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Chapter nine

Forest

M y school clothes litter the bathroom floor, coating the tile in shades of gray and black. My figure looks foreign in the large glass mirror. Weak is the only suitable word to describe how I feel. The bathroom door is locked, keeping away Raegan and her prying eyes. My birthmark rests above my hip, protruding for all to see. The skin of the mark is rougher and much lighter than any other part of my body. It rises above the surface of my skin, not running smoothly like the rest of me. Four bruises from Josh’s fingertips prying into my leg coat my thigh in blue and purple. Where there is muscle on most of the Unfortunates, I see nothing but bone. Most of the Untouchables hold slender bodies meant for anything but labor. The only way I managed to pin Josh was purely out of position. If my knee weren't lodged between his legs, I would have been done for. Even Max, who does nothing but athletics, still holds a more slender build.

My fingers brush over my mark once more. It's nothing more than an imperfection. It’s as imperfect as the countless scars on the Unfortunates. I remember seeing the small part of Fallan’s back I saw earlier today, his scars like a mosaic across the skin there. He was covered in scars, some that seemed old and some much newer. Even Valerie’s hands looked like they had been laid down on a cutting board and sliced repeatedly. What must one do in their sector to receive a punishment like that? The detention device my father showcased at the school is what they are willing to show us they utilize on Unfortunates, but could there be more weapons? Every citizen of New Haven, Untouchable and Unfortunate, has one thing in common.

One imperfection that no one goes without.

I stare at my right pointer finger, looking over the small white scar across its tip. Every single citizen has this scar. Every one of us is born with it to confirm our purity.

I hear the whir of the machine. Their silent voices are stifled behind masks. The countless boxes of latex gloves drown out the smell of blood.

I take a deep breath, blinking my eyes to focus on where I am. The sink faucet runs, splashing onto the counter. I twist the knobs until the water is off, feeling the haze of another blackout surround me. The vivid images from my obscure memory don’t linger in my mind for long, leaving as quickly as they seem to have arrived. At some point, between reflecting on scars and turning on the sink, I’d lost time. It took only a few seconds to disorientate.

Pulling on some black slacks and a gray tank, I move away from my thoughts, no longer wanting to be alone with them. I force my hair down from its straining position high on my head. It covers my shoulders, spanning down my front, only to be tucked away by a sling of my jacket over my shoulders. I reflected on the faucet once more, questioning when I had managed to turn it on.

I spill into my room, looking at Rae's relaxed position against my window frame. She’s almost dressed the same as me, choosing a white top instead of the traditional gray. Unlike me, she takes the time to style her clothes, carefully tucking and rolling each article of clothing to fit her just right. I look her over, anticipating some remark about my thrown-together outfit.

“How do you always manage to look so disorganized?” Rae questions, moving away from the window to pinch my cheeks. I swat her hand away. Her graceful figure navigates my room with gentle steps. Each move she makes is as calculated as every other part of her life.

If perfection were a person, she would be it.

“I do hope to one day achieve your level of put togetherness,” I say as I continue fiddling with the necklace I can now have out in the open. She looks me up and down, giving me a suggestive smile.

“What's that look for?” I question, turning away from her to toss my uniform in a hamper.

“You and that Official seemed close when we interrupted your private meeting in your dad's study,” Raegan says, poking my back from behind. My cheeks fill with fire at her comment.

“Xavier and I-”

“Xavier? So, you are on a first-name basis?” Rae says, adding a sound to her tone that children use to taunt each other about their harmless crushes. I turn to snap at her, her mouth gaping open with a grin.

“Look how red you are! I was just taking a guess you two were getting handsy. I thought I had imagined his hand in yours!” Rae says louder than I’d like.

“Rae, respectfully, shut up,” I whisper, covering my ears to ignore her pursuit to taunt me.

“I know we aren't supposed to speak on matters as egotistical as looks, but I can see the appeal.”

“I’m not getting into this right now,” I say, pushing closer to the door she has decided to block.

“Did you two kiss?” she questions eagerly.

“No,” I say, reaching for the door.

“Did you want him to kiss you?” she questions further, only making my face grow redder.

The door swings open before I can get to it. Max and Kai waltz into my room, sporting their leisurewear. The pair throw themselves onto my bed. Raegan continues poking me, whispering Xavier and my initials in my ear, humming small children's rhymes meant to antagonize.

“What are you doing to her?” Max questions after a moment of undoing my neatly made bed.

“Just interrogating her on her wants to explore a certain someone's lips-”

I cut her off with a shove away from me as I groan.

Max's interest looks peaked. I try suppressing his next words with a cutting motion to my neck, already able to tell his train of thought and his sister’s are not the same.

“You told her about our kiss?” Max questions. His twin's face drops immediately.

Raegan moves toward me, ready to hit me with a new line of questioning. Surprise hides behind her expression, filled with countless questions I am unprepared to answer. I shake my head at her, spilling into my hallway through the open door, not giving any of them a chance to continue pushing me on the matter of Xavier and his lips, as lovely as they might be. The last thing I need is another reason for Max to take out his anger onto Unfortunates.

“Forest!” my mother yells from the kitchen. I seize the opportunity, pulling away from the god-awful conversation that was no doubt about to take place.

She stands in the kitchen, examining my bag, fumbling through the pockets. My dad leans into the counter, trying to speak to her about her day, getting nothing but brief responses. Her focus is not on him.

Her eyes move up as I enter the room, motioning me over with a nod. My friend's bodies exit the room, only motivating me to get away from them and closer to my mom’s stern look. She shows me the bag and its contents, waiting for me to speak.

“What are you looking for?” my dad finally asks.

