MY NAME SCROLLS ACROSS THE food distributor’s screen, and I take my hand off the scanner. Machinery hums behind the wall the distributor is attached too. Half a minute later, a small door slides open, and a plate of pasta covered in creamy red sauce appears.
I slide it onto my tray and step aside. As I wait for Milo to receive his lunch, I notice a table full of dancers giving me disdainful looks. I’d like to think it’s because I can eat whatever I want while they’re assigned meals designed to maintain their slim figures, rather than because I’m not one of them. I’ll never understand why people in different Arts don’t like mingling.
Milo makes a face at the fish fillet and steamed vegetables the distributor issued him. There’s a lot more food piled on his plate than on mine, but it looks miserably plain.
He approaches me. “So, where to?”
I consider which place in the Ballet’s sector would be the most isolated. “How about the stairs by the stage?”
“Sure.”
We exit the cafeteria and make our way to the rehearsal stage. A few Ballet girls pass us, and each gives me a slantwise look, as if asking why I’m trespassing. I wonder what it must be like living in a place where everyone has the same build as you. I must admit—I find their appearance a little unsettling. They’re beautiful on stage, but up close, their birdlike limbs, dainty heads, and lack of body fat make them seem not quite human. I’ve seen an actual alien, and he seemed less strange.
“So, how was your day?” Milo asks.
The memory of the fallen aerialist at the Circus flashes through my mind, and I recount the episode.
When I finish, Milo shakes his head. “Damn. That poor girl.”
“I don’t understand how it happened.” I picture the Circus’s stage, trying to recall if I spotted anything unusual. “She didn’t fall until we were almost done with rehearsal, and she was on the same silks all afternoon.”
“Whoever did it must’ve cut partway across the silk so it’d hold up when they did the safety tests, then gradually tear during the routine. I’ve seen the same thing happen to the ribbons on the girls’ pointe shoes. They’ll seem fine when you’re tying them on, but tear in the middle of a dance. That’s how Abigail broke her ankle. She’ll never dance again.”
“That’s terrible.” I’m suddenly aware of how fragile my hands are; they look especially delicate compared to the sturdy tray they’re holding. If someone broke my fingers and I couldn’t play anymore… That would kill me. My music is as much a piece of me as my beating heart, and taking it away would shatter my soul.
“Don’t feel too bad for her. The school hired her as a coach for the beginner classes. Last time I saw her, she told me she was kind of glad about how things turned out. Much less pressure now.” He gives me a slight smile. “I’m sure the aerialist will be fine too.”
“I think I saw who did it, but I don’t want to accuse the wrong person.” I look up at Milo. “Should I report what I know?”
“Don’t bother,” Milo scoffs. “Everyone knows Eva D’Antonio cut Abigail’s ribbons, but she’s still a soloist.”
“They didn’t expel her?”
Milo lets out a cynical laugh. “Without Abigail, they needed her. So they confined her to her room, but gave her so many exceptions for rehearsals and such, it hardly mattered. Basically, Eva got what she wanted, and her only punishment is that she has to eat in her room instead of the cafeteria.”
I knit my eyebrows, outraged. “That’s terrible!”
“That’s life at Papilio.” Milo shrugs. “Abigail should’ve paid more attention. Every dancer knows to check their equipment. I found broken glass in my shoes twice in the last month.”
“That’s awful.” I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised at Estelle’s paranoia this morning. I make a mental note to keep an eye on her. I’m not planning to sabotage her, but she might take a preemptive strike against me. Does thinking that make me paranoid, too?
This stress is enough to make a person lose her mind. No wonder I’m hallucinating about an Adryil.
Milo and I reach the deserted stage and enter the staircase leading from the orchestra pit. He closes the door behind us. I sit on the bottom step and set my viola case down.
Milo takes a seat beside me and looks disappointedly at his meal. “You’d think with Papilio’s advanced tech, they would’ve found a way to make ‘nutritionally optimized’ food taste good by now.”
