Metaltown

  She tailed after Josef, Otto gloating at her heels.

  In the parlor, the maid delivered a tumbler of corn whiskey to her employer, and then quietly took her leave. Otto collapsed on one of the leather couches lining the room. The light was low, but did not hide the hard lines etched around their father’s eyes.

  Josef tossed back the first drink, then went behind the bar to serve himself another.

  “What were you doing in Metaltown today?” he asked without looking up.

  She slowly filled her lungs, summoning control. “I went to speak to an employee regarding a girl I fired earlier in the week.”

  “A girl you what?” Otto lurched up, shoes clapping against the tiled floor. “You fired someone without running it by me?”

  “You didn’t even notice,” said Lena.

  “I’m not interested in that,” said her father. “I’m interested in why you were outside the factory, alone, with the help.”

  She didn’t like the way he said help, as if Colin was no different from their maids, or any of the other workers. “I wasn’t alone. Aja was there.”

  “And I’ve dealt with Aja.”

  A beat passed, and Lena’s mouth fell open. “You let him go.” Aja had been with the family for years.

  “Could I have done any different?” Her father came around the bar, a hint of flush showing on his neck.

  “Aja did nothing wrong. I told him to take me to Metaltown.”

  “He works for me, not for you, Lena. Though, apparently you can be quite persuasive.”

  Her chin pulled inward. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Her father came close, grabbing her chin harshly and lifting her face to his. Gone was the gentle reminiscence of the previous night when he’d talked about her as a baby. This was the man who’d held her bird—the only gift he’d given her—only to crush it in his fist.

  “Father.” Otto had risen and was standing several feet away. The concern in his voice frightened her. Otto should have been enjoying himself.

  “Stay out of this,” Josef said evenly. “If you had any self-respect you would have managed this yourself.”

  “I didn’t do anything.” The tears burned Lena’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “I just went to speak to him.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” His level, emotionless tone made her insides tremble. “Do you know what it looks like? You, rolling around in the back of my car with one of them?”

  She lifted her chin. Forced herself to be still. “It’s not what you think. Otto, tell him.”

  Otto said nothing.

  A sharp pain lit up her jaw as her father squeezed harder. His eyes were black and bottomless. She became unable to remain a statue. Scratching at his hands, she tried to pull him off, but her satin gloves slipped.

  An image of her nanny flashed through her mind. The only person in this cold house from whom she’d ever felt love. But looking into her father’s stare, that love felt wrong, undeserved.

  “He’s a worker, Lena. Do you want to spend your days hunched over a sewing machine or stamping metal? You wouldn’t last five minutes.” He breathed in slowly, then out, nostrils flaring.

  “I think she understands,” said Otto weakly.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Her voice cracked.

  “You fraternized with an employee,” said Josef. “You told me you wanted to learn the business. You wanted to take on responsibility. But all you wanted to do was play in Metaltown. You lied to me, Lena. I trusted you, and you made a mockery of our family.”

  A great rage rose within her, like a tidal wave blocking out everything behind it.

  She shook herself free from his hold, his thumb and forefinger leaving aching points on either side of her jaw as her narrowed gaze burned up at him.

  “I lied? I’m not the one selling weapons to the other side just to prolong this stupid war. I wonder how long ago the fighting might have stopped if not for your clever interference. A year ago? Longer? Tell me, Father, do you leave the crates of artillery unattended on the supply trains, or do you have them delivered all the way to General Akeelah’s doorstep?”

  His hand came down hard against the side of her face. So hard, she felt her brain rattle, and her joints and muscles temporarily give out. She hit the ground on her hip, tumbling on her side, vision wavering, static in her ears.

  He’d hit her. He’d never hit her before.

  The shock gave way to fear, and rage, and disgust, creating a potent, suffocating mix in her lungs. Small gasps were all she could afford, but she closed her lips. Her hot, burning skin became a mask to hide the horror beneath. She willed steadiness, calm. Maybe it was stubborn, or maybe it was just her Hampton blood. Either way, she kneeled, smoothed down her skirt, and rose on shaking legs.

  Josef’s head had fallen forward. His hands rested on his hips. He looked exhausted.

  “This life you love so much has a cost,” he said, raising his chin. “This house. These things.” He held his arms wide, but they collapsed again at his sides. “Without the war, we have nothing.”

  A weak laugh slipped from her throat. These fine things were theirs because they’d funded the enemy. This house was built on the backs of workers who weren’t even paid half the time. If this was what this life cost, she wanted none of it.

  “We already have nothing,” she said.

  Without looking back, she walked from the room—slowly, as her legs were still unsteady. She climbed the stairs, entered her bedroom. With numb hands and a numb heart, she reached beneath her mattress for Colin’s scarf, and within it, a doll, given to her long ago by the only person who’d ever really cared about her.

  Her eyes landed on the birdcage before the window. Empty now, since the maid had removed Lena’s only friend. She went to gather some things and reached for a silver-backed hairbrush on her dresser. How much had that cost? A day’s wages at one of her father’s factories? A week’s? Enough to send the girl she’d fired to the doctor, at least. And yet, it wasn’t even one of her most prized possessions. If she lost it, she’d just get another. She left it where it was.

