Intermix Nation

Her hands shake as she tries to drag out thetime. She’s never been much of a public speaker. Nikolaus knowsthis. He’s the leader, not she. Nazirah has no idea what to say atthis meeting in … fifty-seven minutes … to win anyone over. Sheusually says the wrong thing all of the time anyway.

Nazirah sits on the window seat, staringnostalgically at the streets below. She idly draws shapes in thedusty window, then opens it to let in some fresh air. Nazirahwatches people walking energetically. Being away for so long givesNazirah a new perspective on Rafu, on the beauty of its simplicity.She looks at the white cement walls of the bungalows, bleached fromconstant sunlight. She looks at the salty ocean, warm even inwintertime. The cares here seem deceptively small.

The minutes tick away.

Should she prepare something? Will it seeminauthentic if she writes down a speech? What would she even write?Niko didn’t tell her what to say; he barely told her anything! Ishe expecting people to rally around the rebels at the sight of herface? Nazirah doesn’t think that will quite cut it.

Twenty minutes to go and Nazirah ca

Nazirah storms over to their table,bristling in indignation and attracting the stares of severalpatrons. She stands over them, arms crossed, clearing her throatloudly. Adamek glances up at the noise, but Aldrik continuesscribbling away illegibly in his notebook. Without looking, Aldrikhands Nazirah his nearly empty glass. “Yes, love,” he says,“another brandy would be divine.” He slaps her backside.

Adamek’s green eyes light up in mirth.Nazirah’s blood boils. She throws the drink in Aldrik’s face andslams the now empty glass down in front of him. “Get your owngoddamn brandy,” she snarls.

Several patrons sitting around them stop andstare at the commotion. Aldrik looks up at her with one astonishedeye. “Oh,” he grumbles. “It’s only you.”

Nazirah slides onto the bench next toAdamek, glaring at the two of them. “Only me?” she growls. “Yes,it’s only little old me! Only one-third of your campaign, only theface of the rebellion!”

Aldrik wipes his own face with the back ofhis hand. “Congratulations, Nation,” he snaps. “You’re the face ofthe rebellion. Are you hoping for a party or something? Is that whyyou’re acting like such a bitch?”

“No! I want to know why I’m being left outof strategy meetings!”

“First of all,” Aldrik says, “this isn’t astrategy meeting. It’s a simple financial discussion, which you’venever been expected to handle and which neither Morgen nor myselfthought you would particularly enjoy.”

“I thought –”

“Shut up,” Aldrik interrupts. “Second ofall, since you’re practically wetting yourself with eagerness,Morgen here can tell you all about our prospective budget ofkickbacks and bribes while I go get that brandy.”

“I didn’t –”

He rises quickly, snatching the empty glassoff the table. “And finally, you better watch your goddamn moutharound me. You might be able to pull that shit with your brother,Nation, but the Commander isn’t here. You answer to me now.”

And with that, he’s gone.

Nazirah stares blankly ahead. She slowlyfaces Adamek, who immediately bursts into laughter. Nazirah hasnever seen him genuinely laugh before. His eyes crinkle at thecorners and his cheeks dimple. “If he didn’t hate you before,Nation,” Adamek manages to sputter out between laughs, “hedefinitely hates you now.”

Nazirah bangs her head against the table,knowing that he’s right. “I can’t believe he thought I was the damnwaitress,” she says.

Adamek continues laughing, mimicking her ina falsetto that makes Nazirah cringe. “Get your own goddamnbrandy.”

“I do not sound like that,” she huffs,playfully pushing his shoulder.

It’s something she’s done countless times toCato. But this isn’t Cato. Nazirah and Adamek both have their rolesto play and this isn’t part of the script. At the contact, the twoof them sober up. He takes a sip of his drink. “I see you’retalking to me now.”

“Was I not before?” she asks slowly.

“In the car, you were ignoring me.”

Nazirah flushes. “No different thanusual.”

“Finished wallowing over your boyfriend,then?”

“Cato’s not my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?”

“Yes!” she snaps. Nazirah glances at theclock, realizing they only have a few minutes until the meetingstarts. She drums her fingers nervously on the table.

“All right there, Nation?” he asks. “Youseem stressed.”

“I hate public speaking,” she says. Nazirahisn’t sure why she chooses this moment to open up to Adamek, butthere it is.

He shrugs. “So?” Adamek puts a steady handover hers, stilling her fingers. “Everyone handles anxiety indifferent ways. Your ways tend to be incredibly a

“And what would you suggest I do instead?”Nazirah asks, pulling her hand out from under his more slowly thanshe needs to.

“Relax.”

“Relax?”

Nazirah looks at his unfinished drink,suddenly thinking of Victoria Morgen and her electric bluechampagne. She glances at him, sure the guilt is plastered on herface.

“What?” he asks suspiciously.

“I have a better idea,” she says quickly.Nazirah reaches for his glass and downs the rest of it in one gulp.She grimaces as the alcohol burns her throat. “Ugh,” she says,shaking her head. “That’s not my drink.”

Adamek blinks … blinks again. He says, “Thatwas … unexpected.”

Nazirah playfully blows in his face, blamingit on the nerves and the alcohol. “What?” she asks him i

#

The room is small, confining, and crowded.There are several well-co

Nazirah coughs into her hand. Thespontaneous swig of brandy did absolutely nothing to calm hernerves, leaving only a bitter taste in her mouth. Aldrik looks ather sideways, clearly worried that she’s panicking.

She is.

The meeting starts. Aldrik initiates, simplytalking about the rebellion, why it was formed, and what theinsurgents hope to achieve. He’s a passable speaker, althoughmonotonous. Nazirah tunes him out within the first fiveminutes.

Unsurprisingly, Adamek is an excellentpublic speaker. He doesn’t detail anything sensitive or personal,merely reiterates what Aldrik said in a more rousing way.

Adamek finishes speaking. Both he and Aldriklook at Nazirah. The crowd watches her expectantly. They’ve come tosee her: intermix, native Eridian, orphaned face of the rebellion.They’ve come to hear her words. But she is wordless.

“Hello,” she begins feebly. “My name isNazirah Nation.” She stops speaking, unsure of where to go fromthere.

Aldrik mutters, “We’re fucked.”

To Nazirah’s complete surprise andgratitude, a small hand shoots up energetically, tiny wrist shakingin enthusiasm. She sighs in relief, because questions are specific.Questions need answers. Nazirah nods at the young boy near thefront. “Yes?”

“Hi, Na-zee-rah,” the boy says, pronouncingher name slowly. He looks as nervous as Nazirah feels. The boyglances worriedly at his mother, who nods encouragingly. Nazirahcan tell from his bare feet, tattered clothing, and from hismother’s lack of tattoo that he’s intermix. “My name is Cayu,” hesays, “and I’m six.” He looks at his mother for reassurance again.“Mrs. Nation was my teacher. I miss her a lot and I miss learning,and I was wondering if you would teach us instead?” Finished, heexhales, smiling brightly.