16. Chapter 16
Maryn
Ilifted onto my toes, reaching into the deep cabinet for a bowl. It slid forward and I tugged it down, examining it. Porcelain, like the kind they sometimes used in Upper-Middle homes.
I set it on the counter and opened a cabinet. Rows of glasses were lined all the way to the back, but no food.
I opened the next to find stacks of plates.
Mother above, was there no food?
“Hey.”
I spun around and froze. “Hi.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Nami?”
The girl who had snuck up on me smiled. “Yep. Looking for breakfast?”
I nodded just as my stomach grumbled.
Her smile stretched wider. “Dry food’s in here.” She touched a silver handle that I had thought was a wall panel and slid it aside. “Cereal.” She pointed to a row of canisters. “Oats.”
I stepped forward, reaching for the closest metal jar.
She backed up. “If you want sugar—”
I nearly dropped the canister. “Sugar?”
Nami held a hand up to her mouth. “It took me a while to get used to it, too.”
My mind ran over the recaps I’d seen of her. Nami was from the Middle, like me, but they’d made the first exception in history and elevated her family all the way to Elite when her mom had not one, but two sons. Twins. The first pair of boys in a hundred years.
She shuffled past me, crouching and sliding open a drawer. She pulled out a glass bowl with a bit of cloth over the top and set it on the counter. “Spoons are here,” she said, opening another drawer and lifting the utensil.
“I guess you’ve been here a while.”
She shrugged. “Those of us inside the wall came straight here after Trial Four.”
I spun, flipping the lid off the canister of oats, pouring enough in my bowl to last me the rest of the day. Nami was nice enough, but I’d rather avoid the other girls if I could.
A spoon appeared in the air beside me, and I reached for it. “Thanks.”
Nami dipped her chin. “No problem.” She bit her lip, watching as I scooped two spoonfuls of sugar into my bowl. “What are you doing today?”
I looked up, searching her face. “Just… resting.”
“Of course.” She backed up. “Well, if you want company, let me know.”
I set my bowl on the counter, raising a brow. “We’re not family.”
Were the rules more relaxed in the center?
She laughed and touched a button on a freestanding object beside a cabinet. “Hot water is here.”
I stared at her.
“It’s automatic.”
I frowned.
She stepped forward, taking my bowl from my hands and slid it under the object. She pressed the button again, and a stream of water poured out. Steam rose from the bowl, and she released the button, handing the bowl back to me.
“You’re not in the Middle anymore.” She reached for my spoon and held it out. “And your family isn’t here. I don’t think they expect us to sit in our rooms alone every Monday.”
I took the spoon, stirred the oats in a small circle, and bit my lip. “Thanks.”
She nodded and turned, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
On my way to my room, I passed a closed door. Behind it, Sera's voice, then Lydia's laugh.
I closed myself in my room and exhaled when it clicked. I set the bowl on the side table, the oats already cooling.
In the adjoining bathroom, a small hexagon sat in the dish by the sink. White, with flecks of oat pressed into it. A honeycomb on its face. I picked it up, turning it over before lifting it to my nose and closing my eyes.
At the sink, I watched the lather build between my fingers and held my hands under the water longer than I needed to, then set the soap back carefully.
Back in my room, I touched my tablet, and the screen on the far wall flickered to life.
Lifting my spoon to my lips, I blew as I sank onto the bed.
Announcers flew through progressing Rites all around the city, their voices beginning to blur together as I leaned back. My oatmeal was cold the next time I took a bite, and I frowned down at it.
A sound to my right had me jerking my head toward the window. I sat up, tossing my bowl on the table beside me.
A dark head of hair burst through my open window, followed by a set of broad shoulders, and I glanced wildly around for a weapon—anything I could use for protection.
Calden Charles looked up, and I froze.
“It starts this week, Greg.”
My gaze darted to the TV where two people were facing the camera.
I looked back to the window as Calden climbed through, setting a boot down on my new white rug.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, heart hammering.
“I wanted to see where they stashed you.”
“What?” I threw my legs over the side of my bed, hopping up and backing toward the door. “Get out of here.” I pressed a hand behind my back, feeling for the handle.
He held up his hands. “I don’t bite.”
My grip on the handle tightened. “Do you know what someone would think—what they would do—if they found you in here?”
