Chapter 7 #2
I fill a plate and grab a mug of extra strong coffee, then sit alone in a booth. But it’s a struggle to get anything down with the nervousness making my muscles shiver.
I hope Radar is okay.
Then I hear a voice that shakes me to my core.
“Can you believe it? He pays for everything. Any time Lilyanne wants to go shopping, she can. Who wouldn’t want that?”
I cringe at the high-pitched raspy voice of Carielle. How the fuck did we end up in the same race heat? What is she even doing here? Can I have nothing that is my own?
Food isn’t appetizing anymore. She doesn’t need a better life. She’s a pink. Daddy bought her ticket, I’m sure. Or maybe she stole a bunch of shit and is here on those credits.
Whatever the reason is, I don’t want to be around her.
I get up and take the elevator below to the race field. The moment the sweet scent of freshly cut grass greets me, I feel better. I lean on the railing and watch Ohni hover on her announcer’s platform to a group of women at the other end.
Even here, I feel like a shadow. I’ve always been the collateral damage, emotionally—an inconsequential energy trapped in a meat suit others like to trash.
I have to find a good mate, or I have to win the credits. So I scout a path to the mountain top. I’m healthier now. I can run a lot faster than I used to. I can scale cliffs without a harness. I can make it.
For an hour or two, I just stand outside, alone, thinking through my decision, my contingency plans, and wondering how anyone could ever want a blue with a depressing life like mine.
I’m no fun, not in the typical sense. I like tea, reading, hunting for pretty rocks, hiking, snuggling with my dog, and other quiet things. Well, back when I was in college.
I haven’t owned a book in months or had time for idle hikes just for fun. I’m not a heavy drinker or partier. I don’t come from a big family. I’m not a cook. And I’m not particularly tall or curvy for a human. I think I’m rather average looking, though to aliens we all might look exotic.
As women gather outside along the railing with me, I worry that I don’t have anything to offer a male.
I was so concerned with myself, with hoping for a better life for us, that I hadn’t even considered what my value would be in a relationship.
If he gets bored with me, or if I turn out to not be what he wants, if I can’t have his children, will he leave me?
The race contract said there was a divorce and abandonment fee they had to pay upfront. So I’d get that. But the idea of being rejected later is what scares me now.
Ohni rises into the air as TV cameradrones circle her, their engines humming. I can’t hear what she says over the pulse pounding in my ears.
The railing blinks. Women scream in excitement.
It’s happening!
The race is about to start, and I’m suddenly numb, queasy, and regretting my decision.
Confetti fills the air. The railing blinks green, and women haul themselves over it. I clumsily climb over and fall to the ground. I’m not the only one, but I’m better than this.
Come on Tessi. Get up and run! It’s the only way to win the million. That’s the only way to not be a disappointment on an intergalactic level!
My knees don’t want to work. My body is failing me all because my desperation to not die, to not let Radar suffer, ended with us here. I just don’t like the consequences.
Come on, legs! Work, goddammit!
I get myself upright and start running for the mountain. The other women are scattered ahead of me, leaving me far behind. But I think back to the Myndrous stalking us, to Carielle trying to steal my palladium, and Falgus wanting to destroy me in other terrible ways.
My speed picks up, and I’m soon passing women at a surprising rate. Either they don’t want the money, or they don’t know what it’s like to run for their lives. Then I notice their attention on the sky and look up.
A massive transport enters the lunar shield. Doors in the side are flung open, and a colorful array of males leap out: blue, purple, green, orange, and more. They fall heavily despite the lower lunar gravity, and at such a great distance, that I wonder how their bones don’t shatter on impact.
I’m running out of flat ground. Trees and the mountain rise before me.
A woman shouts and laughs hysterically, then another. The males crash through the tail of our group like a tidal wave of hormones and teeth. An orange Ginarigon tackles a woman. They tumble as he sniffs her and digs his fingers in like he can’t wait for a taste.
Not far to my right, a purple Amphiran lets off an electric arc, preventing a Vinym from reaching a woman he has his eyes on.
“Hey! That’s not fair!” The Vinym hisses at him and bolts off in another direction after a different woman.
A pack of five Mindorans bounds toward the racers I’ve left behind.
Two Drathious with tied back wings leap like animals from a rock, tackling two women below them like they’re prey.
Golden Ferrim, scaly blue Nytheralians, and red Klaphos weave through us with crazed grins and muscles that ripple with every stride.
They’re dressed in an assortment of ceremonial robes, tactical armor, and simple Abr race suits.
None of the women I’m racing with have fear on their faces, not the kind that motivates my legs faster. They aren’t terrified by the monsters that hunt them.
I am. Because I have been hunted. I’m not sure I gave myself enough time to confront my trauma.
The ground beneath my boots turns to gravel and rock. I’m now one of few who climb for the million at the top of the mountain. Most are taking the long way. I’m not waiting and hike up a steep cliff to the rocky face that’s the shortest route.
If ever there was a time, universe, to prove to me that there’s a greater power… Get me to the top first.