Exiled (9 page)

Venus picked out a black pleated mini-skirt and a horizontal black and white striped tank. Over the top of the tank she put on a see-through lace top in maroon. Then, over the top of that, she slid on a vertical pin striped black blazer. It’d been one of the outfits hanging on a display in the store. Chev had said she’d look perfect in it. It wasn’t bad.

Turning back and forth in the full-length mirror attached to the bathroom door, Venus decided she looked adorable. Zaren had also bought scrunchies and barrettes. Since her hair hung to her waist, she was grateful for them. Venus made a braid and wrapped a maroon-colored lace scrunchie around the end.

Finished, she picked up a small black purse, which she’d filled with cherry-flavored lip gloss, a couple of pens and another scrunchie, and hurried to the living room, where she knew the guys were waiting.

“I’m ready.”

“You look beautiful, Venus,” Dervinias said.

“Yes, you do,” Zaren agreed.

“We need to go if we don’t want to be late.”

Once outside, Venus snuggled deeper into her coat. Her body longed to really inhale, take a big, deep breath, but she resisted, knowing her lungs couldn’t take it. Instead she studied the neighborhood—all of the houses crammed together in their neat little rows. Somewhere there was a fire. The smell of burning wood cut through the chill. A twinge of alarm hit her stomach until she remembered humans had fireplaces and she looked up. Sure enough, smoke puffed into the sky from the roof of a house across the street.

Hundreds of birds flew over in a large V formation. Their chirping and tweeting sounded like a room full of talking people. Venus paused to watch as they landed on a telephone wire. Grief overwhelmed her senses. Sadraden. Dead. She’d never fly with her friend again. She’d never get the chance to meet her baby.

“Ready?” Zaren asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Venus turned slightly to search his face. He knew what she’d been thinking about, his sorrow evident. “Yes,” she answered and they walked to Dervinias’s enormous black truck together.

When they arrived at school, she watched kids whisper and gawk at them.

She gawked back.

One of the strangest parts about being on Earth was how alike the human teens and kelarians looked. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth. Hair in different lengths, and limbs long and lanky or short and stubby, same as kels. Sure unchanged kels were silver and white, but that almost seemed tame when compared to what some of the kids here did to their faces, bodies, and hair.

Piercings in all sorts of places—eyebrows, lips, cheeks, noses, even tongues. Hair the color of the sun, or purple pansies. Their nails were all sorts of colors, and some even had jewels on them.

Zaren wrapped a hand around her arm. She leaned into him, thankful again for his nearness, his coming after her so she wasn’t alone on this strange planet. They were in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The West. Home of cattle, wide-open spaces, and Frontier Days . . .

“Where are the cowboys? The hats? The horses?”

Dervinias snorted. “This isn’t Earth Studies, V. These kids do everything they can to avoid the mold. But if you must see a cowboy, check out the group over there,
yonder
.”

She turned and sure enough, there were cowboys! They had on cool hats and large belt buckles, jeans that looked too tight, and fantastic boots. “So they do exist.”

“Well, of course they do. One of the kids over there—the tall one with the black hat—he’s the calf roping champion of the state. And see that girl with hair the color of hay and the turquoise belt buckle?” He paused and waited for Venus to acknowledge she saw her.

“Yes.”

“She’s an amazing barrel racer.”

“Barrel racer?”

“Are you sure you took Earth Studies?”

Venus frowned.

“It’s when the horse and rider race around two barrels . . . You know what those are, right—”

She smacked him on the arm.

He continued, “In a figure eight.”

“Oh, that’s fabu.”

“Yeah, right. Fabu! You’re a dork.” He laughed and winked.

She looked away and noticed a few girls whispering and pointing in her direction. One even called her a name—tramp—whatever that meant.

“What’s their problem?” Venus asked.

“They’re angry at you, V.”

“Why? What did I do?” Her body gravitated closer to Zaren.

“You’re a girl and he’s fresh meat.” Dervinias inclined his head toward Zaren.

“What?”

“They want him. But they think you’ve already got your scrawny claws in him. It ticks them off.”

“Oh.” She realized she could feel their anger, like pointed daggers in her flesh.

“Cret! Zaren, you’d better let go.”

Both of the guys chuckled. But Zaren dropped his hand.

She couldn’t blame them for desiring the guys. They were both incredibly handsome, especially Zaren. Perhaps it was that they were kelvieri, but in contrast to the other boys (actually all humans), it was as though Zaren and Dervinias were in complete focus while everyone else was blurry. She especially liked the way Zaren looked in human clothes. He wore a long-sleeved, brown shirt and a dark pair of stone-washed jeans (that’s what Dervinias called them), with Dr. Marten boots. His black hair and lime green eyes made him breathtaking.

