Page 26

Chapter twenty-four

Forest- Untouchable sector, two years ago

T he house's window flashes with multiple colors, changing with the beat of the music. It’s loud enough to reach me, even outside the busy home. I glance down at the small piece of paper Max had given me, ensuring I have the correct address. Josh’s house was farther out than most in our sector, almost touching the ward. The house is massive, taking up at least three times the lot space as other houses in our sector. I’m starting to see one of the many reasons his ego is so large. I don’t know how he has the strength to carry it.

My oversized hoodie hides my last-minute decision of an outfit that was a bit more revealing than I’m used to. While my hair is usually up in a ponytail, I’ve let it run freely down my back in soft waves tonight. People work in and out of the house, carrying cups behind the house where a small bonfire brings life to the otherwise dark expanse of the yard. People stumble, clearly already under the influence of Josh’s father’s supply of rich bourbons and champagnes.

Once a year, Josh hosts this party as a “Back to School Social” to ensure the Officials leave it alone. If his father weren’t so high up on the Council, it would be shut down immediately.

With great hesitation, I move past the large metal gate, forcing myself closer to the front door, ready to turn around the minute my hand clacks the metal knocker.

“Shut up,” Josh says in a half laugh to his friends from the other side, swinging open the door with a smile, only to let it drop once he sees me.

“What are you doing here, Blackburn?” Josh questions, giving me a cold welcome and a look that surely means he’s about to slam the door in my face.

“I invited her,” Max says, working his way through the crowd, holding a glass filled with a purple liquid.

I raise my eyebrows at Josh, challenging him to try and be an asshole to me with this many people watching.

“Still trying to get with that?” Josh questions back to Max, watching the blonde’s face grow red at the comment.

“Do you plan on standing here like a jackass all night or…?”

“Where’s your brother?” Josh questions, leaning into the doorframe. “He is an absolute party killer.”

“That's probably why I left him at home,” I say, not telling Josh that Rae and Kai already had their own plans for the night. “So can I come in, or should I fuck off?” I question, watching the smirk develop on Josh’s face.

“Colton,” Josh says, pointing to his shadow, “Go get her a cup of what Vega’s drinking.”

Colton nods at him, disappearing from the entryway with a look of determination. Josh steps away from the doorway, extending his arm into the space, finally allowing me to pass. Moments later, Colton returns with a cup, placing it in my hand with a smile.

“I don’t drink-”

“If you’re going to come to my party, you might as well do it the right way,” Josh says, silencing my long list of reasons why I trust nothing in a cup from him. Still, with sealed lips, I nod, watching him look me over before finally working his way back into his living room to continue his conversation with the group of women he’d left behind.

Max waits back, still flush in the cheeks from Josh’s earlier comment to him.

“A small get-together to make more friends,” I say, throwing out the description he’d given me to convince me to come here in the first place.

“Josh said it would only be a few people.”

“Clearly,” I say, looking around at the drunken mob of students running around the space.

A girl bumps into me, sending a good portion of my drink down the front of my hoodie in large splotches. I curse as I set down the drink, pulling my hoodie off of me, not thinking of the smaller shirt Rae urged me to wear for the night, showing off some of my stomach and enunciating the breasts I didn’t realize I had. Our regulated hormones had hit us all like a train over the summer, leaving us with less room in our clothes and more things to look at. I stare at the splotch on my hoodie, lowering it to see Max’s eyes plastered on me, specifically my body.

“Max!” I snap, watching his dilated pupils adjust as his attention drifts back to my face.

“Hm?” he questions, clearly distracted.

“Hey, Vega!” Josh yells, widening his eyes at me before returning to Max. “Come over here. These are the guys I was telling you about,” Josh beckons, speaking to the fourth and fifth years in the activity-based classes at the Academy. Playing at the higher levels is by invite only, and I’ve watched reluctantly as Josh and Max have grown closer, helping each other secure their placements for more advanced sports come their fifth year.

“I’m sorry,” Max begins, looking at me apologetically as he backs away.

“Don’t let me stop you,” I say, watching him give me a frown as he turns to join the group of overly assertive teenage jocks. I could practically smell the testosterone oozing from them, which was an affront to my senses as I took in a whiff of the vile concoction of alcohol in my cup, smelling more of mouthwash than anything I would have a desire to drink.

