Only Ever Yours (6 page)

megan unpeels the wrapper, the smooth brown bar emerging tantalizingly slowly. I can feel myself salivating. I can’t remember the last time I had chocco. I know some of the other girls occasionally treat themselves on weekends, ipecac syrup at the ready, but after what happened with isabel I’ve been trying to be a good girl. In some ways we are as much associated with one another as the twins are, and I don’t want the others to see me eating chocco and thinking that I’m disgusting too. After megan has bitten off a tiny piece, she passes it to jessie on her left.

“No. Sugar is
poison
,” jessie says, holding it by the tip as if it’s burning her fingers. She clucks loudly as liz takes a nibble. jessie must be on the starvation cycle of her diet. Next week she’ll be shoveling cakes down her throat, two at a time, before clawing her way back on the wagon the following day. On the chocco bar goes around the circle, passed reverently from girl to girl. freja takes a bite, chews it for a few seconds, then spits it into a tissue, some of the slime leaking onto her fingers. She wipes it absentmindedly on her robe, brown streaks smudging the faded rose print.

“Ooh, freja, you look like agyness after she had that ‘accident’ in the chamber.” liz claps her hands in delight as freja tries to rub the chocco off, leaving an ugly smear across the silk.

“At least freja didn’t actually shit herself.” daria smirks.

agyness flushes to her peroxide-blond roots, drawing her knees to her chest as if to protect herself. “It wasn’t my fault. chastity-anne prescribed too much ExoLax in Weight Management that day,” she protests, her words lost in the laughter. “And I was only six.”

“Can we just get on with it?” I grab the chocco from freja and crack off a piece before passing it to agyness. I force it down my throat, barely tasting it. I lean back on my heels, my mind stirring with images of freja’s hollowed thighs, looking at the ceiling covered with a star-filled navy digital wallpaper, a full moon painted in an odd mustard color. The edges of the sky bend into the thick steel walls, curving in to air ducts and the ventilation
pipes that suck in and pump out all the air in the school, recycling our oxygen. I can feel their breath now, inside me. We are part of each other. The chocco bar is still on its journey around the circle and we watch each other carefully, comparing the size of our own bite to each other’s. When it returns to megan, half the bar is left and she offhandedly throws it down in front of her.

“Now that our naughty treat is done,” she says, ignoring our hungry eyes glued to the remaining chocco, “I think it’s time to begin the main event.” She reaches into her tote bag again and takes out an empty bottle of EuroCola, placing it in the middle of the circle. “As you know, the reason we’re here is because there was some controversy over the reliability of today’s Your Face or Mine.”

“Yeah, all those 7th years don’t count,” angelina says, pursing her plump lips.

“For the last time,” I snap, “they weren’t all—”

“So we’re going to do a face-to-face version.” megan’s voice is cold at the interruption and I bite my tongue. “Whichever two people the bottle lands on, we go around the circle one by one saying which face we prefer. Got it?”

There is a current of edginess in the group, nervous at the thought of being so openly honest. We make comparisons constantly, of course, but in private, protected behind the anonymity of our computers. isabel and I used to spend hours on a Saturday afternoon VideoChatting, talking about which girls in our year we thought were the prettiest, isabel frowning when she thought I was being too mean.

“Well, I think agyness has great eyes,” she would say when I called her cropped hairstyle masculine. “freja is too skinny,” she would agree, when I would gripe about her flaunting those gaunt arms. isabel was being genuine—she thought freja was too thin—unlike me, who secretly envied her. Every popping bone felt like an affront to my own lack of discipline.

“Yeah, it’s gross, isn’t it?” I’d say eagerly.

“Hmm,” she’d answer noncommittally. “She has great taste in clothes though. That feathered skirt she wore today was awesome.”

isabel could always find the best in every situation. When I was ranked #3 to her #1, she would insist that I was just as pretty as she was, listing all the things about my appearance that she liked. I’d examine myself in the walls after our VideoChats and I would feel a tiny glimmer of hope. Suddenly I miss her so much that my chest feels as if it might rupture with grief. What did I do that was so bad it made her give up on me?

The bottle lands on rosie and alessandra and we cast our votes in turn.

“rosie . . . rosie . . . alessandra . . . rosie . . . rosie . . .”

“I’m dying,” rosie gasps when she is announced the winner. “You’re so much prettier than me.”

