The Unfavorable Read online

  They clearly haven’t been washed but I don’t mind. The dirtier they are, the more I’ll be able to blend in with anyone I might encounter. I put my, now slightly dirty, Geha garb into the pack and stash it back into the desk.

  Rushing to the door, my excitement heightens exponentially. The day has just begun, but there’s no time to waste. It’s time to find out for sure whether my brother is alive. After today there will be no more guessing, no more waiting to find out.

  Hopefully looking casual, I open the door to begin my travels to Landow. My good mood crashes to a halt seeing Ryder standing two feet in front of the door, waiting for me. There’s a grin on his face, but it’s not cocky. I bet he’s wooed lots of girls with that same crooked smile stretching across his cheeks.

  I dig my fingernails into my palm to remind myself I’m not sure if I trust him. To make sure I keep the butterflies calm in my stomach. I wasn’t expecting to be happy to see him again, not with how things ended yesterday.

  “I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

  That’s all he had to say to bring back my contempt for him. I shoot him a glare that I hope eats at his insides, then stomp off towards the exit. Out of my side view, I see him lower his head to the ground, disappointed with himself.

  With all the commotion of the Burners doing their jobs, I don’t know if Ryder is following behind me. I don’t care. I keep walking towards the woods, so I can get back to Landow. I can get there on my own. The noise immediately dies down the instant my feet touch fresh grass. It allows me to hear Ryder hot on my heels, too.

  “Please, stop,” he pleads. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  Nowhere near ready to accept any kind of apology, I keep walking. Maybe if I ignore him long enough he’ll go away. Probably not though, since he’s as stubborn as I am. I break out into a run trying to gain some distance. It doesn’t work, and I’m not exactly surprised.

  He grunts and is right behind me in no time. He keeps up with me without problems, but his frustration gets the better of him. The Boiler room well out of sight, he grabs my arm and stops the both of us. He’s not rough, but he turns me around so I’m facing him. His expression is pleading, which I combat with another glare.

  “Please, just listen to me for a minute,” he insists.

  “You just don’t get it,” I mutter, yanking my arm from his grasp.

  I maintain a walking pace away, but don’t hear him following me.

  “What can I do to make it up to you?” he calls to me.

  It makes me stop walking. He’s probably trying to bait me, but the sincerity in his voice stays my feet.

  “You just don’t get it,” I spit at him, the words like venom. “I’m just a conceited Favorable to you. You wouldn’t understand anything I have to say.”

  “Try me,” he dares.

  His confidence infuriates me to the point where I actually take him up on the challenge.

  “Okay, fine,” I accept. He better be ready for this. “I get that being Unfavorable isn’t the ideal lifestyle, but you have no idea what it’s like in Geha. Since I was ten years old, I have been absolutely terrified of the day I would take my Bleeding Rite. After my brother disappeared and not knowing if I would, too? My parents were so worried that I would end up the same that they put an overwhelming amount of pressure on my shoulders to do well in studies. I had to be best in every subject, everything I did, or they would throw in my face that Micah didn’t make the cut and disappeared because of it.”

  “Even after all that,” I continue. I start out condescending and mean, but my tone starts to switch to frustration and sorrow now. “After I get the best grade on my Rite that anyone has gotten in centuries, it doesn’t mean anything. All they care about is what it means for Geha and the possibilities my Rite provides. The terror and pressure they put on me for six years means nothing to them now that I got a good grade. And they’ve practically forgotten that Micah ever existed now that they know I’m not Unfavorable. They don’t care about him at all, they don’t care about me, only what I can offer the community.”

  By the end of my speech, tears are flowing down my cheeks. I don’t even know when it happened, but my knees must have given out at some point, because Ryder is holding me close, I’m sobbing uncontrollably. My legs are curled underneath me, and my left hip is sitting on the dirt below. All the pressure, sorrow, uncertainty, and fear overwhelmed me, and came out in ugly weeping all over him.

  He doesn’t complain or groan at all. Ryder just sits next to me, my head on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around me tight. He does nothing but sit with me and hold me. It’s as if he understands exactly what I’m feeling and is taking it upon himself. Completely relieving me and absolving me of everything that’s taken a toll on me the last six years.

  Chapter 13

  Alora

  It takes several minutes before I can control and stop the crying. Ryder is sitting in silence, not once letting me go or releasing his hold on me. I have always hated crying, but it doesn’t feel awkward to be balling my eyes out in front of him. He doesn’t make me feel judged or weak for my actions, either. He simply waits. I’ve never felt more comfortable anywhere than I do right now in his arms. Not even lying in my bed at home.

  “Why do you want to stay there?” Ryder asks suddenly. He doesn’t let go of me but speaks just above a whisper, his chin resting softly on my head. He sounds confused.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him.

  I’m well aware that he means Geha, but I don’t understand why he’s asking me that in the first place. I’ve never thought about leaving. I didn’t think that was even a choice.

  “Why would you want to return to such a horrible place?” he clarifies, his voice never waving or speaking above a murmur. “Especially now that you know there’s a place outside it that isn’t so restrictive and controlling. It doesn’t make you happy, so why go back knowing that there are so many other opportunities beyond the walls of that prison? You have the freedom to be who you are and do what you want out here – no pressure from Rites or tradition.”