  She needed to get out. Out of this cold house. She’d crossed a line downstairs, told the truth, and been punished accordingly. This family didn’t honor honesty. Northern Federation soldiers were dying at the hands of well-armed Advocates, just so she could wear nice clothes, and eat clean food. Everything she touched felt tainted. She’d never been less hungry. She wanted to give everything she owned away.

  Her feet carried her down the stairs, to the door where her coat hung. She grabbed it and calmly walked outside into the freezing, black night. No one chased her, no one called for her. She didn’t expect them to. She found the carriage house, and the car in the garage. The keys were hanging on a rack on the wall, and with shaking hands she took them and pressed the button to open the door.

  She’d never driven before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. She’d seen Aja do it enough. Scan the key, start the ignition. When the car began to roll back she tested her foot on the brake, yelping when the vehicle jolted to a stop. Setting her grip on the wheel, she eased off the pedal this time, backing down into the circle, and pressing the button that said DRIVE. The steering was sensitive and the car jerked each time she shivered.

  Away, she thought. Anywhere but here.

  Some of the streets were familiar, others not. Squinting into the black, she drove on, never slowing, never stopping. There were no cars on the road this late anyway.

  Soon she recognized the beltway that led to Metaltown. The factory, she thought. She could go to the factory. It might be open. Panic chipped through the numb shell encasing her heart. If it wasn’t open, she didn’t know where she would go. She didn’t even have her nanny’s address anymore, not that it was right anyway.

  No, she would just keep going. Keep going until the Tri-City was so far behind her, she couldn’t even remember what it looked like. She would be fine on her own. She was strong. She would be strong. Anyw
here was better than her own house.

  A figure in the road caught her attention and she slammed on the brakes, swerving across the empty lanes. She was thrown into the side window. Spun and spun until her stomach was in her throat and she was sick with dizziness. The rear of the car hit the median with a metallic crunch. The back window shattered, sending a blast of cold air into the compartment.

  And then everything went still.

  She was shaking. Every part of her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

  Someone came running at the window. Through the thin glass she heard the footsteps. Terrified, she searched for something she might use to defend herself. She hadn’t brought a defuser. She didn’t have anything. Glass, she thought. She was just reaching over the seat to grab a shard of the broken window when the driver’s door was yanked open.

  A startled cry burst from her throat.

  “Lena?”

  She spun toward the familiar voice. In the moonlight she could see his face, the shadows on his jaw, the surprise in his eyes. The thin scar cutting through one eyebrow. For a fraction of a moment she wondered what he was doing there, and then realized she didn’t care. Her hands covered her face and she screamed silently, rocking back and forth, yielding to the twisting inside of her.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. She felt his hand on her back, sliding down to her hip. Then another on her ankles, moving them from the floorboards. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t find her Hampton mask to hide beneath. Every jagged, raw emotion spilled from her, uncontained, and trying to collect the pieces just made her feel more fractured.

  “Okay,” she heard him say, voice soft. “Come on.” He slipped one arm under her knees, and the other behind her back. She felt her body shift beyond her control, and then her cheek was against his shoulder, and he was lifting her to the front of the car.

  He sat her on the hood, where she curled into a ball, knees against her chest, hands gripping her shins. The cold air wedged itself between them, and when she looked up she saw he was standing a few paces back, arms crossed over his chest. Her whole body was quaking so hard he seemed to vibrate, but she couldn’t stop it.

  “What are you doing here?” She forced herself to breathe, the shuddered breath ice cold in her throat.

  “Dodging cars,” he said with a frown. “Makes it harder when they don’t use their headlights.”

  She knew she’d missed something.

  “I’ve never driven before,” she said.

  “You don’t say.”

  She realized how insane she must have appeared. It disgusted her, how little pride she had. She fixed her gloves and slid down the front of the hood to stand.

  As if he’d been waiting for this, he shot forward, gripping her elbows. “You should sit awhile. You’re shaking.”

  The flush crept up her cheeks. Gradually, he released her arms, and she found he was right—she nearly tipped over. He didn’t reach for her again; he stayed where he was, pulling his coat tighter across his chest.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “It’s not been the best day.” She glanced up at him.

  He pulled off his hat and scratched his head, then replaced it. “No, it hasn’t.”

  She wrapped her arms around her chest, shivering, though now from the cold. She probably looked ridiculous, blotchy cheeks and smeared makeup, but she didn’t care. He didn’t seem to either.

  Reaching around her, he picked something up off the hood of the car where she’d just been sitting. His scarf. It must have slipped off her lap when he’d set her there. He gave a small smile as he held it out for her, and she hesitated before taking it, unsure if she should put it on, and she hesitated before taking it, unsure if she should put it on.

  “Thanks. Again,” she said, laughing once awkwardly, and then wincing because she sounded so stupid. The doll within fell to the pavement, but before she could reach it Colin had stooped beside her. Bent low, with the shards of glass reflecting the moon like diamonds, they found themselves face to face. His gaze caught hers, deep and steady, and though her breathing slowed her heart beat harder.

