Authors: Abigail Collins
I pull the sheets up to my neck, my face burning from my chin to my ears. I am thankful that my skin is dark enough to hide most of the redness in my cheeks, but I’m certain that my embarrassment is still very much evident to the stranger looking down at me.
After a minute, his laughter fades into a breathy chuckle and he says, “Good morning, sleepy-head! Sorry about the abrupt wake-up call; I really didn’t think you’d be
that
surprised to see me. Have you never had a roommate before?”
The gears in my brain turn slower in the morning, and I have to wait for the fog that has accumulated in my sleep to clear from inside of my mind before I can process what he’s saying. I don’t know what time it is, but it feels way too early for my head to ache this much.
“Room… mate?” I say, shaking my head. “But… you’re a guy. And…”
“And? What?” He shoots me a look that makes me regret having opened my mouth to begin with and puts his hands on his hips. “Cabins aren’t assigned by gender. And if you’re worried about me jumping you in your sleep, if I really wanted to, I would have done it while you were out cold for the past five hours. Plus,” he puffs out his chest like he’s proud of himself, “I’m already taken.”
I look him over, being as discrete as possible and avoiding his gaze. His hair is shiny and black as coal, and it looks like it would reach down between his shoulder-blades if it wasn’t currently tied back in a small ponytail. His eyes are a pale blue that looks almost gray, and his skin, though noticeably whiter than my own, has an olive tinge to it that looks more natural than a tan. He’s dressed plainly, in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a white tank top, but I can see his stomach muscles from underneath his shirt. He may look like a scrawny white boy from afar, but close up he’s about as close to physical perfection as I can imagine.
“You’re not my type, anyway,” I spit out, and he gives me a look that tells me he definitely noticed me checking him out.
“Sure thing, princess. Good thing you’re not my type either, then, isn’t it?” He smiles and extends his hand towards me. “So you can stop hiding on the floor now.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m… ruminating.”
I attempt a smile but it comes across as more of a grimace.
“Well, you can do that just as easily standing up, can’t you?” He waves his hand impatiently until I take it; I expect it to be cold, especially given the way he’s dressed, but instead I feel warmth radiating off of his entire body. “My name is Dori, by the way. And yours is…?”
He pulls me to my feet, and I keep a firm hold of my bedsheets with my free hand. To his credit, though, his eyes don’t leave my face. Huh; I guess I’m really
not
his type. I’m kind of relieved, actually. I don’t think I’d be able to share a cabin with him if I knew that he was.
“I’m Everly,” I say, pulling my hand out of his as soon as my feet are flat on the ground. “Sorry, but what kind of name is
Dori
?”
“It’s short for ‘Dorian’. But don’t call me that. Ever.” He looks deadly serious, but then the corner of his lips twitches and he grins. I notice that even though his teeth look practically perfect, his smile is undeniably lopsided. “What’s ‘Everly’ short for, then?”
“Nothing. It’s just Everly.”
“Can I call you ‘Eve’?”
“Please don’t.”
“Nah, I think I will. I like the sound of it better, anyway.” He claps me on the shoulder and nods to himself. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a small suitcase laying open on the floor next to the other bed in the cabin – my roommate’s bed now, I suppose – with a pile of clothes stacked inside of it. There is a blanket on top of the mattress that looks hand-made, and I wonder if someone Dori knows made it for him. A paperback novel rests on the nightstand, with worn edges and a cover that looks like a blur of blue and red from where I’m standing.
It occurs to me that all of these items belong to Dori. That means that he was allowed to bring whatever he wanted to here, and from what I can tell he was given ample time to choose exactly what he took with him. Where I’d had just minutes to shove whatever I could into my suitcase for fear of what Tesla would do if I wasted too much time, Dori had folded and stacked each article of clothing, selecting his favorite books and a quilt that is clearly sentimental to him.
I wonder if I was the only one who was forced to come here. Were the others threatened? Were their loved ones bound and injured to ensure their cooperation? Do they trust what the Digits tell them, even though they’re most likely lying?
Dori walks away from me and crouches down next to his bed, rifling through his suitcase. He pulls out a couple of shirts and holds them up against his chest, tossing the ones he rejects haphazardly onto the edge of the bed. I guess I was wrong about him being a neat-freak.
“So, what are you here for?” he asks me, his back still turned. “What train did you come in on?”
He seems to settle on a navy-blue button-up shirt and – after a few minutes’ consideration – a pair of jeans that don’t look much different than the ones he’s already wearing, except perhaps a shade darker.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused. “I didn’t have a choice. A Digit brought me here and I don’t even really know why – Wait! What are you doing?”
Dori turns around to face me, his tank top balled up in his hands and his jeans around his knees. He raises his eyebrows at me like he doesn’t even realize why I’m bothered by the fact that he’s standing
half-naked
in the middle of the room with a
woman
– well, okay, technically a
girl
– watching just a few feet in front of him.
“Getting dressed,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’re all supposed to meet in the Main Lab in an hour, and I want to grab some breakfast before I go. I got in late last night, and I’m
starving
.”
As if on cue, my own stomach grumbles unpleasantly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in nearly a day, either. Dori grins at me before pulling his shirt down over his head and smoothing it out over the waist of his jeans.
“The Main Lab? Where’s that?”
“You really didn’t get much of a tour, did you?” he asks, and I shake my head. “You must have just gotten here. I mean, so did I, but at least I knew what I was signing up for. I’m guessing you did something to piss off your guide and got sent to bed early?”
