East

East | Chapter 8

Chapter 8

SOMEONE IS HUMMING A CHRISTMAS CAROL. I open my eyes to a low, dark ceiling painted with tiny orange polka dots. I blink, and my vision clears. I think they're supposed to be stars.

I feel... Calm. Serene, tranquil, almost numb, save for a nagging doubt that makes my heart beat inside chest. I try to breathe normally, but my body won't settle. Some instinct wants me to get up, run away... Get away from here...

The humming stops. A face enters my line of sight. "Oh, you're awake," it says.

It's a boy. His voice is a bit uneven, like it's recently dropped a few octaves but the rest of him hasn't figured it out yet. I watch as he takes a glass from the bedside table, pours it full of water, then helps me sit up so I can hold it properly.

I bring the glass up to my lips, sniffing as discreetly as I can. Nothing. I take a small sip.

"Don't worry," he says, shoving some floppy hair back away from his forehead. "We don't usually poison newcomers on the first day. Maybe after your first week, though."

I nearly choke. "What?"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" His horrified expression is almost comical. He waves his hands wildly. "The professor doesn't condone poison; we're not murderers. And we'd never hurt one of our own, anyways..."

I pause. "One of your own?"

"Our own," he corrects. He takes the glass back, and places it on the bedside table. "Don't worry, Callia will be here soon to explain everything. Usually nobody comes to us looking as completely dead as you did, so the professor will probably want to hear your story, too. But you'll be treated just like one of the rest, I promise. No more hiding."

"Hiding?"

"You know, who you are."

Uh... What? I blink and breathe in through my nose. A woodsy smell catches me by surprise. It feels familiar, and that puts me on edge...

"...I was just supposed to make sure you're alive. You should sleep while you can, though. Callia, err—" The boy coughs. "—she isn't always the most polite person. But don't tell her I said that. She'd scorch me." He shudders.

"That sounds extreme..." I mutter.

"Nah, not for her. Haven't you heard? She's supposed to be the most powerful lighter ever!"

"'Lighter'?"

"Well, that's just slang, of course." He pats my ankle and heads towards the door. "You'll get used to it soon."

"'Use to'—used to what?"

He makes an impatient noise, the teenager finally peeking out. "Used to being around so many of your own kind," he says slowly, almost sarcastically. "You know, other lighters. Yeah?"

An image of several hundred plastic lighters all lined up neatly in a row pops into my head, and I'm both amused and perplexed at the same time. But he turns away before I can ask anything else, and opens the door and slips out.

He's back in two seconds. "Right, and, I'm Andrew. Nice to meet you...?"

When he gives me a flat look I realize I'm supposed to supply my name. "Oh, sorry—my name is East," I say.

"East, huh?"

I sigh. "Go ahead, I've heard all the jokes."

His eyes crinkle when his lips stretch into a wide grin. "I'll save them for a better time."