“No way,” alessandra says. “I would kill for your lips. And blue eyes are cuter, everyone knows that.” megan raises an eyebrow. “Blue
and
green eyes.”

“Yeah, but I’d much prefer your nose. It’s straighter than mine,” rosie says, squeezing the tip of her own perfectly straight nose.

“Well, at least you’re not fat like me.”

“What? Have you seen my thighs? I’m practically veering into isabel territory,” rosie says, pinching nonexistent thigh fat. She waits, hiding a tiny smile as the garden bursts with dissenting voices.

“You are so not fat. I’m fat.”

“I’m so fat I should be made obsolete.”

“I’ve gained at least three pounds since dinner, I know it.”

How many kcals were in that chocco bar? It’s 555 kcal per 100 grams, but it was a large bar, which is 250 grams approximately. I only had a small bite. How many kcals in that? I need to pay more attention in Calorie Calculation class. My blood feels itchy with the compulsion to vomit the chocco back up, see it splash on the ground before me, leaving me clean.

megan spins the bottle again, covering her face with slim fingers and exclaiming, “I’m so embarrassed!” when it lands on herself and angelina. I’ve always thought she and megan look alike, with their masses of dark wavy hair and milky pale skin. angelina would be my personal choice however; her feline-shaped blue eyes are gorgeous.

“The twins can start it off.”

They both choose megan, of course, each girl that follows regurgitating her name without hesitation. We’re shape-shifters, forever peeking over our shoulders to see what everyone else is doing in order to base our performance on theirs. freja opts for megan too, turning to me with an expectant face.

angelina angelina angelina
, a voice is screaming inside my head, but my tongue feels swollen, absorbing the words I want to say.

“Sorry, what did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.” megan plays coyly with the silk tie of her kimono.

“megan,” I repeat in defeat. I turn to agyness. She’s making a necklace from some poppy-flowers, tongue lolling out in concentration.

“Hey, Augustus, it’s your turn,” megan says, throwing contemptuous looks at the others. “Augustus. Wake up, Augustus.”

I nudge agyness, pointing to megan when she frowns at me for disturbing her jewelry making.

“I was calling your name, you dumb bitch,” megan says in exasperation.

“But you didn’t say my name.”

“I did. I called you Augustus.”

“But my name is agyness. Why would you call me Augustus?”

agyness isn’t being awkward. She honestly doesn’t get that someone would call her by a man’s name because she has short hair.

“Whatever,” megan sighs in the end, obviously deciding it isn’t worth explaining it to her. “My face or angelina’s?”

“What?”

“What is
wrong
with you?” megan says, losing her cool. “Did they drop you on your head when you were designed? Why do you think we’re all out in the garden at midnight? Did you expect us to sing songs and braid each other’s hair? We’re
playing Your Face or Mine. The bottle landed on angelina and me. Which one of us do you think is the prettiest?”

agyness looks from megan’s face to angelina’s, then back to megan’s again.

“angelina.” She refocuses on her necklace, grabbing another poppy from behind her to intertwine in it.

Silence fills the domed garden, no one daring to look at anyone else.

“What?” megan isn’t even attempting to disguise her disbelief.

“I said I choose angelina.” Irritation colors agyness’s voice at this further disruption. “I prefer her lips. You have great lips, angelina,” she says, and angelina smiles gratefully at this unexpected victory, however small. “But, um, you have a nice personality, megan.”

She must be worried that she has hurt megan’s feelings. That’s the only explanation I can think of for the blatant lie. That warning vein is throbbing in megan’s forehead again, her lips so white they look as if they’ve disappeared.

“Nice? Nice? NICE?” megan shouts. I try to shush her but she’s beyond reason.

“Yes. You’re nice,” agyness lies again, looking perplexed at this reaction.

“Who cares about
nice
?”

“I do. I think personality matters.”

“Are you brain dead? Personality does NOT matter. All that matters is being pretty, you . . .” she stammers with rage, “you
feminist
.” There’s a horrified gasp. “Well, it’s true,” she says defiantly. “Being pretty is all that matters.”

“I quite agree, #767.”

We freeze as she moves out of the shadows cast by the plastic trees. Her black robes make her look like a huge crow, about to scavenge through the debris for something to eat. Behind her is chastity-bernadette, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

Oh shit.

“Being pretty
is
what’s most important. Although, I have to say, I feel using the ‘F-word’ was a little excessive,” she continues, wearing her calmness like a mask. I can’t breathe, terror constricting my lungs.

