Chapter Sixteen

We sit at our usual spot in the cafeteria on the third floor. Hunter sits on the other side of the table, Emerald beside him, Maggie beside me. The others talk, but I can barely concentrate; all I can think about is my time in the Oracle yesterday afternoon. And about my decision. That I am going outside, aboveground, even though it will kill me.

Once you’re there forget your cares, slow your pace to walk.

Or maybe it won’t kill me. Because after the Oracle, I didn’t return to my cell, at least not right away. Instead I studied the sculpture of the Earth in the Preme atrium, then went to the library and located a threadbare topography atlas. And I discovered something. That those shards of rock way off in the distance sit directly north of here…just like the song suggests.

That song, the one my mother used to sing to Jack and me, is crafted on the compound’s anthem. That means it came into existence after life moved down here. So there must have been whisperings at one time, rumors, for such specifics to work their way into the lyrics. Whisperings that evidently have some grounding in reality…

So maybe I can survive. Maybe the oasis does exist.

And if it does, what if Jack made it there? If I can find a way up and out, I could make it there, too…we could live out our lives together, on our own terms—

The thought makes me feel more hopeful, more alive, more content than anything the compound has ever offered me.

I look around at the others, at their smiling faces. I can’t tell them about this latest development. No way. Maggie might be supportive, but she might not. And besides, she has enough to deal with right now. I glance once again at the new bruise on her forearm. With Hunter, on the other hand, there’s no question. He wouldn’t support my decision in a million years. And Emerald flat out wouldn’t let me go.

I guess I should be flattered. I matter to them. I matter. Do I matter to myself?

My fingertips graze the rips in my knuckles from the previous evening. Hours at the punching bag is the culprit, and I can barely lift my arms now to feed myself. Do I matter to myself? Would I be choosing probable death if I did?

The scabs that are starting to form bulge under my index finger. There are no nerve endings in scabs.

Do I matter to myself?

Yes.

I protect myself, and I nourish myself when I’d rather not, so yes. And I am not choosing death. I am choosing freedom. That is the crux of it.

It is what I want more than anything else, and I owe it to myself to get it. Even though it may be short-lived. My decision is final; it is how to achieve it that needs sorting. A bullet will shatter the Oracle glass; it will allow me to step across the threshold, wave goodbye to Compound Eleven confinement, feel fresh air against my face. It will allow me to run north as fast as my legs will allow…hopefully into my brother’s arms in paradise. I drum my fingers on the table, grinning at the thought. All I need is a gun.

A gun. There is no shortage of guns marching around down here under the stench of authority, gifting power to those they shouldn’t. How difficult would it be to take one?

Difficult. No question. It will require some consideration, some thought. But the slight uptick in my pulse alerts me to the fact that I am onto something. It is the start of a plan, a real one, to turn my dream into reality.

I pick up my fork and glance around. Eighteen long tables jammed into a plain rectangular box with a ceiling too low and a crowd too rowdy. I won’t miss it when I go.

“Is everything okay, Eve?” Hunter asks as I pick at a gray, glutinous mound of mashed potatoes.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course.” I force my back straighter and clear my throat. “Emerald, how was your fight this morning?”

She has a puffy eye, but otherwise her spirits are fine, and she looks none the worse for wear. “Easy as pie,” she says with a grin.

“A guest fighter?”

“Nope, it was a Red Circuit pro. The one with the spiky red hair, you know her? She’s solid but slow as hell. Not to brag, but she never stood a chance.”

I force myself to laugh. “You’ve been racking up a lot of wins lately. Bruno must be happy.”

“He is. He mentioned me going pro today after the fight.” Her eyes light up with excitement.

“Really? That’s great! You deserve it.”

“Yeah yeah,” says Maggie with a wave of her hand, “that’s awesome and everything, but don’t think you’re cutting the rest of the job tours, because I don’t want to be the only one—”

She freezes, her eyes glued to someone or something over my shoulder. I’m willing to bet I know who it is.

“Get away from me, Daniel, or I swear to God I’ll break your knee, too,” I say without turning around. The look on Maggie’s face makes me glance over my shoulder, and when I do, I freeze in my own right.

It isn’t Daniel standing there, and it isn’t Landry, either. It is Wren.

“Too?” he asks as he looks down at me. His gaze flicks off mine quickly, like he is just a little nervous or self-conscious, neither of which could be true. “Whose knee did you break?”

“What are you doing here?” I ask instead.

He shrugs. “Eating lunch. Is that allowed?” He sets his tray down next to mine and takes a seat. Hunter stares at him like he is from a different planet. Emerald scowls.

There is no sense in telling him that Premes don’t exactly eat down here in the Mean cafeteria. He already knows that. A few others sitting nearby glance at him, but I don’t think they can tell from looking at him what he is, especially with his hands resting under the table. They can’t understand how peculiar his presence is.

“I’m Wren,” he says as he glances around at my friends. He adds darkly, “I’ve come to realize Eve isn’t one for introductions.”

The others silently switch their gaze from Wren to me. I know exactly what they are thinking. As far as they know, I haven’t seen the Preme since our fight, but here we are, having lunch together like old pals. Me and a Preme. Yet another secret I have been keeping from them. Is it normal to keep so much from your friends?

After several uncomfortable seconds, Maggie leans forward. “Nice to meet you. I’m Maggie. This is Hunter, and this is Emerald.”

