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I didn’t know what had taken hold of me, but once I put that Bubble Gum on my tongue and washed it down with a few gulps of lukewarm water from the bathroom faucet, my vision went cloudy at the edges. The world was softened in my new vignette view and heat flowed through me like a river from head to toe.
Everything was lovely, just lovely, my body more relaxed than it had been in a long time. Even the fluorescent lighting seemed to mellow to a soft, warm glow. What had I been so upset about only a few moments ago? So what if Anna didn’t like me kissing her. I hadn’t liked it as much as I thought I would, anyway.
But why should I leave now? It was my first––and probably last––night at a club, and I was going to make the most of it! Plus, there were lights out there. Lots and lots of pretty, pretty flashing lights in all the colors of the rainbow.
Emboldened by the effects of the drug, I pushed through the bathroom door and went back into the noisy, crowded room. The bar was the place for me, because I could hear the music, see the lights, and get something cold to drink.
I made my way through the crowd, perched on one of the stools, and wiggled back and forth, testing it. Once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop wiggling, even when the bartender approached and asked what I wanted. He looked young and handsome, almost like a male version of Anna with his blond hair and blue eyes. If I was normal, I would have found him adorable. But nothing about him sparked any interest.
Yup, I was an aberration, but who cared? I was going to have a drink, damn it! Maybe even several drinks.
I shouted, “Absinthe!” even though I hadn’t liked the taste of it. It was the only thing I knew to order. What else had alcohol in it? What did grown-ups drink? I didn’t know. Mom and Dad never drank, as far as I’d seen.
The kid lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say a word as he poured one of those horrible green shots. I dug around in my shoe for the money I’d tucked in there at Anna’s behest. There weren’t any menus or prices, so I hoped the bill I slapped down would be enough to cover the drink and tip. Even though the bartender didn’t look impressed, he also didn’t ask for more money, as he took the cash and moved on to the next patron.
I braced myself and tipped the shot glass toward my lips. As before, the liquid left a scorching, sour path along my gullet. I welcomed it this time, eager to fall deeper into the drug-induced haze that made everything about this place magical instead of filthy, exquisite instead of daunting, an escape instead of a hard, cold dose of reality.
I had to find Anna, to tell her the truth. Maybe I couldn’t apologize, but at least I could explain myself. I slid off the stool, just as the music stopped for an instant. Sad. I wanted more of it and I opened my mouth to say as much. To shout it to whoever would listen.
The moment of silence didn’t last long, as someone else shouted “One, two, three!” A new beat permeated the air, different from the electronica that’d played throughout the night.
Since I didn’t know music, I couldn’t identify the instruments responsible. Some kind of guitar, for sure, and drums and... other things that made musical noises. I finally caught a glimpse of the three people standing on stage and confirmed my suspicions about the guitars.
For all my groaning about Anna bringing me here, I couldn’t help but sway to the melody. The beat was bass-heavy and primal, a forbidden sound that all of the people in the crowd sought to lose themselves in. From the corner of my eye, I caught a gleaming light in the center of the stage and turned to give it my full attention.
She sparkled. She was like no other woman in the room. Lacking both the pure, clean-cut image of a Loyalist and the darker, pain-filled features of the Shamed.
The newcomer had short, dark, tousled hair that looked soft and touchable, and dark-lined eyes that invited me to meet her gaze and never let go. She commanded the stage, looking formidable and proud in a black tank top and drab green cargo pants. Tattoos covered both her arms from shoulder to wrist, the patterns indistinct from where I stood, but colorful in a way that spit in the face of otherwise muted, dreary Commonwealth society.
When she moved to the microphone and opened her mouth, I realized I knew that voice. Not in this way, but from when she’d spoken to me in the bathroom. The girl who’d offered me coarse paper towels to wipe the tears from my mascara-gunked eyes, and then taken away all my pain with a single square half-inch of underground society’s drug of choice.
Why did a girl like this have to exist? I’d found it frustrating to deal with my attraction to Anna all these years, but this was an impulse I couldn’t write off as hormone-driven. Every word out of her mouth as she sang compelled me to move forward, to edge closer until I stood at the stage, staring up at her.
