Page 64 of Under Restless Skies

Nelly snorts. “Fun and library. Now these are two words I didn’t think I’d see together.”

“I can read out loud for you,” Celine offers. “And there are stories too. I swear it’s fun.”

Nelly shrugs. “If you say so…”

We emerge from the stairwell into a large hallway one floor above the refectory.

“You haven’t been here, right?” Celine asks.

“No.”

“Our dorms are on this floor. We could all get ready for the ball together!” She sounds so excited. I’ll be excited too if it’s true that I can get a dress.

Why hasn’t Alayel mentioned this ball? A subtle bitter taste covers my mouth, but I think I’m being silly. He brought me to dinner last night and must have assumed I was aware of the ball.

We enter a large room with a counter in front of rows and rows of hangers and clothes.

“This is where we get our uniforms,” Celine says. “And outfits for special occasions too.”

A plump woman talks to a male recruit and gives him a suit, I suppose for the ball.

“What color is your dress?” Celine asks Nelly.

“Pink. Yours?”

“It’s purple and lovely.” Celine’s grin is so large, her face so dreamy...

“Are you in love with the dress?” I tease.

She places a hand over her heart. “Most definitely. It touches my body in special ways, makes me feel beautiful...”

Nelly and I chuckle.

Celine mock-frowns. “Don’t laugh at my betrothed.”

“I think it’s brilliant,” I say. “Inanimate objects can prickle but they can’t hurt you.”

She waves a finger in the air. “This lover does not prickle.”

“Girls, girls,” the plump woman approaches us. “The dress must be returned clean. You know that, right?” Her tone is light, but I’m not sure if she’s serious or teasing.

“It will be pristine!” Celine waves her hands in the air. “No, we’re here to get a dress for her.” She points at me.

The woman glances at me up and down. It’s not a judgemental or demeaning look in any way, and yet I feel small and on the spot. The truth is that my uniform is quite different from Celine’s and Nelly’s, and I’m not sure if I should even be here.

“So you were in correction?” the woman asks.

I don’t know what to say. “Uh… Yes. Assigned to the cleaning crew.”

“But she’s taking classes,” Celine adds. “So she’s a recruit.”

“Right.” The woman takes a large book from the corner. “What’s your name?”

A sinking feeling takes my stomach.

“Mayara.” My voice sounds weak, perhaps because it’s how I’m feeling. “Of the Earth.”

The woman looks carefully at the book, her finger sliding slowly across the pages, my hope sinking deeper with each second. Finally, she looks at me. “Do you go by another name? A nickname, maybe?”