“Where is your Cure-All?” my mom questions, running her fingers through the now empty pocket it usually resides in.

Shit.

“It must have fallen out during my interaction with Josh,” I whisper, looking back at my friends waiting in the hallway.

“You didn't think to pick it up?” my mom questions. My mother is pushing harder than usual to pick apart my story. She's trying her best to find a hidden truth.

“Katiana,” my father says, placing a hand on his wife's upper arm to calm her. “We can just get her another. Don’t stress. Her friends are waiting on her,” my father says, trying to calm her down.

She sighs, lowering the bag and running her hand through her hair.

My father's phone screen flashes red, indicating an urgent message that requires his attention. A red screen almost always means he misses dinner and only returns in the early morning.

“Deviant Unfortunates spotted in our sector again outside of their work hours,” my father clarifies, answering the call now coming in on the other end. I see Xavier's name flash over the screen. My dad's frustrations grow the longer he is on the phone. He turns away from us, covering his mouth with his hand to speak more clearly. My friends stay back, waiting for me to give them the okay to come closer.

"Handle it,” my dad says sternly, ending the call with a brutal hit to the screen.

I can't stop my hand from flying to my head, putting pressure on my temple in an attempt to ease the sudden pain behind my eyes. My father's eyes watch the action, looking down toward my hand clutched on my torso. My father reaches toward my mom, easing her tense body with gentle squeezes up and down her arms.

“It was a long day for everyone,” my mom says, as she finally sinks into my father's arms wrapped around her. “Please be patient with me, both of you. I had to deal with many meetings with upper leadership and hearing that one of your children got into an altercation does not make anything better,” my mom says. Disappointment clouds her words.

I scoff, backing away from my mother with a slow nod. My dad gives me a warning look, silently trying to command me not to continue with whatever I'm about to say.

“Good thing you have a perfect one right behind me. It balances out the fact you made a fuck up in your little lab,” I whisper, shoving my dad’s shoulder, not letting him try and use his words to sway yet another situation in his favor. I tap my ID on the panel, leaving everyone behind me with a rough slam of the door.

The tram waits at the stop, running its usual evening route for any Untouchables that want to migrate back toward the school. The school is no more than ten minutes from New Haven’s downtown shops, making it the perfect middle ground to drop off and pick up our people. I sling my hood over my head, staring at the clouded sky, wishing more than anything to be alone and away from my brother and friends. The tram looks empty. Mark's hunched figure sits at the wheel, flipping through a newspaper's black and white pages. I tap on the glass of the sliding door, keeping my hood up, making eye contact with Mark. He lowers his head, pulling open the doors with a handle.

“You don't have to do that,” I whisper, lingering on the staircase. Mark raises his head.

His hair is blanketed with gray streaks. Stubble surrounds his face, only adding to his mature features. A pair of green eyes, similar to mine, look toward me. He sits with a hunch, slender around the waist, teetering close to frail. The wheel has worn away in the places his hands touch most. He’s been stuck in this position for years. If I had to guess, he is in his 60's, possibly early 70's.

“You don't have to lower your head like that when it's just me,” I reiterate, letting the smile on my face finally show. His eyes widen. Never in the four years I’ve had him as my tram driver have I spoken to him like this. I keep my hood over my head, avoiding the camera at the front of the bus. He touches his throat, making my chest heavy, knowing he is trying to ask permission to speak.

“Please. I hate being in silence,” I motion, touching my throat with a smile.

“Are you okay, miss? You look … distressed,” he says.

His eyes move behind me as my friends pry open the tram doors. They don’t knock, but I know he would have appreciated it. I draw in a deep breath, shaking my head.

“I don’t know anymore,” I whisper, gazing past him to look like I was staring out the window this whole time.

Kai’s hand reaches my shoulder, turning me around. Mark looks away again, starting the ignition shortly after everyone is on. Kai drags down my hood, crossing his arms, only following me once I walk away. I give him a cold shoulder, planting myself in a seat closest to the red tape. My shoe touches the red line of the Unfortunate section, passing it once I relax into the seat. Kai doesn't seem to process that I want to be alone. Instead, he sits, motioning the others to join in around me. I reach for my hood to try and conceal my face once more. My brother can’t wait to stop me.

“You can be mad at Mom and Dad for whatever reason, not me. I’m on your side whether you realize it or not,” Kai says, letting go of his hold on my wrist. He drops my hand, looking out the window to distract himself from my coldness.

“Where is everyone else?” Rae questions, scanning the empty bus. Even she knows not to push me right now.

“There was another tram 30 minutes ago. A great deal of them were on the bus the first time around,” Mark says, offering his input once we make eye contact in his mirror.

“There's your answer,” I say, giving no one the chance to question Mark’s sudden chattiness.

Everyone takes that as a queue to leave me alone. No one knows how far I’m willing to go to make a point. This isn't the first time they’ve dealt with my mood swings like this. They used to come over me all the time as a child, ending with yelling from my mother and increases in the dosage of the pills she seemed to love to cram down my throat. Max watches me as if I am unhinged. His look is so different in contrast to Xavier's curious one.

I turn my whole body, staring out the window beyond New Haven and the ward. The darkening sky creates the beauty of the night and coats the open space above us. Dense trees, alive and dead, linger beyond the ward's sheer layer. Ash still lines the ground beyond New Haven, dusting remnants of what used to be valiant cities before the wars.

For a moment, and only a moment, I could almost swear, something moved, running beyond the ash and trees, looking toward New Haven with hungry eyes.

But that's impossible.

Nothing can live for more than a few days beyond the ward.

Or maybe that's just what we say to convince ourselves we aren’t in confinement.