The Unfavorable Read online

  I try to look for the other room from my spot behind my current hiding place. Down the wall, several feet, is another door identical to the one I just came out of. It blends in with the wall much more than the door to the piping room, though. My eyes pass it several times before my gaze finally lands on a discolored spot near the floor. The almost indistinguishable outline of the door gives me the room’s location.

  The only problem I see in getting to this next door is how far away from my position it currently is. There are coal piles situated further apart here, and they are placed in a way that will make it easier for me to get out of the Boilers and into the sun. Outside the walls of Geha. It’s really tempting. I’ve never felt the sun on my face without the dome that covers the city.

  I sigh and make a run for the second door. I’ll be able to feel the sun on my skin without a filter in time. First, I need to see what this guy wants and what he knows about Alec, and hopefully Micah.

  This door isn’t as cooperative as the one with the piping. I have to push it open enough for me to slide through, and then shut it with all my might. It only moves an inch at a time before it slowly closes behind me.

  The view before me is exquisite. This room is the same size as the one with the piping, but has a desk situated in the middle with rows and rows of shelving built into the clay walls stretching from the floor up to the ceiling. Within the shelves, there are scrolls upon scrolls stacked on top of each other. I’m not sure what they contain, but I’m curious.

  I want to get my hands on each one and study them individually, until I’ve memorized them all. Instead, I see the mysterious man that helped me escape the day before, grabbing a scroll from a shelf in the wall to my right. He rolls it out onto the desk in front of me, glancing up at me for an instant to acknowledge my presence. I can feel heat on my cheeks.

  In that moment, I realize that I’m happy to see him again. I’m not sure why, but his very aura seems to relax my nerves. He leans to his side, opening a drawer and digging around inside of it for something I can’t see. Hoping to use this as an opportunity to demand some answers, I speak with as much confidence as possible.

  “What happens to those that are banished here from Geha?” I demand.

  He glances up at me again but continues to riffle through the desk drawer without answering me. I try again.

  “Where is Alec Greatmore?” I continue. Still, he refuses to answer me. I give him several seconds – plenty of time to respond – but he keeps looking at the scroll before him. “What does it mean to be born Unfavorable?”

  I wait, but he doesn’t even look at me this time. Either there is a lot of stuff in that drawer, or he’s stalling. I don’t think he would kidnap me after saving me yesterday, but he must be unsure whether he should open up to me. My heart clenches with the realization. I’ve been feeling the exact same thing.

  “Why did you help me yesterday?” I try once more, my tone much softer.

  He stops riffling momentarily to sigh. His head even seems to hang a bit lower after hearing my question. Still he doesn’t answer. He shakes his head, his hair creating a shadow over his eyes, like he’s trying to push away a thought.

  “What’s your name?” I ask him hesitantly. Again, he disregards my question.

  In one swift movement, he grabs something from the drawer and stretches it towards me, holding it in his hand. It’s a leather pack filled with something. I look at it but ignore it, confused at what he wants. We stand in silence for a few moments. I’m waiting for him to speak and he’s waiting for me to take the pack. I ignore it and restart my line of questioning.

  “What happens to those that are banished here from Geha?” I ask again. When he doesn’t answer, simply continues holding the pack out to me, I try a different tactic. “I’m not doing anything until you answer my questions.”

  “Even the one about my name?” he teases, half grinning.

  His voice is so low and soft that it takes me a minute to recognize he spoke at all. He sets the pack down on the edge of the desk since I don’t move for it and folds his arms tightly against his chest. He’s pretending to be indifferent about my presence, but I can see through it. He’s as excited about interacting with me as I am with him. The twinkle dancing in his eyes gives away his elation.

  “Yes,” I say, not wanting to be made a fool.

  “Not here,” he insists, looking down at the desk as he speaks, the grin gone. His tone is suddenly serious instead of playful. “I brought clothes for you to put on, so you can blend in while we move to a place that is safe to talk.”