I wouldn’t exactly call Tesla my ‘guide,’ but he’s right, otherwise. My expression must give away what I’m thinking, because his grin widens until his pointed incisors jut out over one side of his lip, and the smug look on his face makes my cheeks burn.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he says in lieu of my silence. “I can show you around if you want. Of course, we’ll have to see how much freedom they’ll give us first. I assume they’re going to be watching us quite closely from now on.”
Something in his tone grabs my attention, and I press my fingernails into the insides of my palms to wake myself up. He’s acting far too cavalier for someone in the same position as I am. He doesn’t look frightened, or confused, or even surprised that he’s here, and I’ve been in this place almost a full day longer than he has.
“You’re talking about the Digits, right?” I ask hesitantly. “You said they’re watching us. Why? Do you know what they want? Why we’re here?”
He shrugs and says, “Your guess is as good as mine. I know that they claim they need our help with something, but I have no idea what people like
us
can do that they can’t.”
I get the distinct feeling that Dori isn’t telling me the truth – at least, not all of it – but I know next to nothing about him, so I can’t be sure. And now that we’re roommates, I feel like I have to be especially careful not to betray his trust. Besides the boy in the wheelchair, he’s the only person I’ve encountered here who has shown me any hint of friendliness; I can’t afford to risk losing that.
“People like
us
?” I ask instead, my curiosity making it hard for me to keep my silence.
“You know…” He waves one hand around airily and hums like he’s trying to think of the right word. “Outcasts. People society won’t miss if they disappear.”
He takes in my shocked expression with no small measure of amusement on his face. I want to be upset with him for being so coy about things I don’t know, but I am too busy being angry at everyone else. Particularly, Tesla, Cyrus, and the other Digits responsible for me being here. But I am also disappointed in Roma and my mother – they both knew something about this place, and these
people
, and they kept it from me all this time. I might not be here if they had just been honest with me.
Dori pulls a jacket out of his suitcase and swings it over one shoulder. He pushes the bag shut but doesn’t zip it closed, and sits down on the bed so hard the mattress squeaks.
“Let me guess,” he says, crossing his arms; “You’re an orphan?”
“How… how did you know?”
He’s staring at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable, like he’s analyzing me, trying to memorize my every move; his eyes are devoid of emotion, but his lips are still quirked up into a half-smirk.
Then it occurs to me that maybe he’s
waiting
for me. He’s already dressed, and there’s no other reason for him to be hanging around in our cabin when he’s already late for breakfast. With that thought in mind, I crouch and pull my own suitcase out from underneath my bed and begin pouring through its contents, searching for an appropriate outfit for the occasion. What does one wear to an initiation-of-sorts in an enemy camp the day after being kidnapped?
“You don’t look crazy,” Dori continues, speaking to my back. “Though I’m not sure how a crazy person could be of any help to the Digits, anyway. And I don’t think you’re physically injured. At least, you got up pretty easily after falling on the floor, and I can’t
see
any impairments on your body…”
I can practically
feel
his smug grin burning into the back of my head, and I try to focus more on his words than the tone in which he says them.
“And you’re too young to be a hermit. You’re, what, thirteen? Fourteen?”
“I’m
sixteen
!” I bark, turning for a moment to shoot him a quick glare before returning my attention to my haphazard pile of unfortunately mismatched clothes.
Dori lets out a snort that I assume is meant to be a chuckle and says, “Same difference. I’m twenty, so you’re still just a
kid
to me.”
I swear, I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to put up with having this guy as my roommate before I try to jump the fence. Maybe Tesla was right about me wanting to run away, but she was completely wrong about my reasons.
“Anyway, there aren’t a whole lot of things a kid like you can do to be sent here. Unless you’re a troublemaker? But I seriously doubt it. So you’ve got to be an orphan, then. You don’t have any family that’ll come looking for you now that you’re missing.”
The word
missing
sticks to the inside of my ear and echoes like a bad aftertaste. I want to argue with him, tell him that I
do
have a family – I still have Fray, and I think of Roma, Andon, and Crissy as a sort of adoptive family – but I know that he’s right. There is nobody left that has the will or the authority to fight the Council to get me back. I guess I really
am
an orphan.
I pluck a burgundy sweater and a pair of loose-fitting trousers from my suitcase and throw them gently over the edge of my bed. Usually, I’m not self-conscious of my body, but right now I am very much aware of how small my chest is compared to my hips.
My shoulder aches, and I press a hand over it before I realize what I’m doing; my fingers meet the mottled scar that serves as my physical memory of my parents’ deaths, and the pain fades into heat the longer I touch it.
“What about you, then?” I ask him. “Why are you here? You’re an adult. You must have people who will notice you’re gone.”
I can hear Dori’s mattress creak again as he stands and stretches.
“Nobody is going to come looking for me.”
There’s an unfamiliar hint of sadness in his voice, so I turn my head to face him, but he’s still smiling and his eyes are as blank as ever. His tone, however, makes it very clear that our conversation is over – at least for now. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with not giving me all of the information he has, especially if it pertains to me personally.
Unsure of what to say, I stand up and kick my suitcase back underneath my bed. I am about to ask him –
tell
him – to turn around so I can get dressed when he clicks his tongue and takes a step towards the door.
“I’ll be waiting outside,” he says without looking back.
The door squeals on its hinges as it closes, and I change my clothes so quickly that I don’t notice that my shirt is on backwards until Dori points it out several minutes later, as we make our way to the Main Lab and, hopefully, some of the answers I need.