Dissolution

Chapter 3 - The Auctioning

I showered in record time and then tore into the changing room. My Auctioning clothes tumbled out of my bag. It had taken me months to find them; I must have gone shopping with Carly and Eleika almost fifty times. Finally, I'd chosen my colors. Orange and black. Purple and red. Sleek leggings under a half skirt that floated up my back into a hood, and then a jacket that I'd zipped up this morning over my jumpsuit to hide the brand printed across my chest. My hands felt thick and clumsy as I stepped back into them. It took me two tries to get the zipper up, but once I did, I took a moment to lean into the mirror and smile against the glass. My heart thumped hard against my ribcage.

"Happy Auctioning, Madeline Merce," I whispered.

The words tasted like blasphemy. Sweet. The girl staring back at me from the mirror looked electric, alive and frightened all at the same time. I blew her a shaky kiss and laughed at myself. Maybe I'd change my face when I got to MERCE. You couldn't change with ANRON—they were testing too many things to factor in the extra surgery and drugs. It would be good to finally look in the mirror and see something human look back. Blue skin, maybe. Or angel-wing eyes.

I took one more breath and then ran again. I grabbed my skimboard from the parking lot and tore through the Promenade, pushing my modded engine to its limit. The DRAYTH patrollers could eat my dust if they wanted to get me for speeding. Not that there were any around. My knuckles were white on the handlebars—it felt like I was flying through a ghost town. Empty shops with darkened windows whirled past me in a blur. Everyone was already at the Auctioning, sitting in the stands and gossiping about who would go where and for how much.

Feeling like my nerves were about to swallow me alive, I skidded to a stop outside Unilox Hall, hastily locked up my skimboard, and then sprinted up the marble steps. I pushed open the door and felt eyes on me in the semi-darkness, zooming in and glittering in incredulity. Can you believe her? Late for her own Auctioning. I flushed and tried to hide under my hood. I moved down the aisle looking for a familiar face. Finally, my display zoomed in on Eleika. She'd saved me a seat. I collapsed next to her. "What'd I miss?" I whispered.

Eleika's hand fastened on mine in a death grip. "Aliss went for eighty-nine thousand," she said. "Back to ANRON."

I couldn't help myself. Four years of petty rivalry bubbled up in me and I smirked. "She must be cut she didn't make the nineties."

This time Eleika did look at me. She was nearly grey in the shadows cast by the lights on the Auctioning stage. Her eyes were dark. "Shut up, Maddie," she said, and turned away.

I winced. Once again, I'd just opened my mouth and . . . "Sorry," I whispered. I squeezed her hand. "You'll be fine. We'll be fine."

She didn't respond. I looked down at my lap, feeling guilty about my luck. She'd grown up with the mantra "anywhere but DRAYTH" and seeing her parents worn down to the bone every day. I'd grown up with my parents' Auctioning certificates displayed proudly on the walls. My mother had gone for fifty-two thousand. My father for fifty-one. Thirty years ago, that sort of money had been the equivalent of the great one hundred thousand—the century. With those genes, ANRON would have to be mad not to bid at least some sort of equivalent on me, even if I'd bombed my interview.

The key was getting someone to bid back.

I looked down over the rows of students in front of us, down to the pit where the corporate representatives waited with the hungry look of investment bankers. Above them sat what felt like everyone in Unilox, minus those who were unable or unwilling to take the afternoon off. Such as my parents. I swallowed down my resentment and glanced at the stage, at the Auctioneer and her hammer and the wall-length screen behind her. Right now, the face of someone I vaguely recognized from math was blown up across it, a giant twin to the real kid standing on the platform next to the Auctioneer and trying not to tremble. Declan? No. David. He wore HARLIN's trademark pants and shirt with an ill-fitting grace. The current bid number was projected over his face. Only twenty-four thousand. I winced. His eyes had an unearthly sheen to them. I remembered seeing him helping another kid parse his data in class. He didn't deserve this. I suddenly found myself holding Eleika's hand just as tightly as she was holding mine.