Talker 25 (32 page)

Nothing to it. Pretend it’s the real James. Take a step toward him. And another. Away from the dragon, I start to shiver, even though it’s not that cold yet.

“Don’t think, just do it,” Hector urges.

I clench my fists, rush forward. James drops the sword, strides toward me, eyes lit with joy. How can he be so good at this? He enfolds me in his arms. My shivers cease, my stomach settles, my heartbeat intensifies.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he says.

He draws back, cups my face, and looks at me with the same fierce passion I remember from Shadow Mountain lookout, when I so wanted him to kiss me. How can he look at me like I’m the center of his universe, this same person who treated me so awfully this morning?

Who are you?

I shut my eyes. His thumb traces my lips. He lifts my chin, glides his other hand up my face . . . and through the hair of my wig. The touch of his fingers on my naked scalp breaks my trance.

I remember our audience, my outfit, our purpose on this slaughter slab.

I turn away, and his lips meet my cheek.

“Cut!” Hector bellows. “What the hell was that?” he asks through my transceiver.

“I can’t do it,” I say.

“It’s okay, Melissa, I won’t hurt you,” James says softly.

Hector growls something unintelligible, then stands up and orders everyone but his production assistants to clear out. Once the hangar’s empty of spectators, we start again.

“It doesn’t have to be a magical kiss. It’s just a simple peck. If more happens, great. If not, fine. Don’t think about it. Close your eyes and let him kiss you. Don’t make it so damn difficult.”

A simple peck. Run forward. A simple peck. Embrace. A simple peck. Close my eyes. A simple peck. Coming closer. A simple—

I push myself away. “I can’t do it.”

Hector scowls at me. “Melissa’s got stage fright, so we’ll come back to the kiss later. For this take, do the scene without it. Hug, look at each other lovey-dovey, kill the dragon. Can you handle that?”

“I’ll try.”

“Try correctly.”

Without kissing, the hugging and gazing go fine. After retrieving the dropped sword, we stroll hand in hand to the dragon. James gets on one side, I get on the other.

“Together, we can destroy this monster and begin to cleanse our hearts of the evil we’ve done,” Hector says in my ear.

I repeat the line, say a silent apology, and press the sword
tip to the dragon’s skull. James wraps his hands around mine.

Hector makes a cutting motion across his throat. “Make it pretty.”

James looks from me to the dragon. An expression of absolute hatred contorts his face as his hands crush mine. Not an act. He loathes them with every ounce of his soul. Unexpected relief floods me, quickly followed by a storm of fury over the way he’s played my emotions these past hours.

How could I have been so gullible? He’s a monster.

I tighten my grip on the sword. The blisters on my palms burn hot against the hilt. I tell myself the wetness in my eyes comes from the pain in my hands, and I squeeze harder to drive back the pain in my heart.

Twenty-Six wipes a tear from my cheek and I recoil. “Let go, Melissa. I can do this without you,” he whispers with Jamesish precision, as if he actually gives a damn.

“So can I,” I hiss, clenching hard until the fiery agony pulsing through me becomes too much. I let out a scream and thrust the sword deep.

When my vision clears enough for me to see, the dragon is impaled to the hilt.

“That was brilliant,” Hector says. I grab the earpiece, knocking the wig askew in the process, and hurl it at him. My CENSIR jolts me to my knees. I push myself up, my wig falling over my eyes. I rip it off, ready to fling it, too, when
inspiration strikes.

I march over to Hector. “I’m not kissing him.”

“It’s a simple—”

“Fine, have someone else do it.”

He frowns. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because a kiss is a close shot. How ’bout you let me direct and you just try to figure out how not to screw up my scene?”

“It’ll look like I’m kissing my grandmother,” I say. “Don’t you want a good one?”

“You’re a thorn in my ass, you know that? I could do an over-the-shoulder, maybe pull out to medium,” he mutters, more to himself than me. He shakes his head. “It won’t work.”

“I know someone perfect,” I say, jiggling the blond wig at him.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

Everyone
gawks when I enter the barracks. I left my scrubs in the rec center bathroom—Lester wouldn’t let me retrieve them—so I’m stuck in my dragon-scale outfit until tomorrow. After everyone gets their disapproving looks in, they return to watching a new episode of
Kissing Dragons
:
The Other Side
. I don’t see Evelyn, which means either she’s decided to undergo reconditioning, or she’s in the bathroom.

