24
The next day, Yuli comes down with a head cold and Krysta bans her from our table until her nose stops running. “We can’t have your germs hanging around,” Krysta tells her. “You understand, right?”
Yuli, being Yuli, only nods and goes to sit by herself at the other end of Daniel’s table. There she pulls out her new purple lunch bag and a box of tissues and eats her sandwich with her eyes cast down, dabbing at her runny nose. I wonder why she doesn’t go sit with the kids she used to eat lunch with before Krysta pulled her over to our table. Maybe they don’t want her back now that she’s one of us.
“Did you really have to send Yuli away?” I ask Krysta, a little surprised at myself for speaking up.
I hope my eyes say what my mouth can’t, that Krysta doesn’t have to worry about getting sick like everyone else, not while her family still has the secret well to draw from whenever they want. For once, I guess I don’t have to worry about it either.
Krysta only shrugs and says, “I have to watch out for us, don’t I?”
Eileen looks ready to hug her. “Seriously, Mira. Without Krysta, we’d be totally lost.”
But during gym that afternoon, Eileen and Anton collide during dodgeball. Eileen hits the floor and howls in pain. “My ankle!” she screams. “It’s broken!”
After a visit to the high school to see the nurse—the only nurse in our entire district—Eileen comes back to class with a walking cast on her foot and a scowl on her face. It turns out her ankle isn’t broken, only lightly sprained. Under the new rationing laws, the injury isn’t bad enough for an extra dose of Amber.
“I can’t believe the nurse said that I need to suffer through it,” Eileen complains as she limps around. It’s obvious, though, that she loves the attention as everyone coos in sympathy whenever she winces in pain. “Don’t worry,” she tells Krysta. “I can still do the dance next week.”
But Krysta isn’t convinced. “We’ll see,” she says.
The next day, Yuli is feeling better, which means her banishment is over. At recess, Krysta makes us practice our dance harder than ever before. “We have to get it perfect for the assembly!”
As we run through the moves, Eileen keeps falling out of the routine, grabbing on to my shoulder to catch herself anytime we have to spin. Her sprained ankle still has a cast on it, and she can’t help limping when she walks. There’s no way she should be dancing.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit this out?” I finally whisper to her when she nearly knocks Yuli to the ground. “Krysta would understand.”
“I’m fine,” she says through gritted teeth. She glances at the girls on the other side of the playground—the ones who weren’t asked to join Krysta’s exclusive little group—as if they’re a salivating pack of hungry wolves.
We repeat the dance a dozen more times, and I can see that Yuli and Eileen are getting tired. They pant and sweat like normal people. Like I was doing a month ago. Now Krysta and I are the only ones who are glowing.
“God, Eileen!” Krysta finally cries. “If you can’t keep up, then go take a seat.”
Eileen blinks rapidly. “But—but…”
Maybe the extra Amber in my veins has made me braver, because I find myself saying, “She’s hurt. Give her a break.”
Krysta seems stunned to hear me speaking up in front of everyone. To be honest, I’m a little stunned too. But I can’t stand by and watch Eileen hurt herself even more because of a silly dance.
“Fine,” Krysta says. “Eileen, go sit down.” Then she points across the playground at Ava and waves her over. “Come on!” she calls. “You’re in!”
Ava practically sprints over to get in line, as if she’s been waiting for this moment the past few weeks.
“B-but that’s not fair!” Eileen sputters.
“Let’s go,” Krysta tells Eileen. “You’re holding everything up.”
Eileen finally gives up and starts to limp away, but not before shooting me a glare so fierce, it feels like it could singe a hole right through me. “Thanks a lot, Mira,” she mutters before sinking onto a nearby bench.