Everything Judit MaVae knew about survival, she learned in two science classes when she was fourteen, and a year trying not to die at Birchwood Security School.

That everything was this:

1. Life is survival of the fittest.

2. Survival of the fittest means you're constantly in a competition.

3. Competitions have winners and losers. Winners get money and respect, and people want to rub with them. Losers get their skulls smashed in for being goon little nyaffs with freakish orange hair.

Natural selection, the science teacher called it. The basics of all existence.

Not that Judit had learned much more—she'd barely listened, and besides, two weeks into term all that dag went down with Mum, and her world was torn to pieces.

But skit, coming to Birchwood sure taught her the rest.

Here's a tip for you: if you want to know how utterly cruel the world can be, try losing your only parent, getting kicked out of school, being dumped in a juvenile detention centre and then almost getting killed, all in the same day.

Then you'll see how brutal the survival of the fittest can be. When you've not shielded by parents and teachers and other people's money, it all becomes clear.

You fight, or you die.

Even if sometimes you feel like you can't fight. Even if being alone, everyone against you, gets so skitting exhausting you just want to curl up in a ball in the corner, give up, give up and grieve the nightmare your whole world has become.

Skit.

Judit shook her head. Skit skit skit. Don't you cry, Judit MaVae. I licit swear, if you cry...

She shifted her position on the arm of the dirty sofa, turning rapidly away from Dek so he wouldn't see her eyelids' panicked fluttering.

Luckily, Dek didn't look up. Slouched on the other end of the couch, his face lit in his screen's electronic glow, he didn't seem to notice Judit at all.

Lox was deep in her screen too, leaning over the edge of the bar, still cluttered with last night's dirty glasses. The gig room above Bar Silver was windowless and as dark as night, the three of them barely visible, even though it was a summer-bright morning outside.

Judit pulled out her own screen, her thumb tracing a familiar pattern.

Selfisite: no votes, no interactions

Showem: no likes

2gether: one upvote

Judit clicked on the upvote, but it was from Dreanna Creg who was a sad nyaff no-one, so it didn't count. She pressed her lips together and went back to Selfisite.

No votes.

Judit studied the photo she'd posted that morning, her stomach heavy. She'd thought she looked crude, pleased with her makeup for the Very Big Deal Bar Silver invite, and yet... nothing.

It's because they're all in class. No one has checked.

Who was she kidding? Her nose was fat. Her eyeliner was crooked. The blue hair was totally dumb. She should have dyed it white.

Laughable. You're a joke, you crank ugly bitch.

Judit deleted the picture, her strangled tears still stinging her eyes.

She scrolled down her feed. One photo. It didn't mean anything. Judit still had 582 followers on Selfisite, 478 fans on Showem, and 152 connections on 2gether—including Dek and Lox, right up there for anyone to see. With those stats she was way more popular now than she'd ever been back at Goldmay Academy.

Which was pretty crude, right?

Considering.

Considering that when she'd arrived at Birchwood, that damp Friday afternoon nearly a year ago, it had been what, ten minutes from getting bundled out of the police car before the other kids started on her? Ten minutes, and Judit was curled up on wet tarmac, natural selection in her bloody spit and burning breath and bruised bones, the laughter of the feral locals ringing in her ears.

Quickly learning that life was a game, and she was losing.

Judit glanced over to the bar, where Lox was still lounging, staring into her screen.

Tilting her own screen away, Judit swiped onto Lox's Selfisite, clicking on the reassuring pictures where she herself appeared: first stiff and phoney at the edges of the group, then gradually moving inward, closer to her target. Finally, alone with Lox, pulling faces, heads bent close.

That meant something, didn't it?

Picture votes or no.

Lox was Judit's biggest social achievement so far, no doubt of it. But Lox wasn't the real prize.

Judit glanced furtively to the other end of the sofa, the slouched boy squinting into his screen.

That was what she really wanted.

Dek.

Dek Lawrence was top year at Birchwood—seventeen to Judit's fifteen—and the biggest winner around.

Dek was never mocked, never ignored. He moved through the world like he didn't give a dag. Afraid of nothing. Teachers, the other kids, no one could touch him.

And if Judit could get with Dek?

Then she'd be a winner too.

So the sickening anxiety making her palms sweat could dag right off. She was here, wasn't she?

Tuesday morning, Bar Silver, running with Dek and Lox. Everything about this was crude.

Well, in theory it was, the kind of status activity she'd been fantasising about for months, but in reality Judit felt stiff as skit and didn't know what to do with her hands.

"What's with you?" Dek looked up from his screen. "Why you acting so crank?"

"What you on?" Judit shot back. "You're the crank one."

When Dek had invited her to Bar Silver, he'd been super casual, I'm practicing at the Silver for my gig, come if you wanna. Acting like he didn't care if she did or didn't.

But Judit had been praying he did. That her plan had worked, and he finally had a tang for her. She'd been floating on a cloud of vinegar-sharp excitement ever since, grinning until she had face-ache, Sannah going, What is with you, and Judit, you nyaff, why're you laughing at nothing?

