For a long while, she didn't move or comment. Finally, she pinched the vial between her fingers and stuffed it back into her pocket. She gave me another of those enthralling smiles. “Under stress, and still you turned it away.”
I raised my chin. “That's right.”
“Good.”
“Bitch,” I growled.
She didn't lose her smile. “I want you to know, Phoenix, that it's not because your mother stopped loving you that she pushed you away. It's because she loves you that she did it.”
The switch of topics was jarring, but I welcomed it. The Onadyn was gone, out of my sight, out of reaching distance. I could handle anything else that was thrown at me. “I don't understand.”
“I met with her this morning, just so you know. She's terrified of watching you waste away, of watching you die, and telling you good-bye was more than she could have endured. Not after she watched your father walk away.”
The mention of my dad caused my stomach to twist painfully.
“Your mother wants you to have the life she herself could not,” Angel said.
“How can you be sure?” I asked past the sudden lump in my throat. In my mind, I replayed the last few minutes I'd had with my mom, studying her face, her eyes. They were tortured, I realized. Her body had been stiff, as if preparing for a blow. Her eyes had been watery, as if she'd been holding back tears. I gulped. Almost sobbed.
“You have a core of iron inside you,” Angel said, “a core that scares and intimidates those who do not possess the same. They know they cannot control you and flounder with how to deal with you.”
I didn't respond. I couldn't. A multitude of emotions swirled through me: shock, doubt, hope, joy, relief, and anger.
“Think about what I said, all right?”
Slowly I nodded.
“Good.” Angel waved to the door. “Get out of here. You have things to do, and this session is over.”
I didn't move. “Do I—get to stay at camp, then?”
“For now,” she said, as if it had never been in question. “Just know that you, more than anyone, can never let your guard down. You have to stay two steps ahead of the game or you will always be seen as second best.”
Frowning, I stood and moved toward the door. Her next words stopped me, however. “Just so you know, there was a truth serum in the water you drank. The fact that you were still able to resist the drug is astonishing and something to be proud of.”
What? I spun around. “Truth serum?”
“Here, drink this.” She lifted the cup of blue-tinted liquid beside her, stood, and closed the distance between us. “It will combat the effects of what I gave you, so you don't reveal any secrets to your new friends.”
She could be lying, but I didn't care. I didn't want to take the risk. I drained the contents. Grinning, she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug.
I hadn't been hugged in so many years I almost didn't know what to do. Almost. Tentatively, my arms wound around her, too. I wasn't sure if I liked her, but I couldn't have stopped myself from hugging her if a pyre-gun had been aimed at my head.
“Anytime you want to talk,” she said, “I'm here.”
11
The next day, after all our classes—and another therapy session for me (sigh)—it was party time. Or rather, time to “get to know each other.” We weren't to be given any beer, of course, but we had been told we'd get to listen to music, play games (video, virtual, and pool), and eat tons of food. Good-for-us food, but that was better than nothing.
“Get to know each other,” Mia repeated when we reached the threshold of a crowded but spacious room. Already I could hear the bump, bump, and grind of rock. “Get to know the older girls and get to know the boys. But don't forget, even for a second, that we'll be watching you. You know the rules.” Having said her piece, she was off, leaving us in an open doorway.
My shock that we'd get to spend time with the male trainees—and instructors?—barely had time to register before the girls surged forward. One of them grabbed hold of my arm and tugged me inside. All too soon I was standing on the fringes of the party. The room was dimly lit, filled to capacity, and cracking with laughter and conversation.
I experienced a shiver of nervousness.
Everyone around me seemed to know where to stand, how to stand, and what to do. I couldn't force my brain to work right. Should I smile? Or would that make me look too easy? Should I wave or was that something only losers did?
Should I dance or was that something only the older girls were allowed to do? Speaking of the older, more experienced girls, none of them cared to help us or welcome us.
There was a definite hierarchy here. A tier of importance—at least in the older girls' minds. Obviously they thought they were better than us. Fine. Whatever. Maybe one day, we'd feel the same about new recruits. Until then, I considered it a stupid mind-set.
Everything's going to be fine. I released a long, drawn-out sigh, taking in the sea of white clothing I saw. The only difference between the kids—fashion-wise—was skin and hair color. I'd fit right in, so that was one worry I could cross out.
Why are you still standing here? Do something!
“Ohmygod, I'm on sensory overload,” Jenn said.
“Want to, I don't know, mingle?” I asked the girls.
“Not yet. I'm scoping,” Cara said, sounding as nervous as I felt.
They might look in control, but they didn't feel it and that comforted me. I wasn't the only one.
“This place is delectable,” Kitten said, sounding as eager for action as ever.
Okay, she was the exception.
The floor was black and white tile, almost dizzying. A strobe hung from the ceiling. Holographs of movie stars danced in each of the corners. Several tables were piled high with the promised food, and there were couches and plush syn-fur chairs to relax upon.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Emma stride to a far, empty corner and disappear in the shadows. I frowned. “What's Emma's problem?”
Dani waved a hand through the air, wisping strands of light hair in front of her eyes. She brushed them aside. “Who knows?”
“I do,” Jenn answered. Dark eyes glistening, she leaned toward us and whispered, “Don't tell anyone, okay, because I totally don't want to become the gossip, but she was out swimming one day and was raped by a group of Lyrosses.”
Shock coursed through me, followed quickly by sympathy. I'd never heard of a Lyross, but rape was rape.
Jenn must have sensed my puzzlement because she added, “Not a lot is known about them, but we have learned that they came through the portals a few years ago and now live in our oceans.”