Or maybe I only imagined myself doing that, because I couldn’t seem to make my feet work. I remained on the barstool, precariously balanced, feet hooked under the rungs.
If she was singing here, that meant she was an underground celebrity. Maybe even one of the rebellious Separatists who didn’t yet bear the mark of the Shamed. And that meant she could have anyone in this room, man or woman. Why would she deign to notice me, the goody-goody daughter of a Commonwealth officer? The one who’d been in the bathroom crying rivers of inky mascara down her face?
I wanted to stem the flow of logical questions, but my mind wouldn’t shut-up. Even the music couldn’t drown out the persistent cascade of doubts.
Yet my heart... Why wouldn’t it listen? Why did I sit here, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell the singer would notice me?
I needed to get matched and fast, to lie down in bed under some Tenet-following boy, do my duty, and pretend the way I felt about—I swallowed at the internal admission, sure my thoughts were etched on my face—the way I felt about other girls wasn’t real, didn’t matter. Unnatural. Abnormal. No one could ever know the truth.
But she called to me with her very existence. Even though she didn’t look like all the other girls in the club with their tight-fitting clothes and heavy make-up, there was something entrancing about her. The voice with which she sang was deep, throaty in those opening lines, the beat heavy when the guitar cut out for a moment and then kicked back in, changing the song to a rousing anthem.
I was glued in place, mesmerized by her words and movements. Who was she? No one else seemed to care, to be as dazzled by her as I was in that moment. They danced as they had been throughout the night, arms in the air, eyes closed. It was the one place they could block out the world and, at last, I understood the allure of the clubs.
After years of living a life of obedience to the Tenets, all I wanted to do was lose myself in the heat and throbbing music, and never come up for air.
Just like that, the song was over, the spell broken, and the crowd cheered. I waited to see if the singer would perform again, but she leapt nimbly off the stage and the band launched into another song without her. Meanwhile, the dancers on the floor parted for her to pass. Despite it being a veritable sea of humanity, she had the power to wade through it, all the way from the stage to the bar.
I willed her eyes to meet mine, but she took the place next to me without a glance in my direction, leaned against the bar, and signaled to the kid behind it. He nodded and pushed a tall, brown bottle her way.
After seconds that seemed to stretch into hours while she sipped and relaxed against the bar, she turned and blinked at me, bottle in hand.
“Better?” she asked, her velvet voice a caress that made me quiver.
“I... I...” Why was I stammering?
“You’re the first girl I’ve ever found in the bathroom who wasn’t crying over some guy. I didn’t think there were many of us out there. I mean, I knew I wasn’t the only one, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, but her gaze remained locked on me and something about it caused heat to rush through my veins. I took in a shuddering breath. This talking thing, I could try it again.
“You’re—”
“Raid!” The scream that pierced through the noise and music was high-pitched and frantic. I turned toward it, confused.
The girl beside me set her bottle down on the bar with a thump. “Well, shit. Just when tonight was starting to get interesting for a change.” Before I knew what was happening, she’d grabbed me by the hand and yanked so hard, I thought my arm would come out of its socket.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my senses dulled, floating just beneath the surface of complete awareness.
“Use your brain. It’s a raid and any minute now—” Her words were cut off by the tromping of boots overhead and down the stairs. I caught a glimpse of Commonwealth guardsmen in riot gear, head to toe black armor with face shields and carrying rifles.
It was something I’d only seen on news broadcasts, a sight far removed from the comfort of my own home. These sorts of things happened to other people. Not me. Until tonight.
Being face to face with the cops, instead of seeing them from the comfort of my own home, was terrifying.
The colorful lights had stopped flashing and the club was dark, except for beams of white light here and there. People were running, pushing to escape and avoid arrest. The girl tugged me along through the darkness, her fingers tight around my wrist. I didn’t know how she managed to keep her grip on me or why I followed. It was the only thing I could do.
We bolted past the stage, behind it, through tangles of wire and rigging. I ran with a stranger for my survival and I didn’t look back.
Not even for Anna.