Corday: Dragoon Novel #3

By Evan Ratke

Years after the Black Dragoons' attack, Chloe Corday and her family have become prominent citizens of their growing coastal town. Calm as their lives might seem, however, the family still struggles to maintain an uneasy coexistence with many of their neighbors. That awkward peace soon proves feeble as violence erupts in the community, engulfing every member of the Corday family. And as the horrific reality of that violence takes form, Chloe and her kin must reckon not only with their place in their town, but also with who they are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evan Ratke
• Release date: Jun 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781732115644

Book preview

SIDE A

PHASE 1: NEW MERENRANTA

Winter of the 70th Year after the Reform

15th Year after the Black Dragoons’ Attack on Merenranta

22nd Year after the Marathon Civil War

FIRST: Kace

Addie Kace Corday-Halley liked snowboarding, but not while she couldn’t see.

Fourteen years old, she had her mother Anna’s long and loose dirty blond hair, her father Sean’s slender agile frame, and the first name of a girl she never got to meet, Addie, though she’d visited her grave many times. She’d also gone by the nickname Kace since she was four, after her grandmother on her father’s side, another member of her family who’d died before she could meet her. Gray ice and snow cracking under her boots, snowboard tucked beneath her arm, she walked up the hill, her winter gear not enough to keep her from shivering. The air was still and stinging with frosted rot and freezing salt, the gray clouds above the forest too thick for moonlight, leaving a midnight of such pitch black disorientation it was as if she wasn’t going anywhere and at the same time was unable to control where she was going. No flashlights or lanterns, no lights from neighboring shack homes, nearby yet invisible, just the silhouette and the second pair of boots crunching a couple feet ahead of her. She had to trust her friend to get them to the top of the hill without them stumbling or sliding off the trail.

Kace wondered if she would meet Addie and her grandmother tonight.

They were in the center of new Merenranta, a neighborhood expansion of Kace and her friend’s hometown of Merenranta. Built to accommodate the town’s increased population—-about seven hundred-fifty, up from the five hundred it had been at when Kace was born—-new Merenranta was made up of the same metal shacks that made up every home in the community. Scattering the woods for a quarter mile south of the main town, each of these insulated suburb shacks was linked to the community’s electrical grid and water system, the shacks linked to one another by a snaking series of thin trails and pathways, easy to follow during the day or even at night with a single light. But Kace’s friend didn’t want her to bring one. After all, a light might get them caught.

Crunching step by crunching step, every step a question, Kace didn’t realize they’d reached the hilltop until she felt the incline ease off below her feet. The only real slope in all of Merenranta’s less than a mile of territory, this hill was where the town had resurrected snowboarding and sledding, sports popular with the Previous Civilization that had been burned away with much of the rest of the Previous Civilization on the day of the Reform, seventy years ago. With their return in Merenranta, sledding and snowboarding were limited to the daytime, mainly the end of the day after school and work and before dinner, or so Kace had always thought.

Turning around, she could barely make out the line of the trail they’d just ascended, the path disappearing altogether after a mere few feet, no way to see where its smooth, narrow, and winding surface stopped and the uneven wide terrain of sharp trees and icy rocks began.

Fuck this.

Heart thumping in her chest, and not from the climb, she looked over her shoulder, letting herself believe for a millisecond that she would insist they head back without trying to make a run. By the time she opened her mouth to speak, embarrassment over something she hadn’t actually said was prickling her arms and chest with heat, and instead, she whispered, Are you sure we don’t need our helmets? a question she’d already asked at least twice since they left. My parents always make me wear mine when I come out here during the day, she added, as if Jamie didn’t already know that.

Yeah we don’t need them, you don’t need to worry, Jamie Laugen-Ignatiussen said, without whispering. If she was annoyed, she didn’t sound so. Pitch dark as the woods and the hilltop stayed, Kace’s eyes adjusted enough that her friend became more than a silhouetted blur in her vision. Fifteen years old, hair bright blond like that of Kace’s sister Chloe, Jamie was rotating on her boots in the snow, staring into the black to the south and west, as if she could see farther than Kace.

Helmets are just plastic shells anyway, they won’t make a difference, Jamie said. But your parents don’t snowboard so they wouldn’t know that.

