Intermix Nation

“And why is that?”

Nazirah searches the room for inspiration.“Because,” she says, “it’s old and secondhand and dirty.”

Adamek chuckles. He rests his hands in hislap. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a little dirty.”

Nazirah flushes. She has heard the rumors,the dreaded girl talk, especially in the lavatory. Girls obsessedabout his perfect looks, perfectly high cheekbones, perfectlystraight teeth, the way his perfect hair perfectly flips … blahfreaking blah. Originally, they whispered about it when in herpresence. But now, no one bothers to hide what they think ofperfect Adamek Morgen. And it irritates Nazirah no end.

How can they forget everything bad he’sdone, just because of how he looks? Are they blind? Can’t they seethat that is part of it all? Part of the way he lures people in? Hedisarms docile dolts with charm and confidence before leading themto the slaughterhouse.

“Aren’t we chatty today.”

Nazirah snaps out of it. “I was focusing onthis essay … before I was interrupted.” She sighs, lookingdistastefully at her notepad. Nazirah feels an unwelcome rantcoming on. “I don’t get it!” she complains. “You can’t be that mucholder than me and you have been here a hell of a lot shorter. Whydon’t you have to go through this ridiculous training?”

Adamek looks at her like she is delusional.“I don’t need training,” he says.

“That excuse didn’t work for me.”

“I have friends in high places.”

“I’m sure you do,” she scoffs, thinking ofhow chummy he is with her brother. Nazirah is suddenly veryinterested in her fingernails. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Why?” he asks suspiciously.

“Just … curious.”

“Nineteen,” he says, after a moment.

Nazirah is shocked that he is that young. Helooks that young, but she always imagined him older. “Oh,” shesays. “I’m eighteen.”

“I know.”

“Oh.” Why is she even asking him this?

“Your face has healed.”

Nazirah touches the spot above her eyebrowwhere there used to be stitches. She’s forgotten she has not seenhim since before Bilungi removed those, leaving not even a trace ofa scar. Her split lip from Grum has healed as well. “A few weeksago,” she says.

It’s so surreal, this almost-conversationthey’re having. Adamek glances at the books scattered around heragain, trying to read some of the titles. “What are you writingabout?”

“The proper way to tape up your wrists.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle inamusement. “I’m not surprised you need this many sources.”

“It’s an informational essay.”

Adamek snorts, picking up the nearest book.His face blanches when he reads the title. He thumbs through thepages. “You’re researching the Medis?”

“It’s for Territory History,” she says.

“Mediah isn’t a territory,” he counters.

“It’s just an assignment,” Nazirah says. “Ididn’t exactly attend class much, when I first … came here. I’vehad all these makeup essays to do.”

“Ileana would pull something like this.”

“Ileana?”

“Bairs,” Adamek says, closing the bookthoughtfully. “She’s from Mediah, you know.”

“I didn’t,” Nazirah says, surprised.

“Our families are old friends. Her mother isvery sick.” He hands the book back to her. “Until next time,Nazi.”

Nazirah holds onto the book, not taking itfrom him. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Around.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Let’s just say you have even less friendshere than I do,” Adamek says. “No idea why, since you have such awi

Nazirah wrests the book from him, about tomake some sarcastic comment. Her focus shifts when she seesAdamek’s sleeve roll up, revealing his Medi tattoo. He rises toleave, but Nazirah grabs his wrist, stopping him. She standsquickly.

“Morgen, your tattoo,” Nazirah says,staring. “It’s different.”

“Different?” he asks, tensing.

Nazirah quickly flips through the book hejust handed her, where she knows she has recently read about theMedian tattoo. She finds the page, triumphantly showing it to him.“Look here, see?” She points to a picture in the textbook. “It’ssupposed to look like this, a pair of crossed swords with the word‘Merus,’ meaning ‘pure,’ under it. Yours is more ragged around theedges, kind of blotchy and deformed.” She leans forward to inspectit further, but he pulls his arm away.

“So the book is wrong,” he says coldly.“Drop it.”

“But if the book is wrong about thisinsignificant thing,” Nazirah argues, confused by his anger, “thenwho knows what else we’re wrong about? You could tell Nikolaus–”

He grabs her wrist. “Listen, little girl,”he says, “if you want to keep that pretty head of yours, whichtalks without considering the consequences, then don’t involveyourself in situations beyond your intermix comprehension.”

A hush settles over the library. Its fewoccupants openly stare at the two of them, all pretenses of readingthrown aside.

“Let go of me,” Nazirah hisses. “Or I swearyou’ll be sorry.”

“At least then I’d know you’ve put ourlesson to good use.” Adamek releases her wrist and looks at hermeaningfully before leaving.

#

“Cato, come over here for a second!”

Nazirah sits down beside Lumi on the grassyhill, watching the recruits kick a ball around. Cato breaks fromthe game and trots over to them. He wipes his forehead with hisshirt, breathing hard. “Hey, guys. Did you finish your essay,Irri?”

“Almost,” Nazirah replies. “Show me your armfor a minute, will you?” Cato looks at her curiously, shrugging ashe extends his right arm. “No, the other one.”

Cato extends his other arm, revealing hisEridian tattoo. Nazirah grabs it, looking closer. She notes withdisappointment that the fish silhouette looks exactly like always.“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Never mind,” she sighs.

“Are you sure?” jokes Cato. “Because I haveseveral other extremities you’re welcome to inspect.”

“You’re sick,” she says, laughing. “Go backto losing your game.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cato gives them a short salute and then runsaway. Nazirah turns to Lumi. “Can I see yours?” she asks.

Lumi nods, sticking her arm out so Nazirahcan look. The black crescent moon of Zima appears exactly like whatNazirah has read about. It seems that the history books areaccurate after all, which means Adamek’s tattoo is the enigma.Nazirah tries to recall when she saw him in the prison, or thatnight in the workout room. Did it look different then? She can’tremember.

They watch the game for a few minutes inawkward silence. Lately, Lumi has been more sullen than usual.Nazirah wonders if Cato has anything to do with it. “I just don’tget it,” Lumi scoffs, shaking her head.

“Don’t get what, Lumi?”

“You,” Lumi snaps. “I don’t get you.”

“Me?”

“You’re such a walking hypocrite,” Lumirants. “One day you’re miserable, then you’re happy. One day you’rea doe-eyed, orphaned little virgin, and then you’re an ass-kickingwhore. You’re so hard to read.”

Lumi’s words sting, but she’s just beinghonest. Nazirah can tell Lumi isn’t trying to hurt her; she’s justtelling her how she feels. And a part of Nazirah sees the truth inher words. “I didn’t realize I came across like that,” shemumbles.

“Of course you don’t,” Lumi sighs. “Whywould you? I just don’t get what everyone sees in you. What makesyou the special one? You’re not the only one who crap has happenedto. You’re not the only one who ever lost someone.”

Lumi lost her mother when she was only achild. And her entire family has been uprooted from their home.Nazirah feels ashamed that she has never asked about any of it. Shesays, “We can talk about –”

“Don’t,” Lumi interrupts. “Just …don’t.”

Nazirah clasps her hands together. They sitthere, silently, watching Taj kick the ball between two designatedgarbage cans. He whoops enthusiastically, stretches his arms out,pretending to soar around the field. Everybody cheers.