Vagabond (9 page)

“Favorite color?” Xavi asked.
 

“Snap-pea.”
 

“That’s a color? What happened to plain ol’ green?”

“There’s so much more to green than the plain ol’ kind. I used to grow snap-peas in the nursery for experiments—“ I caught myself too late. I hated thinking of the past. “It has just the right shades of green. Not too dark. Not too bright. Just light enough. You?”
 

“Red-brown.”
 

“Like that makes sense either. Like rust?”
 

He stopped with his big boot landing on the small plank in front of him. It engulfed it— dwarfed it. “I like rust. It’s the color of your hair you know, like it can’t decide what color it wants to be. Be kinder to rust, rust-head.” He reached out and tugged a few strands of hair escaping my beanie cap and laughed. I swiped at his hand, and searched for the compliment he may have layered in there. It was hard to find. “So, you studied in a lab, huh?”
 

My jaw clinched.
 

“It seems to fit. I could see it now. Niko, president of the Genetic Engineering Guild.”
 

I hated the way he mocked me, and I hated how he picked up on the one dream I’d ever had. “What’s wrong with that, huh? I made some amazing discover—”
 

“You must have had something to prove if you slaved away in a lab as a kid. What’s wrong with your genes?“
 

“Nothing’s wrong with my genetics! I was going to be paired with someone named Par—“ I caught myself this time, before I said more than I could take back. Thinking of before made me think of what would never be. Plus, his question hit a different nerve, because, for the longest time, I thought I was a genetic anomaly. I’d been flagged, and my parents weren’t permitted to have another child. We went to doctor after doctor, but no one could find mutation risks in my genome. So we waited, and I grew up, but not taller. I grew out, but not upward. I figured that was the reason I’d never be paired. I must have had a hidden mutation, and I learned to accept it. Then one day, we got the notice and things changed.
 

With one question, Xavi brought up every insecurity I’d ever had and threw them on top of the most painful memory I carried— the reason I ran away.
 

“Par— hmmm. In your age group? Paramonos is my guess. That name was like the plague with your year. What does Paramonos mean anyways?”
 

I frowned. He guessed it. Paramonos was the name. I think it meant endurance or constancy, but I didn’t want to play Xavi’s game. He kept forgetting I was a Republic-kid too. Nikomedes even meant, to think on victory, although I hadn’t been feeling all that victorious lately.
 

In the Colonies, they watered names on their babies like the meaning was something they could one day grow into. The Genetic Engineering Guild suggested it was flawed logic, but the Politicians made the case that nurturing was just as important as nature. So, every name held weight and underlying meanings, and no one person could ever mean just one thing. There was always shadings and nuances and connotations to dig through in order to figure out the truth of a person. Paramonos? He was just a name on a paper. I’d never met him, and I never would. Who knew how constant he would have been?
 

“So, you were going to be partnered! Wow. To think. One day, in an alternate universe, you’d have had to fork!”
 

“Shut up, fungus brains.” I swiped at his back, and he turned to lunge at me. We ran after each other along the track, and the game of chase chased away memories of Mama and Daddy and the fire and the gunshots. There was just the here and now and laughter, since it was the only thing left to live on.
 

It was somewhere past midnight when we needed to stop. The dark made it hard to see, but I recognized a slight decline where the trees grew in and out of a ditch. “Where do we set up camp?” Flea asked.
 

“We don’t.”
 

“What?”
 

“Feel that? Temperature’s dropping. We need to move fast.”
 

“All the more reason to get into a tent.”
 

“All the more reason not to. You going to pack up a tent fast enough if a train comes?”
 

He thought on my point. “Okay. What do we do then?” I wasn’t expecting him to give in so easily and trust me completely in the logic of survival. It threw me off for a second. I was so used to Xavi telling me what we should do and why. I hated to admit I liked how Flea listened to me— that it made me feel like I finally had a voice in what I was doing.

I sighed. This next part was going to be awkward.
 

“Okay. There are several sleep formations we can use to stay warm in situations like this,” Xavi explained.
 

I nodded. We were a week into my first journey on the Tracks, and I hadn’t even hopped on my first train yet. We were still days away from the rails, and there were still so many things I wasn’t sure about.
 

What he wanted me to do was so illegal. Even touching a boy was wrong. I knew I’d have to face awkward situations sooner than later, but it still didn’t make it easier. Redefining wrong to right was not in my skill sets, and questioning the Republic had never been in my nature. Whether or not the Republic was here to see it, I was breaking one of the most foundational laws it was built on. It made my stomach twist in all kinds of ways that had nothing to do with butterflies.
 

The entire summer, the weather had been kind, and we didn’t really use the tent unless it rained hard. Even then, we slept two spoons in the same drawer, and Xavi respected my space. He avoided touching me and walked away when I needed to bathe or clean my clothes.
 

This was asking for more. He was breaking those unsaid rules and explaining “sleep formations.”
 

“So. We have to take turns keeping watch. If a train comes, we have to be ready,” Xavi said. “We could set up a tent, but if a train comes, we need to get on it quicker than that. Feel the weather? It’s changing, fast, and the sooner we move south, the better off we’ll be.”

I nodded again.
 

He sat against the tree with his pack still on his back. “I keep it on so I’m uncomfortable enough to stay awake. Now, you sit here.” He motioned to the space between his knees.
 

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”
 

“Look. Would I do anything to hurt you? Have I ever?”

“No.”
 

“It’s the only way to stay warm. It’s too cold already, and it’ll only get colder.”
 

I set my jaw and settled between his legs. I hugged myself while he wrapped a sleeping bag around us and his arms around me. There was warmth there, but my heart was racing so fast I couldn’t sleep, even if I’d wanted to.
 