I hurry through the door at the back. Red-eyed and puffy, she sits against the wall beneath the screen, blubbering something unintelligible to Five and Seven. She notices me, wipes quickly at her eyes.

“What do you want?” she snaps.

“I kind of like the waterworks.” I remove some gauze and ointment from the medicine cabinet. “Almost makes
you seem human.”

Five and Seven rise to her defense. I raise a hand in peace. “I have an offer for your queen.”

“What could you possibly have that I want?”

I nod at Five and Seven. “Evil stepsisters, clear out.”

“They stay,” Evelyn says.

I make to leave. “Okay. I’ll give your regards to James.”

“Hold up,” Evelyn calls, her voice breaking.

I spin around, bite back my smile. “Yes?”

“Wait outside,” Evelyn says to her girls.

While I wrap my blistered hands, I explain the kissing situation to Evelyn. By the time I’m finished, her mood’s at full perky.

“Of course,” I say, “I need something from you. Do you or your sorority sisters have any chocolate?”

Comprehension dawns on her face with a devious smile. “So you’re the one who stole Twenty-One’s Kit Kat.”

“Answer the question.”

“No,” she says. “But here’s what I’ll do for you. I won’t tell her or anybody about your mistake. It’ll be our little secret.”

“I’m not your enemy, Evelyn.”

“Actions have consequences, Twenty-Five. You’ll learn.”

“One day, when you’re alone and nobody can hear your screams, I’m going to enjoy hurting you,” I say on my way
out the door.

Twenty-One’s waiting for me on my bed. “You look nice, Melissa.”

“Don’t remind me.” I sit beside her. Deep breath. “Twenty-One, I need to talk to you about—”

“The monkeys are depressed.”

The monkeys are always fucking depressed. “Let’s plant a pumpkin patch or build a dolphin-shaped swimming pool.”

“Who likes pumpkins? And why would we need a pool when we live by the ocean?”

“I’ll come up with something better tomorrow. That’s not what I needed to talk about.”

“Is this about the Kit Kat you took?” She doesn’t seem upset in the least.

“You knew?”

“Yes, yes. I smelled it on you the next morning.”

Evidently reconditioning made her a bloodhound. “How come you didn’t say anything?”

She looks at me like the answer’s obvious. “You were hungry.”

“But I stole from you.”

The first hint of anger flashes in her eyes. “Only bad people steal. You’re not a bad person, are you?”

A couple of months ago I knew the answer. Now . . . “I’m not sure.”

“I am.” She smiles up at me with such affection that I almost lose it. She doesn’t care that I’m a weak link or a glowheart or a thief. She accepts me unconditionally.

She whips the dragon brooch from behind her back. “Soon the dragons will come, yes, yes, and they can take us to our island and we can be happy. We need to find something for them to eat.”

“But I thought dragons aren’t allowed on our island,” I say, my attention drifting to the screen. Simon’s interviewing the insurgent of the week, some middle-aged guy made to resemble a cross between a biker and a vampire.

“We should let Arabelle visit. You like her.”

“Arabelle?” For a second, I think it’s Keith. But it’s not, thank God.

“The Silver,” she says with a dramatic huff.

“I’m sorry, did you tell me that already?”

“No. She only learned how to talk this afternoon, yes, yes. She said you’d want to know.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“She told me you came up with some pretty silly names for her.”

“She did, huh?”

“Little Blue Eyes, Smaug. She did not like those.”

My focus snaps to Twenty-One. “How do you know that?”

“Arabelle told me. She says you can keep calling her Baby, if you—”

I press my palm to her mouth. Given her penchant for rambling nonsense, I doubt Big Brother monitors her too often, but it’s not her mike that concerns me.

“Vultures in the sky. Gotta stay sharp,” I say.

She doesn’t catch my meaning, but at least it distracts her. Her eyes dart around in suspicious little bursts. She settles her glare on Evelyn and friends. She shapes her right hand into a gun. “Their stench offends me, yes, yes. They’re upsetting the monkeys.”