“I’m sorry, chastity-ruth, I—”

“Since you know how important being pretty is, I’m sure you’re aware of how important sufficient sleep is to keep your skin in good condition. Especially coming up to the Ceremony.”

“Yes, chastity-ruth,” we whisper.

“Words fail me, girls. And I’m not often short of words, am I?” We make submissive noises. “Now, let me see. There must be a ringleader. I
wonder
who it could be.”

Shit. Shit.
Shit
.

“Did you really think you were going to get away with this? Get up right now and walk in single file back to your dorm. You will not speak to each other. You will not look at one another. I will expect you in my office in the morning to receive your chastisement.” She gestures at a quaking chastity-bernadette. “Escort them back to their dorms—if you can manage to stay awake that long.”

“Wait, #630,” she says as we eves scramble to our feet, eager to escape. “I would like a little chat with you.”

I stop, my heart thumping painfully in my chest. I try to grab hold of megan’s kimono as she passes, but the silk just slips through my fingers. chastity-bernadette closes the gate tightly behind them, locking me in here. With her.

“Have you anything you would like to say, #630?” She loops around me again and again until I start to feel dizzy.

“What do you mean?”

“You requested a VideoChat with every girl in your year this evening. That’s an interesting coincidence, isn’t it?”

She stands before me. She’s not tall, but it feels as if she is towering above me, ready to wrap her black veil around me and devour me.

“Every girl except isabel. Didn’t you used to be ‘best friends’? Or did she get sick of you?” she continues, the moonlight glinting yellow in her gray eyes. I want to tell her that this wasn’t my idea, but I can’t. My life will be a living nightmare if I get megan in trouble, and I need her now. I’m not brave enough to do this by myself.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, #630?”

“No,” I say, and she looks so angry that I draw back, afraid she might
touch
me, hit me and leave a scar. But she would never do that. The chastities are not allowed to damage the Father’s investments.

“I don’t even want to look at you, you useless piece of garbage.” A malevolent grin stretches across her face, her teeth like a row of tombstones. “I will give you your chastisement tomorrow, #630. I need time to think of something extra special just for you.”

“All final-year eves report to the chastities’ office.”

I’m lying face down on the mattress when the intercom wakes me, my head smeared onto my arms, my mouth parched. I stretch, my mind gluey with sleep.

“Will all final-year eves report to the office immediately. Except for isabel.”

Obviously
. The twin’s voices whisper in my head, and memories from last night smash into me.

I crawl out of bed. Even in the low lighting, my mirrored cubicle is not kind to me today. I can see the wrinkles in my kimono from every angle, a big lump of knotted hair bulging at the nape of my neck. Peering closer at the wall at the base of my bed I notice angry handprints on my cheek from where I fell asleep.

“Hurry up,” freja hisses from the doorway, immaculate in tapered pants and an olive blouse with a pussycat bow.

Throwing an agonized glance at the mirror, I pull my matted hair into a bun and scurry to catch up with daria. We march together through the cloisters, past the garden gate to the back of the School until we have gathered in front of the chastity quarters. A tall gold-plated gate shields their privacy, the large black triangle of the chastities sculpted in the metal. There are five different cameras pointing directly at us. This is the only area of the School that still has functioning cameras. They can’t afford to replace the others.

megan forces her way to the front, slamming her hand on a gold-plated box attached to the gate, the same black triangle inscribed on that. A sorrowful note rings out and the gates part. megan grabs my hand, her talons digging into my palms in warning. A surge of hatred pulses through my body, so strong my knees shake, and she lets go, smiling. She knows I’ll do what she wants.

We walk through the gates into a long murky passageway, stopping at a large oak door with a brass peephole at eye level.

“What do we do now?” megan asks, jumping as the door swings open.

“Follow me,” chastity-anne says with a disapproving shake of her head, leading us through their quarters. The diamond tiles give way to a black marbled floor. There are no light-lamps here, only old-fashioned white candles in glass lanterns, six along each side of the hall. Beside each lantern there is a single door, which must be the chastities’ individual sleeping quarters. chastity-anne leads us
through another oak door into a dimly lit room where every surface is covered in oak-wood panels, including the ceiling. The big window at the far end of the room is sealed with a huge print of the original Father, the man who led the Noah’s Project for the Euro-Zone all those years ago. The poster is dotted around with star-shaped light bulbs.

