glint of metal from the button affixed to her sweater. Though she wasn’t close enough to read the lettering, Cara knew the button said L’EIHR LOVER.

Cara rested her chin in her palm and stared blankly across the cafeteria. Blake had promised to call when he knew some­thing about Ashley’s condition, but for the past two hours, her cell phone had remained silent.

Shouts of Spanish profanity drew Cara’s attention to Eric’s table, where Tori shook her finger in front of his face, going off on him for something or other. But Cara was too worried for Ashley to take pleasure in Tori’s and Eric’s misery.

“Eat something.” Aelyx reached across the table and pushed her turkey sandwich until the crust brushed her shirt. “She’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” Cara stuffed a bite into her mouth but tasted nothing.

“I noticed she was conscious. In a lot of pain, but alert. That’s a good sign.”

Cara tried to say whatever, but it came out muffled by sand­wich. When her cell phone vibrated, she fumbled to swipe the screen before it went to voice mail.

“Heh-wo,” she said around a bite of turkey.

“Just heard from Ashley’s mom. Broken arm, sprained shoulder, and two cracked ribs. She won’t be back at school for a while, but she’s okay.”

Cara swallowed and took a quick chug of water. “Did she say what happened?”

“Someone pushed her from the top of the stairs, but she didn’t see who.” Then Blake hardened his voice. “We checked the security cameras, both in the stairwell and near your locker.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Someone managed to turn off the system at just the right time. No more unaccompanied trips to the bath­room for you. Like it or not, I’m your new shadow.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” She ended the call and released a sigh. Ashley would be okay. And no Patriot—no matter how brassy his balls—would come after her or Aelyx with a cop by their side.