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“An interesting take on things,” Harlow said and then laughed, a bitter sound. “I’ve seen many of you Uppers display these traits towards us Lowers, for example, making last year nearly impossible to survive for many of us. Including Luke’s sister.”
“Luke’s sister. What happened to her?” I asked.
“Good question,” Harlow replied. “I know she went to somebody for help and was never seen again. That’s all I know because I’m friends with Luke, not Marianne.”
“Are they the same age?”
“They’re twins,” she replied. “That makes it doubly tragic that she’s gone if you ask me.”
“Miss Colby, since you have so much to say back there, why don’t you show the class what you can do?” Henri spat in his snotty accent. “I know everyone always enjoys a good show from a Lower.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I mouthed at her, but she brushed me off and stepped forward to take her place at the front of the class.
She was surprisingly good with her sword, and even Henri didn’t find much to criticize as he put her through her forms. She’d been practicing, it seemed, and the sour look on Victoria’s face indicated she was better than anyone had expected.
“Your pet is ridiculous,” Victoria said as she sidled to the back of the group and stood next to me. “Perhaps having her like a lapdog hasn’t been a good thing. She’s absorbed all your swordplay skill.”
I ignored Victoria and spent the rest of the class watching Henri humiliate other classmates. And wondering why, among all the service-oriented classes we women were forced to take at Crimson Academy, did we need to learn such an ancient thing at all?
Nothing here made sense, and that in itself was a problem. I kept thinking of Crimson Academy as here, as though I was merely a visitor in my own life.
I looked at the photos on the walls of Henri’s studio and saw myself in some of them. It felt so strange to not remember when they’d been taken. Or even worse, when I looked at photos around my room, I didn’t recognize any of the situations.
It was as though I was looking through the life of a stranger. A stranger with my face and my body. It was disconcerting and filled me with a wavering sense of being entirely out of control.
I felt fragmented as if two halves of myself were constantly battling to remain whole.
After class, I made the mistake of assuming my day was finished. I said goodbye to Harlow because she had work to do in the library as a Lower. She had to earn her keep. I started off across the courtyard towards the solace of my room, where I could be alone with my thoughts and attempt to anchor myself back into my life.
“Where are you going, silly?”
Of course, Victoria caught me. I turned as she was jogging to catch up. She stopped at my side, breathless with two perfectly round, pink circles on her cheeks, and exhaled. “Phew, I need to work some more on my cardio,” she said with a friendly grin. “But seriously, you know we have beauty treatments right after swordplay.”
“I forgot,” I said dully. “I’m sorry, it must be the—”
“Yes, yes, the coma,” she said and waved her hand dismissively. Her nails were perfectly groomed and about an inch long with shiny pink polish. My own looked as though I chewed my quicks, and they were trimmed so short that my fingers looked blunt and stubby. It didn’t bother me, though. “I’m tired of talking about the coma. Follow me, we need our treatments, or we’ll start to age like rotten fruit.”
“Where are your sidekicks?” I asked as we turned around and headed back towards a sleek, modern-looking building composed of metal and glass. It was the one stand out on campus. It didn’t quite fit in but had an important position.
“They don’t qualify for treatments,” she said, quickly rolling her eyes as if she thought I was an idiot, but she was trying to keep it to herself. “Uppers only, and even then, just the select few. Remember? The Remingtons provide the technology, so you’re obviously their first choice.”
“Then how did you get chosen?” I asked as we walked.
“I’m your sidekick from time to time,” she said without malice. “It benefits me to keep you around, remember that.”
I got the message loud and clear.
We walked through the front doors of the modern building, and I looked up to see a sign above the reception desk.
“Remington Biotech Inc.”
“This is Alexander’s family company?” I asked.
“Just a tiny slice of it,” she replied, then looked over with a sly glance. “But you would know that if you were in your right mind.”
“It’s the—”
“I know!” she snapped. “Coma. I heard you the first thousand times.”
