When Copper Suns Fall (6 page)

I glanced at my watch, seven ten p.m. I could
tell Father I had to work late. He’d smell my lie from a mile away.
Plus, I was already burdened with the card explanation. Sometimes
he treated me like a ten-year-old instead of a girl about to turn
sixteen. But I dealt with his worries because of the kids who had
disappeared. Our city wasn’t the only place where that was getting
worse. The other seven Boroughs also reported more disappearances
every day.

We trudged up the gravel path lined by trees
on either side. The walkway led up to the Shack sitting at the top
of a sand dune. The restored fort, a hulk of a cinder block, was
high up on a hill overlooking the ocean. It sat between openings in
the Great Wall, looking like a square-shouldered giant held in
place by wire chains.

We took our places in a line circling the
building. Ahead of us, two SOCS strolled past the bouncer who was
too busy making jokes to see them. Slapping the card machine, he
laughed until tears streamed down his face. There was free entry
for everybody tonight. Bouncers weren’t known as jokesters, and
they never let anyone through without identification.

So what was this guy’s deal?

The good news? We didn’t have to use Jalen’s
fake I.D. cards. I didn’t need to be cited twice in the same night,
and Jalen didn’t need a first go round. Then, he’d find himself
stuck on baby brother duty all month again.

The bad part? Everybody from any age group,
class, or animal species got in. Translation: Illusionists might be
stalking the party. I’d already been targeted by one of their most
charming tonight and did not want to repeat the experience. Against
my instinct, I followed Jalen through the entrance surrounded by
gold, ruby, and blushed pink coleus—beauty guarding the monster’s
mouth.

Inside the Shack, I could almost feel the
hormones. Decorated for the costing’s Falling Lights Festival, the
place was filled with kids enjoying a week of freedom from dress
codes. The walls were covered in purple metal mâché. The black
sequined floor had flashing lights that outlined the dancers in a
jagged combination of heads and arms. Steamers stood in the two
corners behind the stage across the room, releasing clouds of
throat-tingling smoke into the air. Fumes spiraled into the
nighttime air of the ceiling less Shack. Two more of the
twelve-foot-tall machines sat in opposite corners at the back of
the room. Steam shot out in rhythm with the music’s beat.

Above us, the sky put on the most incredible
show of the year. The atmosphere still held remains of
radioactivity that played off the setting sun’s rays at night. The
clouds reflected a natural tangle of pink, gold, and green lights,
making them appear to be falling over the club like string
fireworks.

On any other night, I would probably think
they were beautiful. But tonight, my heavy heart and the card in my
pocket killed the last bit of joy I had inside me. And I still felt
woozy. Nothing could distract me from that.

I scanned the crowds to find Lexa, and
spotted her cap, a bright red mixed in with all the dark outfits.
She was dancing with a boy I didn’t recognize. The three of them
played a role in Jalen’s secret trip earlier. Something he still
hadn’t filled me in on yet.

“See, even Lex is having fun. Leave her
alone, and come dance with me, Chela the Fair.” He held out his
hand to me. I appreciated and resented his attempts to cheer me
up.

“Jalen. Repeat after me. Chela has to go
home. Why? Because she got carded,” I said. And she needs to
confront her father, I thought.

“Look at Lex. She hasn’t been this happy
since she lost Reecie. Come on. Dance with me one time before we go
get her. Then we can all knock brains and try to figure out your
situation.” He made begging hands. It was hard to be mad at Jalen
with his big grin. I’d probably feel different after getting home
and catching holy Hades from Father and Bess, though.

Jalen made a valid point about Lexa. She had
lost her sister, Cherice, to a blood disease two years ago and hid
in the house for months afterwards. Tonight was a milestone for
her.

The band started playing. A song with
electric guitar riffs and deep drums pulsed around me. The room
filled with hollers and hoots and steam. Bobbing dancers shoved
each other in response to the tune. After getting bumped too many
times to count, I was about ready to scream.

“Okay, Jalen. That’s it. I’m going to the
little girl’s. So, go get Lex, and be ready when I get back.” He
nodded, saluted me, and stomped into attention.

