1:15pm, Thursday, 3118 TM: “In my room, there is a mirror. It’s small with white trim. When I look at it, I feel at peace.” HU: “Why?” TM: “Because it reminds me that I am here. Because it reminds me that I am in this place and not somewhere else…Because it reminds me that I am alive.”

I shut off my HOL after sending that last message and turn back to the girl talking non-stop in front of me.

“…can you believe it, darling?” The girl in front of me pouted at her little hand mirror, checking her glossy red lips that accentuated the warm undertones in her bronze skin.

“What?” I asked, realizing that she was talking to me.

“I said can you believe that Arina made sixth place instead of Nathan?”

“Oh…” My HOL buzzed as a new message arrived. “Yeah, I know. Weird. Um Yaiya, the line has moved.”

Yaiya snaps her mirror shut and rolls her eyes as she excused herself from the line, ignoring the buffet style food beside her. “I saw your name on the list, darling.” Yaiya winks at me. “You…and Kirosh.”

“So?” I asked confused while I spoon generous helpings of salad and fish onto my platter before turning to follow Yaiya to an empty seat by the window.

“Oh, you’re so cute, darling.” Yaiya daintily sat on the edge of her chair. “But you can’t hide it from me.”

“Hide what?” I followed her example and took a seat opposite of her.

“Oh, darling, your tattoo tells everything, remember?” Yaiya hands me her hand mirror smugly. “See?”

My tattoo is the latest Emblem Pattern Change tattoo, or EPC for short, from MedComp’s “mood reading” cosmetic nanoparticles. Everyone at school had at least one last week. I took Yaiya’s mirror and positioned it so I could see my neck. There, sprawling out from under my shirt collar, was a weeping flower—the national flower of Zuashi.

“So?” I asked again, snapping the mirror shut quickly and covering my neck.

“Oh, just admit it already, darling. You’re not fooling anybody with your whole ‘I’ve got a man in love with me, but I won’t tell you his name.’ I know its Kirosh.” Yaiya took her mirror back while reaching into her handbag to pull out a white pencil. In less than one minute after sitting down, she began to draw bold, iridescent white strokes across her high cheekbone.

I open my mouth to protest, but another platter clattered onto the table beside me. Both Yaiya and I look up surprised.

“Lena, darling, what’s the matter?” Yaiya’s hand hesitated over her cheekbone.

“Dryden Ekbur.” Lena, sank into her chair. She had almost no adornments, opting for a more classic, yet beautiful, look. “I had to invite him to my party or else he wouldn’t give Kirosh the invitation.”

Yaiya narrowed her eyes and her lips became a thin red line. Quickly making a few swift strokes with her pencil. “You shouldn’t have asked Dryden then, darling. No one wants him at the party.”

“Isn’t he your brother, Yaiya?” Lena asked as she began to organize the food on her plater into neat piles.

“Half-brother. I wouldn’t be caught dead being blood related to someone like him.”

“Why not?” I ask absently as I look at the message on my HOL:

HU: “Where else would you be?”

“Because his real father was sent to the PC Bracket. And you know what they say…” Where else would I be… My mind wandered for a moment.

TM:“Somewhere not good.”

“…The violent nature that gets people sent to the PC Bracket run in families. It’s in their blood.” Yaiya shivered. “You can’t trust someone from the PC bracket. They are the worst of society. They lie, they cheat, they use violence…they are the worst, and I am glad to not be related to Dryden in anyway except name.”

“He isn’t that bad…” Lena started, but her words died on her mouth when Yaiya gave her a glare over the top of her mirror.

“So…what were two talking about? Lena hanged the subject.

My HOL buzzed again:

HU: “Are you afraid of going back to that place?”

“Tash, who are you talking to?” Lena leaned over to look.

“What? Kirosh.” I blurted without thinking.

“Oh,” Lena said with a knowing smile. “Maybe now that you are in the Top Six with him, you will finally be able to make him yours.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“She is still denying that she likes him, darling.” Yaiya interrupts.

“No, I really wasn’t—”

“But don’t worry, darling. We’ve all had our share of Kirosh Trivar.” Yaiya said with a twinkle in her eye. “There’s no shame in dating him now.”

“I agree, Tash.” Lena took my hand from my neck and placed both of hers on top. “If this had been four years ago, we wouldn’t have been able to hang out with you if you started dating him. But now, I can give you my full blessing.”

“Wait, what was wrong with him four years ago?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

Both Lena and Yaiya stare at me for a moment. “Well…” Lena said slowly as if explaining something hard to a child. “He has no connections in the Elite Bracket of Qui, he was very small and weak, he—”

“He isn’t weak.” I roll my eyes, taking my hands back from Lena’s grasp so I could eat.

