One of the younger-looking girls notices us and approaches. I remember seeing her at morning training. A decent shooter but not so good at the close combat. Blond hair tied in a ponytail. Close-set, bright blue eyes. A small nose with lips for which smiling was a struggle. She’s attempting to smile now. “Welcome, Rose,” she says, addressing me by my last name. “I’m Lieutenant Marshall, and I’m in charge of the twenty-third barrack, which is this one. I don’t think I’ve caught your friend’s name yet.”
“I’m Tawni,” Tawni says enthusiastically, pushing her hand out so Marshall can shake it.
“This’ll be your bunk,” she says, leading us to an empty set of stacked beds with fresh towels and clothes folded neatly at the foot. Fourth one on the right side, I memorize. “Showers are through there,” she says, pointing to an opening at the other side of the room, where women are passing through with towels wrapped around their bodies. “Dinner’s in an hour,” she finishes. “Don’t be late or the food’ll be gone.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, sitting on the unforgiving bed. Tawni plops down next to me.
“Maybe it’s not what we think?” Tawni says, picking up our conversation from before my mom interrupted us.
“What do we think exactly?” I say.
“That your mom is up to something bad with Trevor.”
I smirk. “So you’re not so pro-Trevor anymore?”
Tawni laughs and it reaches her eyes. “I guess not. I mean, he’s not so bad. But you’re right, something seems off about him.”
“Like something seems off about my mom?”
“I don’t know.” She’s been saying that a lot lately. But it’s what I’ve been thinking, too.
I reach behind me and remove the gun. Tawni’s eyes are like saucers as I turn it over in my hands. I doubt if she’s ever held one in her life. Not that I’m much better, having just held one for the first time today. I shove it underneath my pillow and out of sight.
Suddenly I feel dirty, not from my injuries, or from the sweat-inducing physical activity of the day, but just from being in this place—the Star Realm. I know it sounds bad, but it’s how I feel. “I want to take a shower,” I say, “but not with all the others in there. It reminds me too much of the Pen.” The idea of showering with a bunch of other girls has never appealed to me.
“I’ll go first,” she says, wrapping one of the towels around her and slipping off her clothes discreetly, so as to not embarrass me. She’s a good friend.
While she’s gone I lie on the hard bed, feel the lump of the gun under my head. The gun my mom gave me. My mom the general. God, it’s bizarre. I don’t want to think about my mom the way she is now—this strange person.
So instead I think about the Star Realm. It’s so different than I expected it to be. Growing up, I always believed the other Realms were these magical places. I wanted to travel to them, to take in the sights, to meet the people. It’s funny how when you haven’t been to a place before, sometimes you picture it so much better than it really is.
That reminds me of a book my grandmother used to read to me. It was one of the ones my relatives saved during Year Zero, handing it down from generation to generation. A book about the Beach, a strange open place where people go to lay in the sun and waste the day away. My grandmother read about the ocean, too, sparkling and cool under the heat of the afternoon sun, washing sand and shells up on the shore. Tickling the toes of the people on the sand. In the story, the ocean is endless, going as far as the eye can see—and then farther still, beyond the horizon. I picture it as a beautiful place and I want to see it for myself. I hope it’s as beautiful as I pictured—not like the Star Realm.
Tawni is back, hair wet and smiling. “The shower’s empty now,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say, my vision of the mythical ocean vanishing like a cloud of rock dust.
“The water’s cold, but not icy.”
“Awesome. Not icy. What a review.”
“Are you okay?” Tawni asks.
I know I’ve been in a mood lately, which is somewhat strange, considering I’ve got my family back. Well, sort of. “I’m sorry,” I say, my pained expression softening. “I know I’ve been difficult. It’s just that none of this is the way…I pictured it.”
“I know what you mean,” Tawni says, which makes me feel better.
* * *
Despite the iciness of the water—yes, Tawni’s idea of icy most certainly differs from my own—I leave feeling refreshed. From now on, I’m going to grab control of my emotions and try to be positive, like Tawni. My resolve holds when we leave the bunks, when we walk down the hall, when we descend the stairs, and even as we approach the mess hall.
But then I see Trevor and it shatters like blown glass.
I’m angry again and I don’t know why. I mean, I don’t even know what’s going on with Trevor, not for sure, but I feel like hitting him, punching him, kicking that arrogant smirk right off his face.
Of course, he’s waiting for us in front of the mess hall. And his smirk is because he’s still responsible for babysitting us—and he knows I hate it.
Deep breaths, I think. I try to hide my clench fists behind my hips.
“Hi, Trevor,” Tawni says remarkably cheerily, despite the fact that even she doesn’t trust him anymore.
“Hello, ladies.”
Ignoring Trevor, I sniff the air. The warm aroma of hot food and tangy sauces wafts through the entrance. A choir of voices rumbles beyond. My stomach growls, a result of our meager wafer lunch being interrupted by Mep’s four-foot-tall goon squad.
“Sounds like something is trying to claw its way out of there,” Trevor says, pointing at my stomach.
“It’s a moron-eating alien baby,” I retort, “and you’ll be first on the menu.” The meanness is becoming so natural it’s scary.
I don’t wait for a reaction or a response, striding past him and into the dim glow of the mess hall. This time, the only similarity to the Pen is the long, cafeteria-style tables filled with eaters. Everything else is different. The sounds: the room is abuzz with excited conversations, almost as if there isn’t a war happening miles above us. The soldiers almost seem…happy—if that’s even possible in this place. The smells: rather than gummy and putrid like in the Pen, the aromas are sweet and hot and flavorful. The décor: dark walls and orange lanterns give the room a mysterious feel, unlike the bright, sterile whites of the juvenile detention center where I was a guest for six months.
There’s no one else in line as we’re the last to arrive, so I go right up and start filling my plate at the self-service food counter. Real sticky rice. Slabs of beef thick with brown gravy. Creamy mashed potatoes. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.
I find a seat at the end of one of the long tables, leaving a few seats between me and the other soldiers. When I take my first bite of the delicious food I almost gag. The taste isn’t the problem, or the texture, or smell, or anything to do with the actual food. On the contrary, the food is amazing, everything I expected it to be. But I realize it’s just another example of how the Star Realm army is better resourced than they should be. Not just better. Way better. Like they should be eating stale bread, but instead they’re eating prime rib. Something’s not right, and so I can’t seem to swallow the food, like my mind won’t let me.
I take a swig from my cup of water and force the bite down my throat and into my belly, which feels like it reaches up with starving hands and grabs the chewed-up food, pulling it the rest of the way down.
Tawni and Trevor sit down. “How’s the food?” Trevor says. He knows exactly how it is.
“Delicious,” I say, taking another bite and repeating the water trick to get it down.
Tawni looks at me strangely, like she knows I’m only telling half the truth, but then shrugs and starts eating.