He took a step. “No one will know.”
He said it like the Monday alarms were someone else’s problem. I tensed, my shoulder blades pressing into the door.
His gaze darted down, as if he could sense my next move.
“What will you do? Tell them a man is in your room?” His brow rose slowly.
I surged away from the door, putting myself between him and the room. “Stop. Turn around and go back out the way you came in.”
He halted.
I crossed to the window in three steps, giving him a wide berth, and pointed outside. My heart slammed against my ribs. He knew what would happen to me if someone found him here. He had to know.
Calden looked at my hand, then at my face.
He tucked his hands in his pockets.
“Look, no one would barge into your room on a Monday. I just thought you’d like some company.” He glanced around the room. “You're in a strange new place. Away from your family for the first time.”
I exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t even know you.”
To my left, the announcers talked animatedly.
He stepped toward my bed, touching the tablet, and the screen froze. “I’m discreet. I promise.”
I sputtered a laugh. “If anyone found you here, I wouldn’t just be eliminated from the Rite; it could be far worse.” My gaze tracked the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed not once, twice. “But you don’t have to worry about things like that, do you? As a man.”
His hands came out of his pockets, one running over his thigh. I tracked the movement as it slid up and down. Recognized the nervous tick.
We stared at one another.
“Eat your breakfast. It will get cold.”
I looked to the bowl sitting by the bed, then at him. “Please leave.”
“This isn't my hometown.” He rubbed his thigh again, looking up. “Mondays are—” He stopped. "It's just hard."
A soft smile touched his lips as he patted the space beside him. “Let’s be friends.”
My brows pinched together. The image of Mama waving as I drove away yesterday rose in my mind. “You miss your mom?”
He exhaled. “Yeah.”
My heart slowed a fraction, my shoulders relaxing.
“When was the last time you went home?”
His hand on his thigh stopped. “Her birthday.”
His lips stretched, and I exhaled. The look was so warm, so genuine, my feet were moving before I’d decided.
My gaze went to the door, then slid back to him. “Okay.”
I moved, skirting around the bed, and picked up my bowl.
“Okay?”
His hopeful tone caught me off guard. “But you have to promise to be quiet. If anyone heard you…”
He held a finger to his lips, smiling.
I dragged a chair across the room to face the screen, its legs scraping the floor, then sat with my bowl balanced in my lap.
I glanced sideways at him as he touched the tablet on the end of the bed and resumed the broadcast.
“Joshua Silva’s Rite begins tomorrow.”
My spoon halted inches from my mouth.
“Let’s take a look at his matches.”
I held in my groan as the sugary oats coated my tongue.
On screen, twelve women were shown one by one. All from the Middle, all oddly similar in appearance. Elias hadn’t chosen women who looked anything alike; for the most part. Josh clearly had a type.
Ruth’s face appeared on screen.
“Let’s watch this match.”
The woman grinned. “This was my favorite.”
Josh dropped to a knee and tugged his ribbon out of his pocket.
“Your friend looks happy.”
I glanced at Calden. “Yeah.”
His gaze was already on me and I stared, noticing for the first time that his eyes had a subtle ring of amber around them.
Not solid black. Here, away from the cameras and the eyes of Centrum, his wide shoulders were relaxed, his full lips soft around the edges.
Something about him was easier when it was just the two of us.
He looked past me and I tracked the movement, jumping up.
The folder was out, in plain sight.
I grabbed my journal, tossing it on top.
Electricity sizzled up my back, and I turned, finding Calden right behind me. He leaned toward me, and my breath seized in my chest.
He picked up my journal, flipping through its pages.
I grabbed the folder, sliding it into the drawer, and closing it slowly.
Calden held the journal up, chuckling. “My first night in the center was more than I could have dreamed.”
I darted toward him, throwing a hand over his mouth. “Shhhhh. Why are you shouting?” His eyes widened and I snatched my hand back from his face. “I… I…”
For a moment, he was silent, as stunned by our contact as I had been.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me.”
I nodded slowly. “Let’s just… watch TV.”
I crossed the room, sitting stiffly in my chair, and he moved, sitting on the bed farther away than he had been before.
I touched my tablet, and Ruth’s statistics played in excruciating detail.