I watch the roar of the flames grow through the back door. I look down at my wet hoodie, needing a way to dry it quickly so the smell doesn’t linger later.

“Might as well try and enjoy my night without you,” I whisper, giving Max one last look before slipping outside.

No one remained seated by the fire. After everyone had eaten and someone had announced that a makeshift dancefloor was the place to be, pretty much everyone hurried to go inside, clearly unable to pass up an opportunity to touch and grope one another. Given how rarely touch is allowed before marriage or exclusive relationships that are most of the time entirely forced on us by our families for common interest or gain, a few stolen moments like that are more than enough for most.

I sat on one of the farthest logs from the house that surrounds the bonfire, tossing my cup into the grass and freeing both hands to hold up my hoodie. Its material grows warm, slowly drying once I lay it across the log beside me. I watch the fire eat away at the wood, dwindling in size with each ember it flicks into the air.

“Not big on parties?” a male voice questions from next to me, now visible since the flames have died down. The figure is in a black hoodie, hiding their face behind a mask you’d generally see attached to an Official. All I can see is his eyes and the bright blue irises that seemed to glow through the flickers of firelight.

“More like I’m not big on dealing with any of the assholes in there,” I say, raising my hands to warm by the fire. The man lets out a small laugh, fidgeting with a metal flask.

“Don’t trust Josh’s surprise in the punchbowl?” I question, watching the man’s eyes move down to my cup.

“As much as you do, apparently,” he says, lowering his mask just enough to take a swig of whatever’s inside the flask. The bottom half of his face is just as lovely to look at as the top half. But I don’t recognize him from the Academy.

“What's with the getup?” I question, motioning to his outfit as he drags the mask back up.

“There are some people here I don’t want to see me,” he starts, noticing my quick glances at his flask. He looks around the space, hesitantly deciding to get up. I see now how tall he is, making it harder to swallow once he chooses to sit at the end of my log. A few feet are between us, both legs out in front of him. His scent is inviting, smelling of cinnamon and oak. His hand reaches toward me, holding the flask out, his eyes still toward the fire.

I take it in my hand, letting our fingers brush only for a moment.

“What is it?” I question, raising the drink to my nose.

“Bourbon. I stole it from the locked study of this asshat’s house,” the man says, making a smile grow on my face almost instantly.

“Stealing from an upper leadership Official?” I say, letting the liquid run down my throat, warming my stomach once it settles. I wince at the taste, handing him back his flask with a small thank you. “For shame, what about your scorecard?” I question sarcastically, listening to the man's soft laugh.

“Fuck the scorecards. It's all bullshit,” the man says, shaking the pockets of his jacket, clearly filled with something much more valuable than bourbon. “Sometimes rich assholes need to know they’re not untouchable,” he says, clearly smiling beneath the mask. His eyes crease, showing the faint beginnings of what could be crow's feet.

I laugh with a smile, looking at him with pure amusement.

“This is usually the part where you look at me like I’m a criminal and go report me. The last two times I hit one of these parties, some uptight asshole was contacting an Official within minutes,” he starts, keeping his smile on his face. “Why do you look so amused?” he questions.

“It's just,” I begin. “No one ever goes against rules… it's nice to see,” I pause, thinking of Josh, “Plus, the asshole running this party has made my life hell,” I say, crossing my arms out of frustration.

“What's your name?” the boy questions, smiling as he drags down the mask again, taking another drink.

“See, if I tell you that, you will think I’m an uptight asshole like Josh.” The man raises an eyebrow, keeping his mask down as he watches me.

“I doubt that,” he says, deepening his breath. “Well, I guess I can’t tell you my name either. It makes things much more complicated if you try and find me after tonight.”

“Cryptic,” I say, nudging his foot with my own, hearing his laugh again.

The effects of the alcohol linger, making me want to scoot closer to my unknown companion.

The music shifts from its upbeat, loud tempo to something more peaceful. It’s a song filled with piano, followed by the background vocals of a woman's soft voice. I close my eyes, listening to the song with a smile. I feel something in front of me move and open my eyes to see his hand extended out in front of me. He is standing, waiting for me to notice him.

