Secret Aversion

Chapter 4

*Ari's POV*

There was a square note, a white piece of paper on the floor of my cell. It appeared after we went to the bathrooms, and I stared at it for at least half a minute. It was exactly the same note I had sent to my neighbouring cell. There was an aluminum plate at the foot of my door, and it had been waiting there for the same half a minute. 

          Sitting down while opening the breakfast plate, I took the paper. I turned it in my hands. There was unfamiliar, slightly-altered cursive writing on the other side. Anxiety rushed through my body, wondering if someone actually replied to the previous note I'd written to them. 

          I’m Apsara. I was one of the Nightingale runaways. What about you? An NR? I remembered Roscoe saying all the Nightingale and Brilliant Cove people were put together. It was surprising, though, to have an NR right next to me. It was more surprising to see her answer my note. I still couldn't believe it got through those tiny cracks. 

          I finished my breakfast as soon as I can, and before heading off to the field, I ripped out another page from my notebook. I’m a Brilliant Cove citizen. I crossed out ‘’m’ and wrote ‘was’. I was a Brilliant Cove citizen. A dangerous question, do you like it here? Folding it, I sent it through the cracks.

          Her previous response took a while to come, and I thought my note would never reach in her in the first place. Even if it did, I didn't expect to be answered. I was happy, though. Happy it reached her and I’d have company.

          My cell opened and I stepped out along with everyone body else. I tried to get a glimpse of the NR beside my cell, the girl 'Apsara', but we were all lost in the crowd it was hard to determine who it was. I didn’t find Crimson either. 

        The work had gotten much harder, and a lot of the jobs have been ordered to go at a faster pace. It was cloudy, no ray of sunshine filtering through the clouds. If it stayed that way without raining, we’d be blessed. A sweaty, sticky day of crawling worms and centipedes was the last thing we needed. 

          The Green Squad lady in charge of patrolling the land I and a couple others were on, told us exactly what to do for the next eight hours. There weren’t big changes, but the workload somewhat grew. I made small talk with her in between, and strangely, she didn’t seem too bothered. It was that similar expression of suspicion and perplexity she had, both at the same time.

          It took me days to know her name, and I had introduce myself as well. Florence cared less, but she made it clear I was asking for trouble.

          “I had a lot of experience with people that aren’t approachable,” I had said in reply. “And learned they aren’t so bad. I think, I might have good judgement. Talking to you is harmless. I’m sure.”

          No other Green Squad member interrupted our conversations, and no Platform members took notice of us. I wasn’t asking for a special treatment, or getting on her ‘good side’. I found it normal. If it can't be helped, why couldn't we try to socialize as much as we were allowed to? We were all part of one civilization, but moved to a different place. 

          Around lunchtime, we heard a whistle from the car parked between Platforms B and C. I wasn’t too close to see who it was, but as they neared, a hush fell over the field. That tall form was easily recognizable as it came closer, and I saw his wicked eyes before I could distinguish the rest of his face. The NR Agent trailing behind Emerson had a whistle in his hand and a megaphone. Both of them stopped at the very front of the field, grabbing the attention of everyone.

          Emerson grabbed the megaphone. “Go about your business, prisoners!” he announced, and all eyes returned to the land they were tending. A nervous tension filled between the workers.

          Florence, while observing, sauntered back towards my land. As the sun peeked through the gaps of the clouds, her eyes changed to a much lighter black. She didn’t have a hat on, making it easier for me to notice.

          “Why is Emerson here?” I asked her in a quiet tone.

          She crossed her arms across her chest. “Refer him to as 'Mister' Donegan. Whether you’re in front of him or not,” she warned.

          “Why is Mister Donegan here?” I corrected myself.

          “For evaluations,” she answered, squinting under the broadening light. “His own age group is between Platform B and C. It’s likely his evaluation involves girls.”

          “Girls?” Was she kidding me? On another note, I never knew Emerson was around the same age as us. He was super young for a leader of two cities, a leader of a huge project. I'd expect him to be twenty, but that seemed too low. 

          I found him a distance away, watching a group of girls as they tried to avoid eye-contact with him. At times, he’d say something to his NR Agent, I supposed was his manager, and the agent would write on his clipboard.