Won’t make a difference with what? Kace asked, but then thought up a different question. Uncomforting as Jamie’s assurance was and as certain as Kace was that her helmet had cushioned her skull in a number of falls, she didn’t want to keep pestering about helmets. And you’re sure the night patrol cops won’t hear us? Still, she wanted to bring up the danger without bringing it up. We’re kind of close to the perimeter, you know?

We are. But I don’t hear them, Jamie replied, louder than a whisper. Can’t see their lights, so they’re not coming closer. She stepped to the edge of the hill and stood beside Kace, chuckling. I have never once gotten caught.

Kace laughed, but also coughed with her drying mouth, and sat down in the snow when Jamie did. I guess, even if we do get caught... They lay their boards sideways in the snow in front of themselves. It’s not illegal.

Exactly. Jamie patted Kace’s arm, smiling at her. Not our fault it’s not on the town charter. She slipped her boots into the straps of her board, which made clicking noises as she tightened them.

It’s not illegal...but we’re Second-Gens, Kace muttered.

Jamie paused, glanced back at her, no smile. She looked as if Kace had just run through the forest shouting we’re Second-Gens for all of new Merenranta to hear, never mind that the entire town already knew that fact about both of them, since Kace was born and since Jamie’s Awakening two years ago.

We get caught, Kace continued, half the town will suddenly decide it’s illegal, or should be. Our parents won’t be happy either.

Jamie put her gloved hand on Kace’s shoulder, exhaling a cloud of white air. The mist hung between them for a quarter second, a twinge of what seemed like sadness fogging over Jamie’s expression, then rising away with the cloud. Fuck ‘em.

Fuck who?

Jamie ignored the question, busying herself again with her snowboard straps. Your sister has us covered with the mayor. She snickered. The sheriff will help us too, even if she’s just the pretend sheriff to most people.

Not most... Kace turned to her own board, trying to avoid what she both did and didn’t want to say. It’s not most people. You know that. Don’t joke about Sam that way.

Like all of Merenranta’s factory-made snowboards, Kace’s was really just a small strip of plastic with two sets of plastic straps. There were cracks in the straps and on the bottom of the frame, but the board hadn’t snapped underneath her. So far. She wasn’t confident the board would stay in one piece if she hit a tree or scraped over a large rock, and then she’d have to find a way to lie to both her parents and Jamie’s parents about how it had happened. If she survived. Boots through the straps, she was tightening them when Jamie put her hand back on Kace’s shoulder.

It’s scary right here, I know, Jamie said, her voice low, softer. I was scared, too, before my first time. She grinned in a way that reminded Kace of her parents, after one of them woke from a reenactment nightmare. Kace often woke up to their nightmares, too, and watching one of her parents soothe the other—-and her when they saw her peering over the bedside—-was reassuring. You’ll see when you get going, it’s not much different than riding in the daytime. It’s gotten boring for just me, actually. Thanks for coming out with me, Kace. You’re being a good friend.

Kace’s chapped lips curved into a smile with her friend’s gratitude and her attempt at reassurance. Sure, yeah. I’m not scared really, she told Jamie. And herself. Never done this before, obviously.

Right, right, Jamie giggled, patting Kace’s shoulder.

They finished strapping their feet to their boards, Jamie first and then Kace as she joked, Worst comes to worst, you just throw on your Second-Gen Stage. Makes sense, you not needing a helmet. And if it goes bad for me, maybe I’ll get my Awakening.

It won’t go bad. I’ve never needed my Second-Gen Stage. Just stay behind me, turn when I turn, you won’t need yours either.

Kace nodded and glanced down the hill. She didn’t know if it was her eyes adjusting to the night some more, or Jamie’s reassurance, but the darkness had relaxed a bit. The first section of path and the first turn on the trail were visible now, the grayish-brown trunks and icicled branches of the nearest trees poking from the black. Yet, her heartbeat and shivering hadn’t slowed, her tongue drying still. Mom was shot, tortured, fell off a fucking cliff, survived, and then had to bite a terrorist’s throat open. You can survive this. Mom’s an Awakened Second-Gen. I’m not.

I’m ready, Jamie said. You?

Dad had to throw himself twenty feet off another cliff to kill a terrorist, broke his ribs, impaled himself with a branch, while blind in one eye, afraid of heights, and human. Survived. Kace swallowed as the dryness reached the back of her throat, inhaled through her nostrils.

Kace? Good to go?

Needles of hot embarrassment shot through Kace’s arms and chest. You got it, she heard herself say, as if a braver version of her spoke for her.