“We’ll hum to them. That always makes them feel better.” I start in with a lullaby; she chooses the
Kissing Dragons
theme song. We’re both off-key.

I tug a blanket around us, keep it clasped tight with one hand to conceal my movements from the cameras. With the other, I press my finger to Twenty-One’s left forearm and scrawl
How can u talk to dragons?

She squints, shakes her head, hums louder. We repeat this several times before she nods acknowledgment and responds on my arm.

Three tries later, me mouthing out guesses and her answering “yes, yes” or “no, no,” I correctly decipher:
Can hear. Can’t talk.

Is her CENSIR malfunctioning? But . . .

How can you hear Baby? She’s collared.

“It doesn’t work the same on us. We’re different.”

They’ll kill Baby if they discover this. And they might very well do the same to Twenty-One.
Island secret
.

I don’t think she notices my words, though, her attention back on Evelyn. “We could have the dragons throw them in the ocean, yes, yes. They’ll freeze.” She clenches the blanket in her fists, trembles violently. “Or burn them! Burn, burn, burn!”

I embrace her until she calms. “Shhh. The monkeys are still upset.” Ignoring the agitated looks of those near us, I resume my awful hum.
When do dragons come?

“A few—”

I tap her arm.

A few days. I think
.

Is Keith with them?

She shrugs.
I don’t know much
.
I think they’re worried I’ll blab.
“But I haven’t blabbed about you, no, no.”

I press a finger to her lips.
Me?

“Follow the Silverback’s trail, yes, yes.” I shush her again.
That’s what they call you.
“Because of Arabelle.”

How could they follow my trail? Maybe they tracked the airplane or . . . It doesn’t matter. Rescue’s coming. It’s actually coming.

I kiss her forehead.
Island secret.

She pantomimes locking her mouth and throwing away the key. We practice shooting vultures until she drifts to sleep.

After a breakfast that doesn’t taste quite so bad as normal, Evelyn and I meet up with the makeup artists at the rec center. While she changes into a spare outfit, a production assistant preps me for today’s shoot. I’m getting eyeliner applied, reading over the script, when Twenty-Six shows up.

He glowers at me, grabs his binder from a table, and slumps into a nearby chair. “What problems you going to cause today, Glowheart?”

I tap the script. “This is good stuff. While I’m off foraging for berries like your good little cavewoman, you get to show Frank the best way to skin a dragon. Doesn’t that make your blackheart extra happy?”

He frowns. “You’re in a good mood.”

Even Evelyn emerging from the locker room, bouncy and bubbly—far more suited for the tight jumpsuit than me—can’t ruin it. I suffer a momentary prick of envy, but it disappears fast when the barber informs her she needs a haircut.

“Did I not mention that?” I say. “Whoops.”

“But I’m blond already,” she whines.

The production assistant steps in. “It needs to look the same. We have an extra wig for you.”

Evelyn’s eyes go buggy as the barber gives her the sheep treatment. She catches me grinning at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m telling Twenty-One about the Kit Kat.”

“Does this mean we’re not friends?”

After Evelyn’s wigged and prepped to resemble me, and James is properly sultrified, Lester chauffeurs us to the slaughter slab. Hector’s got everything set up, including a live dragon to replace the one I slayed last night. Twenty-Six and I hug, gaze longingly at each other, then Evelyn steps in, and they kiss.

And kiss. Hector gives them a “Brilliant,” repositions his cameras, and has them go at it again. I grit my teeth. Only two more days. Maybe less. I glance up at the ceiling. Maybe the dragons are already on their way. While Twenty-Six and the strumpet continue their lovefest, I contemplate what I’m going to do once I’m free of this hellhole.

I won’t be able to return to the old world. No more high school. No college. At least not until my name and face are forgotten. I’ll probably have to be a crate-in-a-cave nomad for several years.

It’ll be a far different life than I ever imagined growing up, but it will be mine. No CENSIRs. No A-Bs, no Major Alderson. No call centers, ERs, or battle rooms.

“Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.”

No TV shows.

For episode two, we help the four A-Bs track a reclusive Green responsible for the destruction of a million acres of African flora. And, oh yeah, he’s also killed a bunch of people, but the show’s more focused on his ecological impact because, according to Hector, the environmentalists are another demographic they’re attempting to snare.