The Unfavorable Page 10

  “How did you find out about my sister?” Micah inquires, almost accusingly.

  “She was looking for you,” I affirm, a bit defensive. “She said she had a brother named Micah that disappeared six years ago. That and the fact she looks like she could be your twin…I just put two and two together. I know it’s weird, I still can’t believe it. You taught me how to read and write when you became Unfavorable. We’ve been friends for years. I wouldn’t do anything to mess with you or someone that could even potentially be related to you. And the odds were better than great that she is.”

  “You can’t let her come back here, Ryder,” Micah stresses, standing and pacing around the room – his movements erratic. I haven’t seen him this overwhelmed since the day he showed up in the Boiler room.

  “It’s not like I had a choice in the matter. She just kind of showed up.”

  “It’s not safe for her outside Geha.”

  “Well…I, uh, actually brought her here today…”

  “You, what?!” he yells, turning on me. “You didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I did,” I admit. “Right to your front door. She’s as headstrong as you, mate. Even if I had tried to push her back up those stairs, she would have found a way around me. She wanted to see you. She wants to know what happened to her older brother, and I felt for her.”

  “I bet you did,” Micah mutters, going back to pacing.

  “What does that mean?” I spit, biting my tongue. Sure, he’s worried about his sister, but he’s like a brother to me. He knows I wouldn’t do anything to her.

  “Just that you probably courted her like you have every other girl in this village.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to your sister, mate.”

  “I bet. Don’t bring her here again, Ryder. She doesn’t belong outside the walls.”

  “She’s not a little girl, Micah. She isn’t the little girl you remember from when you became Unfavorable. Even if I told her not to come back, I guarantee that she will anyway, because she is going to do whatever she wants. Neither you or I can stop her.”

  “Just get out,” Micah growls. “Get out of here, you ungrateful mongrel.”

  “Wow,” I breathe. It feels like he just punched me in the stomach then sucker punched me in the face. “I thought you’d be happy to see your sister after six years without her. You should be grateful that I’m the one she ran into. Anyone else would have ratted her out in a second. Sorry for trying to do something nice for you.”

  Rage driving me, I slam the bowl – still over half full – on the table and stomp out of the hut without looking back. I go left back towards the middle of the village, towards my own little hut closer to the market. I don’t stop walking until I reach my place and smash the door shut behind me, almost splitting the wood into pieces.

  How could he accuse me of using his sister like that?

  I know I haven’t been the most honorable man when it comes to girls, but he should know I have much more respect for him than that. Knowing Alora and her fiery personality, there’s no way she would even allow me to play those kinds of games with her. And I wouldn’t want to. I could have any woman outside of Geha that I want, he knows that, but I didn’t even try to court her. None of them even compare to the way Alora makes me feel.

  This furthers my resolve, though. I have to make it all right. I hope against everything that is good in this world that she comes back tomorrow so that I can make up for today. So that, maybe, my world can be turned right-side up after how messed up everything has been.

  If she does come back tomorrow, I’m not going to take advantage of it. It could be the last time we see each other, and there’s no way I’m going to let it be negative in any way.

  Chapter 11

  Micah

  In the name of Geha, I cannot believe Ryder interacted with my sister. That he would allow her into the Boiler room without telling anyone, let alone into Landow. That she would be stupid enough to wander down below the city after her Bleeding Rite.

  He knows that this time of year is already hard on me. He may not be aware of why, but he knows I’m more of a hermit than usual. No matter how cheerful and happy I am here as an Unfavorable, no matter how much better my life is out here than it was in Geha, I’ve never forgotten a single one of her birthdays since I was kicked out.

  As pathetic as it sounds, I celebrate her birthday every year. My parents? I knew they would essentially disown me when I was brought to the Boiler room after my Rite, but I also knew that Al wouldn’t be able to let go. Well, I hoped she wouldn’t.

  Maybe I was just desperate not to be forgotten. Or I was the one who couldn’t let my little sister go. I don’t know what it was, but my life here never felt complete without some sort of recognition. From her, at least. Which is why, every year on her birthday, I do what I can to make a dinner and small present for her. I keep the gifts in a wooden chest next to my bed.

  I’ve always wanted to give them to her. To see how she’s handling Geha, school, and our parents without me. We were pretty inseparable before my Rite. She’s really the only thing I miss from that life. As the years passed, I slowly started to come to terms with the fact I would never be able to give them to her.

  Now, hearing that she was here, standing outside my door earlier this afternoon is just overwhelming. It is all too much to deal with. Not so soon after celebrating her birthday alone yet again. I knew it was her year to take the Bleeding Rite. That’s why this was the hardest year since I first left. I wanted her to do well, but I wanted to see her, too.

  I don’t regret anything I said to Ryder. I know that, deep down, he’s a good guy but I’ve seen how he treats girls he finds attractive. If he did somehow meet my sister, he’s not the kind of man I would want her to be with. He has been a bit strange the past couple days, but there’s no guarantee that it’s because of meeting her. It could literally be anything.

  Maybe he was helping a new Unfavorable become acquainted with the new life, and she messed with him. Yeah, and now he’s messing with me in turn.