“No, of course not now, darling.” Yaiya snapped her mirror shut. On her cheekbone sat a beautiful snow rose—as to be expected from the daughter of the leading Qui artist. “But he used to be. Remember that time he let Arina beat him up all black and blue? I heard he had to stay in the hospital section for a month—”

“I heard she broke his ribs, his hand, and his neck almost to the point of paralyzing him.” Lena cut in, nodding her head.

“—Nathan had to tutor him every day to keep him from being kicked out of the Akademy from poor grades, darling.” Yaiya narrowed her eyes slightly at being interrupted. “But that’s so four years ago. He’s changed since then. Just look...” She turned to ogle the tall tan boy on the other side of the room. He had originally sat talking with two of his friends, Dryden and Roshcar. But as students began piling into the cafeteria, more and more had joined his table—many of them, of course, were girls. He wasted no time in including them all into the conversation.

“But I was popular back then and I still hung out with him.” I protest.

“That’s because you’re such a sweet person, darling.” Yaiya placed her hand on my arm before going back to watch Kirosh. Somehow her comment sounded more like an insult, than a compliment.

“And besides,” Lena said after a moment’s thought. “Without our patronage, you would have become lowly, unimportant and unnoticed Tash Mirra’av: a Mira’an girl with an unrequited love for her Zuashaian friend.”

“For the love of Qui, I don’t like him in that way!” I exclaimed, throwing up my hands. I can feel my EPC shift under my skin and I quickly clamp my hand on my neck to keep the image from the two girls prying eyes.

“You’re not attracted to Kirosh? Not even in the slightest? Not one ounce of you is remotely interested?” Lena asked with a sickeningly sweet innocence.

“Of course I can see that he’s attractive. I’m not blind. But it doesn’t me—”

“Ah, ah, ah. But nothing. Answer us this, is your mystery man also in the top six?” Lena pressed.

“Well…yeah, but—”

“See?” Lena and Vera exchange “I told you so” looks and I could feel the heat rising to my face.

“So, speaking of Arina,” I shift in my seat. “I was surprised when she wasn’t kicked out of school for the whole Kirosh fiasco.”

“I found out from my dad that she was,” Lena leaned in to whisper excitedly. “But her sponsor convinced the Akademy to reinstate her with probation since she is from the Punishment Bracket and, oh how did he put it… ‘unused to the way civilized Qui works…’ or something like that.”

“Youh’re kiddging.” My head snapped up, my mouth full of food.

Even Yaiya looked surprised. “Not getting kicked out takes some serious connections, darling. What does her dad even do?”

“And who knows what her father did. I’ve only heard that her entire family was sent to the PC bracket a long time ago.” Lena shrugged. “And Tash, don’t pucker your mouth like that. You look like you’ve just had something rotten. It’s embarrassing.” Lena lifted her nose in the air and turned her head as if she didn’t want to look at my face.

I quickly swallow my food.

“How did she get sent to the PC Bracket in the first place, darling?” Yaiya asked as she played with the cookies on her platter. The rest of her food was untouched.

Lena’s eyes twinkled as she lowered her voice. “I heard that she didn’t like the local magistrate in her town, so she snuck into his house and killed him. Shocked him to death with her HOL.”

“…I don’t think that’s possible.” I state, but neither of them are listening to me.

“I heard that she got angry with the food she was served while in the community home after her parents were taken, so she killed everyone in the home with nothing but a rope.” Yaiya declared, not to be outdone by Lena.

“I don’t think that is possible either…”

“Well, I heard—” Lena talked over me.

“Who cares?” I interrupted loudly enough to get their attention. “She was sent there, isn’t that reason enough?”

“You don’t have to yell, Tash. We aren’t in Mara.” Lena frowned at me. “Try to be less…” Lena waved her hand as if trying to capture my whole body in one word. “…less Mara’an.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…Arina creeps me out.” I take my hand off my neck and rub the bridge of my nose.

“How so?”

“Everything about her is creepy. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No, darling. I make it a point not to associate myself with those of low social importance…except you of course, darling. But you’re different, and your cousin is Garett.”

“Yeah, well, I think she’s creepy.” I mutter. “She almost never speaks; her face never seems to change. Like, ever. And her eyes…it’s like she doesn’t really look at you. Like she isn’t focusing on you but something behind you, or through you. I can’t really explain it. It’s just creepy.” I shiver. I can feel my EPC shift. It itches slightly. “And now I have to be stuck with her for two years…And, to make things worse, I think Garett likes her.”

