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“Why does it matter?”
“Because you know stuff. Stuff that isn’t filtered by the gangs or… other people.” she replies as though it were obvious.
Now I’m intrigued. “What stuff am I supposed to know?”
“How’s it going, girls?” Melissa asks, appearing out of nowhere.
“Great.” Lexy says with a buoyant smile. She’s good at turning on the happy, a lot like Vin, and I remind myself to be wary of her. “We were just talking. Getting to know each other. What pattern do you want me to teach her?”
“Something simple to start. I don’t think she’s going to be much of a seamstress, right, Joss?”
Her sweet tone makes my skin itch. Do they teach that tone here? The pitch of the voice that rides in your veins and vibrates at a frequency that makes you feel like you’re ready, willing and able to murder puppies in front of children? What kind of jacked up witchcraft is that? It’s like the devil’s brown note.
“Dead friggin’ on, Mel.” I tell her happily. “I’m better at ripping things apart than putting them together.”
Melissa smiles tightly as she retreats to the doorway. She stands watching the room but really she’s watching me. I’m pretty sure that ripper comment is going to get back to Caroline which means it will probably get back to Vin and I’ll get another lecture. Woo. Hoo.
“So this pattern is for a children’s t-shirt. It’s the easiest one we have.” Lexy says, pulling out material and laying it in front of me.
“That’s great.” I say, pushing it aside. “What stuff do you think I know?”
“Nothing.” she mutters, glancing at Melissa. “It’s not a good time.”
“You must have thought I knew something good if it was worth sneaking up on a girl from the wild while she was sleeping. So what was it?”
She doesn’t answer me. I sigh. I’d rather she wanted a fight. This is a
“Why are we making children’s shirts?” I ask, examining it. There’s a lot of letters and symbols all over this thing but none of it means anything to me. “I haven’t seen a single kid here.”
“Not in this Pod, but there are children in others. They grow so fast, go through clothing so quickly we all help make things for them.”
“That’s what you guys call each other? Pods?”
“Yeah. What—“ She takes a breath. “What do you call us on the outside?”
“Colonies.” I say with distaste. “You’re all the same thing to us.”
“How many are there?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
“How many of what are there? What are you asking?”
“How many Pods? How many Colonies are there?”
“How should I know? Three I think, though probably more.” I say, surprised by the question. “Wait, do you not know? How do you not know?”
Her eyes dart to Melissa as she fiddles with the pattern absently. “They don’t tell us.”
“That’s weird.”
“They don’t tell us a lot of things.”
That, I think, is not so weird. This Colony is smaller by far than the other two in the stadiums and I wonder if they’re the only ones kept in the dark. Are there larger Colonies somewhere else that keep secrets from the stadiums?
“Did they tell you that the zombie population was almost gone a couple months ago?” I ask casually, taking a gamble.
She freezes, her brows pinching in confusion. “That’s impossible. Have you seen how many Risen are outside?”
“Yeah and it’s nuts compared to downtown. Up until recently when one of your Pods fell, the Risen weren’t even much of a problem.”
Lexy stares at me, her eyes suddenly sharp. “What makes you think a Pod fell recently? How recently?”
I study her face and I wonder how far I should go with this conversation. Twice now I’ve seen how quickly this girl can flip the switch and become someone else when the need is there. I wonder if I’m seeing the real her now or if this is all an act to draw me out. To find out what I know about their operation. Maybe she, Mel and Caroline are the best of friends and I’m sewing with the enemy here.
I push the pattern across the table toward her and sit back in my chair. “Why don’t you go ahead and show me how to make that shirt now?”
***
Vin shakes his head. “That’s not a shirt.
“It is too a shirt!” I cry indignantly. “Nats, tell him it’s a shirt.”
Nats, who is just waking up and enjoying a rare moment with us, sighs warily. “Honey, it’s not even close.”
“What? Yes it is. It has a neck and sleeves. I worked really hard on this!”
“Put it on then.” Vin challenges.
I scowl at him. “It’s a child’s shirt. I can’t fit in it.”
“Too many waffles.”
“Excuse me?!”
He pulls the shirt from my hands and holds it up in front of me. “Show me where the kid’s arms fit through.”
I roll my eyes. “They fit through the sleeves, here and her—ah hell.”
I’ve sewn the sleeves shut.
“Do you see why it’s not a shirt now?”
“Shut up.” I mutter, snatching the shirt back from him.
Despite our awkward moment, Vin and I have fallen back into our regular routine. Caroline must have been thoroughly reassured of his affection for her (a thought that makes me ill) because she hasn’t given me the murderous look she did in the cafeteria. She still hates me, that much is clear, but she looks at me more like she wants to end me quickly as opposed to dancing in my blood.
“So this girl that attacked you,” Nats asks, thankfully changing the subject. “You couldn’t get a read on her?”
“No, not really.” I admit. “I mean, I think she’s legit but then again people aren’t really my thing, you know?”
“Yeah, we know.” Vin says emphatically.
I throw the non-shirt at his face.
“How’s Brea
“She seems alright.” Vin tells her gently. “Caroline’s really taken her in.”
“Caroline really takes in a lot of people.” I say brightly. “Right, Vin?”
“I knew it.” He smiles. “I knew you were dirty. I just had to wait and have faith.”
“So you think she’s okay?” Nats presses.
“Yeah, I think she’s great. Places like this, they really do work for some people. Brea
“And you’re not worried about going back and having to tell Marlow you lost a dime?”
“What’s a dime?” I ask.
Vin looks at me pointedly. “You remember what I told you about currency?”
“Yeah.”
“Brea
“What, like ten dollars?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you serious?!” I cry, feeling massively insulted on Brea
“Not really.” Nats says evenly. “She’s pretty, sure, but that’s not all that matters. Personality plays a big part and she’s sweet but she’s not much else.”
I want to ask Nats what she is. If she’s a dime as well, though I can’t believe she would be, not as smart as she is. But I’m worried it’d be offensive to ask. I’m also blown away by the fact that Vin labeled me a hundred dollar bill. What is it about me that sets me so high?
I look up to find him watching me, his eyes amused. He knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“You flattered yet, Kitten?”
I can feel myself starting to blush so I change the subject. “Who’s Marlow?”
The amusement in Vin’s eyes vanishes. “Marlow is the King of The Hive.”
“He’s basically Vin’s boss’s boss’s boss.”
“Wait,” I say, looking to Vin. “You’re that high up in The Hive?”
“You’re surprised?”
“I thought you were a Stable Boy.”
“I told you, I’m The Stable Boy.”
“I don’t know what the difference is? Is there one?”
“It means he’s a big deal.” Nats explains. “He’s kind of like the gang’s banker. So going back without Brea
“What will happen to you?” I ask him quietly.
He smirks. “You worried about me?”
“Maybe a little. What will happen?”
“Nothing.” he says coolly, looking at Nats. “Cause we’re go