Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) (17 page)

"Well, come along," said
Mrs. Lane.  "You're in for quite a treat.  This way, girls."

She led them down the hall, the girls emerging from the room like a Russian doll set, the first and smallest possibly pre-school age.  Each on
e a little taller than the last, until finally a near full-grown Flora, beautiful and peaceful and curious about the world, emerged with none to follow her.  Once the youngest of the group, now next in line for slaughter.

Except I would intercept.

When she passed, smiling politely, I reached out and grabbed her.  She stopped, alarmed, but didn't pull away, and for a moment we stared at one another.  She had the same eyes as the Flora before her, the same lips, the same everything, and yet the sexuality wasn't prevalent.  It existed, yes, but in a natural way.  Budding, developing.  Not seeping from her like morphine from a poppy plant.  This Flora still possessed something that had been stripped from the other.  Something unquantifiable.  A breath of life, definition, personality.

The line of girls snaked down t
he hallway and disappeared around the corner.

"Am I in trouble?"
Flora asked.

More than you can possibly imagine,
I thought, but instead I said, "No, I just wanted to say hi.  I'm Melissa."

"I remember," Flora said.  "It's nice to meet you.  I'm Flora."

"Do you all use the same name?  Dumb question, I guess."

"Yes," she said.  Then
quickly, "Yes we have the same name, not yes it's a dumb question."  Embarrassment only made her cuter.  Consequently, I had a hard time remembering my point.

"How does anyone know when they're being spoken to?"
I finally asked.

This question made her brow curl.  "Um . . . you're supposed to look someone in the eyes
. . . when you talk to them."

Now that she mentioned it,
Flora hadn't broken eye contact with me yet.  It was enchanting.  She was so polite and genuine.  Even the way she stood facing me directly with her fingers interlaced and resting on her lower abdomen.  This particular Flora Girl had an allure with which the Libido Drug could not compete.

"We better catch up," I said.

As we walked, I asked her about school, friends, all the things teenagers like to chatter about--except boys, of course.

Flora spoke as though it were an interview.  She gave me the rundown of a school day, most of which took place in that one classroom, the subjects they studied, how the elder half of the class tutored the younger half, with pairs assigned according to age.

"I tutor the oldest of the younger half," Flora explained, "so when I graduate, she'll become the newest tutor."

"When you graduate," I said without realizing it.

Flora mistook it for a question.  "In ten days," she said.  Her voice was a little shaky.

We reached the
auditorium doors.  I stopped, hoping she would, too, but she wandered on inside, drawn, perhaps, to the random spurts of music--a bow drawing across the strings of a violin, a few quick finger taps on a piano.  Brief snippets of testing and tuning that portended brilliance.  I, too, was drawn inside.

Flora was halfway down the aisle, headed for the stage, where Mrs. Lane doled out
encouragement and praise as she instructed the girls where to stand or sit and which strings to tune.  Even the youngest girls were setting up to play, and not categorically with small instruments, either.  Some held violins and clarinets, but one girl no older than nine had an acoustic guitar in her lap, a girl not much older sat at the grand piano, and two tiny little Floras--including the one I'd taken to the bathroom--were busy standing an upright bass.  I watched these two position themselves with one girl readied to handle the frets and the other to pluck the strings.

I caught up to my Flora before she reached the stage and asked
Mrs. Lane if she could sit with me during the recital.  Mrs. Lane pondered for a moment, and I watched her facial features sink slowly, as if she knew Flora's fate--the same fate as the previous Flora . . . and my involvement with it.

"I suppose you two might as well get acquainted," she said, confirming my suspicion and confusing Flora, who, despite
her confusion, seemed excited by the change of pace.  Mrs. Lane and Patton aside, I doubt she'd had much interaction with anyone other than her genetic duplicates.

And maybe the other Favorite Girls.  I still didn't know how things worked around here.  Patton and I always went to lunch before the students.  He'd mentioned that the Vampire Girls liked to pick on the others, so there had to be interaction at some point.

Flora could answer some of my questions, if I could elicit conversation during the music.  With that in mind, I led her to the very back row, underneath the sound booth window.  As we sat, the piano flared up with impressive speed, precision, and harmony.  I didn't recognize the song, but it was captivating.  String instruments joined in, then wind.  Behind it all, a girl of maybe fourteen years slapped at a set of bongo drums.

"What is this?"

"It's called
A Work in Progress
."

"I don't think I've ever heard it."

"Do you like it?"

"Absolutely.  It's amazing."

We listened for a few minutes, completely captivated.  I even managed to forget where I was and what I was witnessing.  Each Flora Girl became an individual, full of talent and ability, thoughts and emotions.  Not one in a herd of lambs being systematically selected for slaughter but real students, embracing an education most people don't get, destined to do great things in the world.

My concentration was only broken when I heard the sweet sound
of Flora humming a melody.  When I looked at her, she stopped and whispered, "Sorry."

"Don't be.  You have a beautiful voice."

She smiled shyly.  "Thank you.  I'm writing lyrics for the song.  We always do instrumentals, so I don't know if Mrs. Lane would like it.  It's just for fun, really."

"I'd like to hear you sing."

"It wouldn't be me singing, though," she said, pointing at the stage.  "See the one playing the guitar?  She has an unbelievable voice, and she's only nine."