Jamie didn’t grin, but she did say, Cool, follow close, and jumped up on her board, twisting to one side, aiming her board like a blade down the slope.

She invited me, she wants me to do this with her. Kace leapt up as Jamie started forward.

Fuck it, Kace mumbled below her breath, swerving the front end of her board and the left side of her body at the trailhead. Shit.

They slid off the summit, Kace a half-second behind Jamie. Her board crackling across the ice and snow, her speed immediately gaining, a cold breeze kicked up at her numb face and watered her eyes as the frozen stalks and branches swung past and dropped back into the reviving, fuzzing blackness. Shit. Arms raised, left elbow aimed downhill, the shadows growing over the trail, squeezing the path down to a pinhole tunnel, Jamie reverted into yet one more of the shadows. You fucking, fucking idiot! Shit, was all she murmured again.

Kace didn’t follow Jamie into the first turn. She didn’t notice her friend had veered to the side till she was reaching to brush her eyes with her glove and the tree lunged at her, like one of the bandits that traveled the forests beyond Merenranta’s perimeter, branches like knives. Fuck, she cried out, yanking her board sideways.

She bounced upwards with a thudding punch at the front of her board, went airborne for a moment, board scratching back down on jagged ground, legs wobbling and arms swaying in a losing battle for balance.

Kace, Jamie shouted from far behind in the dark, and Kace knew she’d turned the wrong way, off the trail. She fell before she could scream.

Kace slammed down, gasping at the jabbing burning pain in her back. She dug at the top layers of ice and snow, clawing with her gloved fingertips as her body and board skidded downwards at some incorrect ever-changing angle. She yelped at the jabs that struck at her left arm, legs, the side of her torso, and the top of her knee. She felt the dizziness, then spun, or maybe rolled. The side of her skull met something solid.

Lying on her stomach when she stopped, still alive, she figured, from the scorching agony that had cut through to her brain, and the panicked call of, Kace, where are you? a panic Kace was quick to share in.

Jamie can’t fucking see me! I’m going to fucking bleed out or pass out and freeze to death! Why did I...? Kace shifted onto her side when she comprehended that she could still move her legs, and her arms, and the rest. No severe weakness of sprained muscles or total debilitation of broken bones. Aside from her head, the throbbing that rang through her body did only that. The pain was already improving, as if she’d merely run through the snow and slipped, hopping right back up, not tumbled over and through rocks and whatever else with no helmet, no doubt bloodying herself in several places.

Call back, Kace!

Kace was too busy beaming with excitement and giggling with heart-jittering joy to reply. Her run had gone bad and she’d ruined her friend’s fun, but in exchange her Awakening had finally arrived. Her Second-Gen Stage was on for the first time, must’ve come on before she fell, otherwise the pain throughout her frame and limbs would be so much worse, otherwise that blow to her unprotected skull would’ve likely killed her.

Kace, please!

She would be able to walk herself out of these woods, the bleeding from her injuries manageable until she could get to the medical center, if she needed to go there. The medical kit in Jamie’s house might be sufficient and Kace wouldn’t have to worry about infection. She was a true Second-Gen now, not a Second-Gen who was only human yet would never be accepted as human. A true Second-Gen, immune to human issues like infection and physical disease. A true Awakened Second-Gen, like her mother, her sister Chloe, Jamie, and Addie.

Purple light flooded into the forest, streaming through the branches, around the trunks, and across the hillside, granting Kace a better view of her injuries.

Kace, Jamie called, with what sounded more like relief than fear. The light retreated and the thunder of that distant lightning strike hammered down on Kace’s delight.

There wasn’t any blood seeping from any injuries; there weren’t even any tears in her clothing. Her board, still attached to her feet, was intact. Patting around at her back told her the same. The worst she was dealing with was probably bruises. Tapping the side of her head, she found the swelling, the bulge that seared as she touched it, but no blood wetted her glove, none ran down the side of her face. The pain wasn’t subsiding because her Second-Gen Stage was on and taking care of it, it was subsiding because she just hadn’t been hurt that bad.

Boots crunching from uphill. Another purple flash and Jamie was crouching beside Kace, her irises glowing with hazel light, competing with the lightning. The lightning backed off, the circles of Jamie’s Second-Gen Stage remaining as the thunder pounded over the forest. No light from Kace’s own irises reflected anywhere in Jamie’s eyeballs.