  “It’s not about being happy,” I explain. Or I try to.

  I’m fumbling over my words, not sure how to tell him why it’s necessary that I return. It’s more than a simple feeling of obligation or tradition that keeps me going back, but even I can’t put it into words. Even as I speak, I know that my inability to give a coherent respond is a response in itself. That I don’t believe what I’m saying.

  “It’s not even about tradition,” I continue, “it’s about the greater good and being able to advance everything we have.”

  Even as I say it, I don’t feel a connection to the words. There’s no sincerity or conviction to my tone.

  “We all have a responsibility to continue the design that Geha started,” I insist, but I know in my heart that the words are empty and meaningless. “Everything he set up for us with our ancestors when they first arrived on this planet.”

  I pick myself up and stand before Ryder has the chance to respond. Since his argument kind of makes sense, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing my doubt. I can’t let on that I’m actually considering what he said.

  Even though it pains me to admit it, I must go back to Geha. It’s super tempting to stay here with him, but there’s no way. I’m disappointed but I have to go back. There’s no use sitting around daydreaming when it’ll only keep me wallowing in sadness. I’m much more inclined to distract myself than focus on things I can’t achieve.

  “Enough chatter,” I sniffle, wiping the runoff created by my tears from my cheeks. “Take me to see my brother right now, please.”

  “Alright,” he sighs, resigned to his defeat and dropping the subject. For now, anyway.

  He gets up from the dirt, standing more than a head taller than me. Dusting himself off, he trots toward Landow. Actually trots, as if he’s a stallion on parade. I could probably find the way back on my own, but I feel better with Ryder leading the way. Safe
r.

  Even if he is infuriating, it’s better to have someone with me that I know will assist me if anyone questions my motives. Only take risks if necessary. Having him around is better than the odds otherwise, at this point. Plus, he would just follow me anyway, like a puppy after being reprimanded. Well, what I imagine would happen. No domesticated animals in Geha. Which is a shame because I think I would have liked a pet.

  The walk to the village is quiet, and I’m grateful. I don’t feel like becoming more confused about the world I grew up in. It’s already a shadow over my heart and mind that refuses to clear no matter how hard I try to put a positive spin on things.

  Instead of enjoying the wonders of nature on the way, I focus on the journey. The path we take. It helps keep the doubt creeping into my heart at bay. Enjoying the beautiful trees and plant life will only make the doubt pump faster through my veins.

  Ryder is at my side as we travel, keeping at least two feet between us. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye every few minutes, judging my mood. I make sure to keep my gaze straight ahead with an annoyed expression, so he doesn’t talk to me.

  It works. Every time he looks at me, he rubs the back of his neck anxiously with his right hand and lets out a sigh. This repeats every few minutes like clockwork. By the time we reach the village, he really is starting to annoy me with his nervous antics. I’m not about to break and let him know he’s getting to me, though.

  With the sun just above us, the main section of the village is bustling with people, young and old, looking for lunch. I’m able to lose myself among the crowd, weaving in and out trying to blend in with the locals – Ryder not far behind me. There’s no need for him to lead me around, but he refuses to leave me alone.

  Every so often, there’s someone in the group around us that calls out his name and a greeting, and I hear him reply accordingly, making it seem like he’s merely going back to his hut rather than following me back to the place my brother has been living the past six years.

  No one notices or acknowledges me as I push my way between them. Even if elbows or arms connect. It’s strange feeling invisible around people I’m supposed to be so much better than, according to Gehian standards…

  The closer we get to the hut, the more my anxiety builds. I do my best to keep myself from lashing out at the villagers and pushing them out of my way. The people fade, as does my agitation with them as we continue onward. Only my anxiety is left.

  I’m so distracted by my own wonder that I’m genuinely surprised when Ryder stops me with a hand on my right shoulder to let me know that we’ve arrived.

  I turn and face the wooden door. I’m not sure I can face what’s on the other side. Stepping up to it, I raise my right hand to knock but freeze. My pulse races and I can hear my heart pounding inside my ears. With my knuckles only inches away from what might be inside. Or what might not be waiting in there for me.

  What if he’s not there? What will I do?

  Unanswered questions that have crossed my mind over the years flood back into the forefront of my thoughts, keeping my hand steady above the door. Ruminations of this very moment replaying in my mind as it has countless times over the years, along with the millions of queries that I’ve only predicted the resolutions to.

  What if I don’t recognize him? What if he doesn’t recognize me? Would we still get along like we did when we were younger, or would he not even remember being my best friend?

  There’s a crunching of dirt behind me and I see Ryder leaning towards the door in my peripherals. I wonder for a moment what he’s up to, whether he’s going to try and comfort me, but I don't have time to voice my concerns. With my arm still raised, he knocks on the door for me with three loud bangs against it. I lower my hand and turn to him, angry.

  “What was that for?” I hiss, glaring at him.

  “I could tell you weren’t going to go through with it,” he teases, that irritating half grin painted on his face. I want to smack him across the cheek to wipe that grin off of it. “So, I thought I would do it for you.”