“She’s his number one choice. And while I’d usually say that makes her a shoo-in…”
The man turned to his counterpart, finishing her sentence. “That hasn’t seemed to matter to our Elias has it?”
“You’re right about that. If you asked me to bet on Elias’s final match, my vote wouldn’t be for Sera Cannon.”
The man chuckled. “Who do you think, Kerri?”
“I’m betting on that Elite girl who was hiding in the Middle.”
"Before we move on, we want to take a moment—"
I mashed my tablet, and the screen went black.
Calden reached over and picked it up.
I stared at him as the screen flickered back to life.
“—we lost one of our own. Jonath Pray was a production assistant here at Rite coverage—a promising young man caught in the same radiation storm that claimed one of Elias Hale’s matches during Trial Two. He died in service to bringing you the stories that matter.”
The hosts bowed their heads. Something shifted in Calden’s face.
The tablet lit up, and he handed it to me.
I held it without looking at it. “How did you get out of your house on a Monday?”
He searched my face before looking away.
“A man is allowed his secrets.”
I blew out a breath.
My tablet lit up again.
“You should get that.”
I frowned, but touched the screen, reading the message.
Trial Five begins in three days.
I looked up.
Calden stood. “Back to real life.”
He climbed over the edge of the sill, but paused on the ledge. “You're not safe in the center without your father to protect you. Men may presume to take liberties.” His eyes found mine. “An elbow is sharper than your fist.”
He dropped from view before I could respond.
I hopped up, crossing the room to slide the window closed.
An elbow is sharper than your fist. The words settled over me slowly. No one had ever said anything like that to me. No one was supposed to.
I stood at the window for a long moment after he disappeared. He was younger than I’d first thought. No less pretentious. He carried himself like a man who had never heard the word no.
I was certain of one thing, though. He was dangerous.
Turning, my gaze darted around the room, and I exhaled. At least I’d already swept it. No one would ever know he'd been here.
I bit the edge of my nail, reached for my table, and read my instructions.
***
Tuesday arrived in a blink. For the first time, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I had two days until my next trial, but no chores, no parents to help around the house.
Making my way downstairs, I paused when I heard the front door open and heavy feet shuffling inside the foyer.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Nami jogged past me on the stairs in stretchy leggings and a loose, flowing top that fell to her knees. She bounded to the bottom step and swung around the banister, disappearing into the receiving room.
I followed hesitantly, wrapping my robe tightly around my waist.
In the doorway, I narrowed my eyes at the line of matches, in order of selection, Sera at the front. She stepped up onto a scale as a woman in pink touched her tablet, swiping furiously. She jammed a square object into its port and held it up.
“Raise your arms.”
Sera complied, and the fertility nurse looked up. “Very nice, Miss Cannon.”
Sera’s grin was overconfident as she stepped down. “I know.”
The nurse touched her tablet again. “Your regimen has been messaged to you. I expect to see the same numbers next week.”
Sera rolled her eyes, marching past our line, ignoring the rest of us.
Lydia climbed onto the scale, and I moved to stand behind Phoebe.
I was fifteen when my period arrived, and with it, my first trip to the Covenant Reproductive Center in my district. It had gone just like this. My hip and breast measurements had been recorded along with my weight. But I hadn’t been given any regimen.
I bit my lip as we slid forward.
When Beth stepped onto the scale, the nurse frowned, typing faster than before.
Beth’s cheeks were flaming red as she stepped down.
“You’ll need to see me again on Thursday,” the nurse said, shaking her head. “Your proportions are unhealthy. The likelihood of pregnancy reduces drastically with each extra pound.”
Beth’s eyes were shining by the time she ran past our group.
When it was my turn, I stepped up, hugging my arms across my chest.
“Arms down.”
I lowered my hands to my side, staring straight ahead.
“Light. I’ll recommend more meat in your diet.”
She held up the device at the end of her tablet, and her brows furrowed. “Hips are good, but your breasts are small.” She tapped her device furiously. “Go get changed and meet back down here. You’ll benefit from weight training.”
I pursed my lips, saying nothing as I stepped down.
Behind me, women were already moving to pick up weights or jump ropes. Everyone who needed to adjust something had stayed. Sera and Lydia didn’t need to, they had been training for a Rite their entire lives. Of course they’d even trained for this.