“What are you doing?” I question with a large grin.

“Take my hand so I don’t look like an idiot for trying this,” he says, only adding to the smile on my face.

His hand is much rougher than I expected, covered with callouses along his palm. I run my thumb along his hand, feeling his free hand gently grab my waist. I move my hands around his neck, and the hand I’d been holding before drops down to the other side of my waist. At this level, I see the scar along the man’s cheek, faint but it’s there. His large hands consume my sides, a growing heat taking over my body as he pulls me closer.

“How did you do that to your hands?” I question, feeling him guide us to the slow tempo.

“What's your name?” he questions again, smiling with me as we both refuse to oblige each other’s inquiries.

“Give me a new one,” I say, pulling myself a little closer, letting the alcohol guide me.

“Give you one?” he questions with a grin, wrapping one arm around my waist to dip me down. I smile as I grasp his front, doing my best not to laugh. I feel the stolen contents clatter around in his pockets, hitting against my leg.

“Yes, give me one,” I say once he has me back upright. My feet are becoming more unstable. With a lift, he has my feet on his own, guiding my steps like I’m weightless.

“I only just met you. Hard to give you a name with so little information,” he whispers, my eyes landing on his lips.

“My name is Forest,” I say, watching his body freeze at the mention of my name.

“That's your real name?” the man asks, like I’m playing a prank on him.

“In the flesh. I believe it's your turn now,” I say, feeling the man's touch slowly relax.

“Can I be honest with you right now?” the man questions, rubbing his thumbs along my waist, again starting the sway. The alcohol is affecting him now, too, his eyelids drooping more than when I’d first gotten here. He seems less tense, a little less rigid.

“I’m not from this sector,” he whispers in my ear, making my mouth dry up as I press my front to him. A million questions run through my head, each returning to one thought in particular.

He’s an Unfortunate.

I half expect myself to run away, ready to report this man for the list of violations he’s committed. I let his admission settle in my mind, one thought stopping me from going anywhere: In the twenty minutes I’ve danced with this man, I’ve felt safer than I have around anyone inside that house.

“That explains the hands,” I whisper, meeting his eyes again in the darkness. He looks confused by my reaction, raising both eyebrows at me.

“I just told you-”

“I know what you just told me,” I whisper back, now feeling the alcohol drown out any sense of rational thinking. “I don’t care,” I say, feeling his grasp tighten around my waist at my words.

He peers down at me, letting his head hang lower as his nose touches mine. I smell the alcohol mixing on our breath. Both of our hearts beat rapidly.

“I was supposed to stop finding reasons to come to this sector,” he whispers, looking over my lips like I had his earlier.

What the hell am I doing? Why does it feel so… right? I’m going against everything I’m supposed to believe and doing it with a smile.

He shakes his head, pulling away his trance on my lips as he looks up at the night sky.

“Dove. I’ll call you Dove,” he says, smiling at me.

“Why?” I question, feeling my legs fumble as he finally raises me all the way up, holding me off the ground as my arms wrap around him tighter.

“Well, you see, Forest,” he says with a smile. “You’re the first real symbol of hope I’ve seen in this society in a long time,” he whispers, letting our noses touch once more before lowering me back down.

He takes several steps back. His cheeks flush with the same red that coats mine.

“Your hoodie looks dry,” he says, pointing to the clothing while pulling up his mask.

I glance at the material, looking back at him with confusion as his hands rifle through his filled pockets. I watch him yank something away, holding a small charm on a chain, waiting for my hand to place it down. I feel its metal touch my palm, resting gently in my hand. His eyes soften, watching the confusion spreading across my face.

“Something to remember me by once that alcohol wears off,” he says, stepping closer and reaching around my neck. The necklace drapes across my chest as he clasps the chain. His fingers trail down and around the front of the necklace once it's secured, lingering on the charm that now sits between my collarbones.

“I was guessing you’d like that,” he says, looking down at me with a large grin.

“You must be crazy to come over in this sector, touch me the way you have, and gift me with stolen jewelry,” I say, keeping my head pressed against him.

“Do you want me to stop touching you?” he questions, something much deeper lingering in the question.

It's silent for several seconds.