  There’s a really nice retort I have ready but I’m unable to speak. The door opens and there’s a man, six inches taller than me, staring at me from the threshold with an expression of disbelief plastered on his features. They mirror the wonder and doubt wrapping around my brain after years of imaging this moment.

  Micah stands before me. He looks similar to what he did when we were younger, but he has wrinkles on his skin, particularly around his eyes and forehead, that weren’t there before. His face and body are worn from the years of physical labor, as his posture isn’t as perfect as I remember, and scars are scattered about his arms and chest.

  He’s not wearing a shirt, but there is a pair of mahogany overalls covering his body. The skin I can see is patched with dirt and tanned from hours in the sun. Even his hair is ruffled and has bits of dirt here and there. It’s so different than what I remember of him, but better. He looks healthy and strong.

  I want to say something and break up the awkward silence, but I fail. Instead, we stand gawking at each other. A solid minute goes by before Ryder coughs in an attempt to break the tension.

  My entire body flinches from the shock the noise causes, but Micah doesn’t move. His eyes dart quickly from Ryder back to me, his eyes glazing over to hide his emotions; a flicker of aggression passing through his stare before vanishing completely.

  When his gaze comes back to me, I don’t even recognize him anymore. For a moment, I witnessed my protective and loving brother in the man in front of me. As soon as it came, the moment disappeared.

  It’s really off-putting and makes my nerves skyrocket. He never even got agitated when we were little, so to see him that upset reminds me that I have no idea who this person is standing in front of me.

  “Would you like to come in?” Micah asks, feigning the Gehian manners he learned so many years ago. His left leg steps back, correct posture returning, his body pivoting so I have just enough room to scoot beside him and inside the darkened hut.

  “Only if Ryder can come, too,” I say, anxiously.

  The words spew out before I can stop them. I take my own step back, grabbing onto Ryder’s hand and squeezing tightly. He doesn’t pull away, just gently presses his fingers into my hand to let me know he’s not going to let anything happen to me.

  A hint of pain and surprise flash over Micah’s eyes before it’s gone again. It’s so quick that I would have simply imagined it if I were anyone else. He could hide from our parents, but he could never fool me. Still, he obliges, stepping further to the side to give room for both Ryder and I to pass by him.

  “Of course,” Micah nods.

  I will my feet to move but they don’t. Ryder seems to understand and takes the lead into the hut, his grip never relaxing. He pulls lightly on my hand, and my feet are able to detach from the ground. The tension between the boys when Ryder passes Micah is electric. My brother is watching Ryder carefully as he ushers me inside.

  As soon as I pass Micah, he shuts the door behind us. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when I do, I see that there are candles scattered throughout the front room that give off a delicate glow everywhere the flames flicker. Everything on the inside is made from the same wood that created the walls.

  A small table that seats two is to my left and behind Micah, an ancient tin pot sitting on top, and there’s a tiny crackling fireplace built within the wall next to it. A small couch that, also, seats two is against the right-hand wall with handmade cushions on top, and several hand carved and handcrafted storage spaces sit along the wall beyond the dining table and burning fire pit.

  Near the back of the room there is a doorway leading to, what I assume is, one or two bedrooms. It’s very archaic, and absolutely nothing close to the furniture and designs of the houses in Geha. Although different, the hut still has a homey, cozy feel to it. I wonder, briefly, if he crafted the décor himself, or purchased it.

  Ryder le
ads me over to the small couch while I take in the layout of the tiny hut. He sits on the side farthest away from the front door and gently pulls me in front of the seat to his left. I take the hint and sit next to him, looking over the room a second time in case I missed anything the first.

  There’s nothing amiss with my original recount, but I can see a bit into the hallway where a closed door stands. I’m a little disappointed I can’t see inside, but this isn’t the right time to be curious. Not with my long-lost brother mere feet from me.

  It’s strange to think that my brother has been living like this while I’ve been pampered by comparison. It makes me speculate about how long it took him to get used to this lifestyle.

  Micah grabs the table and places it closer to the couch, careful so the tin pitcher doesn’t slide so much it falls off or tips over. He takes a tin teapot from out of a storage container furthest away from Ryder and me and pours water from the pitcher into the teapot before hanging it over the fire pit to boil.

  I tear my hand awkwardly away from Ryder’s, realizing I hadn’t let go yet. It occurs to me that it looks like Ryder and I are a couple, when I barely know him. I’m not even close to ready to have that kind of conversation with Micah. I’m still trying to process the fact that he is alive and well, standing right in front of me, let alone bring up intimate questions like love interests and what have you.

  My brother goes back to the storage bin where he found the teapot and takes out three dented and well-used tin cups, placing them on the table. Micah sits down on the chair farthest from me, and closest to the door, biting the dirt-caked fingernails on his left hand.

  When did he develop a habit like that?

  He is almost ignoring Ryder and me while he nibbles. As if he’s home alone after a long day of work and relaxing for the evening. Instead, it’s a little passed noon and he has company he doesn’t seem to be ready to face. I’m still not sure that I am either, but we’re both here now and there’s no going back.