“Your cousin? You’re worried about your cousin?” Lena asks incredulously. “Oh how pretty.” Lena leaned in to move my shirt collar slightly. “Your tattoo is a lillyvera.”

“…Thanks.” I finger my tattoo self-consciously. The lillyvera was the vampire butterfly that only inhabited the satellite island of the northern nation of Gavi Qunitar, Mara. My home. “What’s so wrong about being worried about him?”

“He’s a big boy, Tash. I think he can take care of himself. Why should you care who he likes anyway?”

“Well, there’s just a little problem like, oh I don’t know, because I don’t like her.”

Lena opened her mouth to retort but the chimes of her HOL stopped her. “Sorry, I have to take this…” Lena stood up and walked a little ways away for some privacy. As soon as Lena turned her back, Yaiya reached over and snatched her little pile of bite sized cookies. She crunched them one by one slowly. Her own plate was still untouched—the only missing component was her own little pile of cookies.

I sigh and look at my HOL:

TM: “I’m terrified of going back, to be honest.” HU: “You feel that if you don’t see your reflection in the mirror in your room, you’re not really there?” TM: “I feel that if I don’t see my reflection in my mirror, that this is all just a dream. And I’m still stuck over there in that horrible place…”

“That was my father.” Lena gleefully bounced back to the table. “He got me a part in the FEEL movie that DiMech Inc. is trying to produce. Soon my face will be known by everyone in all of Qui.”

“But you’re not 22. Your Qui Duty hasn’t been instated yet.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Oh Tash, you are so cute with your provincial thinking.” Lena tweaked my nose as if I were a child. “I’m a career entertainer, which means that my family has been entertainers for enough generations that I can start my Qui Duty as long as I have finished the Youngling Tournament and have turned 16. The Tournament is over, so that means that I will be an official working member of Qui society on my 16th birthday in two days. You’re both coming to the party tomorrow aren’t you?”

“Of course we are darling. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Great. Well, I should be going now.” Lena pushes her food towards Tash. “Be a friend and throw this away for me.”

“Sure, sure.” I gave a perfunctory wave.

“You’re a doll. When I’m famous, I’ll keep you in mind.” Lena winked at me. “Yaiya, are you coming? You said you would give me back the notes I lent you after lunch.”

“Of course darling” Yaiya quickly thrust the rest of her cookies into her handbag as Vera sauntered off. She rose and turned to leave when her eyes seemed to catch on something. “Oh and Tash, darling, you should really get that tattoo removed before you leave for training with the others in the top six. It’s so last week…and it’s disgusting. E’h u’talre[1], darling.”

“Yeh…see you later too.” I muttered as I clenched my neck again.

Yaiya and Lena never ceased to remind me of my dependence on them, both bluntly and passive aggressively. It was annoying, but I put up with it—anything to be noticed, anything to be respected, anything for connections, which includes swallowing my pride when my friends try to speak my language.

Try and fail. I sighed to myself and pushed my food around my plate for a moment before returning to looking out the window. Suddenly, my fork slipped out of my fingers and dropped with a clatter. Arina Haron was not ten feet from the window just staring in at me with those weird unsettling eyes.

Just watching.

Just waiting.

Then, she turns slowly and walks down the path looking neither left nor right. Her head is held high and her shoulders are pinned back as if she owned the place.

Freak. I mutter to myself.

Something sharp pricked my neck and I tighten my hand over my neck. The tattoo was moving again, I could feel it under my skin like a coiling, slithering snake. The pain continueed as something warm began to seep onto my hand. I removed it slowly and look down. Ink and blood are pooled together, a side effect of the EPC program if an emotion was too overpowering.

I clamped my hand back over my neck before anyone could see and hurried off to the bathroom. Annoyed, I grab paper towels from the dispenser and thrust them under the faucet. I will get my money back for this crappy tattoo, especially since I spent almost my entire year’s allowance to get it. When the towels are wet enough, I remove my hand to clean my neck and almost scream.

There is a face just peeking out from my shirt collar. Its grotesque face snarling, grinning as blood and ink runs down from where its claws are poised—almost as if they have latched onto my neck from the inside. I tear off my shirt and scrub at the tattoo, willing it to change.

And it does. Into a line from a poem that my last Ancient History class

I swallow hard. In my room, there is a mirror. It’s small with white trim. When I look at it, I feel at peace. I scrub my neck harder. I feel at peace. And harder. I feel at peace. A small cry rises up my throat as I scrub even harder. But the tattoo doesn’t change again. The four lines of the poem only get more and more stark until the words seem to burn themselves into my brain:

Claws for anger and a face for hate, Merged together in an ugly fate, For one so hideous, you cannot overlook, That there inside of you, it has its hook

[1] See you later