"
I'd still like to hear you sing."

"Maybe I could do bac
kup vocals.  A few of us, even.  That would be neat."

She didn't understand I was asking for a private concert, but then she probably couldn't foresee an occasion in which we would be alone together.  In ten days, her world would completely change.  She would be hauled down to Level B for "preparation," endure no telling what kind of trauma, and then before being delivered to me, the device would be activated.

Would her personality return when I shut it off?  Would the shock of reality change her completely?  What did she think would happen when she graduated?  What lie were they feeding her?

I had to ask.

"What are your plans after graduation?"

"Marriage, of course."

That surprised me.  I struggled to respond.  "You're getting married?"

Her confusion was so pungent one might mistake it for fear.  "That's the next step, isn't it?" she asked.  "Didn't you get married when you graduated?"

Shortly thereafter, yes, but Flora meant something different.  She believed marriage was a post-graduation assignment.  Better to placate her for now, so I just nodded and changed the subject.

When music practice ended, the girls put away their instruments and filed back to the classroom in a straight line.

I touched Flora on the shoulder to get her attention.  She stopped.

"I better get back to the office.  Patton might be looking for me."

She smiled.  "Tell him I said hi?"

"Sure."

"Thanks for talking to me."

"Maybe next time you can sing that song for me."

She shrugged and looked down at her feet.  "Maybe."

I watched her until she was gone, and just as I turned the door to my left flew open.
  The lights were out, and a tall, pale woman with jet black hair and big hoop earrings emerged from the dark.

"You're the new girl?"
she snapped.

"Yes," I said.  "I'm Mellissa R-"

"Where's Patton?"  She looked up and down the hallway and then scanned my body.  "Speak up, girl."

"He's . . . I'm not sure where he-"

From inside the dark room, a young, shrill voice screamed,
"Close the goddamn door!"

The teacher jumped a little. 
"Get back to your office," she said, slamming the door in my face.  I turned and ran back to Patton's office but not before catching a glimpse of the label on the door: Vampire.

I waited half an hour for him to return, growing more and more restless by the minute.  The walls began to close in on me, and I felt like I was being crushed.  My life was set to a timer.  A million dollars a day just to keep one Flora alive, and thus myself.  I had no idea how much money Ted had left behind, how many days his estate would buy me.

What was the point?

When the money ran out, I would be dead and Flora would go wherever the used Favorite Girls go.  No one could afford to keep one forever.  The whole thing was a scam.  What did Mr. Shriver do with them when the client ran out of money?

Patton came in the door smiling, but I knocked it down instantly.

"Why the fuck am I here?  I sit here all fucking day making coffee and pulling my goddamn hair out while you . . . do whatever the fuck you do every day.  I can't handle this shit.  You should have just let them kill me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I interjected.

"You know what I've been doing today?  I went to the music room with the Floras.  It was incredible.  They're all so smart and talented and . . . n-nice.  I met the one I'm buying.  She's . . . she's writing lyrics for their song.  She thinks she's getting married in ten days.  Really?  That's what you tell them?"

"I have to tell them something."

He'd put his hands in his pockets and now he stood there grinding the toe of one shoe into the floor as if he were putting out a cigarette.

"I think you're full of shit," I said.

He shot me a look that screamed otherwise.  It was terrifying--more so than Mr. Shriver and Sean put together. 
He reached back and slammed the door.  I sat down as he approached my desk.

"Listen," he said
, leaning over me.  "I don't expect you to trust me.  And I understand what you're going through."

"Really?"  My fear was replaced with rage.  "My husband is dead, and now I'm a prisoner--on death row, mind you.  And you understand?"

"You think I don't know what it's like to see someone you love die."  He leaned in close and whispered, a tremble in his voice.  "Once a month, one of these girls is taken from me, and if the one before her hasn't been sold, the new replaces the old."

I couldn't maintain eye contact.  He was too intimidating.

"What do they do with the old ones?"

Patton stood up straight.  "You'll see soon enough."

"When?"

He crossed the room to fill his coffee mug.  With his back to me, he asked if I had plans Saturday evening.

"Is that a joke?" I asked.

He ignored the question.  "Mr. Shriver is having a party, and I need a date."

I hadn't been asked on a date since I was eighteen.  Thrilling as the prospect was, all I could think about was Kate slipping a knife through my ribs in my sleep.

"Who's going to be there?"

"Top business executives from around the world.  Influential political figures.  You know, the scum of the Earth."

"Kate's going to kill me."

"She'll get over it."

"She's obsessed with you."

"I know."

"Why don't you tell her you're not interested?"

"You think that would stop her?"

"Maybe.  She obviously thinks there's a chance."

He turned back to me, stirring his coffee with a spoon.  "You think I'm leading her on."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Have you ever fucked her?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"Have you ever fucked anyone?"

"Of course."

"Who?"

He took a sip, then said, "A little candid when we haven't had our first date, don't you think?  Coffee's getting low."

─
Pre-Gaming─

I DECIDED to wait until Saturday before telling Kate about my date with Patton.  I'd already made plans to invite Pete, Judy, and Murphy to our own little party on Friday, and I didn't want Kate to spoil it.

At first
she objected to the whole thing, but I enticed her with the prospect of hooking up Judy and Murphy.  Five minutes later she'd woven the idea into a full-blown conspiracy.