Only Ever Yours Read online

  Breakfast, Gym, Organized Recreation, Lunch, Gym, Organized Recreation, Dinner, ePad, Bed.

  Breakfast, Gym, Organized Recreation, Lunch, Gym, Organized Recreation, Dinner, ePad, Bed.

  To break the monotony, I sneaked into cara’s room after dinner on Saturday, but I was swiftly hounded out by chastity-theresa. I don’t understand how isabel and I got away with breaking Isolation for all those years. The chastities always seemed to look the other way when she was involved, but now, without her, I am vulnerable. My anger with her thickens in my chest, as heavy as a rock.

  By Sunday afternoon I feel as if I am drowning in boredom. I’ve seen all the nature shows they are streaming on TV and all that’s left are reality-show repeats.

  Wives of the Euro-Zone.

  Wives of the Americas-Zone.

  Euro-Wives versus Americas-Wives, Battle to the Death.

  “I’m yo King, yeah I’m yo King. Suck it down, coz I’m yo King.”

  The newest rapper from the Americas, Lil’ Pete’s video is on Rap TV. He’s standing on a huge gold-plated throne, a crown on top of his spiky red hair. He has numerous leashes in his hands, like reins, extending to diamond-studded collars wrapped around the neck of each of the five naked blond concubines at his feet. They’re kneeling on all fours, glossy mouths slack until it’s time to sing the chorus. “You’re my king, Lil’ Pete, you my king.”

  I upload the video onto MyFace. Within minutes I can hear other girls joining in, voices floating out of open cubicles. “You’re my king, Lil’ Pete, you my king.”

  megan comments under the video that Lil’ Pete looks “sooo like cintia,” and cintia thanks her, bravely pretending that it was a compliment. Ten minutes later cintia uploads a slew of new fotos, her thick red haircut in uneven layers, her chest barely restrained in a floral bikini top.

  “Oh my Father, look at how fat I am!” she squeaks.

  The screen starts flashing, video comment after comment popping up, denials oozing like tar.

  “Please!” freja comments, pulling up a silver mesh sweater to display a concave tummy. “If you think that’s fat, I’m practically obese.”

  This is the same girl who told me at dinner yesterday that she’s lost five pounds.

  “I can’t help it,” she sighed, throwing her napkin over an uneaten pig chop. “I just can’t stand the taste of in-vitro meat.”

  As if we’ve ever had any other kind. It’s just another excuse for her to limit her kcals. I said nothing, silently planning a restricted kcal menu of my own.

  cintia is so skinny in these fotos, her hip bones jutting out through her porcelain skin. She is only ranked #24 though. There is no way she is going to be a companion.

  “Thankfully,” megan said when the subject came up before. “All that red hair is so unnecessary, don’t you think?”

  I jump to my feet with barely contained anxiety, pacing back and forth. I pull poses in my mirrors, turning to one wall, then the next, reaching into my locker to grab my digi-cam. A foto of me reclining on the bed. A foto of me in high-waisted PVC leggings and a cropped top. A foto of me in a metallic silver bikini.

  “Welcome to Your Face or Mine.”

  “Upload.” I scan the digi-cam barcode against the screen.

  “Complete,” the ePad says. “Would you like to play?”

  The screen splits in two, a face on either side. They look a lot younger, maybe about eight or nine. I don’t recognize them. We try not to pay much attention to the younger eves coming up after us, with their fresher skin and their brighter eyes, snapping at our heels. The one on the left has light brown hair, dip-dyed so that the ends are blond. I prefer the girl on the right, her smile whittling dimples in her smooth black skin and making her bronze eyes glint with naughtiness.

  “You are the first person today to choose thandi as your preference. jessica’s face has been preferred fifty times today.”

  Of course it has.

  I stare at myself in my mirrors, imagining taking a grater to my skin, peeling off the top layer. My bones might be white enough.

  “So after that I experimented with a smoky eye using gold shades. Then I tried a gray smoky eye instead,” daria says as we line up for the BeBetter buffet in the Nutrition Center. “I think it looks better than the normal black smoky eye. I took fotos if you want to see them.”

