The Moon Dwellers (14 page)

Roc says
, “I’ll help you find your
crush
.”
I spoke
too soon
.
I leap
off the bed, tackling him to the ground, pushing his face into the soft carpet, putt
ing all my weight on him.
I’m laughing, he’
s gasping, tryi
ng to take a breath.
I release him and stand up, but I’m not done yet.
As he turns over
I place
a foot atop his chest and raise
my fists over my head, relishing my small victory.

Like when I saw the moon dw
eller for the first time, I feel
alive again.

We spend
the rest of the day making plans.
Now that the contract negoti
ations are finally over, I’ll
request
a holiday.
My father will
insist I go to one of the finest s
un dweller resorts, one that has
the brightest fake sunlight and truckload
s of synthetic sand.
But I’
ll tell him I’m
tired of those places, tired of the s
ame old scene.
It won’t surprise him—he already kno
w
s how I feel
about the customs of t
he sun dwellers.
If I request
another trip to the Moon Realm—an unofficial, off-
the-books trip—I think
he’
ll
authorize it, as a sort of reward for all my work over the last few months.
The first chance we have, Roc and I will
ditch
my security guards and go find the girl
, and hopefully ourselves at the same time
.

When we leave my apartment, I am feeling good.
I wo
n’t go so far as to say I am happy—I have
n’t been happy in a long time—but
I’m satisfied that I’m
finally doing som
ething real.
Something I want
to do.
Cutting another one of my father’s ropes away, so to speak.

* * *

We a
re at dinner, the three of us—me, my brother
,
Ki
llen, and my father, his lo
rdship.
Dinner i
s funny
in our palace.
The table we sit at i
s about a mile long, with enough place settings to host the entire forty-third
ghetto
of the
Star Realm (their population i
s only twenty-three).
My father, his majesty (a president, not a ki
ng), si
t
s
at one end.
My mother used to sit at the other
head
, but now her seat is vacant, like it has
been for a
long time.
My brother and I si
t across from each other, in the middle, so
far from my father that we’d need binoculars if we want
to s
ee him.
Thankfully, I do
n’t.

When we were younger, my brother and I would get into all kinds of trouble at dinner, kicking each other under the table, slinging food across at each other,
whispering nasty names so our parents couldn’t hear what we were saying.
It was great fun, and we enjoyed the challenge of trying to get away with things while our parents shouted across the length of the table in a ridiculous attempt to have a conversation.

Now it
i
sn’t worth the effort.
Day b
y day, my brother i
s becoming more and more like a
clone of my father.
He even si
t
s
like him at the table, his back straight, his head
held
so
high I don’t think he will
be able to get his fork to his mouth without dropping
his food
.
Killen i
s two years younger than me,
but I know he thinks
himself to
be the older, wiser son.
We have
n’t had fun together in forever,
since
before my mother left.

“So I hear the contract negotiations were
a success, brother,” Killen says.
He i
s trying to
sound smart.
In reality, he’
s
never
so much as
negotiated a turd from his butt.

I put on a fake voice and say
, “Splendid, my dear brother.
Simply splendid.
We got an even better deal than last year and the people of the Tri-Realms seem to love us
even more!”
To my dad it will
soun
d like we a
re having a mature, bro
therly conversation.
Killen kno
w
s
better.

“That’
s wonderful, Tristan,” he says.
Under his breath, he mumbles
, “Quit being a dumb arse.”

“I would never take that title a
way from you, brother,” I hiss.
I feel
his leg swi
ng out as he tries to kick me.
He misses
, his toe thudding against the
leg of my chair.
His face turns
red and he curse
s
under his breath.
It
probably
hurt, too, because he i
s wearin
g these absurd shoes that look
like white ballet slippers
and provide zero protection for
the foot.
They are
just another sun dweller fashion trend
that my brother buys into.
It’s a hard decision, but I’m sticking
with my boots.

“Father,” I say
loudly, maintaining my fake voice, “I’d like to take a holiday, now that the negotiations are complete.”

