Joshua McCune - Talker 25

“So can I,” I hiss, clenching hard until the fiery agony pulsing through me becomes too much. I let out a scream and thrust the sword deep.

When my vision clears enough for me to see, the dragon is impaled to the hilt.

“That was brilliant,” Hector says. I grab the earpiece, knocking the wig askew in the process, and hurl it at him. My CENSIR jolts me to my knees. I push myself up, my wig falling over my eyes. I rip it off, ready to fling it, too, when inspiration strikes.

I march over to Hector. “I’m not kissing him.”

“It’s a simple—”

“Fine, have someone else do it.”

He frowns. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because a kiss is a close shot. How ’bout you let me direct and you just try to figure out how not to screw up my scene?”

“It’ll look like I’m kissing my grandmother,” I say. “Don’t you want a good one?”

“You’re a thorn in my ass, you know that? I could do an over-the-shoulder, maybe pull out to medium,” he mutters, more to himself than me. He shakes his head. “It won’t work. We’d need a stand-in, and there’s no time.”

“I know someone perfect,” I say, jiggling the blond wig at him.

Everyonegawks when I enter the barracks. I left my scrubs in the rec center bathroom—Lester wouldn’t let me retrieve them—so I’m stuck in my dragon-scale outfit until tomorrow. After everyone gets their disapproving looks in, they return to watching a new episode of Kissing Dragons : The Other Side . I don’t see Evelyn, which means either she’s decided to undergo reconditioning, or she’s in the bathroom.

I hurry through the door at the back. Red-eyed and puffy, she sits against the wall beneath the screen, blubbering something unintelligible to Five and Seven. She notices me, wipes quickly at her eyes.

“What do you want?” she snaps.

“I kind of like the waterworks.” I remove some gauze and ointment from the medicine cabinet. “Almost makes you seem human.”

Five and Seven rise to her defense. I raise a hand in peace. “I have an offer for your queen.”

“What could you possibly have that I want?”

I nod at Five and Seven. “Evil stepsisters, clear out.”

“They stay,” Evelyn says.

I make to leave. “Okay. I’ll give your regards to James.”

“Hold up,” Evelyn calls, her voice breaking.

I spin around, bite back my smile. “Yes?”

“Wait outside,” Evelyn says to her girls.

While I wrap my blistered hands, I explain the kissing situation to Evelyn. By the time I’m finished, her mood’s at full perky.

“Of course,” I say, “I need something from you. Do you or your sorority sisters have any chocolate?”

Comprehension dawns on her face with a devious smile. “So you’re the one who stole Twenty-One’s Kit Kat.”

“Answer the question.”

“No,” she says. “But here’s what I’ll do for you. I won’t tell her or anybody about your mistake. It’ll be our little secret.”

“I’m not your enemy, Evelyn.”

“Actions have consequences, Twenty-Five. You’ll learn.”

“One day, when you’re alone and nobody can hear your screams, I’m going to enjoy hurting you,” I say on my way out the door.

Twenty-One’s waiting for me on my bed. “You look nice, Melissa.”

“Don’t remind me.” I sit beside her. Deep breath. “Twenty-One, I need to talk to you about—”

“The monkeys are depressed.”

The monkeys are always fucking depressed. “Let’s plant a pumpkin patch or build a dolphin-shaped swimming pool.”

“Who likes pumpkins? And why would we need a pool when we live by the ocean?”

“I’ll come up with something better tomorrow. That’s not what I needed to talk about.”

“Is this about the Kit Kat you took?” She doesn’t seem upset in the least.

“You knew?”

“Yes, yes. I smelled it on you the next morning.”

Evidently reconditioning made her a bloodhound. “How come you didn’t say anything?”

She looks at me like the answer’s obvious. “You were hungry.”

“But I stole from you.”

The first hint of anger flashes in her eyes. “Only bad people steal. You’re not a bad person, are you?”

A couple of months ago I knew the answer. Now . . . “I’m not sure.”

“I am.” She smiles up at me with such affection that I almost lose it. She doesn’t care that I’m a weak link or a glowheart or a thief. She accepts me unconditionally.

She whips the dragon brooch from behind her back. “Soon the dragons will come, yes, yes, and they can take us to our island and we can be happy. We need to find something for them to eat.”

“But I thought dragons aren’t allowed on our island,” I say, my attention drifting to the screen. Simon’s interviewing the insurgent of the week, some middle-aged guy made to resemble a cross between a biker and a vampire.

“We should let Arabelle visit. You like her.”

“Arabelle?” For a second, I think it’s Keith. But it’s not, thank God.

“The Silver,” she says with a dramatic huff.

“I’m sorry, did you tell me that already?”

“No. She only learned how to talk this afternoon, yes, yes. She said you’d want to know.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“She told me you came up with some pretty silly names for her.”

“She did, huh?”

“Little Blue Eyes, Smaug. She did not like those.”

My focus snaps to Twenty-One. “How do you know that?”

“Arabelle told me. She says you can keep calling her Baby, if you—”

I press my palm to her mouth. Given her penchant for rambling nonsense, I doubt Big Brother monitors her too often, but it’s not her mike that concerns me.

“Vultures in the sky. Gotta stay sharp,” I say.

She doesn’t catch my meaning, but at least it distracts her. Her eyes dart around in suspicious little bursts. She settles her glare on Evelyn and friends. She shapes her right hand into a gun. “Their stench offends me, yes, yes. They’re upsetting the monkeys.”

“We’ll hum to them. That always makes them feel better.” I start in with a lullaby; she chooses the Kissing Dragons theme song. We’re both off-key.

I tug a blanket around us, keep it clasped tight with one hand to conceal my movements from the cameras. With the other, I press my finger to Twenty-One’s left forearm and scrawl How can u talk to dragons?

She squints, shakes her head, hums louder. We repeat this several times before she nods acknowledgment and responds on my arm.

Three tries later, me mouthing out guesses and her answering “yes, yes” or “no, no,” I correctly decipher: Can hear. Can’t talk.

Is her CENSIR malfunctioning? But . . .

How can you hear Baby? She’s collared.

“It doesn’t work the same on us. We’re different.”

They’ll kill Baby if they discover this. And they might very well do the same to Twenty-One. Island secret .

I don’t think she notices my words, though, her attention back on Evelyn. “We could have the dragons throw them in the ocean, yes, yes. They’ll freeze.” She clenches the blanket in her fists, trembles violently. “Or burn them! Burn, burn, burn!”

I embrace her until she calms. “Shhh. The monkeys are still upset.” Ignoring the agitated looks of those near us, I resume my awful hum. When do dragons come?

“A few—”

I tap her arm.

A few days. I think .

Is Keith with them?

She shrugs. I don’t know much . I think they’re worried I’ll blab. “But I haven’t blabbed about you, no, no.”