  “What do you mean ‘blend in’?” I inquire, confused. I’m too flustered to think straight, otherwise I probably would be able to figure it out without asking. “Why would I need to blend in anywhere?”

  “You clearly have questions, or you wouldn’t have come back,” he says calmly, still looking at the blueprints on the desk.

  He’s right, but I’m not going to admit that I wanted to see him, too. I didn’t even know myself until I saw him again.

  “I prepared this knowing you might come back,” he continues. “This is not the place to answer your questions, though. It isn’t safe. I’m going to take you somewhere that is, but you’ll have to change so you don’t stand out. Unfavorable aren’t too fond of those deemed Favorable. You don’t want to be caught outside the city. Even the Loyals won’t help you.”

  “You said that yesterday.”

  “Well, it’s true,” he responds, dully, fingering the scroll. “Most Unfavorable aren’t kind to abandoned and lost Favorable, unless they have become one of us. Just looking at you will give you away. It will be less obvious with the change of clothes.”

  “You’re not going to lead me somewhere and abandon me, are you?”

  “No,” he smirks, biting his lower lip to try and hide a chuckle. I want to say something more, but I resist.

  Why is he so eager to answer my questions if most would want to harm me?

  I don’t even know what about my question is so entertaining for him, but it warms my heart seeing his half smile. My pride wants to have the last word, but my logical side knows he’s being honest and sincere. I grab the bag off the edge of the desk, nervous realizing I’m going to have to change with him in the room.

  “Uhmm, can we switch places?” I request, awkwardly.

  “What?” he questions, looking up at me like I’m crazy.

  His brow furrows over his hazy green and gray eyes. I can feel more warmth build on my cheeks as he stares at me. It’s like he can see right through me and know who I am to my core without me saying a word. It’s unsettling, humbling, and exhilarating all at the same time.

  “Please?” I beg, shyly. Bringing the bag up to my chest, I wrap my arms around it, trying to comfort myself and ease my anxiety. It helps a little.

  His lips twitch but he controls the urge to giggle. Shaking his head, he steps around the desk to my right and straight towards me. He’s wearing a shirt today, and pants that match the ones he wore yesterday but his muscles seem accentuated. I can see every muscle ripple underneath his clothing with the swing of his hips and arms at his sides. Every bulge of his thighs and biceps as he strides towards me.

  Biting his lower lip, he walks to me with a glint in his eye. He saunters right up to me, his body less than six inches away from my own, and winks at me before turning to look at the door, placing his hands on his hips. The door is a foot in front of him and he stares at it intently, waiting for me to change.

  I let a grin spread across my lips, my breathing becoming shallow. I’m aware from my studies that this means I’m attracted to him but knowing is different than experiencing. Now is not the time to be experimenting, though. I take careful steps around the desk. Not a whole lot of coverage, but it’s better than nothing.

  Placing the dirty clothing on the desk next to the pack, I begin taking off my clothing. Each article is folded and carefully situated into the leather bag to keep it from getting dirty while I
’m away. When one piece is removed, it’s immediately replaced with the decoy clothing. My delicate skin isn’t exposed to the elements longer than a few seconds.

  The outfit is a little strange. There’s a long sleeve, dark brown sweater underneath a mahogany jumper that reaches down to the middle of my thighs. To top it off, there are a pair of shorts that don’t show underneath the jumper, and knee-high, dirty white socks. There are even a pair of tan moccasins.

  Even though the clothing isn’t pristine, I feel much more comfortable in them than what I arrived in. It’s a much different style, but I like it. The brown hues are a welcome change to the dull grays and blues I’m forced to wear in Geha.

  “All done,” I announce, extremely self-conscious. I enjoy the outfit, but I’m anxious about what my mystery man will say.

  He slowly turns back towards me, angling himself so that the first thing he sees of me is my feet. His gaze hesitates briefly before taking in my entire form. Up my calves to my legs, up my thighs to my hips, and up my torso to finally reach my shoulders and face.