My brother is glaring at me, but I ignore
him.

President Nailin shouts
, “Of course
!
Shall I have Lima book a few weeks at the Sandy Oasis like last year?”

Shocking
how predictable my father i
s
.

I pretend
to consider it.
“Hmm, maybe
…
” I say.
“But I am
also considering doing some
thing a little
different…something a bit more exotic.”

“What did you have in mind?”

I glance at my brother.
His head is cocked to the side.
It mak
e
s
him look even younger than he i
s.

“I would like to travel inter-Real
m, to the Moon Realm.
I think it will
be a good way to show them that we appreciate their support.
You know, by having a holiday there, spending some Nailins at their shops.”

“Absolutely not,” my fathe
r says
.

I really thought he’
d
go for
it
, that
my lie was a good one, believable, sensible.
So I do
n’t
have a backup plan.
Killen is snickering, which does
n’t help.

“Why not?” I ask
,
really wanting to know what has
prompted my father’s quick and decisive rejection.

“It’s j
ust not proper,” he says simply.

I
’ve
n
ever hated him more than I hate him now.
It’s the way he says
it more than hi
s words.
As though
such a trip would
be like me sleeping with the rats—no
,
worse,
with the cockroaches.
He wants
me to be
all smiles and winks when I am
in the other Realms renegotiating our so-c
alled contracts, and yet I ca
n’t even take a simple holiday there?

My brother i
s nodding, wagging his head up
and down like a dog.
“It wo
uld
n’t be proper, brother,”
he parrots
.
Now
I
kick.
My aim i
s true, connecting solidly with Killen’s
shinbone.
To his credit, he doesn’t cry out, although I kno
w it hurt
s, can
se
e it all over his face.
He
winces
and
ho
ld
s his breath,
trying to stifle a groan of pain.

“You’re right, father, brother.
How silly of me
.
Have
Lima
book my usual.”
I’
ve
lost my appe
tite.
Before standing up I take
another shot at my brother
under the table
, and from the
shade of purple his face turns
,
I kno
w I’
ve hit the same spot.
It i
s the only thing satisfying about the dinner.

Chapter Five

Adele

“
W
hat d
o you know of my father?” I say
.
It c
o
me
s out as a croak, because I stop breathing when my heart rises into my throat.
I gulp
the words back down, trying to clear a passage.
I take
a deep breath.

“Only that he’s
probably
alive,”
Tawni
says
.

I don’t think the words will
com
e out right, so I hope
she’
ll
anticipate my next question.

“How much of our conversation did you hear?”
Tawni
asks
.

Damn
, I am
hoping for
answers, not questions.
I’
ll have to speak.
I try a single word: “Enough.”
It co
me
s
ou
t better this time, but still i
sn’t my natural timbre.

“Look,”
Tawni
says
, “I’m sorry I didn’t open up to you before, but we
’d
only just met.
The things I know are dangerous…”

She glances
left and right, like th
e walls might have ears.
She i
s making me nerv
ous.
Although the snippets I’
d heard of
Tawni
and Cole’s
whispered conversation intrigue
me—particula
rly the stuff about Tristan—I’m not
interested in that now.
I only c
are
about one thing.

“It’s okay.
Just tell me about my dad.”

Tawni
ta
k
es a deep breath.
She looks
stressed,
her brow furrowed
and eyes narrowed and intense,
like something heavy i
s wei
ghing on her.
She says, “As you
probably gathered, my parents are traitors.
They live amongst the moon dwellers, but work for the sun dwellers.
The
y’
re spies for the President himself.
I heard them talking one night.
They thought I w
as out with my friends, but I’
d returned early with a stomach
ache.
They spoke about how Tristan i
s different
from
his father, how he cares
about people.
How he i
s inherently good.”

Her words a
re interes
ting, and typically I would be
hangin
g on every single one, but I’m
still mis
sing the point.
“What does that
have to do with my
father?
” I blurt
out.