          What did Emerson have to do with girls? Calling us all prisoners definitely didn’t put a good impression on him. 

          “Back to work,” Florence snapped at me. I took the w**d spray, spritzing the dead plants. “Don’t look, and don’t talk. I’m serious with this advice.”

          “Only trustworthy people give honest advice,” I said. I knew not to trust everyone who gave me advice, but Florence…I knew she was different from the rest. It was a very distant, gnawing intuition. I wasn’t afraid of her.

          Dusting my hands, I went to the fence to get a shovel from the bin. At the same time, another person had come to the other side fence. Was I imagining things because of family-and-friends deprivation?

          “Evin?” I said, and he lifted his head. It was him, the smothered-by-dirt side of him. “I’m so glad to see you!”

          He was equally happy but put on a frown. “Ari, I can’t talk to you now,” he said, glancing back. When no one else seemed to know we were talking with each other, he turned to me. “Hang on, okay? A little longer.”

          He jogged away, disappearing into the crowd of Platform C members. What did he mean by saying that?

          “Ari, get back to work,” I heard a hiss behind me. Florence wasn’t too happy to repeat that a dozen times this morning. I apologized and carried the shovel back.

          I got a glimpse of Emerson swaggering around to another section. “Is he in search of a Juliet?” I wondered aloud. Florence’s brows knitted together. “Who’d want to be Satan’s girlfriend?"

        I should be one talking since Ally labelled Arian as ‘Satanic Lover’ under his contact. One day, she snatched my phone, along with his, and gave us each other’s numbers. It was when she stopped hating me, or a mature understanding developed between us and she no longer acted like Arian’s protective sister. I really missed her, her old snappiness and reticent care.   

          For once, Florence broke into a smile. It was unnatural on a face like hers.

         Her eyes shifted and they turned cold. “This is a warning, little girl. Careful what you say,” she told me. “And get back to work. Now.” First of all, I was sure Florence was only a couple years older than me, giving her no excuse to call me a ‘little girl’, and what was with the sudden change in her voice?  

          I found out why when I realized Emerson was walking towards us. A chill ran down my spine being in his sight alone. I continued my work, pretending he wasn’t there.

          “I see,” Emerson said to Florence. “She’s gotten along well with you, hadn’t she? I was warned about her stupidity.”

          “Stupidity? Yes,” Florence agreed, but something else lingered in her agreement. “Your evaluation going well Mister Donegan?”

          “Pretty darn well,” he replied, taking the clipboard from his agent and smugly reading over it. “I’d have to cross some out if I find better ones. You take care of that, Rufus.” Rufus? Oh! It must be his personal NR Agent, or manager.

          “Have a splendid time,” Florence told him. Emerson, Rufus, and I, all noted the edgy sarcasm in her words. No one mentioned it, and I was starting to think she didn’t like him very much. Did anybody like him in the first place?

          “Let me play with this doll for a second,” Emerson said instead, meeting my eyes. I stilled in apprehension. “Have you met him again?” Was he talking about…? “Arian, sweetheart. Did you see him?”

          Lie. “N-no. Not after the…” I answered, trying to stay cool.

          “Hm, interesting.” His gaze turned to frost, yet his smile was riveting. “How is your work so far? I’m sure a certain someone would like to know.”

          “It’s fine,” I said, quicker than I meant to.

          Our lunch arrived for the day and it forced us to separate. I couldn’t be gladder to have Emerson gone, and have more time with Crimson.

          She told me about Emerson and how he gave her the willies. I was given a special description of how Emerson was the more satanic version of Arian. I had to agree, but at the same time, I didn’t think Arian was a total meanie. I mean, he was but I didn’t like him being compared to Emerson.

          “Do you miss Fabian?” I asked her to bring our spirits up a little. He was supposed to be her stepfather, the one adorable, absolutely innocent and kind future-father she hated with a passion because of reasons she only knew but couldn't explain. Before the wedding could happen, both Fabian and her mother were evacuated.

          “You’re hilarious,” she said. But I could see the sadness, I could hear it. Everyone missed their families and friends, and I didn’t go a day without thinking of Dad. What was he doing right at this moment?