You okay? Jamie asked, slashing the last of her hope. If she had Awakened and her Second-Gen Stage had lit up in her eyes, Jamie wouldn’t have needed to ask that question.

Yeah, Kace murmured, sitting up without a Second-Gen Stage in the buzzing, almost nauseating dizziness of her humiliation.

You sure? Jamie asked, concern lingering and slipping through her Second-Gen Stage, her hand on Kace’s arm. She didn’t notice Kace’s shivering, just as she hadn’t in all these times she’d put a hand on her arm or shoulder.

Yeah, sorry I didn’t yell back. I was dizzy. A third purple flash of lightning gave Kace a look at the rocks she’d plunged between and against, none larger than a partly deflated soccer ball. That stony embankment, the entire slope from base to peak was neither that tall nor that steep. Dark and thunder. Kind of bruised myself up a little, I think. Kace knew the true size of the slope, had skated down it plenty of times, and yet she’d let its height stand up in her mind, distract her in fright till she couldn’t even get her eyesight to focus, been so stupid that she turned the wrong way on the trail. She dusted the snow off her gloves, face, upper body, gloves again, then wiped her eyelids of what she hoped weren’t tears, strained her jaw to force a grin, and said, Sorry I didn’t get that far. Do you want to go back up and try again or...?

Nah, that storm will be here soon and someone might’ve heard me shouting. The hazel dimmed in Jamie’s irises, the last of her worry dimming to a shade of disappointment. Let’s head back.

Okay, if you think we should, Kace replied, sighing through her nostrils in attempt to sound as disappointed as her friend. But her sigh seemed closer to relief. Something as simple as snowboarding and all she had to show for it was her life.

—-

SECOND

Jamie’s shack home was along the beachfront of new Merenranta, a couple trees between the house and the sand, the dead ocean and its storm just beyond that sand. Like Kace’s shack and everyone else’s in Merenranta, three rooms: front kitchen, back bedroom, bathroom. Kace had slept over a handful of times already with daytime snowboarding being a usual activity for them before dinner with Jamie’s parents. Tonight’s sleepover, though, happened to be on one of the nights both of Jamie’s parents had night shift at the medical center, leaving the teens to themselves, the two of them being old enough and trusted by Jamie’s and Kace’s parents to stay home alone.

The shack was too small for Jamie to sneak out and back in without her parents hearing her. Nights like these were her only opportunity to get out and make a run on the hill. As soon as dinner was done and her parents were out the door and down the path, Jamie told Kace what she wanted them to do. Kace hadn’t been able to hesitate for more than a minute under the weight of her friend’s eagerness. It was clear to Kace that Jamie looked forward to the challenge of snowboarding at night, and may’ve been looking forward to the occasion for both of them to do so for a while. Saying no would’ve risked Jamie deciding not to go at all, missing her chance and giving her reason to be angry at Kace for the rest of the night. The idea of not bringing their helmets hadn’t come up until they were already standing at the door, and by then Kace wasn’t going to be the one who refused to go over a helmet. And she certainly didn’t want to be the only one wearing a helmet, either.

Plastic baggy of gray snow and ice collected from outside by Jamie and wrapped in a crinkling napkin, Kace held the bag to the purple bruise on the side of her head, skull and other purple marks aching up and down her body. She and Jamie sat at the kitchen table in their long sleeve sleeping shirts and pants, light on, their snowboards, helmets, and boots beside the front door, cleaned by Jamie to appear as they had when her parents left for work. The teens had stepped in the adults’ boot prints upon leaving and returning to the shack, disguising their own prints between the door and the mesh of people’s tracks on the pathway. Even if the nighttime thunderstorm hadn’t brought snow, Jamie knew how to hide their evidence. Most of their evidence.

I’m sorry, Kace, Jamie said, head and eyes tilting toward the table in guilt. I should’ve known you weren’t ready for that. The kitchen windows juddered with the purple thunder and the purplish-gray snowfall. I’ve just done it a lot, like I said, it’s not a big thing for me. Since you were with me we shouldn’t have gone right to the top, should’ve started at a lower spot.

It’s all right, really, Kace said, flinching as her friend’s apology seemed to sneak beneath her ice bag, pressing at the swelling on her head, reheating its burn. Thanks for taking me with you. I liked it up until...

You went the wrong way? Jamie chortled.