  “Where’d you get this?” he asked.

  “Oh.” She remembered herself then, and grabbed the rope toy, tucking it into her coat pocket. “My … um … nanny made it for me. When I was little.”

  “Ah.”

  “No witty remark?” she huffed. “No comment about the poor little rich girl and her nanny?”

  “I guess I’m fresh out.” His lips straightened, as if he were trying not to smile. “Stick around, though, and I’m sure I can come up with something.”

  A laugh bubbled up, sealing the ache beneath her collarbone. Less than an hour ago, her father had struck her, and here was this Metaltown boy who didn’t even know her, trying to make her feel better.

  She looked back at the small, wrecked car. The tire that was pressed against the median had popped. The rim rested directly on the ground. She couldn’t even run away without making a mess of things.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Your family’s probably wondering where you are,” he said. “I can take you somewhere to call them. Doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere in this.” He kicked the deflated tire.

  “I can’t go back,” she whispered.

  The truth settled over both of them, cruel and cold as the Metaltown night.

  He stepped closer, making her heart trip in her chest. “Come with me, then.”

  “I…” She frowned. Could she go with him? What would her father say about that? Realizing it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care, she made her decision. “Okay.”

  “It’s a walk,” he said. “Sure you can handle it in your poor little rich girl shoes?”

  She smiled down at them. “I think I can manage.”

  19

  COLIN

  By the time they had reached the end of the beltway, Colin had herded Lena to the opposite side of the street. Every step he had taken closer to her, she’d moved subtly away, like the wrong end of a magnet. The game amused him, though he doubted she even knew they were playing.

  Stealing a glance in her direction, he found her chin buried in his scarf, and her gloved hands deep in her coat pockets. She’d stopped trying to fix her hair, and it hung loosely over her shoulders and back. Not that anyone cared, but he thought it looked better that way.

  He didn’t ask what had made her run away, but the bruise still forming on her jaw gave him a good idea. Thinking about someone laying a hand on her burned him up. Surprised him a little, too. He wasn’t sure when he’d started thinking that the Hamptons were all on the same side. It was possible he’d never considered they weren’t.

  The fog from the chem plant may have muddied the shape of the moon, but it brought up the temperature and took the edge off the chill. Fifty feet below them, a single train began to chug down the tracks. It was striped head to toe with green graffiti—the mark of McNulty’s gang. The heavy sigh of the engine filled the night.

  “It’s late for a train, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. She had paused by the edge of the sidewalk and leaned over the railing, gazing down on the parallel tracks below. He thought of all the times he and Ty had come here, wishing they were someplace else. Ty would kick his ass all the way across the bridge if she knew what he was doing now. She’d be right, too. Lena Hampton’s business was not his business. He needed to stay out of it.

  And first thing tomorrow, he would.

  “Supply cars,” he said, moving beside her. When she didn’t scoot away, he inched closer. “Probably taking weapons to the front lines. The fighting’s getting worse, I heard.”

  When she stiffened he stifled a groan. Stupid, bringing that up. She probably didn’t want to talk about her family’s business right now. She’d taken off in the middle of the night for a reason, after all.

  “How did you hear that?” She side-eyed him from above his scrunched scarf.

  “Longer hours means a big
order’s coming through. Big orders of weapons usually mean more fighting.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze locked on the trains again, so intently that he wondered if she knew more about the war than what had come through the factory line.

  “Is there more fighting? Last I heard, the North was winning.” He snorted. “I mean, we have to, right? We’ve got the best weapons.”

  Word on the line was that the North was getting closer to pushing the Southern lines back, that soon the Eastern Fed would surrender and the Advocates would disband—but then they’d get more orders. It seemed the war would never end.

  Lena gave a bitter laugh, and sort of crumpled in on herself.

  “Do you even know why we’re fighting?” Her words may have been snobby, but her voice was heavy, sad.

  Colin thought back to the lessons he’d learned in school in Bakerstown. They’d watched movies about it—Eastern soldiers in their black and red uniforms raiding houses, taking anything they wanted. People in jails, crying for the Northern Fed’s help. Hungry people, waiting in lines for corn bread, which was probably contaminated anyway. It had been shocking, until he’d moved to Metaltown and seen the same thing.

  “Because they’re the enemy,” he said, chewing his chapped bottom lip. That’s what people always said anyway.

  “They’re the enemy,” she said. “How do we know we’re not the enemy? What if we’re the ones who are wrong?”

  He supposed there were two sides to every story. Still, he couldn’t figure her out. She should have wanted this war. Her family was getting rich on it.

  “Maybe you should join the Advocates,” he said, then held up his hands when she spun toward him. “Just a joke,” he added.

  Slowly, she turned back.

  “No one wins,” she said, and it made him think of Small Parts, and Ty, and even the Advocates, facing up against the whole Northern Federation. How none of them ever seemed to get ahead, no matter how hard they tried.

  “I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m getting out of here.”

  She turned to face him. “You are?”

  “Sure,” he said. “There’s this place on the coast, Rosie’s Bay. You heard of it?”