  “Did you?” megan asks, although daria updated her status on MyFace an hour ago telling us this, accompanied by said fotos. She looks critically at her. “I think I prefer a black smoky eye personally. No offense.”

  She grabs her tray and goes to chastity-anne to collect her meds. daria’s hand darts up as if she’s going to wipe her eyes clean, before she forces her face into a neutral expression.

  “I went on Your Face or Mine today,” I say, watching as megan takes her usual seat and swerves to admire herself in the mirrored wall. “I came in third out of one hundred faces!”

  “That’s great, freida!” cara says, her face lighting up in a genuine smile. “Why didn’t you post it on MyFace?”

  “Probably embarrassed,” jessie cuts in, throwing a dish from the 0-kcal section onto her chipped tray. “I was on Your Face or Mine today too. I didn’t even bother uploading a foto.”

  “Because the fotos were lame,” liz says, lifting the lid of her tureen and gagging at the putrid smell of cabbage soup. “Kids in 8th year don’t count.”

  cara and daria are holding their breath, waiting to see how I’ll respond, but my mind goes blank. The twins snicker as they walk away to join megan.

  “It does too count,” I call after them, hurrying to catch up. They sit next to megan, filling her in on our argument. I can feel my temper start to rise and I breathe deeply to control myself. Only weak girls show emotion.

  “meg, I love that bag.” cara changes the subject hastily as we sit down.

  “Thanks,” megan says, stroking her snake-patterned tote. “It’s only fake though. What do you think, freida?”

  “Yeah. Very nice,” I say, glancing up from my salad.

  “isabel has a clutch, doesn’t she? Real snakeskin, I mean.” megan’s face turns thoughtful when I nod yes. “They are so rare. Where did she get it?”

  I shrug, taking a bite of the tasteless greens. I surreptitiously scan the room till I find her, sitting by chastity-ruth’s desk. All of isabel’s meals are supervised now, yet her body is still swollen beneath her baggy black dress. She’s staring blankly at the solitary apple on her plate.

  “You should prove it, freida,” megan says, catching me off guard.

  “Prove what?”

  “That the results of today’s Your Face or Mine are valid.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “We’ll have another contest. Tonight.”

  “Where?” jessie asks, shaking her hair out of its ponytail and nudging liz to do the same so that they’re identical again.

  “Not in the dorms—there isn’t enough room for all of us to fit into one cubicle.” megan bites her lip in concentration. “I know! We’ll do it in the garden.”

  “What about Isolation?” I ask.

  “chastity-bernadette is on tonight.”

  chastity-bernadette is rarely on night duty, because as soon as the lamps are turned off she starts dozing. You can hear her snores rumbling through the dorms within an hour of bedtime.

  “It’s settled, right?” megan says as I silently plead with one of the others to object. “freida, you send out the invite on MyFace. Send it to all of final year.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m sorry, do you have an issue with that, freida?”

  She emphasizes my name, drawing out the syllables, making it sound like a curse. I want to say no, I want to say no so badly, but she’s looking at me and they’re all looking at me now, a mixture of disdain and pity in their eyes. They don’t think I have the courage to do it; they think I’m the most boring person in our class. They’re probably wondering how isabel managed to put up with me a
s long as she did.

  megan rolls her eyes to heaven, jessie and liz immediately copying her. cara is doing her best not to get involved, scanning through fotogram. freja discreetly spits out her chewed-up veggies, placing the napkin next to her plate, the sticky mess seeping onto the table. My chest swells with fear and I can hear my voice saying, Yeah, yeah, of course I’ll send it, and I know that I’m really saying, Please like me, please like me, and I hate myself so much but they’re all smiling again, and I feel relieved and stupid all at the same time. It’ll be fine. I will just write the message in code. If I don’t use the words “party,” “gathering” or “unsupervised,” the eFilter shouldn’t pick up on it. liz and jessie get to their feet squealing, running to wrap their tanned limbs around me, giving me one of their infamous twin sandwiches for the first time. Warmth spreads through my limbs as I realize everyone is watching us. They’re jealous of me, like they used to be.

