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She squirmed under my gaze, looked at her sturdy black court shoes, and then stared up at me with piercing determination.
“No. But you and I, we’re the same.” I doubted it, but I let her continue. She tapped the side of her head. “We’re not All Kind,” she said, displaying small, baby-like teeth as she spoke. “We’re sort of like, Odd Kind, aren’t we?” A small laugh escaped her lips like a hiccup, and I couldn’t help but smile.
And this was what it was like as we picked up the rest of the Spiders. Olga’s definition was perfect. Each Spider was, in their own way, Odd Kind, in looks, behavior, or both. They were never going to fit into the Superiors idea of a perfect All Kind citizen, so they were taking their chances with us.
By the time the Spi
A thought blossomed, becoming more defined, as I opened my mind to the obvious.
How many Odd Kinds were there in the Woodlands?
The Spi
I stayed in the car with Pietre for Careen’s sake, and Rash stayed with me. We were like a messed-up chain of support, with everyone trying to absorb Pietre’s sullen behavior. Matthew rode with us, and Pelo moved to another, less crowded, car. After a few attempts at conversation, he’d given up and left me alone. Fathering was not easy for him; the same as having a father was not easy for me. When I looked at him, all I saw was my mother. The failure of my own mission was a knife in my gut, which I didn’t want to remove. At least with it there, I could punish myself, feel the pain I deserved to feel for not managing to save her.
I focused on getting home. Joseph was so close I could almost touch him. I found myself licking my lips at the thought of his kiss, an action that both confused and amused Rash. He knocked my shoulder and pointed to the land. The fog was lifting with our hopes, the trees grasping at the clouds with the tips of their branches. The atmosphere changed as we got closer to home, the light brighter, and the last scraps of winter easing.
“I guess you know all the names of those trees,” he said, teasing as he chomped away at the dried meat like it was a strip of leather in his mouth.
“I do.” I nodded proudly, “All that time in the arboretum saved my life when I was out there.” I pointed towards the woods, imagining the streams slicing through mossy beds. Part of my heart still lay out there.
Rash closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. His posture hung sadly. Intimacy was difficult squished in this car with four others. His intense stare washed the others away. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?” His tone was strained. I realized I’d been using him as a crutch, without sharing the reasons I needed it so badly. But how did you tell someone you were chaos inside? That every minute was a struggle with the turning, pitch-edged demon inside you.
He spread his hands out on the table, giving up on the last chunk of meat. He picked at the skin around his nails, reminding me of Clara. I took his hand, faced it palm upwards on the table, and grabbed his thumb. My voice shook as I curled his thumb over. “First, I was beaten with a hammer.”
“I remember,” he whispered as he winced.
I took his index finger and folded that over. “Then I woke up, underground, four months pregnant.” I heard him take a sharp breath through his nostrils. It made him angry. I took his middle finger and pressed it into his palm. “Then I met an incredible girl called Clara, and we managed to escape.” The next finger I paused on, explaining, “Joseph was waiting for me in the forest and, after he told me it was his baby, I punched his friend in the face.” Rash smiled proudly as I pushed that finger down. My throat felt dry as I tried to say the next part, a dry sob splitting my words. “Clara died during childbirth in a railway tu
He smiled at me with sad eyes. “That’s a lot,” he said. “And I also know there’s a lot you’re not telling me. But if you say you’re ok, I’ll try to believe you.”
“What about you?” I asked. It had been almost two years since I’d last seen Rash.
He shrugged and put my hand on the table palm upwards. Folding only three fingers down. “One—you disappeared, two—I failed Construction dismally, and three—they cut my training short and sent me to Pau to collect rubbish for the rest of my life.” I blinked at the sum of his life. Did my disappearance cause him to fail?
I put my hand over his still-clenched fists, and he relaxed. “You’re here now. I can’t wait to show you my home.” I gri
Pietre snorted, and I jumped. The fuzzy haze of our invented solitude disappeared as I realized everyone was listening. I shot him a look like razor blades. “What?”
“That was very touching,” he sneered, while rubbing his creased forehead with his hand. “But you still don’t get it, do you?”
I sighed, so tired of him, of his loathing. I wished for the old Pietre back. “What don’t I get?” I asked.
He smiled slyly, and it forced me to shudder. “That where we’re going is not home. It’s temporary. What do you think this has been about?” He waved his arms around in sharp, violent movements. I considered ignoring him. It was what Careen was doing. Matthew looked at me, his eyes wide and concerned. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to like it.
“What? You sorry excuse for a soldier, what have I missed?”
Pietre flinched slightly at my insult, but he seemed too bent on delivering the bad news to respond. His lip curled, and he stared through me, icy and malevolent. “We don’t want to take them down. We want in.”
My confusion was obviously clear on my face, and Pietre was quite happy to beat me over the head with the truth until I understood. “Do you think we want to live on the edge of a nuclear crater for the rest of our lives, which will be shorter if we stay there? No, the safest place for us is inside those walls.”
Matthew shook his head. “I think you’re over-simplifying.”
My world started to crumble. The threads I had been holding myself together with loosened, and then snapped violently. My breath quickened, and my eyes lost focus. I felt an arm around me, pulling my body close. Rosa. Rosa. Rosa. Don’t fall apart. Don’t let him get to you. I started to pull the threads together in my hands, winding them around my fingers tightly until I had a messy ball. I shoved that messy ball deep inside. There was too much, and I needed all of me to deal with whatever came next. I pressed my feet into the floor of the car and held myself still, because if Pietre said one more word, I was going to kick him.
Pietre opened his mouth to speak, a dark hollow filled with hate. Rash turned and glared, all humor lost. “We’ve put up with you because you’re crippled,” he spat so cruelly I cringed, “but if you say one more word, I’m going to use your leg as a diving board at the next stop.”