Zaren shifted his head slightly and caught her checking him out. He gave her a secret smile. “Focus, Princess.”

“You focus,” she said, feeling her face flush that he’d caught her. Since she’d come to this crazy world, she’d been unable to control her feelings. They kept creeping in. Maybe it was because she wasn’t being forced to behave like a princess all day.

Kinsfolk weren’t following her every move, every minute of every day, watching what she ate so they could copy it. If Venus had Incaria tea to drink with breakfast, then that was all the rage until she switched to a new drink or a new meal or . . . whatever. If she had the court designers shorten her coverlettes by even an inch, the rest of the females noticed and by the next day, theirs were shortened too.

When Venus wore trousers, they wore trousers. If she chose to learn a new weapon, all of the women were doing the same. The men too, sometimes. If she got sick, suddenly half the kels in the kingdom were ill. At times, it drove her insane.

Her mom explained that they copied her as a sign of admiration, that it was important and her obligation as their one-day leader. She said Venus should worry if they ever stopped. Venus tried to be understanding. Her mother’s words made sense, but it was still exasperating. The only thing most kels wouldn’t copy was her irrihunter flying. They were Kelari’s most feared animal. Sadraden had saved Venus, kept her sane. And now she was dead.

“I’ve never flown on one.” Dervinias gave Venus a blinding, white smile.

Zaren looked back at her, sympathy carved on his face.

“You two need to stay out of my head.” She smacked them both in the arms.

Dervinias laughed out loud. “Sure thing, V.”

She doubted he’d stop.

Zaren shrugged, which meant he didn’t think Dervinias would stop either. She smacked Dervinias again.

“Damn, girl,” he said rubbing his bicep.

South High School was made of brick. Different shades of brown, mustard and every shade in between. Row after row of windows lined the walls. The school looked to be three stories high.
Ugly
. The front doors were a pumpkin orange. Zaren reached them first and held one side opened. Dervinias walked through and swatted him in the stomach.

“Thanks man.”

Venus let out a snort at the glare Zaren gave Dervinias. “Thank you, Zaren.” She smiled big, a bolt of happiness zinging her heart.

He smiled back and followed behind, letting the door swing shut. “You’re welcome.”

They tried to keep up with Dervinias as they zigzagged through the throngs of students and teachers. Venus immediately had the urge to bolt back outside. The air hung thick with all sorts of odors, the overall effect revolting. Zaren reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I agree. This place is . . . overwhelming.”

Dervinias turned around and hollered. “Hurry. We aren’t strolling through the park.”

They sped up. Dervinias pulled open a glass door and disappeared inside.

At the door, Venus hesitated. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that attending this human school meant her predicament was real. Dervinias leaned against the counter speaking amicably to a woman with short, gray hair. He dropped his backpack onto the carpeted floor and began fiddling with a pen. Venus heard him laughing.

“Let’s get this over with. It’ll be fun.” Zaren reached in front of her and pulled the door open.

“Right,” Venus agreed.

Dervinias turned back and said, “See, here she is. And this is her . . . brother, Zaren.”

Brother? When was this decided?
She flung the question into her mind, knowing at least Dervinias was listening.

Dervinias smirked, shrugging his shoulders. Venus had a strong urge to punch him again.

She glanced at Zaren and he shrugged. “Ugh,” she growled.
Guys and their serious lack of communication skills
.

Mrs. O’Hare (that was what the plaque resting on the counter said was her name) gave Venus a look, which she took to mean the woman thought she had issues, and then she handed first Zaren and then Venus some paperwork. “Sit down and fill those out. When you’re done, bring them back to me. Understand?” She looked directly at Venus.

“Yeeeeesssss.” She turned around and went to sit next to Zaren on an orange plastic chair. The first thing the paper wanted to know was her name. She wrote, “Venus” and paused.

“Smith,” Zaren answered.

“Really?”

“Really,” he replied, firmly.

“Fine.” She sighed and wrote it down. W
hat’s was wrong with Carania?

“Nothing’s wrong with it. But it’s easier if we have the same last name as Dervinias—since we’re all supposed to be related. Less peculiar and easier to explain. We need to fit in.”

She huffed. A chuckle sounded on her left and she looked to see Dervinias watching her. It was really starting to bug her that he acted like she was there for his amusement. Venus realized that probably sounded childish, to which Dervinias nodded. Sticking her tongue out at him crossed her mind, but she resisted.

“You’re right.” Venus turned back to the paperwork. “Why brother and sister, though?” She didn’t like the idea, especially since she was having all of these physical desires for Zaren, and none of them were the way a sister would feel for her brother. They should’ve talked about all of this beforehand.

Zaren smiled.