“Want some of mine?” I take the cover off my tray.
He considers my offer, then shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay.” He picks up his fork and stabs the listless fish fillet. “Anyway, what’s the big secret?”
“I ran into an Adryil last night. Actually ran into.” The words I’ve kept bottled up for half a day tumble out of my mouth. I glance around to double-check that we’re alone, and then I tell him everything that happened, except the part where I’m seeing ghosts. He keeps eating while I talk, but his eyes express his disbelief. “I just wish there were some way to find out what he was doing,” I conclude. My stomach growls, and I take a large bite of pasta. A savory burst of bright, pungent flavor fills my mouth.
Milo remains quiet for a moment, absorbing the information. “You lied to a school official?” He bumps my shoulder. “Nice! Never took you for a rule breaker.”
“Trust me, neither did I.”
“What was that thing he gave you?”
I take another bite, glance around again, and then take the object out of my pocket, cupping my hands to shield it from any minders who might be watching.
Milo stares at it. “Whoa. Did the Adryil say anything about it?”
“Just ‘take this’ and ‘don’t let them take it from you.’”
“Seems important. Unless…” His eyes glint. “If this were a ballet, he’d be a prince, you’d be the fairy princess he fell for from afar, and this object is the token of his affections he risked life and limb to present to you in order to prove his undying love.”
I elbow him. “Milo!”
Milo grins. “Sorry.” He regards the device. “I wonder what those etchings mean. I remember seeing a holovid about something with green lines like that once… I think it was some kind of weapon.”
“A weapon?” It never occurred to me that the Adryil boy might wish me harm. “Do you think that’s what this is?”
“No clue.” He hands the device back to me.
The glowing lines suddenly seem menacing. What if it’s some kind of alien time bomb?
A calm feeling sweeps over me, one that conveys, Don’t be afraid. I relax, and the memory of the Adryil boy’s face floods my mind. Absent from it are any traces of the fierceness I saw in him. His expression is gentle, almost as though he was the one saying those words, telling me that he’d never hurt me. I don’t know why, but I believe him, even though I know he’s just a memory.
As I put the object back in my pocket, an idea occurs to me. “What about the library?”
“Yeah, right,” Milo scoffs. “Have you ever looked up something not related to the Arts?”
I try to remember an occasion where I went to the library for something other than a composer or performer bio, but draw a blank. “I guess not.”
“Believe me, there’s next to nothing. The administration thinks there’s no point in keeping the library stocked with information that won’t help us advance our Arts.” His eyes light up. “But I know a guy in Dogwood who might know more.”
“Really?” I’ve ventured into Dogwood a handful of times, but never stayed for long. Seeing where I’ll end up if I don’t find a patron stresses me more than I care to think about.
“It’s a long shot,” Milo says. “Still, it’s better than nothing. We could go this evening, if you want.”
“We’ll be back before curfew, right?”
“Of course.”
Though I have little desire to visit Dogwood again, going there is my best chance at learning the truth. I have to take it; I owe it to the Adryil boy—and myself. “It’s worth a try.”
Despite what Milo said, leaving out a library search feels wrong. Besides, rehearsals are done for the day, and I have nothing else to do between now and meeting him.
The library lies along the northern edge of the campus. Outside the line of oval-shaped windows, scraggly gray trees tower over a leaf-strewn ground. Shadows from the setting sun mute the reds and yellows of autumn, and branches sway under a strong wind.
I turn away from the window and sit down at one of the computer consoles. Apart from me, the library is empty.
A face flashes across the screen. I jump, startled, then blink rapidly, my heart pounding. It was the Adryil boy—again. His expression, one of intense concentration, was strained. Am I really losing my mind? Should I go to the med center?
But if I do that, they’ll drill me questions, like “what were you doing when the hallucination occurred?” I’m not sure I could keep from confessing about the Adryil device this time, and then they’ll know I lied to Mistress Medina.
A chill runs up my spine, and a feeling overwhelms me—the feeling that he’s here in this room, standing beside me.