  He can’t quite make it to look up into my eyes, though. He clears his throat and shakes his head before bringing back his cocky half-grin and looking at me.

  “Not bad,” he appraises. Even with his teasing nature, I can tell that he’s being honest about his opinion. “You just need some finishing touches and you should be able to blend in with the rest of us.”

  Chapter 7

  Alora

  He struts around the desk and towards me so we’re on the same side of it. I stand my ground, my pulse racing faster the closer he gets to me. His gait gradually slows until he stops only inches away from me. I can’t look him in the face. Instead, I look at his chest where the t-shirt stops, and his collarbones begin.

  I can feel his breath on my left cheek, and I bet he can feel mine brushing against his chest with every exhale. My breathing is shallow, my heartbeat erratic from his close proximity. I can’t seem to keep my mouth closed, but I try by nibbling on my lower lip.

  He tests my boundaries by leaning in closer so there are mere millimeters between us, but I’m not showing any weakness. My breathing and heartbeat slow further, anticipating some sort of touch that never comes. He reaches for something behind me and pulls away, but not far. I can still feel heat come off his body and smell wheat on his skin.

  Glancing up at his face, a smirk is still spread across his lips, but there’s a need in his eyes I haven’t seen on another person’s face. A need to touch my skin with his fingers. Licking his lips, he brings his left hand up to my face. He clears his throat softly before opening his mouth.

  “Coal,” he utters, breathlessly. I can see the small piece in his hand from my peripheral, not wanting to look away from his mesmerizing gaze. “The outfit helps keep you camouflaged, but your skin being so clear will cause questions.”

  I’m unable to speak, but I try to tell let him know through my eyes that it’s okay for him to put the coal on me. I may be incredibly anxious, but I want to know what it’s like to feel his fingertips graze my cheek. He doesn’t say a word, but his hand moves closer to my face and his sight moves to my features, studying the curves and lines.

  He runs the small piece of coal down the bridge of my nose, starting at my brow. He’s really careful to make sure that only the coal touches my skin. He makes a line across my forehead, then one under each eye across my cheeks. He takes several seconds lifting the piece off my cheek and running it down my chin, like he doesn’t want to give up looking at me just yet.

  With a deep breath, he sets the coal back on the desk. Exhaling, his right hand comes back to my face, hesitating before making contact. He brings his thumb down my nose, smudging the line he made so it doesn’t look drawn on. His gaze is intently focused on where his finger lands against my skin, refusing to look into my eyes. Mine are trained on his as he works.

  I don’t feel the coal on my face under his finger, though. Only the warmth and comfort that his touch brings me. The calluses from years of hard work are rough against my skin, but it’s oddly soothing. There’s a familiarity that makes me think of home. Not what I have with my parents, but more of a promise that no one else could fulfill. One that guarantees, no matter what happens, he will ensure that everything will end up okay. For better or for worse.

  It’s over too soon – the feeling of solace his touch brings me. He smudges the rest of the marks on my face and pulls his hand away, lowering it to his side. His gaze lingers on my lips before he carefully exhales, taking a couple steps back and away from me. The further he steps, the more my anxiety returns. It makes me want to close the gap and lose myself in his arms, but my mind clears. I remember why I’m here again. Alec. Micah. Answers.

  “Time to go,” he mutters, turning away from me and moving towards the door.

  Breathing deeply, I collect myself and my emotions. It’s difficult to control something I’ve never felt before, but I manage to reign in my selfish wants for now. The want to feel his lips kiss mine, his body against mine, and his hands brushing along my skin. It’s difficult to ignore, so I push it aside for the time being. There will be time for that once I’ve gotten my answers. Once I know the truth about my brother.

  I compartmentalize my feelings and center myself quickly. Mini meditation is an art that I mastered a few years ago to help me grieve over the loss of Micah and stay focused on my studies at school. Walking around the desk, I follow his lead out of the room.