  Still, there’s one thing he was right about. Alora definitely isn’t going to be the same person I remember from six years ago. I know that I’ve changed a lot since then. I had to if I wanted to survive this life.

  So many questions continuously bounce around my head as I sit and stare at the ceiling in my room. If she does happen to appear, would she even recognize me? Would I recognize her? Would she approve of the man I’ve become? What grade did she receive from her Bleeding Rite?

  I should have been there…

  Perhaps I should hide all day tomorrow, on the off-chance she shows up. Or go to work per usual. That way there’s no way she can be disappointed with who I am and what I’ve become after all these years.

  Learning to live on my own and fend for myself, make a name for myself, earn a living to support myself. Scrounging up books so that I could continue some sort of schooling outside of Geha… it wasn’t easy or fun. It wasn’t the life I had planned for myself, needless to say.

  Still, though. After so long missing her and not having my sister in my life, I’m a bit curious about what it would be like to see her again. To interact with her again.

  Would we automatically click like we did as kids, or be awkward and not know what to say to one another after all this time? I’m not convinced I want to know.

  I’m not confident that I’m ready.

  Chapter 12

  Alora

  I didn’t sleep at all last night. The whole evening, I was thinking about Micah. Ryder, too, but only whether he was being honest with me or not. Whether he really knows my older brother or if he was just trying to get me to trust him.

  If Micah has been alive this whole time, then why haven’t I heard anything from him since he disappeared? I guess Loyals wouldn’t want to send messages back and forth for Unfavorable who they believe to be below them. Literally and figuratively.

  The main question is, do I trust Ryder? That’s really what matters
right now. It’s what will help me make my decision to go back or not.

  What if he’s actually telling the truth and Micah really is alive? What would he be like after six years out there? Would he still care about me as much as he used to? Or would he have forgotten me years ago?

  I don’t know what to think about any of this. There’s a sharp pain in my chest when I think about him discarding me like our parents did with him. For that reason alone, I’m not sure I even want to see him.

  A knock at my bedroom door takes me out of my reverie. I shoot up in bed to a sitting position, not even realizing anyone else is awake this early. I check the digital clock on my wall to see it’s much later than I expected: 7:09am. The lights are on already.

  “Alora, honey,” Mom calls from the other side of the closed door. “Are you going to join your father and me for breakfast this morning?”

  “Yeah,” I groan, rubbing my eyes with my palms. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Okay, dear,” she announces, her footsteps retreating to the kitchen.

  My last day of rest before I must choose a career path. Might as well spend it with my parents. Even if I’m not all that happy with them at the moment.

  I kick my legs over the side of the bed and push myself to stand. I don’t remember changing into my nightgown last night, but apparently, I had. Not caring if my clothes are appropriate for breakfast, I exit my room and drag my feet the whole way to the dining room, where Dad is already seated and reading something on his tablet.

  Mom is finishing up whatever is for breakfast, standing in front of the stove. Unimpressed, I take my usual seat, unsure what to expect from them this morning. They seem oddly cheery – very close to what they expressed the day of my Rite. It probably has something to do with my outburst from last night.

  She places a bowl of cream of wheat in front of me before doing the same with Dad, then taking her place. They both dig in, but I can’t help staring into my bowl, disgusted at how bland the food looks. I’ve had cream of wheat many times for breakfast, and I normally like it, but after the blue apple yesterday, nothing seems as appetizing. I take my spoon and push the mush around my bowl, debating whether I want to eat or not.

  “Are you not hungry, honey?” Mom asks me. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I assure her, waving her fake concern off and taking a spoonful of the slop and shoving it into my mouth for good measure. “Mmmm…”

  “How’s the soul searching coming?” Dad queries, still staring at his tablet. He’s most likely reading some Developer research papers that were recently published. He places the device on the table waiting for my response. “Have you picked a career path, yet?”

  “No, not yet,” I admit.

  “You know you have to return to Central Hall tomorrow to give them a decision, sweetheart,” Mom pushes, an odd sweetness to her tone.

  “I know.”

  “Are you sure?” Dad pushes. “You don’t seem to have made much progress in your decision, sweetie.”

  What’s with all the random pet names today? I think.

  “I’m aware, Dad,” I insist, a note of annoyance in my tone. “I’ve spent the last couple days learning more about the different paths, and today I’m going to spend meditating on all the information to make a final decision.”

  I don’t like lying to them, but it gets them off my case. I’m sure they’re concerned I’m not taking this seriously with my attitude last night. They eat their breakfasts in silent excitement while I play with my glop. Though I know it is probably a lost cause, I can’t help trying at least once more to bring up Micah to them.

  “What do you think happened to Micah?” I ask. Both Mom and Dad cough, almost choking on their cream of wheat. “Do you think he’s still alive?”

  A short silence ensues. I stare at the contents within my bowl, but I’m guessing they take a moment to glance at each other before silently deciding who will respond. Dad coughs while whipping his face with a napkin, and Mom sets her spoon down on the table, folding her hands in front of her as she looks at me with the most natural expression she can muster.

