CHAPTER TEN
Castor
THIRTY-SIX DAYS LEFT
Almost twenty-four hours ago, I told fifty-eight million people I had helical disease and no Pain Carrier match.
My phone blew up with notifications, missed calls and unread messages, constantly buzzing.
Jaiden and Pua both broke the record for most dramatic reactions, gutted I hadn’t told them first while, at the same time, playfully plotting to steal my position in the AB Cup.
Walking into the kitchen, I scrolled through their memes and opened my conversation with Nova.
There was only one person I wanted to hear from, and she’d been silent since our last exchange.
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
That was brave of you to share with the world
Hot-Pink Seven-Speed
We have a lot to talk about, but I need to be offline for a few days to handle family things. Talk soon.
Castor
Thanks. I know I should’ve mentioned I had helical disease, but I wasn’t sure what you’d say.
And I didn’t want to shatter the high of us just … enjoying each other.
Castor
Is everything OK?
I had waited after that last text, not wanting to be the guy who sent fifteen unanswered messages in a row, unloading too much when we barely had a relationship status.
Plus, she’d said she’d be offline. Checking my phone now, three dots appeared.
She was responding. I froze, hand gripping the refrigerator door, waiting.
Anticipating. Then the dots disappeared, my texts still left on read.
Castor
Nova?
I opened the freezer, letting the coolness wash over me.
There were a few comments on my socials dragging me for planning to become a Pain Giver and not following through on the donation I’d wanted to make before Della and Jacinta made Yvonne cut me off.
I’d spent hours on my computer this morning, researching other communities like South Alta across the country where my Carrier could come from: Baltimore, Atlanta, Ferguson, Chicago.
Those cities’ low-income neighborhoods were full of Pain Carriers, which left me wondering why only those areas were populated with people who had higher pain tolerances.
Those same neighborhoods had higher percentages of opioid addiction, something I understood more than I wanted to.
Jorge suggested I switch to an around-the-clock dosing of hydromorphone after I had two more hellflares last night.
I agreed but made him halve it. He warned I’d be making it worse.
Still, I felt better knowing I could push through with less. I had to.
Helical disease was my burden, and I’d seen so many people in the last week alone thriving with it.
Perla was a natural carrier, and I’d never seen her so much as flinch, never noticed she lived with it.
I could be as strong as her. I was two waves from becoming a pro athlete.
There was no reason I couldn’t carry my pain as well.
If I was going to live with this a little longer, I needed another way to push through the pain, but Grandfather was refusing to entertain any questions about the new medication he was planning to roll out with the mayor.
A subtle light flashed at my fingertips, and the cool air of the refrigerator dulled the pain. Outside of pain medication, dark rooms and anything cold were proving to be my best friends, which was why today’s surf would treat me well.
‘Close the freezer, dear. You’re letting the cold air out,’ said Jacinta from her seat at the kitchen island. She sipped the lavender matcha Perla brewed for her every morning. The weight of her stare felt heavy on my skin.
I grabbed the frozen banana slices and shut the door. I had just enough time to make my pre- and post-surf smoothie blend.
‘Say what you’re thinking, Jacinta.’ I dropped the bananas in the blender, then added spinach, berries and avocado. ‘You have thirty seconds before I hit blend.’
‘I still don’t understand why you’d make a decision like that without discussing it with the family first. Then try to announce it on national television. You can’t go giving out handouts for potential Pain Givers. It comes across like we think there are flaws in our system.’
‘We didn’t try to donate to a good cause. I did.’ I poured oat milk into the blender. ‘And I thought you’d be happy with me upping the Pain Giver count. Higher numbers for the next time you pitch corporations for research grants,’ I deadpanned.
‘That better be some of your usual misplaced sarcasm, Castor Jace.’
‘I didn’t do anything wrong, Jacinta.’
‘If our stock value goes down –’
‘We’d still be billionaires.’
‘We aren’t billionaires. I am.’ Narrowing her eyes, she went back to sipping her matcha as Perla walked in with a few bags of groceries.
‘Sorry I’m late. You were low on egg whites and Sydney called out sick,’ said Perla, referring to our private chef.