Yep, Kace giggled, each giggle poking at the bruises to her head and torso from underneath her skin. I want to try again next time.

Definitely.

Why the fuck did I say that? Now there’s going to be a next time!

How’re you feeling?

Better. I’ll still be limping tomorrow though. Don’t know how I can hide it from your parents and mine.

You can’t, you have to lie, Jamie told her, looking up from the table, purple lightning shining off her unlit eyes. You okay with that? she asked through the thunder’s hammer.

Kace shrugged. We were going to lie anyway, when they asked what we did tonight. She glanced around the room for ideas on what to say. I could tell the truth, mom and dad will be a little mad but I’ll never have to run that hill at night again. And Jamie stops being my friend. Her attention settled on the chairs they were sitting in. I’ll say I was standing on a chair.

And you fell? her friend figured, a smirk forming.

Yeah...

Jamie nodded. What were you doing?

Being fucking stupid? I don’t know.

Oh, Jamie snapped her fingers, say you were imitating Doc Mercado, you know, how he sometimes stands on a chair in the cafeteria to speak to all of us at once. She snickered. Like he has a fucking clue.

Kace ground her teeth with the throb in her brain, with the guilt that her lie now included making fun of someone else. When Chloe was my age she was cutting her arm and hiding it from mom and dad. I can hide some bruises behind one lie. That’ll work. She had a thought, chuckled, Or I could say you put on your Second-Gen Stage, hit me a couple times. Jamie didn’t laugh, the room going silent, save for the storm. How long has it been since the last time? she asked, trying to dodge the swift approaching awkwardness with a question.

Since the last time what? Jamie responded, stiff in seating and expression.

The last time your Second-Gen Stage was on, before tonight.

Stiffness became confusion. When was my Second-Gen Stage on tonight?

That confusion became Kace’s. On the hill, when you were looking for...when you found me. She pointed at her eyes. I saw them.

It wasn’t on, Jamie retorted in a firm, frustrated tone, as if Kace had been arguing for the last ten minutes that her Second-Gen Stage had in fact been on. I would’ve known.

Right, sorry, Kace relented, never mind how convinced she’d been. Must’ve been the lightning, made me think I was seeing—-

Whenever you have your Awakening, you’ll know better than anyone else whether your Stage is on or not.

Got it, Kace said, turning to their snowboards and gear, worried she’d insulted her friend somehow.

You going to be able to remember what to tell my parents and yours? Jamie asked, noting where Kace was looking.

Of course, but you can tell yours, can’t you?

Better if they hear it from you. Jamie yawned into her hand. You ready for bed or do you need to keep icing?

I’m good. Kace tossed the evidence to Jamie to throw away, bit her tongue to stop from groaning in pain as she stood.

Jamie slept on her cot in the bedroom, between her parents’ bed and the bedroom window facing the beach. Kace lay on a foldable mattress the family kept under the bed for sleepovers. Jamie’s parents didn’t want the teens using their bed, even when they were the only ones home at night, a small rule Jamie, for all her sneaking out, didn’t seem to have any interest in breaking. Storm gnawing at the windows with its purple growl, welts aching, brain reminding her how stupid she’d been to think she’d Awakened after a tiny fall, how stupid she’d been to make a wrong turn, to go out there in the first place, Kace took hours to fall asleep. Waking to the front door squeaking open and the patter of Jamie’s parents kicking the snow and sand from their boots as they stepped inside, storm light replaced by the grayish-orange haze of early dawn, Kace wasn’t sure if she’d slept more than two or three hours. She wasn’t able to get back to sleep before it was time for her and Jamie to get up.

Showers taken and breakfast had, teeth brushed with paste and disposable swabs, Kace’s limping and bruised head were noticed by Jamie’s parents, the lie told: Jamie wanted to take me to you two, but it didn’t hurt that bad, she added on. Didn’t think I needed to go to the med center. Head and knee checked and cleared by Jamie’s mother, those were the only spots Kace claimed were still bothering her, the parents reminded Kace to be more careful, come to them whatever her injury, and to not make fun of Doctor Mercado. Kace apologized for what she hadn’t done, and she and Jamie left for school, Kace waiting outside a minute while Jamie’s parents spoke to her inside.

Fresh snow sheeting the forest floor, draping and bending the tree branches, piling the roofs of the shacks, thickening the air with its chilled decay, Kace avoided any glimpses in the direction of the hill as she and her friend took the paths north. What were your parents talking to you about? Kace asked, their boots crunching and sinking in the deep gray.