“No,” I say, tilting my head up to face him.

His hand raises to touch my cheek, grazing his thumb along my skin with his calloused hand.

“Little Dove,” he whispers with a shake of his head, letting his hand drop once we hear the sound of others moving closer to the back door. I grab his hand as he moves away. He spins around to look at me.

“So that's it? You’re just leaving?” I question, watching his smirk grow.

“There are a few people in there who’d recognize me. I don’t want to stick around once they notice what's missing,” he utters, the voices growing louder.

“I'll be back,” he whispers, giving my hand one small press of his lips.

He continues his walk, one more burning question eating me alive.

“I don’t even know your name,” I say. His back stays toward me.

“Then I guess we will have to meet again, won't we?” he questions.

I hear the door swing open, watching Max’s group spill onto the lawn. My eyes immediately move back to where the enigmatic stranger had just been, feeling a sense of relief and sadness once I realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Slowly, the reality of what I just allowed to happen weighs down on me, but I’m filled with more feelings of satisfaction rather than shame, only adding to my own internal conflict.

I wanted that touch. I wanted it from him at that moment, and I'm worried it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

My stomach begins to churn, feeling more uneasy the longer the alcohol settles. I quickly shove past the group of boys, not even acknowledging Max as I move back inside the home and straight up the stairs to find somewhere quiet.

What the fuck did I just do?

I run down the hall, trying to find the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach. Jiggling the handles of door after door, I grow more impatient as I realize every single one is locked. Most likely done on purpose to keep horny teenagers from besmirching the space. Panic sets in as I wonder whether the stranger was indeed an Unfortunate or if what he said was nothing more than a trick. I think of his hands on me, still hearing the music play as he guided our movements. His hands, though rough, were so gentle against my skin. His blue eyes had watched me closely, taking in as much of me as I was of him.

Finally, one of the upstairs hallway doors opens, and I stumble forward into what I can only assume is a guest room. I quickly scan the area, feeling the light brush of air caress my skin. The curtains framing the large window on the wall farthest from the door danced and fluttered hypnotically in the open space. As I turn back towards the door to continue searching the other rooms upstairs for a bathroom, through another window in the room, I see a figure standing on the rooftop, staring forward, still like a statue.

The curtains distort my view of the figure, my curiosity urging me closer to the window as the wave of nausea I’d been battling seems to die. My hand swipes away the diaphanous curtain panels, giving me a clear view of the dark-skinned boy standing at the roof's edge. I’ve seen him at the Academy. He’s a third year, and, from what I remember, a nice boy. He’s in a gray sweater, with his arms crossed over his body as he whispers silently to himself. Slowly, I make my way back to the open window and carefully step outside onto the roof. My footing is still a bit uneven, given the alcohol working through my blood. The boy doesn’t seem to notice as I clumsily make my way over to face him.

I look around, half expecting someone else to be out here.

It’s only him.

“Are you okay?” I question, seeing his body tense up at the sound of my voice.

"Everything is clearer now,” he whispers in a voice I can hardly hear.

I pause my steps toward him, looking at the red soaking the front of his shirt. Blood. His hand shakily holds a small cutting knife that he must have found in the kitchen downstairs.

He turns his body toward me, and I see the blood trickling down the side of his neck from behind his ear. I look down as I hear his foot move and see the blinking of a red light. A small metal piece attached to long tendrils thrashes and spasms out and around his shoe, trying to find something to cling to.

His chip.

His lip wobbles while he speaks. The knife remains clutched in his hand, his blood mixing with the tears now rolling down his young face.

“Why don't you come inside with me, and we can get you cleaned up.”

“They won’t stop coming for us,” he says in a sob, pointing at me with his bloodied hand. “We’re being lied to. It starts with this parasite we allowed them to put in our heads,” he says, smashing his foot down on the chip, letting the light fade beneath it. “He will deliver you himself to the devil if he needs to. Can you not see it?”

He’s crazy.

This boy has lost it.

“I can get you help if you just come with me,” I whisper, extending my hand toward the boy.

“The Apparatus is near,” he says, looking back toward the dark sky. “They will lead us all away from this eternal hell,” he continues, taking one shaky step forward.