          “I saw Nixon the other day,” she said mid-bite. “Didn’t even know he was in the same hallway as me. Or tunnel, or whatever the heck they call it.” Ah, Nixon. He was the popular jock of our school who had apparently fancied me, but I didn't get know until a few weeks before evacuation. He was more like a friend to us, someone to chat with in class and laugh together with. Crimson, though, despised him. They both despised each other since they belonged to two very, different planets from across the galaxy. But I called it more playful hate, the kind of hate you showed to your best friend for a good laugh. 

          “Did you guys talk?” I asked.

          “Yeah, he asked me if I knew where you were.” She licked her thumb smeared with butter. “Kid needs to get a clue you have a boyfriend. I’ll council him if you want.”

          “I’m sure he, um, knows.” The ‘boyfriend’ took me off guard, because Arian and I had never been through an official stage where we declared each other a couple. I didn't think we ever would. “He’s probably messing with you.”

          “Why would he need to do that?” Crimson said, frowning. “Loser.” Ah, she never ceased to be herself and entertain the others around her. I loved her the way she was, and it didn’t matter that we were absolutely different. It was peculiar. She and I were the most opposite friends imaginable, yet we fit really well together. 

           Back in my cell, I combed through my hair with a palm’s-length comb we were given in our new supply package.

          I reflected on each day, trying to detect any changes, possibly anything bad. There weren’t any riots or anyone being punished that I knew of, and I hoped it stayed that way. Or was it all being done in secret to prevent it from discouraging us?

          On the field, doing my own business wasn’t too chaotic. It was Emerson who I worried would cause me many problems if I didn’t watch my next step. I didn’t know why he showed abnormal attention towards me, why he deliberately picked on me. Would it kill me?

          The opening of a shutter broke into my thoughts as dinner came through the bottom flap of the door. The hunger I had couldn’t be quenched with this, but this was all we had.

          I opened the container and saw the tiny proportions of foods inside. Sighing, I took the fork. While chewing on my dry vegetables, I stared at the wall. She won't reply. My neighbour might not send me a reply this soon, but I wanted to wait. 

          On word, a folded note glided across the floor and I stopped it with my fingers. Huh, we could get a hang of this in minutes. I opened it with curious fingers.

          I’ve been here before, but I was very little. This treatment is worse than the children’s. I feel bad for you since you have nothing to do with this city. I was amazed how she could fit all of that into one, tiny note. I flipped it an grabbed my pen. 

          I do now, sadly. Who was in charge of the evacuation you were in when you were little? I passed it through the cracks, and narrowed my eyes at it in anticipation. It slipped back instantly. Goodness she wrote like lightning.

          Roscoe and his father I think. The father died and Emerson took over with his own plans. Perhaps it was good for the Project Emerson took over. His plans seemed to go smoothly, but I couldn’t wait for a wrench to be thrown in it.

          You seem to know a lot. I added a smiley face beside it. You can trust me, but I’m not pushing you if you’re uncomfortable.

          The next reply took a long time. In fact, I was ready to go to bed by the time I received the last note of the day. I put all my notes between my clothes so they couldn’t be seen. Her last reply of the day slid through, and I picked it up.

          The lights switched off on curfew, but I used the glow of my phone to read it. I don’t trust anyone easily, but I’ll stay this one. There was a gap, a new line. Goodnight. Folding it, I put it away and dug into my covers.

          Apsara. She was the girl, a day older than me, in the cell beside mine. I wished I knew how she looked like, and possibly meet her in person. Through the few notes we shared, I could feel her confidence, her fearlessness. Was she like that in real life, too?

          Putting aside my comments, I checked my phone for any new notifications. It had been days since Arian gave it back to me fully charged. Yet, the notification window was blank.

          I’d ask him for Ally’s number the next time I saw him, if he’d given her phone back. I wanted to speak to and see the McCoys and my dad. Even if it was for a couple seconds, Evin brought me a lot of joy when I saw him.

          An evacuation, defined in Google, would be the removal of a person or thing from a dangerous to a safe place. This was the exact opposite, an irony in real life.

          I always had one thing in my head: how long would this evacuation last before it got out of hand?