She unpacked the produce, and I noticed the light, long-sleeve linen shirt she always wore when going outside, her wide-brimmed straw hat pulled low.
I caught the slightest flicker of discomfort in her expression and wondered if she was having a hellflare.
I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t looking for it. She must wear tinted SPF.
‘It’s fine. I found the matcha you left me.’ Jacinta waved her off. ‘But let’s add tomatoes to today’s egg whites. And go light on the black pepper. Sydney is always so heavy-handed.’
I rolled my eyes and passed Perla the cayenne.
Jacinta let out a dramatic sigh. ‘Why did I have to have a son who tortures me with his humor?’ Her tone sharpened. ‘Sometimes, I think you forget you’re a Fox. Or perhaps you forgot our conversation. You never take your role seriously.’
I turned on the blender, forgetting how fancy it was. I would’ve loved to drown out Jacinta’s nagging, but it barely made a peep – deeply underdelivering on the dramatic effect I’d hoped for.
I hadn’t forgotten I was a Fox. Or our conversation.
I just couldn’t be what she wanted me to be.
Not having the power to make my own choices was something I couldn’t bring myself to concede.
I’d spent three days before the interview with Dominion speech coaches and Della Powers’s infamous media training.
What to say to make people empathize. How to position the Freedom System in every response.
I was so close to being the son my family wanted.
I’d memorized every answer – except the moment I’d looked straight into Jacinta’s eyes and deviated from the script.
I hated how she could make almost anything I did about her.
When I bought the campervan, that became me rejecting her and her gift of the most impractical car for surf season.
When I refused to go on a date with the governor’s daughter, it turned into me not trusting her taste – which I didn’t.
She was right: I didn’t see how she was helping me. But this wasn’t about her.
She sighed. ‘I don’t want to argue with you. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ I replied, my voice clipped.
‘Jorge said your hellflares are becoming more frequent. The one during your interview came on its own –’
‘Perfect, right?’
‘Castor,’ she said sternly. ‘I’m trying.’
I dropped my shoulders. ‘I know.’ I poured the smoothie into two insulated flasks and set them in my portable ice chest. ‘No matches yet?’
‘No.’ She shifted uncomfortably and I could tell there was something else she wanted to say. I’d bet money that I already knew what it was.
‘Castor, you might have to stop surfing. You might have to miss the AB Cup.’
There it was. ‘How hard was it for you not to sound happy while saying that?’
‘Now you’ve gone too far. I do everything in your best interest. You might not see it now, but when you’re older, you will. Just like I did –’
The second Jacinta’s hand reached for my shoulder, blue light shot through my arm, and I pulled away before she could touch me. Perla kept her head down, slid the plate of eggs and tomatoes across the kitchen island, and excused herself.
‘I’m sorry –’ Jacinta started.
‘I need some space,’ I said quietly. ‘We can talk about this later.’
She sighed and tapped her cheek. I pressed a kiss to it, grabbed the ice chest, and left without a second glance. I couldn’t wait to get to the water. The smell of salt air felt more like home than my house ever had. The waves wouldn’t judge me.
As I curved down the driveway, two security guards were standing outside our gates, shuffling away a few people with large signs in their hands.
‘Do more than carry your own pain!’ one of them yelled. ‘Stand up to your family!’
I frowned, having no idea what the protestor meant. It was just more of the messages people from all over were leaving on my socials.
Bellatoken:
How long before you become an addict and show up to the Surf Cup high out your mind?
Jenniek8:
Great job on the publicity stunt. Loved your fake pain.
Jordinhew:
You can do it. Don’t give up.
I needed more messages like that last one. That’s what I’d hoped for from my family, instead of my mom trying to suggest I turn my back on the one thing that was mine.
The entire drive, I thought of Nova. After our fake date, she’d let me talk her ear off about surfing.
She’d surprised me by learning the point system and some of the lingo the next day, asking if I knew how to thread the needle and what it meant to drive down the line.
Apparently, reality dramas were her thing, and she’d been watching one about junior surfers.
I’d promised to take her out next time I went.
The hot-pink board was ready in my rack.
I checked my solisPhone at the next light.
‘Centaurus, any new messages from Hot-Pink Seven-Speed?’
‘No new messages.’
I had to give her time. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t think about her every second.