Not that she would understand. She didn't even try to fit in at Birchwood. Sannah didn't try to fit in anywhere.

Okay, so she had her reasons—looking Exotic in Albia was hardly ideal, what with all the murders, savage threat and everything.

But at least that made people scared of Sannah, which meant they left her alone.

Sannah always said Judit was lucky, looking so palely Albian, the fact she was able to pass. But sometimes Judit thought Sannah didn't realise how lucky she was. Not to have Judit's crazy hair, her spotted, freckled skin.

Sure, Sannah might look Exotic, which had its own problems, but Judit? Judit was a freak.

Until she'd dyed her hair and changed everything about herself, anyway.

Dek finally clicked off his screen, turning to study Judit unapologetically. His scrutiny sent a wave of adrenalin through her body, paranoid thoughts riding it like surfers: he thinks I'm a nyaff. Him and Lox are laughing at me. They're messaging each other right now on their screens.

The paranoia gremlins jumped off their surfboards and ran around her mind, gathering up other things to feel bad about. I can't believe I'm skipping class. What if I get caught? I'll get methy'd for sure. Then always present, always lurking—Mum. Oh, God. Mum. What did they do to you, Mum?

No. Not that.

Dek returned his attention to his screen.

"Whatever, goon," Judit said, way too late, desperately trying to act zen. "I'm off for a piss." Her legs trembled as she made her way to the sanctuary of the toilet.


Judit stared grimly at her reflection in the mirror, fingers gripping the sink. The metal was cold, the air sour with urine and disinfectant. She focused on those sensations, on staying in the moment, and her breathing began to slow.

There was a noise from the graffiti'ed entrance, and Lox came in, beehive and darkly made-up scowl.

Judit stiffened into her best approximation of zen, lifting her hands to pretend she'd been preening her hair, rather than trying to talk herself down from a panic attack.

Lox ignored her and went into the nearest cubicle. She didn't shut the door, and Judit heard the unzipping of jeans and a tinkle of water.

Judit stared at herself in the mirror. The girl staring back looked like a ghoul.

Anxiety rose in her stomach like she was in a falling elevator.

She swallowed and addressed Lox through the insult-splattered wall. "What's up Dek's arse?"

Lox flushed. "Today, innit." She came out of the cubicle, buttoning her jeans. "A year today."

"A year today?"

Judit tried to cast her mind back a year. Her coming here? Getting beaten up?

Her anxiety-elevator crashed into the basement.

Did they know? Had they found some trace of the old Judit online? Skit. Skit sit.

No. It was May now. Judit came in July. A year ago today she was still a clueless freak at Goldmay. Still thinking she had a normal mum, a normal life.

"Archi." Lox looked at Judit accusingly.

It didn't matter she'd been back at Goldmay then, Judit knew exactly who Archi was. Archi Breckon was a legend. That picture was the first 300 hits whenever you searched Birchwood Security School online.

And Archi had been Dek's best friend.

"Skit." Judit didn't know what to say. "Skit."

Lox didn't say anything, raking her fingers through her beehive, eyes fixed on the mirror.

"Today, like, the methy? Or today..." She watched ghoul-Lox through the glass.

"Today he slagged himself. The methy was two weeks before." Lox leaned in to study her perfectly dishevelled hair. "Dek found him, y'know." She looked at Judit sideways through the mirror as she imparted this knowledge.

"Skit," Judit repeated lamely.

"Yeah." Lox licked her lips, obviously pleased with her reflection. "Brutal. Anyways, I gotta flow. I've got class and that daghead'll methy me if I don't go, I know it."

"You coming to Dek's gig tonight?"

Lox shook her head. "Better things to do."

Judit could feel Lox willing her to ask more, eyes trained on her through the glass. Lox was always gagging for an excuse to talk about her boyfriend. Fair enough—Judit couldn't imagine tanging an older guy like Lox did, rubbing with growns like she was one of them. They'd surely see through her right away, be able to tell she was unfinished, still sketching herself out.

She considered leaving Lox hanging, but gave in and said, "Yeah? How's it going?"

"Crude," Lox said smugly. "He'll need me tonight, that's for sure."

Her words were confident but there was something—just something—in the tightness of her smile that gave Judit pause.

She was imagining it, of course. Projecting her own hang-ups. Lox was sharp as hell.

"Maybe we'll come after," Lox said, the ripple stilled. "Depends if we got better things to do." She raised a ghoulish eyebrow at Judit in the mirror.

The door slammed on her way out.

Judit exhaled audibly, her shoulders dropping. Trying to impress someone all the time was licit exhausting.

Her paranoia gremlins were still dancing around the edges of her consciousness. You can't handle this, they sneered. You can't survive. You're a child. How can you live without your Mum?

They were right, that was the sucker-punch. It had been almost a year now, and losing Mum still eviscerated, the suffocating thought of her intruding into Judit's mind all the time.

Tears prickled her eyelids again.

Come on.

You barely knew her.

And it's not like she's dead.

Yeah, Judit could go see her if she wanted, but she was totally off spec now. Sitting, saying nothing, moving like a robot when the guards took her back to her cell.