Illegal meant something different lately. It was as if what was wrong was not always illegal and what was right was not always legal. If that’d been the case, then how could murdering my parents have been right or legal? They’d never broken any law from my understanding, and they were never given a trial. In terms of legal in the eyes of the Republic, I should have turned myself in. I should be a distant memory. I should be cremated ashes scattered into nothing. So, if staying alive was illegal, then I broke that law when I ran, and I knew I had to keep breaking laws, big and small, in order to keep on breaking the first one I broke. Knowing these things didn’t make it any easier to do though.
 

Eventually, it was my turn to watch, and we switched. When he leaned into me, I had trouble seeing anything around his bulky shape, so he slithered down, and I rested my chin on the top of his head. He slept like a rock despite my heart pounding hard enough to beat bruises into his back. Darn Track-kids— they could sleep anywhere.
 

Chapter Six
 

I could tell Flea wasn’t sleeping. He was rigid in my arms, breathing fast and nervous. I’d hoped he’d pass out within minutes, but, unlike Xavi, he was a Colony-kid. I couldn’t fault him for freaking out. What we were doing was extremely punishable. I tried to soothe, but it didn’t come out right. “Look. It’s death by them, maybe, or death by hypothermia, certainly. If we’re stuck together for now, at least we can use each other’s warmth.”
 

“What does it meant to get ditched?” He asked.
 

“Huh?”
 

“That man said you got ditched. What does it mean?”
 

“Exactly how it sounds. I had a friend. He wanted a different one. We parted ways.” Flippant. I was getting good at that. This boy would never know how each short sentence had so many more run-ons that I could have connected to them. He wouldn’t hear all the stories collected over two years that were waved away by a nice pair of Legs.
 

“Did you do this with him?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“Oh.”
 

I groaned. “This. Means. Nothing. You have to get that through your head now. Survival goes beyond the things that make you uncomfortable. Uncomfortable is better than dead. So. If you’re not going to sleep, can we switch? I’m exhausted.”
 

We were close to the lake Xavi wanted to show me, but I kept getting distracted. My thoughts were on the new friends we just left. They were a cheerful group, and I’d forgotten how good laughter felt. My sides still hurt from the stories I heard around the campfires. Polo and his sister Mari were a comedic show, while the other two never shared their names. I started calling them Oldie and Goldie. They didn’t seem to mind their new nicknames and answered to them cheerfully. Polo even invited me into his tent the first night, which sent all sorts of hot red into my cheeks, but Xavi saved me from my own embarrassment by placing a protective hand on my shoulder. It annoyed me that he was Claiming me still, but it relieved me too. Part of me was curious to see what life without Xavi would feel like, but the other part of me couldn’t imagine sleeping next to anyone else. Polo let it slide and didn’t take offense. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it much, and he didn’t ask again. He kept things friendly, especially since Xavi never left me alone for the rest of the weeks we traveled with them.
 

Then, Xavi got antsy. He wanted to move on quickly, so he laid the hints, and we parted ways.
 

But, as we walked through the forest, I found myself wishing I’d found a way to stay. Lately, things with Xavi felt so cold and structured, and I didn’t know how to admit to myself that it was suffocating. I knew he was just trying to protect me, but
 
he was starting to manage all of my actions. With Mari and Polo, things felt easy. They were just so… carefree.
 

I hated saying goodbye.
 

My eyes were everywhere they weren’t supposed to be as we walked. There were too many animals I’d never seen before, and I kept marveling at the genetic differences.
 

Then the red caught my eye, and curiosity taunted me. I reached my fingers out and pulled the snake from the branch. I turned and held it up to show Xavi, but he stumbled back and let out a yelp.
 

“Awe, Xavi. Come on!”
 
I pleaded.
 

Xavi shook his head. “It’s a snake!”
 

“Only a Garter.”
 

“Oh. Only a Garter? Niko. Put the dang thing down.”
 

I let the scales trace my fingers and smiled. The coloring of it told other stories, and through those stories, I knew the snakes evolutionary beginnings. They used to be boring browns, but now, they were neon red. One mutation of a gene, then selective breeding of that gene, and, voila, snakes were easier to spot by humans. Since mice and other prey were, for the most part, color blind, it didn’t effect the snake’s ability to hunt, but it allowed people who were afraid of them to stay clear.

Thank the Stars for the Scientists of the Republic.

“It’s not poisonous,” I reassured, but his face was contorted in a strange display of fear. It made me laugh. “Make you a deal. I’ll jump from a bridge if you hold the snake for five seconds.”
 

 
“Awe. Look who’s brave now.”
 

I reached out with my other hand and grabbed his.
 

“Niko. No. Come on.”
 

“Has anyone explained to you how whiney your voice is sometimes?”
 

His palm lay open on top of mine, and his fingers trembled slightly. I took the Garter snake and set it on top of his hand. It slid over his palm and up his arm until it had left my hand completely.
 

My other hand was still underneath his, and I felt the trembles increase, then soften.
 

“See. It’s not so bad. It’s just a snake. You realize, right, that once upon a time, we shared a common ancestor.”

“Gross, Niko.” His jaw tensed, and the muscles in his cheeks turned to stone. He looked terrified and beautiful all at once, and my breath stuttered when I remembered how much I wanted things I wasn’t supposed to want from him.
 

Despite the shivers, he leaned in to examine the snake, and our foreheads nearly grazed. His lips were peach-pinked and looked soft and harsh at the same time. I only knew what they looked like, and I knew I’d never know what they felt like. It was better that way, because anything else that could happen wouldn’t be right.