Catalyst (11 page)

THE FLETCHERS WERE
nice people. Mama would have gotten along with them. They were rich, but they weren’t fake, which I wasn’t sure was possible till now. Turns out that they knew the Andersons—the family that bought Mitis. And it turned out Mitis did go and get his hind end in big trouble, more than he knew about.

Elect Anderson was bad news. His wife was hopped up on all sorts of medicine for a list of ailments a mile long. She never saw the docs, though. Anderson just used his influence to get her the drugs. He saw that she took it, too. The Fletchers had one son. He was a chemist and worked to make the medicines that Mrs. Anderson ‘needed.’

Mr. Fletcher was taking me to a meeting tonight. I was strapped in tight to the front seat of a car. A real one. And I was holding on to the door of that sucker for dear life. “Ease up, son. I won’t hurt you. I’ve driven myself for years. Never did like to keep servants. It’s not right.”

We sped past houses and businesses, one after another, lit by street lights and spotlights. I wished Mama had electricity.

Fletcher was silent for a beat, but continued, “And holding companions is very wrong. You know how we feel about it, though.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Fletcher pulled into the driveway of another house. It was big and made of gray stones in various sizes. I swallowed, wondering if I could trust the man who sat beside me. No simple had ever given me a reason to.

Inside the house, we were given ice-filled glasses of water and plates of cookies and pastries by an older couple who seemed kind. The food was good, so I chewed and kept quiet, watching everything, searching for something that said they were lying.

Daddy always said, “Simples aren’t like us. They don’t feel. Don’t you ever think you can trust one?” His words echoed in my head.

Mr. Fletcher and the man, Mr. Davis, were formulating a plan—a plan to oust Elect Anderson. Mr. Davis would run against Anderson in the next election. Mr. Fletcher, my companion, pledged to support him with money and by spreading the word about the unsavory things that Anderson was involved in.

In the end, the two clapped shoulders, said their goodbyes and we walked to Mr. Fletcher’s car. Fletch was quiet on the way home until we were almost there. “Son, I want you to know that I’ll help you get out of Confidence. You aren’t our first companion. We helped the first girl escape, too. It’s a small thing to do, buy a companion only to free them, but it’s something. If everyone sits idle and watches things happen, that’s when evil can take hold.”

I nodded my thanks. I wanted to go home. Seeing my mama and daddy, my sisters and brothers…that’s all I could think about next to helping Mitis. Thank goodness he hadn’t done anything stupid yet.

Fletcher continued. “And if you think he’ll accept it, I’ll help your friend escape, too. We just have to go about it all in the right way. We’ll have to plan and be smart about it.”

Bon
·
fire

/ˈ
bä
nˌ
fī
(ə
)r/

noun

1. a large fire built in the open air, for warmth, entertainment, or celebration, to burn leaves, garbage, etc., or as a signal.
   
2. any fire built in the open.
   
3. fire fueled with bone (historically).
   

MITIS FELT SO
warm. He let his body heat seep into me, let him warm me. A pitch black sliver from between my curtains meant that it was still night. I had hours left to rest but was restless. The very thought of waking Mitis kept me still—as still as one could be when awake and trying desperately not to move.

I must have failed. Mitis pulled me closer to him and groaned. His nose brushed mine, and his lips were within centimeters, millimeters. Swallowing the nervousness, I watched him. His eyes were closed. His brow was scrunched as if he was in deep thought. Or maybe it was that he was in pain.

His face turned to the side and the scruff of his jaw feathered over my own, down my neck. He inhaled and muttered something incoherent. When his leg parted mine, I tensed. He probably felt like he was holding a plank of wood.

When he tensed, I peeked out at him. His eyes were wide, but heavy with sleep. Mitis’s hands held my waist for dear life. He retracted his knee and released me from his strong hands, all but jumping to the other side of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Seven. I was dreaming.”

I smiled. “Was it a good dream?”

He cleared his throat, grabbing a throw pillow and holding it across his waist. When he saw that I noticed, he turned bright red. I had to tease him. He had earned it. “Must have been a very good dream.”

“Why are you even awake at this hour?” He snapped.

“I can’t sleep.” I couldn’t. I propped my head up on my hand. “Sorry that I woke you.”

He shrugged. “I’m your companion—awake or asleep.”

“Mitis?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you want it to be someone else who claimed you?”

My heart thundered. I didn’t want him to want anyone else.

“No,” he answered.

His eyes were sincere. They were wide open. I wanted to know more—more about what made him so stubborn and strong. “Tell me about your parents.”

Those wide open eyes narrowed. He was shutting me out.

Mitis blew out a heavy breath and then closed his eyes completely.

It was a long moment before he spoke. I listened, soaking up this rare peek into the past that he held so close to his chest. “They were the best. We were always busy just trying to survive, but they made time for fun, time to show us how much we meant to them. We’d always been able to trade alligator meat and chopped firewood, but my dad was offered a fishing job. Most fishermen had to cast from the rickety pier that juts too far out into the water. But it’s dangerous. The pier
will
fall, and it will happen soon. When an old man offered him the use of his boat with the agreement that dad would provide him some of the fish he caught, it was an offer my parents couldn’t refuse.”

