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Grayson stiffens beside me but relaxes as he approaches the guards. “Mack… Kyle… this is Maribel Windsong.” He waltzes past them, removes a clipboard from a metal box, and scans the paper attached with his finger. “Says here she’s reporting to the Sweet Street Bakery.” He tosses the clipboard onto the box. “I’ll escort her there.”
“Wait a minute.” Kyle, the taller one, approaches me and lifts a finger to my hair. My stomach curls, but I remain still. “How do we know she isn’t carrying a weapon?” His hand moves to my waist, and it takes everything within me to keep from trying out the leg sweep move. With his breath hot in my ear, he says, “I think I’m going to have to frisk her.”
I don’t know what I expect from Grayson. They have guns. He doesn’t. The group also outnumbers him twenty to one.
“I’ll vouch for her.” Grayson snatches my arm and pulls me away from Kyle. “If anything happens, you can string me up in the city square and remove the blocks yourself.” He doesn’t let go, clutching me hard against his chest. “Ever since they kicked me out of the city, you’ve looked for an excuse. Maybe today’s your lucky day.”
“The Council knew you were an Undesirable from the day you were born.” Mack spits, hitting Grayson in the face.
As the saliva runs over his cheek, he wipes it away with his sleeve, not bothering to give Mack any reaction to his degrading act.
“You can protect her this time, phaloc, but she won’t always have you by her side.” Kyle laughs as we pass, his eyes trailing me the entire way into the cave. Bastian’s training seems more important than ever.
“I went to school with Kyle and Mack,” Grayson says through gritted teeth. “There’s something about being in the wilderness that brings out the worst in the people of Avren. They think that once they cross the line where they’re no longer in the city, they can act like animals.” He finally releases me as we enter an enormous cavern filled with machines and furnaces.
Men and women work the machines in oil-stained uniforms. Some workers are missing an arm or leg; others have darker skin colors, or sign to their coworkers. Sweat covers their faces. The heat and noise within the cave are almost as intense as the turmoil brewing inside me.
The noise dims from the machines as we press farther into the hillside and closer to the city. Streets lined with shops materialize, still within the cave but providing a more pleasant atmosphere. Lanterns light the cobblestone walkways where people gather after a hard day’s work. Couples sit at tables eating an evening meal with friends. Laughter and music come from a building where people are dancing inside. It’s a mixture of Undesirables and Citizens. This is the neutral zone—a place my mother knew well. It surprises me to see it open with the current worries about the sickness.
Grayson lifts the corner of his lip. “This is the closest thing to freedom the people of Avren can experience. They still outlaw alcohol and dating, but the Council can’t stop the people from having fun.” He clasps a lamppost and spins around it, coming face-to-face with me. “Do you have a favorite song?”
The question strikes me as peculiar. In Avren, there is one song that is everyone’s favorite. “The National Anthem.” How could he expect any other response?
He taps the side of my head with his finger. “And that right there is brainwashing.” Grayson dances over the cobblestones to the rhythm of the music coming from the nearby building. “Songs are supposed to be a matter of preference, not what you’re told is your favorite by leadership.” He dances up to me and places a hand over my heart. “What moves your soul, Mari?”
No one has ever asked me that question before. The Council appraised my skills and talents to determine my career path, to choose my leisure time activities, and eventually, they would have found my perfect match. It didn’t matter what I wanted. My own thoughts and desires weren’t even secondary in their decisions. To create the perfect society, we had to give up our destructive free will.
Thoughts of Flynn come rushing in, but they quickly morph into Bastian. My heart, and maybe soul, flutter at the memory of his touch. My cheeks warm as I push away my traitorous thoughts. “I don’t know.”
A wide smile pulls at his lips. “Then I will help you discover it.”
The mouth of the cave opens to the pillared white walls of the city. My breath catches seeing it again. I search the fifth floor for the entrance to our apartment, but the buzz of the city draws my attention. Gorgeous people in exquisite dress, so familiar to me but seemingly a world away, grace the streets of Avren. My friends and Flynn are among them somewhere, and a fresh horror hits me. They might see me in my new role as an Undesirable. They will look at me the way I looked at the outsiders in the past. Guards stand watch, taking papers from workers.
“They won’t let me go any farther without my own working papers.” Grayson hands me a black wallet. “Do you know where Sweet Street is located?”
I roll my eyes. Every kid in Avren knows where the confectionary wonderland is located.
“Never mind,” he says, brushing a wisp of hair from my forehead. It’s endearing in an older brother kind of way. “You’ve got this. Don’t let the hatred get to you.” He places a hand over my heart. “Your worth is in here, and like Levi said, you’re kin now. Someone will be at the entrance of the city to pick you up when your shift’s over.” He pats the top of my head and then he’s gone.
I draw in a breath, aware of how Evie’s clothes make me stand out among the elegantly clothed people of the city. The linen pants and cotton shirt are plain among the velvets and silks of the Citizens. Straightening my shoulders, I hold my head high, ready to learn the ways of the Sweet Street Bakery.
The bell above the door jangles as I walk in. A man behind the counter draws in his dark eyebrows. His countenance quickly changes as he turns back to his customer and hands her a bag. “Enjoy.” As soon as she leaves, he sweeps around the side of the counter and all but shoves me to the back of the shop. “Never enter through the front door again.”
“I’m sorry,” I stutter, practically tripping over my shoes as he ushers me past workers kneading dough and pulling loaves of bread from hot ovens. “I didn’t know there was a back entrance.”
“There’s always back doors for phalocs like you,” he hisses. He opens a cupboard and removes a bundle of clothing, shoving it into my arms. “Get changed, and Kit will show you the ropes.”
A woman with olive skin and beautiful brown hair assesses me from her workstation. She frowns.
He opens a door to a supply closet, then stomps away to serve another customer with a smile. I lay the clothes on a barrel and slump to the floor. My heart drops at the idea of having to prove myself yet again to a bunch of strangers. I gaze at the blue-and-white striped uniform, reluctant to take on another identity.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ipull my hair into a ponytail as I exit the supply closet, finally ready to take on whatever the Sweet Street Bakery will throw at me. This is not my skill set, but I’m willing to learn. Thoughts of the men and women in the cave remind me I’m lucky to procure a job assignment within the city.
The woman named Kit wipes her hands on her apron and crosses the kitchen to greet me. “You must be a former Citizen,” she says, glancing at my hand as I hold it out to her.
I quickly hide it behind my back. “I’m Maribel. My father was on the Council about five years ago. Daxon Barellis?”