Turning, I eased through girls and boys
jerking to the music’s tribal beat. A boy with slanted eyes bumped
into me. Swirly black lines were tattooed down the right side of
his face. “Wanna join us, sexy girl?”

“Um, don’t think so,” I said. He shrugged and
returned to dancing with the girl pressed against him. Obviously
the few Conservancy leaders scattered around the area weren’t
paying them any mind, or he would be carded by now. Their policy
this week was dancing, yes; kissing, way off limits; as in, don’t
even try to imagine it.

On my way to the bathroom, I spotted the boy
I had seen running down the Metalwalk’s old wooden ramps earlier.
Another boy wearing a long black trench coat that made his bowl-cut
hair look metallic, walked beside him. They wore clothing like a
lot of others in the Shack: black vest, pants, and shirts paired
with silver accessories. Something about the way they glided across
the floor held my attention. These boys weren’t normal citizens,
and if they were, then they’d come in from another Borough.

After a moment, the boys separated and
drifted off in opposite directions. I stood and stared. No, I
probably gawked at the dark-haired boy. He was tall, lanky
athletic, confident with his walk. He kept glancing back, as if he
knew someone was following him.

My stomach flipped in a giddy-girl way. I
trailed him, feeling only a bit like a stalker. Okay, maybe he was
cute in a rugged sort of way, but my curiosity played into it
somewhat, too. After walking a few more yards, I stopped trailing
him. For a while, it seemed as if everybody else in the room had
disappeared. There was no one but us.

Then he turned around, stared straight at me,
and placed an index finger on his lips. Startled as the club
refocused into view, I lowered my head and acted as if I were
looking for something on the floor. But I’d already taken in an
eyeful of well, notable things about him. His skin, tanned to a
perfect, golden hue, definitely had the Castle Hayne look: dark,
lean, toned physique. Bodies ordered to be kept in excellent
physical condition. Correction, he did wonders for the look. His
longish hair was pulled back in a ponytail now, and it gleamed
under the lights. Two side strands flipped into his eyes. One braid
laced with what looked like a silver ribbon hung against the right
side of his face.

Was he the boy I’d seen in the trees?

If so, thank the Lights for coincidence; if
not, I still wanted to know more. He tickled a sleeping part of my
brain—a familiar element that went past girl drooling over cute guy
interest.

That was when the memory hit me.

Or maybe I should say the memory rocked me,
as I stood on the dance floor. The room around me darkened until I
flew in a sky like I always did. This time I didn’t see Micah. In
his place, a dark-haired boy walked along a beach with shores
covered in white sands instead of black soot. He wore silver armor
and a backpack.

Dropping to his knees, he lowered his head
and cradled it with his arms. Sadness. Anger. Pain. The emotions I
received from him winded me. Who was this boy? I wanted to go to
him and take away his pain. Too soon, I fazed out of the memory. I
controlled my heaving breaths because I’d never pulled a memory
from someone I didn’t know. The area focused back into view. The
boy across from me was still standing there, studying me with a
puzzled face.

We held gazes, staring at each other until he
shook his head at me. Trouble was the first word that came to
mind—tried and true, get-away-before-it’s-too-late trouble. He
smiled at me as if he’d heard my thoughts. Impossible.

After a while, he turned and disappeared into
a group of dancers. Coming in from his left, a girl wearing brown
pants and a cropped jacket made of lime green fabric trailed him.
Her platinum-blonde hair formed sharp spikes on her head. She could
easily be a model for Corunum’s old Statue of Liberty; a time when
the country used to be called America. I wasn’t sure why, but the
word Amazon came to mind. She wasn’t boyish big, or anything. But
she was tall, and her bright jacket stood out. None of the five
classes of chromogifteds wore that shade of green. Her expression
clearly said, “Mess with me and lose a leg.” She turned in a new
direction and started following one of the SOCS.

What were they all doing? Clearly I was
beyond the point where I should listen to my good sense voice that
said, “Turn your little body around, and go get your crew.”

But I didn’t listen. I followed the
Amazon.