I watch as he picks up his fork and turns it around in his hand. Probably it is flimsy compared to what he is used to. I don’t say anything, though. I just watch a muscle in his forearm tick up and down with the movement.

“Are you two friends or something?” Emerald asks slowly, her dark brown eyes shifting back and forth between us.

I shake my head. “Of course not.”

“She’s right,” he adds. “Of course we’re not friends. You know, because I’m a Preme and everything.” He gives me a look, then returns his attention to Emerald. “Nice black eye. I take it you’re a fighter like Eve?”

“Yeah, something like that,” she mumbles.

I give myself a shake, try to focus on the rationed portions of unpalatable food sitting in front of me. But Hunter is watching us closely, and a pang of guilt stabs at my stomach. How could I not tell my friends that Wren and I had seen each other since the fight? Why did I feel the need to keep that of all things secret?

Emerald shrugs. It looks as though she is the first of our group to accept Wren’s inexplicable presence. “So anyway, before the fight, I was hanging in the training room, and Erick mentioned that you and Bruno had a spat. If you want to fight pro, you realize you’re going to have to apologize to him, right?”

“I’m not going pro.”

“You’re not? Then how come you’re barely doing any of the job tours?”

Too many lies—it is hard to keep them straight. “Okay, well, maybe I am going pro. I just—I guess I don’t know yet, okay?”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “Well, like I said, if you think you might want to pick that as your job, you need to apologize. Pronto.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Who’s Bruno?” Wren asks.

“He’s one of the pro fighters for Blue Circuit. He practically runs the team.”

“Why’s he pissed?”

“Long story,” I mumble.

“I’ve got time.”

I turn to him. “What are you doing here, again?”

He thrusts his fork in my direction. “Eating.”

“Come on, Wren,” I start. But I can feel the eyes of the others, and I stop. I sigh. “My last fight, a couple of days ago. I beat this guy Zaar, one of Daniel’s friends—”

“Daniel…the one who introduced himself.”

“Yep. Anyway, Bruno wasn’t happy with my…ethics.”

“Any chance you broke his knee?”

I nod. “That’s the one.”

“Highly unethical, Eve,” he says with a shake of his head. “Quite disappointing, frankly.”

“Yeah, almost as unethical as headbutting someone in the face,” I retort, and I nudge him in the ribs. Both of us are smiling, but mine evaporates when I see the look on Hunter’s face.

“I think I’ll be going,” he says as he pushes back from the table.

“Don’t, Hunter.” But I don’t know what else to say. He has a right to be mad. I told him on the kitchen tour to go easy on me because of my brutal fight with the Preme. It was a lie, an excuse, and he can see that now.

The look he gives me makes my stomach dive. “I’ve lost my appetite,” is all he says before disappearing into the crowd.

Wren’s eyebrows draw together. “Something I said?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter as I push my plate away. Emerald, who is always ravenous, scoops up the rest of Hunter’s lunch and my own. And then, before I can say anything more, I am shoved hard into the table. It catches me under the ribs, and for a second I am breathless.

A moment later, I am on my feet and face-to-face with Daniel. Landry stands behind him with his lips curled up at the corners. “If you think you’re going to take the last slot from Zaar, you’re crazy,” Daniel spits at me. “Even with a busted knee, they’d rather have him than a Lower Mean nobody like yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” I shout at him.

“He must think you’re going after a guard job,” says Maggie from beside me. “That you did that to Zaar on purpose, to push him out of the running!”

I laugh a cruel laugh. “You’re being ridiculous, Daniel. You think I want to work in the same organization that would hire scum like you and Landry?”

“Watch your mouth, Eve,” says Daniel, and his hand grabs the shirt from my chest.

There is no time to react. Wren has him off me before I can raise a hand to defend myself. “Touch her again,” he says coldly into Daniel’s ear. “Just try.”

“Got a bodyguard, Eve?” he shouts as he pulls himself free of Wren’s grasp. “Good, because you’re gonna need it!” And then he is gone; Landry, too.

“What was that?” I yell at Wren above the noise of the cafeteria that reenters my brain like a switch has been flipped. It seems to buzz louder than before.

He smiles, but it isn’t a friendly one. It’s a sneer, and I am reminded that he is dangerous and cruel like me. “Let me guess, Eve. You didn’t need my help—is that it? You don’t need anyone’s help, right?”

“Something like that,” I say, my voice suddenly level.

“What about with the guard. Did you need my help then?”

I don’t want to be reminded of my moments of weakness; not by anybody, and especially not by him. So I turn, push through the crowd in the direction of the exit.

But he follows me, and once we’re in the hallway, his hand lands on my shoulder.

“Look, it was instinct, okay?” he says into my ear. “You see someone get grabbed like that, and you react. It has nothing to do with you needing help. Or you being a girl. Or me thinking you’re weak or something. It was instinct.” He stares at me and raises both palms. “Okay?”

I shake my head, but it is only to clear the burning sensation that suddenly stabs behind my eyes. Why I feel like crying right now I do not know. All I know is that I don’t need defending. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.

“Why are you even here, Wren? You know as well as I do that Premes don’t eat down here. And they don’t give a shit about feeding the Noms, either.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you serious? Come on, you’re not that naive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.

“Come on. Why do you think I’m here? Yeah, obviously Premes don’t eat down here. They don’t help serve food to the Noms. Obviously, Eve.”

I stare at him. I am at a loss, but this seems to anger him more than anything.

He shakes his head as he pushes by me. “I’m getting a little sick of waiting for you to clue in.”