Cret, this was ridiculous. “Whatever,” she whispered and continued on with the paperwork.

If she had a question, Zaren helped. After she’d finished, Zaren handed her the required documents. He’d pulled them from his bag. Venus raised an eyebrow, surprised and even more curious to know where he’d got them.

“I have my ways,” he said with a cheeky chuckle.

“I guess so,” she agreed.

They both stood at the same time and walked to the counter to hand in the paperwork.

Mrs. O’Hare looked them over, making grunting noises every once in a while. When she finished, she handed them each a badge with big, bold letters reading: VISITOR across it. The badge was attached to a necklace made of . . .

“Is this macaroni?” She guessed by the half-moon shape of the hard noodles.

“Yes, aren’t they cute? The cheerleaders made them. They did a good job; cute-patooties that they are.”

“Oh,” Venus started, but the woman continued.

“Wear them all day. Don’t take them off. When school’s over, bring them back and hand them directly to me. No one else. Got it?” Mrs. O’Hare growled.

“We’ve got it,” Zaren said, placing the macaroni necklace over his head.

Venus admired his strong chest. He still looked hot—macaroni necklace and all.

“Good.” She smiled at Zaren and then turned back to Venus. “Keep close to Vinny, here. He’s a good boy. Go where he goes. Do what he does. The only difference will be that you’ll go to the gym when the boys go to the pool. That’s the rotation we’re on. Any questions?”

“No,” Venus and Zaren answered together.

She handed Venus a map. With a big red marker, she X’d the Gym. “Go here for P.E..”

Venus nodded and turned.

Zaren said, “You’ve been such a huge help. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. O’Hare.”

The woman grumbled and slapped two notebooks and two
Welcome to South High
pencils. “Enjoy.”

After they’d left the office, Dervinias said, “We have English first. Michael’s in there, so try to be cool. Smooth. Friendly.”

“I’ll do my best,” Venus said.

“Let’s go.”

He took off and once again, Zaren and Venus trailed Dervinias. He seemed to be right at home amongst all the kids. Happy even. She tried to duplicate his attitude, but it wasn’t happening. The hallway no longer had throngs of students bustling about. Pumpkin orange and mustard yellow lockers lined the walls with spaces in between for classroom doors. Candy wrappers and soda cans littered the floor. Someone slammed a locker.

They went up a set of stairs, avoiding a couple of kids tangled in each other’s arms, making sucking noises.

Some guy pushed past them and yelled, “Get a room!”

The couple broke apart—barely. Hand in hand, they walked up the stairs.

When Zaren, Dervinias and Venus entered the crowded classroom, she froze. Kids were everywhere, sitting on top of their desks or on each other. Music blared. Dervinias gave her a shove toward the back of the room. She’d never been so pleased to see seats available on the last row. When she’d been younger, she really wanted to go to school with the rest of the kelni’s. She knew if allowed to go, she’d sit in the front. Eager to learn. An example to her peers. Now, here was an opportunity and she choked, heading straight to the back. Nerves electrified her veins. Embarrassment, too. A feeling she wasn’t familiar with. Venus threw herself in a seat and lowered her head.

“Hey Venus. Love the outfit.”

She raised her head to see Cheverly waving, her seat near the middle. Venus waved back, trying to be cheerful. “Thanks.”

The bell rang. A man with mousy brown hair, so messy it mesmerized her, walked into the room. He had his face buried in a book, but shut it before she had a chance to read the title.

“Gatsby,” he said, pulling off his tortoise-shell glasses and tucking them into the collar of his yellow polo shirt. “Open your books to chapter seven. Who can tell me what’s going on?”

“Mr. Lundy. Hey, Mr. Lundy. We have some visitors.” A girl with short, raven black hair made the comment. Her shirt was light pink as were her tights. She wore a fuchsia mini-skirt. On her feet were four-inch purple and hot pink Mary Jane’s (yes, she knew the name of the shoes, especially since they were gorgeous), a hot pink ribbon tied across the top, holding the shoes to her feet. Cute, if you longed to look like a piece of bubblegum.

Mr. Lundy gazed at the students, as though disappointed he had to make eye contact. “Fine. Fine. Bring up your slips and introduce yourselves. Hustle.”

Zaren went first. He placed the slip on Mr. Lundy’s desk and then turned toward the class. Clearing his throat, he began, “I’m Zaren Smith. Dervinias is my cousin. My, ah, sister and I will be staying with him for a while.”

The whole sister-thing irritated her again.
I’m not his sister, for cret’s sake.

Giggles and whispers went around the room. All the girls were smitten. Why wouldn’t they be? He was gorgeous. Still, Venus threw daggers, in the form of dirty looks, toward any girl who made eye contact.