Elia bites her lip like she wants to add something else, but doesn’t, and nods instead. I offer her my hand to help her up from the chair, and she gingerly takes it.
It’s not until I’m laying in bed later that night that I realize Elia didn’t let go of my hand until she reached her room.
Chapter 10
Elia - Six Years Ago
When I return to my room for the day, there’s someone new sitting on the bottom bunk, furiously writing in a journal. She appears to be around my age, with dirty blonde hair hanging in low pigtails around her face, held back with a faded bandana. Her face is round and reminds me of a cherub I once saw in a painting in one of my mother’s old books. She must have recently arrived; her clothes aren’t yet caked with dust, and her fingernails are lacking the sand underneath them.
Usually, I would be excited for some company – it’s been a couple weeks since Geoff, my last roommate, left, and no one had replaced him since. Geoff had been nice – if not a bit cocky, and he kept my bed warm and gave me some much needed company.
Today, however, I am drained from the long days I'd spent in the dunes. I’d been shipped to the dunes for the last five days, and the sleeping situation out there involves only a blanket on the ground, and the guards say we’re lucky we even get that. My eyes are crusted over, making it hard to see clearly, and my braid is so stiff against my back it’s going to need to be ripped apart strand by strand in order to be detangled. I want to wash up, chug water, and sleep only so I can repeat everything all over again tomorrow, thankful that at least my stint in the dunes is over.
I try to muster a semblance of a smile. “Hi there.” I toss my bag on the top bunk and head to the washbasin in the corner.
The quill stops scratching the paper as she peers out from her bunk. “Oh! Hi! They said I would have a roommate, but no one’s been here for the last two days so I was starting to think they were wrong.”
I cup the water to my face, trying to unglue my eyelids. It would be more helpful if the water itself didn’t contain sand, too.
“I’ve been in the dunes this week. I’m back to my normal place tomorrow, so I should be here every day now.”
When she doesn’t respond, I turn towards her and see her staring at me, wide-eyed.
“What?” I know my appearance isn’t at my best, being caked in dust and dirt, but I shouldn’t be that much of a surprise compared to others walking around in camp.
“I thought only hardened criminals are sent to the dunes,” she whispers, and I realize there’s fear etched in her stare.
I burst out laughing. That’s news to me, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if that were actually true. “The only crime I’m guilty of is somehow pissing off the overseers enough that I’m sent there often. And for trying to pay back a debt that my parents generously left me.”
While she considers my words, I turn back to cleaning myself up. If she thinks I’m a serial killer, this roomie situation won’t end well for either of us.
“I’m Sage,” she greets.
I drag a wet cloth against my arm, scrubbing at the sand. Hopefully her introduction means that she’s decided I’m not a felon afterall. “Aurelia.”
“How long are you staying for?”
This is the first question that’s always asked when new people move in, and each time it feels like a barb hooked under my skin.
I make a noncommittal sound. “How long are you staying for? How’d you end up here?” I ask, redirecting the question.
“Probably only a month or two. My parents’ bakery burned down, and we lost most of our things.” She pauses and glances down at her journal.
“I’m so sorry.” I know what it’s like to lose a home and a business.
“Thank you. We’re going to go live with my aunt, but it’s at least a week’s trip away from here so we’re trying to pocket enough coin to be able to make the trip. Then we’ll start over. Have a fresh start.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. A fresh start. How novel. What I wouldn’t do to have the opportunity to leave this place behind and start over. Open a business. Have a community. A family.
I shake my head lightly. Those thoughts have no place here and would only make staying at the Sand Traps even more unbearable.
“Have you had dinner yet?” I gesture to the opening of the tent. “I was going to head to the mess tent to grab something, if you wanted to come with me.”
Even though I am drained and desperately want to sleep, I also don’t want to be rude and should probably eat something. The food in the dunes was also atrocious, when food was actually provided, so I should take the chance to eat now, even if the scraps here aren’t much better.
Sage brightens, and she tucks her journal under her pillow. I want to tell her that there’s never any privacy, even in your own tent, but don’t want to break her spirits already. She seems nice, and if I’m honest with myself, I could use a friend, albeit a temporary one.
Sage follows me outside of our tent, and we head over to the cook site on the opposite side of camp.
