28 - Syianne

I space out during the entire ride to Erdry. Why did he have to tell me to be careful? What I find hardest to cope with is when Cello can be so caring and insulting at the very same time. When someone tells you to be careful, that usually means that they're worried about you. But he obviously meant that I have to be careful of something in particular, and if that something is Artus, he's got several mixed notions of what's dangerous and what isn't.

By the time I enter Erdry and climb the stairs to the stands, I conclude that Cello's parting words were probably referring to all the trouble with the riots. I manage to forget about it when I see Karnus and Nita sitting down in the front row and even about the fact that we're in Rockdem and everything that's happened to me in the past week: their open smile is like home to me. There's nothing like a familiar face in a new place to give you a feeling of confidence.

A feeling of confidence that crumbles to dust the moment I spot Artus's best friend, Vencit Frey and the expression he has when he sees me.

"What's up, Locke?" he greets me, using the same manner he always did with me — keeping a safe but friendly distance. Only now I understand that I've already gotten used to a different kind of life. I have Cello, Fellin, Minty and also Kaitha, there's something different. Among them, I'm not an alien being. Even if some of the other Jewels I've met aren't exactly nice to me — they and I, we're the same.

Unlike me and the rest of the world.

Vencit gestures at me, "I see you're all suited up."

"I see you and Art made up."

He smirks, "Can't stay mad at him forever. I'm surprised you even noticed."

"I notice more things than you realise," I cock my head toward the green field and purposefully don't look at him when I ask my next question. "What did you fight about anyway?"

"Art is my best friend; I had to show him I care."

"About what?"

"Him," he sticks his hands into his pockets and looks at the field as well, "No one else was telling him anything about it so it had to be me."

"It?" I know where this is going, but I guess I'm masochistic — I have to allow myself to get stabbed and for the knife to be twisted.

"Sorry, Locke."

I remind myself that Vencit isn't a bad person. If I were him, I'd probably do the same. I fold my arms behind my back as he speaks so that he can't see my clenched fists. "Art likes you as if his life depends on it. I just don't want to see him get hurt, and you too, what's the point?"

"There doesn't have to be a point." I don't know how I manage to keep my voice so steady and calm, but that's always been my gift. "That's what's beautiful about being in love."

He lifts his hand as if he's about to pat me on the back, but then freezes midair. That's right Vencit, I'm an Untouchable.

"Lucky thing is, I don't think it'll last," he says, sticking his hand back in his pocket.

I don't reply and keep my chin pointed at the field. Vencit is right, of course, it won't last very long. Because I've already made my resolution, I've decided that our relationship ends today. Someone like me can never have a human sort of love. I'll always be dragging Artus down as long as he's tied to me. He won't accept this easily. If I tell him the true reason I want to end things, he'll push it off. That's why I have to lie, and there's only one lie I can think of that'll make him back away.

And until then, I want to linger in this moment and watch him play as if we're two best friends still living in Sobortis. This is just a high school game, and I'm the quiet observer. Although there are hundreds of people sitting all around me, he picks me out of the audience and sends several smiles my way. I don't smile back, because with every one of his smiles I feel like my heart is breaking.

Artus doesn't score any goals through the ninety minutes of the game and even gets a yellow notice. The opposing team scores twice and maintains eleven players throughout the entire game.

After it's over, sweating and panting, he trots up to us, the smile on his face glowing as if he had won. The four of us bend over the railing so that we won't have to yell. "Nice game, the other team was great," Vencit mocks, as they exchange their usual banter. On occasion, Nita intervenes trying to put in a good word. Karnus berates the judge who waved the yellow card at Artus.

I say nothing and keep my face carefully passive. Artus turns to me anyway because he's used to my behaviour. "I have to go do some cooling down and clean up, Sy, can you meet me by the changing rooms in thirty minutes?"

I nod, here it comes.

*

It takes me a little while to find the changing rooms Artus was talking about. I regret coming here in uniform because everyone keeps ogling me as I pass by. I guess that's the whole idea of wearing the uniform everywhere and of the uniform being so distinctly different from regular clothes.

Artus appears at my side and without hesitation he grabs my arm. "This way," he whispers, pulling me into a long grey corridor with walls made out of bare concrete. "No one comes this way."

I pull my arm out of his grasp and lean against the wall, saying nothing. He's looking right into my eyes and I'm not sure I'm going to have the nerve to push him away. I don't even want to. Had I been a better person, I would have at least wanted to let him go just because I'm no good for him. In reality, I think I'm too weak to be that noble.

He smirks, still the king of the world, "I think you look good in that get-up."

"It's not a get-up, it's the only thing I wear beside pyjamas. This is who I am now."

"Either way, it looks good on you."

I cross my arms, trying to build up anger, trying my best to be as cold as I can. "Does it excite you to be with someone so different?"

He doesn't buy it, not my anger or the chill in my voice. He leans in with an open expression on his face smelling like soap and like his old self. "Sy," he brushes a strand of hair from my face, "you're not different. You're you. We'll be fine, if anyone can make this work, it's us."

I turn my head away from his hand and point my eyes at his shoulder. "No," I say, "we can't."

"We could," he insists and it sounds like a stupid argument between two kids.

"It stopped working the moment we set foot in Rockdem. Artus," I look at him, intently, my voice rising in pitch, "we have to stop forcing ourselves. I don't want to do this anymore, I can't. I don't have the confidence."

"Really? You can't?" He presses his palm to the wall by my head and lifts my chin up with his thumb and finger, "Or you won't because you're scared?"