Lining either side of the room are six wooden chairs, each one underneath a lantern holding a white candle, the same as in the corridor. Eleven chastities are sitting in the chairs, their black robes draping to the ground, stitching brightly colored thread into linen frames. They’re working in a perfect rhythm, needles going in and out at the exact same time, the concentration on their faces clear to see even in the candlelight.

chastity-ruth is sitting at a large wooden desk beneath the Father’s poster. She claps twice and the other chastities immediately stop their embroidery and stand up. With bald heads bowed and needlework clasped in their hands, they glide silently from the room. chastity-magdalena holds a finger to her lips as she passes me, her face grave.

When they have left, chastity-ruth looks at each girl in her turn, except for me. For all the times I’ve wished I was invisible to her, I can’t help but feel this is a bad omen.

“I’m sure you are aware of how disappointed I am in you.”

“Yes, chastity-ruth,” we reply, heads hanging.

“I have known for some time that chastity-bernadette was perhaps ill-suited to night duty, but I never dreamed that you would abuse her limitations in such an insolent
manner.” She does look shocked. The chastities never expect us to disobey them, to have the audacity to break the rules carved into us since design. She shakes her head before adding, “chastity-bernadette shall also be punished of course.”

I feel a pang of guilt at the thought of poor old chastity-bernadette getting in trouble because of us.

“Isolation is enforced to ensure that any incidents of female hysteria which Organized Recreation has failed to drain from you do not occur. It’s for your own safety.”

“Yes, chastity-ruth.”

“I thought long and hard about a suitable chastisement for you. I was considering banning you from makeup for a week . . .” daria catches her breath, blood draining from her face, “but I decided that would only be detrimental to the reputation of the School. You may be perfectly designed, but there is always room for Improvement.” She scrutinizes us as a heaviness hangs in the gloomy room. “So, as your chastisement, your internet usage will be banned for a week.”

“What?”

“No!”

“That’s not fair—”

“That means,” her cold voice slices through the protests, “no MyFace, no VideoChat, no TV.
Nothing
. I shall collect your eFones and ePads at breakfast. Now get out of my sight.”

We go to leave, stunned into silence.

“Stay where you are, #630,” she says as the others file out. “Sit down.”

I grab one of the chastity’s chairs and drag it so that I can sit across from her, the desk a welcome buffer between us.

“Why are you still in your nightclothes?”

I look down at my crumpled kimono. I’d forgotten I was still wearing it.

“Pathetic.” She leans forward, digging her elbows into the wood. “I have to say, #630, I’m surprised that you’re the ringleader in all this. You’ve always seemed more like a
follower
. Wouldn’t you agree? A sheep. Cannon fodder. Pretty, if you like that sort of thing, but rather bland.”

It’s as if she has ripped my head off my shoulders and held it to her ear like a seashell fossil, listening to the echo of my secret thoughts. I bite my lip. Crying is ugly. No man wants a girl who cries.

“I would have presumed one would need to be more popular to persuade the rest of the class to break the rules so flagrantly. And so close to the Ceremony.” She widens her eyes theatrically. “Will they be very angry with you, #630?”

They won’t blame me, will they? Everyone knows it was megan’s idea; she said so herself in the garden.

“Was this your idea, #630? Or was someone else involved? Someone ranked higher than you, perhaps.”

“No, chastity-ruth.” I stare into my lap miserably. I can’t risk it. “It was my idea.”

“How touching your loyalty is, if rather misguided.” I can hear her wooden chair scraping back on the marble floor. “It’s a pity you didn’t show similar loyalty to isabel.”

“Yes, chastity-ruth.”

“Besides having your internet usage rescinded, as an extra chastisement you are forbidden from using makeup or hair-styling this week.”

“But what about standards being upheld?” I blurt out in desperation. “I thought you said—”

“Are you questioning me?” Her eyes are like chips of ice.

“No, chastity-ruth.”

“Glad to hear it.” She peers closer at me. “Those dark circles under your eyes aren’t going to help your rankings. What is the point of your taking SleepSound when it’s clearly so ineffective? I must discuss it with chastity-anne.”

I can feel my chin starting to wobble. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I am always happy and easygoing
.

“I hope you’re not going to
cry
, #630, like some new-design.”

“No, chastity-ruth.”

“And you’re in detention for two weeks,” she says. “You will report to the chamber every morning after breakfast. You are dismissed.”

I leave quickly before she can find a few more chastisements for me, running away, the world blurring with my fear.