It was creepy, and it was really dagging stressful.

The tears were gathering force, like raindrops on a windscreen, and Judit willed them back.

Get it together, Judit. Natural selection, remember? Life has no place for the weak.

Inhaling, she blinked into the mirror, and went out to see Dek.

He didn't look up when she came in. He was still sunk in the battered sofa, screen inches from his face.

Lox's absence, their alone, buzzed in the air like white noise.

Judit wasn't going to say anything, but the ghost of her mum still lingered.

She thought of Archi. Dek's best friend.

Compassion loosened her lips.

"Lox told me." The sofa exhaled as she sat next to him. "About Archi. Sorry kin."

A mistake, that show of weakness. But here, alone, Dek let it pass.

"It's zen." His leg brushed against hers. "Archi was a soldier. He wouldn't let 'em win."

Judit murmured in response. Archi didn't seem like a soldier to her. He seemed like a sixteen-year-old boy who'd had his life needlessly destroyed. But then, what did she know? Letting them do that to you, not showing fear... wasn't that everything she was trying to be? Archi had retaken control. He hadn't let them win.

So maybe that did make him a soldier, after all.

A dead one.

Judit quelled a shudder, sure Dek would be able to feel it. She nodded towards his screen to change the subject.

"What you doing? Applying for uni?"

It was a joke. No way he was applying for uni, not from a Security School. But it was that time of year, the web was clogged with ads for universities. Fresh-faced nyaffs smiling at nothing, inexplicably jumping while holding their screens.

"Yeah right." Dek snorted. "Cos I've got digits to drop on that bulldag. You apply, they've got you on their systems, kin. I wanna stay under the law."

As if to illustrate why he wanted to stay under the law, he took a battered tin out of his pocket and held it up. "Smoke?"

Chang.

Judit stiffened. Her refusal to tilt emphasised their age difference, that she was a hopeless nyaff. She'd have to partake soon, she'd have to.

But losing it in front of Dek? No way she could handle that. Not yet.

But time was ticking out. Judit had told Lox her Mum got put away by a chang dealer who betrayed her, and she'd sworn off drugs in revenge. Made her refusal about power, not fear. It had got her off the hook temporarily, but it was shaky ground at best. Drugs were an important part of the Birchwood scene.

Anxiety kicked in Judit's chest like a street fighter.

The game's up, Mavae.

No.

I'll let him rub me. Right here, right now. Then maybe it won't matter about the chang.

She didn't particularly want to—she'd seen porn, she knew what he would expect of her—but she'd bite her cheek and put up with anything if it meant she got to survive.

"I'm zen. You have it, kin." She rubbed her leg imperceptibly, suggestively, against his thigh. "You got enough for tonight?" Her eyes moved to the stage in the corner of the room.

"Yeah. Maybe I should save it for when I need it most."

Dek put the tin away, and Judit breathed out.

"You looking forward to the gig?" Dek turned to her, his voice low.

"Licit. You gonna do that cover of the Hexagons track?" She leaned in, the air between them vibrating. "That would be crude."

"I was thinking of speeding it up, adding some bass..."

He was leaning in too.

Holy skit, is he going to kiss me?

Yes! I was right!

This is it, oh no, oh skit, but yes, he's–

Dek's screen buzzed.

No, it wasn't Dek's. It was hers.

It kept going. A high alert Judit didn't recognise. Dek pulled away like it'd stung him.

"What's that?" Zen gone, voice high."Get it, Judit. Get it!"

Judit fished for her screen.

She pulled it out, flashing red.

"What? It's–" Judit looked at Dek. "It's the management office. I've been called to the management office." She stared at her screen. "I don't..."

Dek was looking at her real crank, like she was having a period from her eyes or something.

Then she realised. Dread enveloped her like a body bag.

"Is that... is that what happened to Archi? Before..."

Dek's lips curled. "Why would they... I mean, you? You're a total goodysucker."

A goodysucker? Judit's heart clenched. That's how he sees me? A freak worthless skit you're losing—

"Whatever." She stood up defiantly. I'll show you what I am, Deklan Lawrence. "Let 'em skitting try."

It came out more confident than she expected. Besides, she did have to go. She lived in the school dorms. What else was she going to do? Run to Mum's prison? Not much she could do about it. Live on the streets? She'd be raped and murdered before nightfall. There was literally nowhere else she could go.

"Soldier," Dek said. He sounded impressed.

Judit shook out her blue bob as she walked to the door. She wasn't scared. She wasn't. She thought of Archi. This would show them, wouldn't it? That she was for real. That she was a soldier.

She had nothing anyway. She had nothing to lose.

Oh God.

There was always something to lose.

As soon as the door slammed, Judit slumped against the wall, clawing at her screen, trying to type. Her hands moved like they were in thick rubber gloves, breath burning her throat.

She didn't want to compete. Survival was overrated.

She wanted Goldmay. She wanted childhood. She wanted her mum, but her mum was gone.

But there was one thing Judit did have.

One thing apart from her mind, the mind that she was about to lose.

She had a sister.

Judit pressed her numb fingers into her screen, and messaged Sannah.