I move toward him, completely disregarding the slope of the roof.

“Wait-”

“I do not have the strength to wait for them.”

The world goes silent as he steps off the roof. His eyes are closed. His hands lowered to his sides. Desperately, I skid down the panels of the roof, my hand wrapping around the material of his sweater as he slips further down. My nails drag down his arm, our hands finally meeting as I battle with gravity. Our hands clasp as we’re dragged over the side of the roof. I brace myself for the fall, still scrambling to grab any part of the roof’s edge I can with my free arm. My fingertips scrape across the roof tiles, and I can feel my nails splitting and breaking as I grasp harder for purchase. Suddenly, our movement stops. I grunt as a searing pain festers in my shoulder from the weight of trying to keep us both from plummeting to the ground.

“Help!” I scream, feeling my fingers slowly begin to slip. I look down at the boy, watching his eyes grow wider with fear. My fingers hold tightly to his wrist, feeling a rough spot on his skin, identical to the one on my hip.

“Free yourself, then free us all,” he whispers.

Grabbing the small knife, he cuts my hand, forcing me to let go of his arm as a smile consumes his face. I watch in horror as his body plummets to the ground, hitting the pavement with a crack so loud it hurts my ears. I don’t have the stomach to look down at him, feeling my bloodied hand try to hold me up. My arm begins to give out. I cry out once more, fighting back the tears and emotion. My weak arms quickly try to pull me back up. I hear a girl scream from inside, shouting at others to call an Official once she notices the boy's bloodied body on the concrete.

A shadow casts over the roof, moving closer, giving me the slightest sense of relief that someone has come to help.

“I’m over here!” I yell, kicking my feet to try and force myself back up. My stomach drops once I see Josh’s face. He peers over the roof, covering his mouth once he sees what's below me. I feel my hand begin to slip again, screaming as I quickly try to reach for him.

“Josh, help me!” I yell, reaching for his leg. He steps back, crouching to his knees to watch me.

“What happened, Forest?” he questions, cocking his head at me. Panic consumes me as the possibility that Josh may let me fall quickly becomes a reality.

“Josh, this isn’t funny. Help me up!” I yell, feeling his hands wrap around my wrists, only to drop my right hand immediately

“Did you push him, Blackburn?” Josh questions, taunting me by loosening his grasp more. My shoulder feels dislocated, ready to tear away from my arm.

“God damn it, Josh, no! He jumped. I was trying to help!” I yell, watching him let out a scoff at the statement.

Ten seconds pass of me dangling before he finally lets me up, hauling me onto the roof and his front. I quickly roll off him, shuffling away from the edge of the roof. I hold my hands in my hair as I try to process what just happened. I begin to hyperventilate, unsure how to breathe anymore. Josh moves closer to me, glancing in the window to the guest room that’s now filled with more bodies as Officials, some that had been running detail nearby, begin to fill the room.

“Shut the fuck up and follow along,” Josh hisses, slapping my face hard, sending my thoughts away from their spiral.

“Out here!” Josh shouts, signaling the men to join us on the roof as he begins to give the best performance of his life.

Josh explains how he watched the boy jump, only to have him drag me down. Josh goes into great detail about his heroic act of pulling me up, even saying how the boy tried to attack us when an Official asked about the cut along my hand. I watch the men put the boy's chip into a small evidence bag, quietly conversing, scanning his blood with a device I don't recognize. The device beeps and displays something that makes the group of Officials disgusted. After dragging me inside, the men cleaned my wounds, questioning me if my father knew about my whereabouts tonight. For a moment, the Officials leave me alone with Josh in the room, doing their best to send students home amidst the chaos.

“You owe me big time, Blackburn,” Josh whispers harshly in my ear as the Officials signal us to leave the room.

“What happened to him?” I ask the Officials, feeling their hands pressed against my lower back as they guide me out of the home.

“A freak accident. A sporadic state of delirium when he removed his chip,” Josh’s father says. He’s already on the other line with my dad, who I know will be furious.

“Your dad says we're taking you home… now,” Adam whispers, guiding me closer to his car. I take one final look at where the boy fell.

The crimson red coating the back of his ear is the last thing I see before they drag over the white tarp, concealing him entirely from the outside world.