Chapter 33
Aryl
Ford drops me off at the airfield just north of the Institute.
“Keep my services in mind the next time you get in trouble,” Ford says, patting me on the shoulder. The one that clicks sometimes. He gives me a light push out of the spacecraft.
The Mercenary takes off in a noisy haze, arcing into the night sky. City lights bounce off its golden exterior as the ship ascends, and its exhaust trail of hot hydrogen gas fizzes, like a shooting star in reverse.
I sprint toward campus, hoping to catch the last few minutes of dance practice. When the team sees me, frazzled and greasy from travel, they’ll understand how hard I tried to make it.
I want Rhea to see me too. All her poison hasn’t made me keel over—yet.
Two figures appear on the path before me, and I force myself to slow down when I see Rhea’s stony face and Kandel’s gassed-off one. All my happiness drains away; my body goes heavy with dread, and my leg muscles tighten.
“Practice is over?” I ask, deflated. “I’m sorry—I was hoping to join for the last few minutes. I rushed back!”
“You’re out of chances, Fielding,” Kandel says. “This is the second practice in a row you’ve missed.”
“Not to mention,” says Rhea, “your values no longer align with ours.”
The words won’t sink in. “But you know about my situation,” I tell my team captain, trying to ignore Rhea. “Can’t you sub someone in for me until everything’s been sorted out?”
Rhea scoffs. “By the time everything’s sorted out, you’ll no longer be an apprentice here. Your Institute profile already lists your status as suspended. Weren’t you notified?”
Maybe I was. Without my flexitab, I’ve got no access to my messages, no way to check whether I’m still getting paid.
“You’re off the team,” declares Kandel. “You’re done.”
The blows keep coming, beating me when I’m already down. I grieve the money I could’ve sent home to make my family’s life more bearable. And along with the loss of my job, I’m facing a future without dancing. Without everything I’ve worked toward.
Live like you’re dancing, Rori always told me. How am I supposed to do that now?
“Good luck, Fielding.” Kandel shares a knowing look with Rhea. “I wish you all the best.”
They step gracefully down the path, moving away from me.
“Who’s going to be your charity case now that I’m gone?” I yell after them. “Who else are you going to lure with a dung heap disguised as friendship until they turn out to be too alien for you?”
Rhea doesn’t turn around.
I stomp away in the opposite direction, raging at these scrap humans and the universe that produced them. Soon, though, that rage burns itself out. My feet drag on the tarmac. My spine curls. Joint by joint, I feel my body turning to stone.
Why should I even care how I move? My dance dreams are over. No more stages, no more music, no more applause. No more sharing my innermost feelings using only my body.
I don’t want to live like I’m dancing anymore. I want to forget I ever could.