  To make my deception complete, I imagine that I am an Unfavorable as we exit the scroll room, so that I don’t stand out at all. The last thing I need after all that preparation is to get caught and stoned. Or worse. Who knows what they would do to my helper here if we are seen together, too. I don’t want him to get into any trouble after all he’s done for me so far. Plus, everything he will do when we get to wherever we’re going.

  He leads me out of the room and to the left, away from the gate back to Geha. After living under the dome, I’m vaguely aware of all the dangers I could face by simply stepping outside the Boiler room and into the fresh, unaltered air.

  Even if it means bringing sickness to Geha, it is worth the risk for me. I will be the first Favorable to breathe unfiltered air in decades. I keep my gaze ahead, at the sunlight shining over the grass on the other side of the archway. It’s so welcoming that I almost let my excitement get the better of me and run to the outside.

  We’re so close to breathing pure air and reaching the opening out of the Boiler room when a boy around the same age as my helper stops him. His hair is a sandy blond, though, and he’s not quite as tall as my new friend. He looks just as muscular and tan as him, but his brown eyes aren’t as appealing.

  “Ryder,” the new man calls. My escort stops walking and glances at one who spoke. I’m relieved to finally hear the name of the guy who’s been so helpful. My interest piqued, I listen closely. “Skipping out on Boiler duty? You know you’re the only one who can figure out those papers in that little room.”

  “Axe, my friend,” Ryder calls, clapping the guy on his left shoulder. “Everything is working fine today, so I thought I would help with some Drudge work.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Axe comments, glancing at me before turning his attention back to Ryder with a chuckle on his lips. “What’s this girl hanging around for, then? You have a shadow hanging on you.”

  “True,” Ryder laughs with his companion. “She’s from our sister village down by the river, Kynol. I’m showing her around and going to teach her the ropes.”

  “That’s a long ways away from here,” Axe says, regarding me again. “They don’t have anyone in Kynol to do that over on their farms?”

  “No, sir,” I say before Ryder can answer. I manipulate my voice so that I sound a few years younger than sixteen. “We’re short on help so my parents sent me here, so I can help some of the elders on the farms back home.”

  Ryder’s greenish gray eyes peek me up and down in his peripherals, a show of s
ilent appreciation at my act. Axe looks at me with curiosity, not sure what to think of me.

  “Alright, bud,” his friend smirks at me, talking to my helper. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That isn’t a whole lot,” Ryder mutters, eying his friend.

  “Exactly.”

  With a chuckle, Axe walks away from us, shaking his way the whole time, and back to the closest boiler. Ryder watches him go and turns to me for a compliment once his companion is several feet away.

  “Well done, Kyanite,” he regards me, pleased with my little trick.

  I want to thank him since his mannerisms suggest he meant to give me a compliment, but I’m not sure how that is one. I’m aware that a Kyanite is a rare mineral from back on Earth-that-was, but almost nonexistent now.

  There’s a sample of it in one of our oldest museums: the building that once housed our founder, Nevada Geha. It had many different properties and purposes, but the use is what made it unique. The Kyanite mineral inspires hope and fair treatment to others. What does that have to do with me?

  Instead, I give him a short nod and half a smile. It’s sufficient enough for him to turn back towards the Boilers exit and into the fresh air. I don’t hesitate behind him. I’m eager to feel the unfiltered sunshine on my skin.

  Only four whole steps and I’m outside. My feet aren’t touching clay anymore, but natural, fresh grass. I want to take my shoes off and feel the blades under my feet and between my toes, but it doesn’t feel like an appropriate time.

  Either way, I can’t help resting my feet to take in the landscape. Only grass stretches in front of me for several meters. The color fades between yellow and green, with patches of red scattered about. Trees form a boundary between the boiler room and everything outside of Geha that I couldn’t fathom until today.