That's the trouble with dating someone who knows me so well — he has an amazing ability to perceive what I'll think and he knows just the right words to say to me. I can be so easily triggered by him. My heart wavers, fluttering like a trapped butterfly between his fingers. I can't possibly lose the person who accepts me so entirely. I'm so scared to push him away because he will surely take a huge chunk of me with him, and I'll live the rest of my short life with a great black hole inside of me.

But I have to, because I love him.

I hide all my weaknesses, my desires and emotions. I look at him with steely eyes, "I can't," I say, keeping my voice cold and hard, "I can't love you anymore, I've started to have feelings for someone else."

My words take a few seconds to sink their teeth into his awareness. I see the muscles of his face change as he begins considering the possibility that I am serious and this might actually be the end. His body moves back a few inches, as if he's creating distance just in case what I'm saying is true. But then he smirks and kisses me. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" The words come out too forcefully, and damn, my voice cracks.

"Even if you're not, I don't care." I'm surprised to see how genuine his smile is. "You think that by breaking up with me you're somehow protecting me, and you're going to use that guy I saw you with to convince me that you actually don't love me anymore. Nice try," he shrugs, "that would have worked but I'm afraid your game was sold."

I blink twice, "My game was sold?"

"I had a dream about this, it was like this exactly, except in the dream I believed you and then...." his voice trails away, and his body tenses, "and then somehow something happened and I watched you die."

"Wait," I look down and exhale, then inhale deeply, and then I look back at him, "What you just said makes absolutely no sense."

"It doesn't, right?" he chuckles, "But right now, before I called out your lie, you were about to tell me that this Cello is close to you and you're with him every day and that he understands you in ways I never can."

My jaw drops.

"And I would have believed you too, if something didn't feel off about that dream and got me thinking... "

"There she is!"

Artus and I both whirl around at the sound of a female voice, the shape of a tall slender girl with long hair is silhouetted against the stronger light coming from the end of the corridor. Behind her, several male shapes block the light, each of them  about Artus's size.

I move along the wall deeper into the corridor and away from Artus. I don't know what's on the other end but I'm hoping that it's another way out.

The girl approaches us with long strides. She has a face that would have been pretty had she not been wearing such a dark scowl. "You're the one who hurt Reed," she's not asking me, she's accusing. Then she steps right up to me and slaps me hard across the face, "bitch."

My eyes water and my hand moves up to my cheek — I have never been slapped in my life, never ever has anyone tried to hit me. Besides being shocked, more than anything, I'm utterly insulted. How could she dare to physically hurt me? Artus moves in between me and the girl. For a moment his shoulders tense and it looks like he's about to hit her, but he knows better.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? If you touch her one more time, you're dead."

"Oh, she's not content with thumbs anymore? Will she take my entire hand? Or maybe my arm? Oh wait, let me rephrase, she's not a she at all, she's an it. It isn't even human."

"If you say another word about her I'll kill you."

I place my hand on Art's shoulder, I don't like the way he's talking, even if it's to protect me. All this talk about killing people is frightening.

"I have to go back," I lie, and then search for something calm and ordinary to say. "I have an exam tomorrow and I want to finish studying." That isn't even a lie.  Artus looks at me as if I am behaving in a way that's utterly disconnected from the situation, as if I just laughed in the middle of a funeral. I step around him, "I'll call you," I whisper.

He grabs my hand, "I'll walk you to the rail car." I let him escort me down the corridor leaving the belligerent girl behind, when we see three boys standing at the far end. I don't understand what they're doing there glaring at us.

The girl rushes at me from behind and grabs a handful of my hair and I scream in pain. She pulls me down, bending me in half. I'm in too much pain to notice that Artus has let go of my hand, but as the girl's steely grip suddenly releases my hair I straighten to see her being pinned against the wall with Artus' hand round her throat. He raises his fist, as if about to punch her, his face is red with anger and his lips are pressed tightly into a white line. He lets go of her and grabs my hand.

"Run!" Like a rolling bowling ball, he charges forward, right through the three boys standing in our way. Two of them jump aside at the last possible moment and the third gets pushed to the floor. My feet drag as I do my best to keep up. I've never been a fast runner, but now I'm running for my life and discovering new abilities that I never needed before.

Art pulls me up the stairs, through a set of double doors, and across an old parking lot that had been converted into a small training field.  They give chase, and I hear them screaming and cursing not too far behind us. The field is fenced away from the street and the gate stands locked. Artus lets go just to give me a small shove toward the fence, "Climb!"

"I can't!" I protest.

"Climb!"

I lift up my arms and twine my fingers through the fence, and then I stretch my leg, hitching my foot between the fence wires as high up as I can and pull myself up. Artus' hands guide my waist, as if he's trying to push me. I hitch my other foot higher and boost myself further. Artus starts climbing as well; he's at the top of the fence before me. My legs begin shaking when the girl and five boys reach the fence and begin ascending with frightful speed.

Artus helps me over the wobbling top of the fence and then leaps down the other side. The way he lands lightly on the balls of his feet with his knees slightly bent makes it look easy. I count to two and let go of the fence. A wire gets stuck in my left boot, cutting the soft leather sole and making me fall backwards onto my bum. My whole skeleton hurts from the impact, but Artus pulls me to my feet and somehow I'm running again.

There's a call board right on the street corner, but our pursuers are closing in and we can't stop so we run past it only to pause at the sight of an ominous-looking crowd standing up ahead. Their faces are covered with masks or cloth and when they spot us, they start closing in upon us too.

We leap off the sidewalk and onto the road, stopping several rail cars as we step on the tracks. There's another group of masked people approaching us from the parallel pedestrian walk. We start running up the road and slither between standing rail cars until we reach a T-shaped intersection that opens up to a plaza.

And walk right into a riot.