Chapter Six – Rock the Bells

The other soldier glided closer to where I’d
last seen the dark-haired boy. Stripped of his helmet and taser
guns, he towered over everyone in the Cradleshack and strolled
through the crowd like a ghost in a sea of darkness. Something
about him was different. It wasn’t that he’d taken off his uniform,
or anything. Yeah, the shaded sons could use a long sunbathe, but
this guy’s skin glowed. It reminded me of something else I’d seen
today and couldn’t finger.

As I moved closer to the back of the Shack, I
lost all of them among the crowd.

That was until I spotted the bronze-haired
boy walking into the hallway leading to the bathrooms in the back.
A girl wearing a bright purple hoodie was behind him, so I followed
her. I’d made my way to the back of the club, a room located off of
a long hallway leading to the bathrooms and where music was muted.
Everybody at school called it the kissing arena because of the
privacy. I tiptoed in behind them and slid into the shadows between
two stacks of crates beside the doorway. Now I had a clear view of
everybody coming and going in the hallway.

The boy whirled around to face the girl when
she tapped his shoulder. Rose-scented perfume, rich and sweet even
from a distance, drifted into my nostrils. I molded myself into the
wall as I spied on this strange boy, hooked by a sense of
familiarity gluing my feet to the floor. Intrigued by the memory a
stranger had triggered in me.

“Oo, la, me. Are you lost, dear one?” the
hooded girl asked the bronze-haired boy. With a black skirt
floating around her ankles, she stepped closer to him and eased her
hands into his coat, pushing him up against the wall behind them.
He jerked a little, grasped the middle of her forearms, and moved
them away.

Hoodie Girl was pretty, and not just the cute
smile, good hair, and things like that kind, either. She oozed with
mystery as she removed her hood and twirled the black braid
cascading down her chest. The boy blinked and frowned, clearly
uncomfortable with the attention he was getting.

Was she a Healer? A Tracker? Something
worse?

Two SOCS glided through the hallway, entered
the room, and came to stand on either of her sides. She lifted her
arms and shook a pair of rusted bells attached to the middle
fingers of her right hand.

They tinkled like a xylophone, a really big
one.

Pressure surged between my ears. This was
punishment for not listening to me…again. The bronze-haired boy
caught the full impact of her strange bells. At first, his body
went rigid; and then he started jerking as if he were being
tasered. Sir Dark Hair eased toward the room, closing in on the
girl and her strange helpers while they focused on his partner.
Three girls moved in his path, blocking his way into the room.
“Hey, honey,” one of them said. “Wanna dance?” Her facial piercings
made my face tingle. She was clearly not a Castle Hayne girl.

“No. I don’t. Excuse me,” he said.

“Why not? There’s like three of us. Plenty to
go around.” They giggled.

“Because there’s like somewhere I need to be.
Move, please,” he said and walked around them. I’d never heard an
accent like his. What kind was it? Old southern? Old English?
Irish? It sounded like a mix of all three, but with a deeper
timbre, making him sound god-like.

Draping her arms around Bronze Hair’s neck,
the hooded girl mock-danced with him a while. She slid her lips up
the side of his neck, stopped at his ear and whispered in it. The
boy gritted his teeth and scowled, as if dancing with a girl who’d
paralyzed him were the last thing he wanted.

She pulled back and spoke in a clear voice.
“So sad to lose someone with such useful skills. Be a smart boy.
Tell me about the message to your friends. I promise to pay you in
a particularly nice way.”

She jerked her head around when Sir Dark Hair
eased up behind her, and said, “Move another foot, shadow walker
and you’ll be saying goodnight forever to your friend here.”

“Uh, my name is Tobie,” Bronze Hair said.
He’d somehow managed to smile at the girl. “And that’s Faris. But
he’s a lot uglier than me, right?”

“Shut up,” she said, turning back to the boy
named Faris. The two SOCS—or the two guys who were dressed like
soldiers, anyway—took a step toward Faris. Although they made him
look like a bean pole standing up to giants, the boy held his
ground without even flinching.

“Now see, violence never solves a thing,”
Faris said.

She cocked her head to the side, smiled,
rattled the bells. Tobie crumpled his face, cried out, and bumped
his head against the wall behind him. I wanted to hit something
too. Why did the bells hurt me?