  “Quiet down, girls,” chastity-theresa calls without enthusiasm, and the twins skip back to their seats.

  “So invite everyone, yeah?” megan continues in a low voice. “Except isabel, obviously.”

  “Obviously!” The twins giggle uproariously.

  “But if we get caught it might be useful to have her there,” cara points out. “The chastities love her. She never gets in trouble.”

  “No.” A thick vein pulses in megan’s forehead. “I don’t want her there.”

  “Yeah. We don’t want her there,” liz and jessie repeat.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” megan asks me, raising one eyebrow.

  “No.” I feel an awful excitement at being the favorite for once, the thrill of being preferred to isabel squirming in my belly. “Of course not.”

  I am a good girl. I am appealing to others. I am always happy and easygoing.

  Every nerve in my body is fizzing as I listen to the Messages drone on. chastity-bernadette has been snoring since 10:45, but I warned everyone to wait until midnight. Or the “witching hour,” as I hinted in my stupid message. Some of the girls weren’t interested, but once I told them it was megan’s idea any doubts disappeared.

  11:58 p.m.

  I steal out of bed as quietly as I can, wrapping my lilac bathrobe around me. I peek my head out of my cubicle and see other girls doing the same, a row of floating heads. megan is at the main door to the dorms, signaling for the rest of us to follow. We scurry like mice after her through the cloisters until we fall into the garden, laughing breathlessly. She leads us around the plastic trees to a patch of lime-green grass enclosed by a ring of the poppy flowers. We gather in a circle just inside the poppy-flower border, twenty-nine girls in sheer kimonos, like geishas from Old Japan.

  “It’s freezing out here,” freja complains, goosebumps mottling her skin. She rubs her thighs vigorously, her fingertips dipping into the hollows above her knees. I swing my legs in front of me too, but they still don’t look as skinny as hers. I shouldn’t have finished all of my tofu-burger tonight. I wasn’t even that hungry. liz ate her tofu-burger too. But she didn’t have any relish. I had two dollops of relish. megan ate most of her chick-chick and noodle broth. Is that more or less kcals?

  “What was that voice? Saying I am a good girl, over and over again?” jessie and liz ask, in turquoise robes that match their eyes.

  “You’ve never heard the nighttime Messages before?” I say.

  They shrug, a lock of blond hair emerging from both messy topknots at exactly the same time.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. They’ve probably never had a disrupted night’s sleep in their vapid lives.

  megan claps her hands and we all fall silent. “So, everyone, welcome to my little midnight feast.” She subtly emphasizes the “my” but not enough that I can call her out on it. Not that I would anyway. I take a deep breath, trying to remember what we learned in Unacceptable Emotions class. Anger is ugly. Nice girls don’t get angry. I picture my irritation as a big red balloon bursting through my stomach, leaving a gaping hole behind.

  “To celebrate, I have a surprise for you, girls!” megan rifles through her shoulder bag, the same peach color as her kimono. She looks particularly beautiful tonight, her hair piled in a thick top-knot, that pale skin luminous in the artificial moonlight. She pulls out a large bar of chocco with a “Ta-da!” and some of the others spontaneously applaud.

  “Put those away,” megan says as jessie and liz aim digi-cams at her. “This can’t go on MyFace.”

  “Not on MyFace? But—”

  “No.” megan cuts them dead, glaring until they put the digi-cams back into their pockets. “It must be like tonight never happened.” She brandishes the chocco bar. “Now, christy, you’re not to eat it all. It’s to share.”

  christy attempts a weak smile as she tugs her kimono down, pretending she can’t see freja staring at her soft thighs with open disgust. No one stands up for her, not when it’s megan making the joke, and especially not after what happened with chastity-ruth in Comparison Studies. I pick a cotton flower from the ring of poppies surrounding us, noticing a little caterpillar drawn on a single petal, in a red-and-black leopard print. I hold it closer to find my reflection in the mirrored bud. I want to see if my skin is as incandescent as megan’s in the moonlight.

  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 re
liability 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.”