INTERMIX NATION

By M.P. Attardo

Intermix Nation

Mary Attardo

Copyright © 2013 by Mary Attardo

Smashwords Edition

http://maryattardo.blogspot.com/

This book is a work of fiction. The names,characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’simagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to beconstrued as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,actual events, locales, or organizations is entirelycoincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this bookmay be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without writtenpermission from the author.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table ofContents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

ChapterThirteen

ChapterFourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

ChapterSeventeen

ChapterEighteen

ChapterNineteen

Chapter Twenty

ChapterTwenty-One

ChapterTwenty-Two

ChapterTwenty-Three

ChapterTwenty-Four

ChapterTwenty-Five

ChapterTwenty-Six

ChapterTwenty-Seven

ChapterTwenty-Eight

ChapterTwenty-Nine

For my mother,

my rock, my Riva.

ChapterOne

Nazirah Nation is dead.

She stretches her mind, reaching for herearliest memories and coming up empty. She remembers playing on thesandy coast near her home in southern Eridies, the whitewashedstone of her family’s cottage a comforting constant on the horizon.She spent hours by the sea, a child of the sun. She roamed thesand, collecting starfish and seashells that her mother fanaticallyglued onto picture frames and proudly displayed throughout theirsmall home. Mason jars filled with smooth black pebbles lined theirfireplace mantle, coffee table, and bookshelves.

Outside, the water lapped at Nazirah’s feet.She laughed and built sandcastles that kissed the sky. Lying on thedunes with Cato, she swore that time could stop like this, and shewould feel complete.

It was a simple childhood, full of the naïveoptimism of youth. It was impoverished. But it was happy.

There was no hate there.

Nazirah remembers her thirteenth birthdayparticularly fondly. Riva made her favorite cake, vanilla with keylime filling, as a treat. Kasimir, fresh from an inspired trip tothe black market, brought Nazirah home a bicycle. They could notafford such luxuries, Nazirah knew, but her parents said it was aspecial occasion.

Nazirah remembers her joy the first time shesaw the bicycle, rusty and bent. She remembers Niko’s envious andsullen glares over dinner, and how proud her father looked afterfixing it. All summer long, Nazirah rode the dirt paths around herhome, chasing stray dogs, accumulating bruises and scratches,racing the sunset. Afterwards, she would walk sheepishly throughthe front door, gangly legs trekking dirt. Her mother would gentlyscold her, hand covering a smile.

There was no hate there, either.

Even in the bad times …

(when Niko tripped her and Nazirah broke herarm and wore a cast for an entire summer … when her father got sosick he couldn’t work and their food stores ran dangerously low …when her parents told her she wasn’t pulling her weight, wasn’tliving up to her potential … when she was teased mercilessly inschool, called intermix, and ran home in tears for months)

… even then, Nazirah did not understandhate.

That changed four months ago.

Nazirah came home late to a dark house. Sheand Cato had been hanging out with some neighborhood friends,sneaking swigs of homebrewed tequilux on the rundown boardwalk.

She remembers the crooked smile on her face.She fumbled for her keys, dropping them and silently cursing. Shetiptoed through the front door, a low laugh slowly dying on herlips. The scents of jasmine and verbena from the front garden werequickly replaced by the smell of something else. Something foreignand nauseating.

Something wrong.

Buzz fading, eyes adjusting to the lowlight, Nazirah squinted into the darkness.

She only vaguely remembers collapsing to herknees. Only vaguely remembers her strangled cry. Only vaguelyremembers the acidic taste of vomit in her throat.

Nazirah tries to recall her parents, once sofull of life and light. But now, everything is muted. Now,everything is numb. Now, when she tries to recall their faces, allshe can think of is this … this moment of pure hatred.

Their bodies: awkwardly positioned on theliving room floor, bent at unnatural angles, so close they mighthave been embracing. Their hollow eyes: open but unseeing.

Wet tears still clung to two sets of frozeneyelashes.

And the blood. There was so much blood …splattered on the walls, on the furniture, spilling from matchingchest wounds.

Her parents had once been so full of lifeand light.

Now, they would never laugh again.

#

“If looks could kill, Nazi Nation.” Catoslides into the empty seat on the bench. He playfully nudges hershoulder, setting down his overflowing tray with a thud.

Nazirah stabs a shriveled carrot with herfork, startled out of her lunchtime reverie. Not a reverie: atwenty-four hour nightmare, repeating over and over in her mind formonths, with no end in sight, would be more apropos. Nazirah shiftsher body away from Cato, turning only to glare before resuming themassacre of her plate.

She knows that Cato Caal, her supposed bestfriend, is only joking. But she really hates that nickname. She wasteased mercilessly with it at school. In addition to her intermixstatus, which already made her a pariah, her parents’ politicalleanings worsened matters. But though they had been vocal aboutintermix rights, they were hardly Nazis.

At least, Nazirah doesn’t think so. Shecan’t exactly walk up to a Nazi and ask. Nazis have been extinctfor centuries, bygone legends from the Old Country – NorthAmerica.

Her thoughts turn to her parents once moreand a fresh pang of grief surfaces.

It is mid-August, four months since shefound her parents murdered. Four months since she became a homelessorphan. Four months since her world so spectacularly collapsedaround her.

“Hey, Irri, you okay?” asks Cato, gentlytouching her arm. “I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying. I wasjust trying to get a laugh out of you.” The concern on his face isclear.

Nazirah shakes her head a little, trying tovanquish the ghosts.

Everyone said it wasn’t safe for her tostay, that it was too risky, that she was tempting fate. So shereluctantly agreed to abandon her childhood home, leave all of hermemories to rot, and come live at the rebel compound.

Not that she was eager to stay homeanyway.

Nazirah pauses, collecting herself. Shelooks up at Cato, amber eyes a bit too bright, fake smile inplace.

Cato. Her best friend, who, against all herprotests that she secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen to (and hehadn’t) had left behind his comfortable life in Eridies and comewith her. He had no reason to leave. His family was still aliveand, as a pure Eridian, he wasn’t in danger. But he was kind andfoolish, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.