They just told me I need to bring you to them or get help, if you’re hurt again while we’re home alone. Even if it’s nothing.

Did your parents tell you that because I still haven’t had my Awakening?

Jamie glanced over her shoulder, making sure there was no one close behind them on the path, smiled at Kace. Thanks for that part about me wanting to take you to the med center. They believed you.

No problem, Kace said, wheezing out a puff of white air as the bruises on her back, torso, legs, and especially her knee whined with each snowy stride.

The teens exited the trees to a gentle yet bitter breeze blowing off the ocean. Waters gray from shore to horizon line, as always, the sea was so gray it made the snow appear brighter. At least it would have were it not for this morning’s overcast of giant plate-shaped clouds, separated by yellow cracks of light. New Merenranta behind them, Kace and Jamie arrived in the semi-circular main town of Merenranta, entering its southern neighborhood. Rows of shacks and walkways tucked behind the beach of the ocean and aside the beach of the cove, south Merenranta had long belonged to the civilian workers and managers of the community’s industrial neighborhood and their children. Some had moved into new Merenranta, but for most, including Kace and her parents, this neighborhood was still home.

Snowboard, helmet, and plastic bag of clothes dropped off at her shack, in the center of south Merenranta, two rows up from the cove, Kace found the place empty, her parents already gone to work. She was happy with this. The school day would give her welts more time to heal, help make the lie easier. Her parents weren’t the only ones off to work. The walkways were crowded with adults, teens, and children leaving for work or school, the traffic of their crunching, drumming boots heading west away from the sea, white breaths mixing in micro-fogs over their heads. Of Kace’s neighbors who passed her and Jamie, about a third did so scowling at the Second-Gen teens, or immediately looking away, increasing their speed from a tired trudge to an unsettled, angered fast walk. Some did both, plenty with moving lips, their words hushed though no doubt insulting. All of this third were human.

At the same time, another third didn’t hesitate to smile and offer Kace and Jamie morning greetings. Some were even concerned enough to ask about Kace’s limping, leading her to tell a shorter version of her lie, saying she’d fallen and leaving out the parts about the chair and Doctor Mercado. Of this third, the majority were also human, but there were a handful of Second-Gens. The adult Second-Gens were former nomads who’d come to Merenranta at different times over the course of Kace’s life, some having children. Unlike their Second-Gen parents who’d Awakened before joining Merenranta—-the dangers outside the community giving their parents many opportunities to do so—-the children’s Second-Gen abilities were still dormant, typical of Second-Gens who’d never left the safety of the town.

It was the last third who made Kace decide, as she so often did, that she and Jamie should take the beach, where there was room to walk to school by themselves. This third kept the same drowsy pace or slowed down altogether, their movements tensing, as if attempting to demonstrate as much as possible to the Second-Gens that they weren’t speeding up to get away from them. They smiled, but their smiles looked like they were being held up by screws that had been drilled into their cheeks. Several of them smiled as they walked side by side with those who were scowling. All were human, and none said a word to Kace or her friend. It was with these neighbors that the torches of humiliation reached towering degrees, melting Kace’s insides with the knowing that these people she saw every day, many whom she’d seen almost every day of her life, who’d had more than sufficient time to make up their minds about her, refused to be total in friendship or hatred.

The teens stepped out of the shack rows and down towards the cove, the center around which the town had been built. As gray as the ocean it drank from, the cove’s waters were low with the tide, the beach wide and gray with snow and sand. Kace and Jamie rounded the cove to the west, the icy air at their backs. This was a longer and more difficult walk than the pathways, but worth the open space. South Merenranta ended at the cove’s western beach, the traffic dividing: adults with older children, teens, or no children to the industrial neighborhood, the town’s collection of factories, utility plants, and wind turbines; children and teens, adults with young children, and adults with government jobs who lived in new Merenranta continuing on the curving beach to north Merenranta, the breeze at their sides. As they passed the industrial neighborhood, and passed the two-story town hall and police station, and the three-story medical center on north Merenranta’s border, Kace began to regret staying on the beach for the entire walk, and not just because of her bruises or the wind in their faces. With the hours of sleep she didn’t get, it was as if she were limping on both legs, not one. That exhaustion made her miss Jamie’s question the first time.