“Mom wanted to go with him. Fishing offshore was hard enough with two people. It was almost impossible with one. The fish were bigger. It was harder to haul them into the boat, even with hooks and tools. It took them a month to get into a rhythm, but once they did, the two enjoyed it. My brother and I were old enough to take care of ourselves. Well, I was old enough to care for him, anyway. One day they went out fishing. A storm blew….it was so violent, the wind and the rain….They never came home.”

“How old were you?” I asked, picking at my blanket. I was now sitting cross-legged in the bed, hugging a pillow to my chest.

With a strained voice, he answered, “Fifteen.”

“And your brother?”

“Ten. Griffin was ten.”

Griffin. His baby brother’s name was Griffin.

“How long ago was this?”

“Four years.”

Four years. Griffin was fourteen when he passed away. Mitis blamed himself for Griffin’s death. It was written in the dark circles under his eyes, in the vulnerability of his expression.

I grabbed his hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Mitis.”

He snorted and sat up with me. “I know. I can’t control the weather.”

I shook my head. “No, Griffin’s death was not your fault.”

His hand gripped mine. Hard. “No, it wasn’t.” His voice had also hardened.

“Your list.”

He moved toward me.

“My list?” I questioned.

“Your list said you’ve never been kissed.”

“Other than the small kisses you gave me yesterday, I haven’t.”

Mitis smirked. “Those weren’t reciprocated kisses. They don’t count.”

Didn’t they? I hadn’t marked them off the list. Maybe a part of me subconsciously agreed. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t get any words to come out. Mitis moved closer. His lips were almost on mine—so close, I doubted that a piece of paper could fit between them. “Can I be your first?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then kiss me.”

I expected a peck, a meeting of skin to soft skin, like the first sprinkling of rain when a storm approaches. What I got was a downpour. All of Mitis’s emotions were being transferred from his lips to mine. Soft but strong, he claimed my mouth as his own, easing his tongue across and nipping at my bottom lip. His hands found my waist and reeled me in until I was sitting sideways in his lap, but he didn’t let me go. Instead, he urged me closer.

My breath left me when he began trailing kisses down the column of my throat, and his hands threaded into my hair. My hands found his chest, his shoulders and biceps. I was poised to continue my exploration when he pulled away. “Stop.”

“What?” I gasped.

“We should stop,” he said sternly, a silent warning present in his eyes.

“What? Why?”

He smiled, running his tongue across his lips. “I meant to kiss you sweetly for your first time.”

“It was sweet. I loved it.” I had loved it, every second of it. We should reenact it.

Mitis smirked. Perhaps he didn’t like the way I kissed. “Did you not like it?” I asked.

His smirk faded. Mitis grabbed the list from my bedside table, along with the ink pen. He crossed through number ten, eleven and then number seven. He blinked up at me. “You pulled me along today. Does that mean that we held hands?”

“No. It doesn’t count. But since you’re in a hurry to mark items off the list, I’ll see how many we can get through tomorrow.” I stared at the items that hadn’t been crossed through. So foolish. Who cared about driving or sleeping under the stars or dancing.

1.    
   Go swimming.
   
2.    
   Sleep under the stars
   
3.    
   Go to a party
   
4.   
   Dance with a guy
   
5.    
   …in the rain
   
6.    
   Make a mess
   
7.    
   Have my first kiss
   
8.   
   Drive a car
   
9.    
   ….really fast.
   
10. Walk the perimeter of the wall
    
11.  
    Go to the market
    
12. Drink alcohol
    
13. Get a tattoo
    
14. Blend in
    
15. Belly laugh
    
16. Hold someone’s hand
    
17. Give a random person a hug
    
18. Help Mitis
    
19. …and his friend.
    

20. Leave the city.

“Hey,” he said.

I refused to look up at him. He took the paper and pen from me and placed them back on the nightstand.

“Seven, I’m sorry that I upset you. And I did want to kiss you, but you can’t think there will ever be anything between us. There just can’t be.”

Releasing a harsh laugh, I told him, “Believe me, I know.” The thing of it was, it wasn’t because of my illness or his stubbornness. It was because the stars weren’t aligned for the pair of us. In Confidence, a citizen couldn’t marry a scrub. No one would think him good enough for me. Outside the walls, I would always be the girl from Confidence—an Elect’s daughter. I wouldn’t be considered good enough for him.

“I’m finally tired now.” With that declaration, I lie back down with my back facing him, pulled the covers up to my neck and tried to get warm again without Mitis beside me. My lips still stung from his kiss.

BIRDSONG WOKE ME
the next morning. Sunlight now shone through the crack in my curtains and Mitis was nowhere to be found. The bathroom door was wide open. My room’s door was closed. I stretched and padded to the bathroom for a quick shower. My stomach felt sore from yesterday’s exertions. My calves were sore in the best way, from having been used.

Today, I would work on crossing things off my list. If Mitis wasn’t willing to help me anymore, I could do it myself. If he wanted to get his friend and get out, we would make it happen.