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The other males and I make the quickest costume change of our lives. When I’m in my fine attire, a traditional men’s white wedding kurta, the six of us run to the south end of the street.
I’ve debated about doing this. First, because I know I’m not truly Indian and these aren’t my traditions. I understand it’s called cultural appropriation to take elements of someone else’s culture for myself.
But the scientists who created us stole any chance of us knowing our true culture, and since I have so much Bengal DNA, I feel a strong connection to India’s enchanting cultural roots.
The second worry I’ve had was that springing this on Olivia might upset her, but I think she’ll enjoy the pomp of our little play.
Olivia’s going to get her first little shock when she calls out to see if we’re all decent, as she has the last two times she’s changed. The only response will be Jenna telling her it’s safe to come out. I’m glad Jenna was only too happy to help with the big surprise.
The males and I run to the far end of the street, behind all the old cars where Chance is waiting for us as planned. Colonel Slater gave his blessing to bring the male out of the southern barracks to participate in this dance.
Chance is among the gentlest of us, possessing nothing like my predatory tiger DNA. He prefers word problems and reading to more active pursuits. Luckily he doesn’t chafe too much at being relegated to the far barracks.
The Colonel told me the reason he was excluded from being in the first cadre to meet the human females was the fear that his appearance, among the most animal of all of us, would terrify the women.
I can’t imagine why he, with his equine DNA, four hooves, and human face, would be more alarming than Noble and me with our long feline canines, but that was the ultimate decision.
Chance was more than happy to participate in our dance and, from what he told me, he’ll be just as happy to retire to the southern barracks when his part is complete.
My research tells me it’s common for the groom to arrive, surrounded by his friends, as he rides a white horse or elephant to greet his bride.
Warren, who has the best hearing of our group, notifies me when he hears the tinkle of the Mane Street Fashions’ door, indicating Olivia is in the street, waiting for us. A moment later, I’ve been helped onto Chance’s back and our procession weaves between the junkers, then forms an inverted V with Chance and me at the back as we approach Olivia and the rest of the audience.
Only when we’re a few hundred feet away does the music start. I remain on Chance’s gently swaying back as the other males take center stage, getting all the attention, and showing off the moves they’ve been practicing every night for weeks.
Finally, the music switches to the chorus, which is Olivia’s cue to begin her own dance, as well as my cue to slide to the ground and dance to her side.
Something bursts open in my chest as I stride these last few feet toward her. She’s beautiful in her traditional red bridallehenga. But the look on her face, the affection in her glittering brown eyes, it’s more than I ever could have hoped for all those years lying alone in my small cell.
If I never see her again after tonight, this will still be the best moment of my life. The grumpy female I met a month ago has changed into the light of my life. I’ve fallen helplessly in love with her.
As we twine together, performing the intricate crossover steps Olivia has been dreading, she scolds me, though she has a wide smile on her face.
“Keeping secrets, Ty? A centaur? That must be Chance, who you’ve mentioned so many times.”
“A true gentlemale.” I grip her hand and hold it high as she dances around me three times one way and three times in the other direction.
The music builds to a crescendo, then stops abruptly. This time, even the VIPs rise from their seats to stand on the raised platform and give us a standing ovation.
I hope we proved ourselves to be worth their time and effort. I hope they realize we’re real people with hopes and dreams and desires just like humans. They should nurture this program and allow us to join society to create the lives we deserve.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Olivia
My heart is thumping, partially from exertion, but mostly from excitement. I wasn’t thrilled about signing onto this Bollywood dance endeavor, but now that it’s over, the sound of applause ringing in my ears, I’m so happy to have been part of it.
They gave Lucy a chair alongside the VIPs, but even she is standing, albeit gingerly, and beaming with happiness at us.
Ty slips his fingers between mine, holds our hands in the air, and then pulls me with him as we take one bow, and then another. It seems natural. I’ve seen it hundreds of times after live performances.
But we’re not bowing anymore, and our fingers are still intertwined. As the applause dies down, we continue to hold hands as first one, then another of the men in officers’ uniforms pointedly notices our position.
I’ve never been a courageous person, never bucked the system or even made a petition in high school complaining about petty inequities. But something flashes through me. It’s hot and strikes straight to my heart.
Since I got here, I’ve been vaguely unhappy about the eighty males in what everyone calls the reject barracks. I imagined creatures more terrifying than the twenty males I’ve already met. But now, having met Chance, I see that isn’t true. He’s gorgeous, for one. And for another, he seems like a calm person who wouldn’t hurt a soul.
Turning around, I see the big, dappled gray centaur, his tail so long it almost drags the ground, tiptoeing through the cars, trying to be unobtrusive as he makes his way back to the southern barracks where he’s been relegated because he doesn’t look human enough.