Are you going to ask your parents again? Jamie asked a second time, as they passed the other government buildings on north Merenranta’s western side, moving up the beach to the walkways.

Ask them what? Kace responded, pretending she didn’t have a guess.

About going to Cheng’s with you. You were saying last night at dinner, they said no again. You going to try...again?

Right, Kace said, as though she’d forgotten. She looked at her boots as they stepped off the beach and onto the path. I don’t think so, not for a while anyway.

Why not? Jamie was quick to ask, as if surprised, but Kace was not quick to reply. The walkways were as packed as they’d been in south Merenranta, government workers heading over from the shack rows on north Merenranta’s eastern side, their children to school. The same fast and frightened walkers, the same greetings and worry for Kace’s limping, the same awkward shifts in pace and imitated smiles as their coworkers scowled, no open beach Kace and Jamie could run to this time. Jumping and weaving through this whirlpool of daily reactions to who they were gave Kace an excuse to think on her answer until they arrived at the main entrance to the school.

I’m probably just annoying them at this point, about Cheng’s, I mean, Kace said, as she and Jamie kicked the snow and sand off their boots and went inside.

Good morning, Jamie, good morning, Kace, said Doctor Mercado, holding the entrance open for his students. In his mid-thirties with black hair and a heavy beard, Harun Mercado was both school principal and a surgeon at the medical center.

Good morning, Doc, the teens replied. Doctor Mercado had been a surgeon first, hence most people referred to him by Doctor rather than Principal. He himself had no preference.

You limping, Kace? Doctor Mercado asked, tired eyes expanding with attention.

Fell yesterday, Kace told him, speaking over her shoulder. Just bruised my knee.

I can take a look at it if you need me to.

Jamie’s mom already did, thank you.

Let me or your teacher know if it gets worse, okay? And be careful.

Will, I will, thank you, Kace stuttered with embarrassment, wishing she hadn’t used his name in her lie.

Into the halls of stampeding boots, the shrill shouts of little children, and the stern voices of staff, all echoing up and down the walls, Kace and Jamie headed for their classroom. Hallways heated, bright with the ceiling lights, made colorful by the artwork from every class that hung off the walls, and the ceiling in some places, there were more greetings from teachers and staff, and not only for Kace and Jamie, but for each individual student, no matter that half these students endangered the staff’s sanity about half the time and would surely do so today. A few staff didn’t greet Kace and her friend, or any of the other known Second-Gen students, even when they made eye contact. None of them scowled, though, and in any case it wasn’t the adults, but her fellow students that had Kace thinking on her footsteps before she planted them, watching where and how she walked, as if she were walking ahead of herself.

Gut yourself with a rusty pipe, Second-Gen, an older teen muttered as he went by, fast-walking, not looking back, as if scared Kace would chase after him with her dormant Second-Gen Stage or see his face and give his name to Doctor Mercado, or, worse for him, Chloe. Jamie, glancing in the opposite direction, hadn’t heard, and Kace, clenching her fist and huffing through her nostrils, didn’t say anything. She didn’t plan to tell anyone, never mind that she recognized the boy’s voice, a student three years ahead of her with the intelligence of someone who should’ve been three years behind. He might’ve been the only one to speak, but the fearful frowns and angry glares were a constant, three to five out of every ten students, those who hated Second-Gens, and those too afraid not to. The five to seven who didn’t frown only felt safe grinning, no greetings, and some of those grins weren’t that big and most didn’t last that long, human or Second-Gen. Kace couldn’t call on her big sister to solve every tiny thing for her, because Chloe would try. Telling Doctor Mercado wouldn’t have done much good. It probably would make today and tomorrow more difficult for the known Second-Gens at this school.

Kace and Jamie were a year apart in age, but Kace had skipped a school year, so they were in the same class. She hoped the effort it took for the only two known teenage Second-Gens in Merenranta to go from the entrance to their classroom in a mostly human school would help Jamie forget what they had been talking about. But as they were sitting down at one of the classroom tables that had empty chairs—-that table becoming the Second-Gen table for the day, as a couple of their classmates named it, despite there being humans who always ended up having to sit beside them, a guessing game between several in the class over who that would be today—-Jamie asked, Why do you think you’re annoying them? Your parents. I mean, Cheng’s is just a restaurant.

And a bar, Kace giggled. Place gets loud after sundown.

So? Everywhere gets loud here.

"That’s kind