  Taking a moment to glance at her, she looks like she’s sucking on a lemon.

  “Why would you be thinking about Micah right now?” she inquires.

  Mom’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. Her tone is sweet. Too sweet. Like the imaginary lemon contorting her features. I, suddenly, feel like I’m ten years old again.

  Is it really so childish to wonder about the disappearance of my brother?

  “You’ve got much more important things to be thinking about than reminding yourself of him,” she scolds me.

  “It’s difficult not to after my Bleeding Rite,” I surmise. “It all reminds me of his and makes me wonder all over again why he never came home.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Dad pipes in, lecturing me. “You passed your Rite with flying colors, and that’s what you need to focus on. I don’t think you understand how rare it is to be proficient in everything, Alora. The possibilities for your future are endless. Micah is a part of your past, not your future. It’s time to settle down and pick a career path.”

  Settle down? I’m only sixteen, the beginning stages of my life. If I were going on twenty-four and hadn’t “settled down” with whoever the Main Frame has chosen for me, I could see him saying something like that. This is all just a ploy to get me off the topic of Micah again. They’re so done with him that it’s awkward talking about him now.

  I’m never giving up on him. Never. But I’m giving up trying to discuss him with them. I didn’t see it before, but they let him go years ago. Maybe even the same day we received the news of his Rite results. They probably saw my potential long before I did and discarded his memory for whatever it was they thought I could provide for this community.

  I poke at my cream of wheat, pretending to let go of the topic. My parents seem satisfied and go back to their own bowls of glop. They finish without noticing I’ve hardly tasted my breakfast and are practically bouncing out the door within minutes.

  They only spare a few seconds to kiss me on the top of my head, like I’m still a ten-year-old child, before sauntering off to the rest of their day. I have no idea how they can find their lives fulfilling. The same menial research day in and day out, with no meaningful interactions. If that’s foreshadowing of the way my life is going to end up, I’m not looking forward to it.

  The day ahead of me, my mind wanders back to the day before. Although I still can’t decide whether Ryder was telling the truth, or he was sincere with his apology, I need to know for sure whether that is where Micah lives. Whether he has been alive and well all these years.

  Since our parents have pushed his memory aside for my success, I owe it to him. To continue to honor his memory where our parents have failed him. I’m not going to let his memory die with them. He stays alive with me. No matter what, I’ll find out whether he’s truly alive, even if I have to interrogate the whole village.

  Even though I’m highly motivated to get back to Landow, I’m pokey getting dressed to leave the house. No matter what I pick, I’ll end up changing so I can blend in again with the rest of the Unfavorable. It’s almost silly picking out something clean.

  Still, I can’t walk around Geha in clothing even a little dirty. Someone will notice. The people pay attention to the most frivolous of details, which I’ll never understand. Maybe I’ll never fit in here.

  It takes me several minutes to pick out a pristine, dark colored outfit. I’ll be able to blend in with the rest of Geha without a problem, though I’m getting tired of the dreary clothing I’m made to wear day in and day out. I adorn a navy-blue shirt, with a matching cardigan and knee-length skirt. My socks are pulled up just below my kneecap, and black shoes to finish up the classic Gehian ensemble. Bland attire to go with this bland society.

  I’m out the door and making my way to Central Hall soon after I’m fully dress. The streets are s
trangely occupied today. Mostly Loyals patrolling for teenagers trying to hide from their Bleeding Rite, or making sure adults aren’t forsaking their duties.

  Every once in a while, there’s an artist meandering, too, either carrying new supplies or on their way to get some. Otherwise other careers are hard at work. There are some people who whisper to companions after looking at me, but it’s all the attention I receive on my walk. I’m sure they’ve heard of my Rite.

  There isn’t a whole lot of traffic in or out of Central Hall when I arrive. Thankfully it makes sneaking around back a bit easier. I should have waited an hour so that the streets were empty, but I can’t. I must see Micah. I’ll wait outside the hut Ryder pointed out to me all day and night if I have to. There was no question – I was going back no matter what I decided.

  The closer I am to reaching the Boiler room, the more careless and impatient I become with my movements. I don’t even wait to see if Loyals will be coming out of the building any time soon before I’m rushing down the alley towards the hidden trapdoor. I have no idea how I’m not seen by anyone while I’m lowering myself into the clay staircase.

  Carefully, I tiptoe down the stairs. I’m descending so quickly that I begin to feel dizzy when I finally reach the bottom. The routine is easy: I grab the keyring from the wall, sneak into the Boiler room, and dash behind piles of coal until I reach the designated room.

  This time I’m going straight for the blueprint room, hoping Ryder placed the leather pack here with the stash of dirty clothing for me after I tossed it to him last night. Also, hoping he isn’t there to try and apologize again or stop me. I shut the strange door quietly behind me as I enter the room, leaning against it to listen for anyone following me. No footsteps or shouts come anywhere near the door.

  In my excited state, I climb over the top of the desk to the other side before opening every single drawer looking for the pack. My anxiety climbs with every drawer. Finally, the bottom left drawer is where I find the pack. I grab it and toss it onto the desk, greedily removing its contents.