Metaltown

  “That was a lot of green back there,” he said casually, as if he weren’t half-clothed. Lena stared at the outline of his legs in the darkness, long and muscled. Men in the River District would never be so unashamed. Her gaze shot away.

  “Eavesdropping wasn’t the only thing we did last night at the Brotherhood office,” she snapped. “Chip’s got sticky fingers.”

  Lena closed her eyes. Who were the bigger crooks? The Brotherhood or the Small Parts Charter?

  Colin tilted his head back toward his apartment. “You coming?” The invitation was directed at Ty, and made Lena feel small, like she didn’t belong, even when Ty shook her head to decline.

  “Why don’t you take the little princess home?” Ty said. “Looks like she misses Mommy.”

  Lena’s knees locked.

  “My mother’s dead.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but the way Ty hunched at her words brought on a wave of victory. Still, the girl had a point. Where would she go? Back to Shima’s? Even though she was tempted, she couldn’t walk there now, not with Mr. Schultz’s gang on the streets.

  Colin didn’t look at her right away, and she worried what that might mean. When Otto didn’t look at her, he was angry, and his anger was far worse than his playfulness. She heard a small tear, and realized she’d been stretching her gloves too far up her wrists.

  “There’s a spot on the couch if you want it,” Colin said to her.

  Ty’s spot. Lena wasn’t in a position to decline.

  A different kind of nerves tightened her insides. She nodded.

  * * *

  She clung to his shadow as they moved through the weeds. Her footsteps on the metal stairs of the fire escape were nearly silent—her goal to draw as little attention as possible. But her hands gripped the handrails, and her gaze darted to all sides.

  When they reached the top, he slid aside the board blocking the window and offered his hand to help her over the ledge. She was still straddling the windowsill when a movement inside made her pulse skip.

  A man—nearly as tall as Colin, but thinner—waited within, a tire iron slung loosely over his shoulders.

  “Nice work, little brother,” he said, gazing over her appreciatively. He barked out a laugh when Colin followed. “Looks like you forgot something.”

  Brothers. Her pulse settled. That explained the resemblance. They had the same long face, like Ida’s, and the same cocky grin. But the spaces below this man’s cheeks were hollowed and she thought his eyes looked a little jaundiced, though maybe that was the yellow light from the buzzing bulb overhead.

  “Your friend Jed sent his dogs to collect,” said Colin harshly. “Don’t worry too much, all right? I took care of it. Me and the Small Parts Charter. Maybe you saw us outside.”

  His brother tensed, mouth set in a grim line.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, though from his flat tone it didn’t sound like he really expected an answer. The tire iron hit the floor with a flat clunk. “Schultz will roast you for this. No one else makes a run on Metaltown. Not even McNulty.”

  Lena didn’t know who McNulty was, but he didn’t sound good.

  “I’m not scared of him, Hayden.”

  “Then you’re a fool.” He stepped up to meet his brother, nose to nose.

  As they squared off, Lena braced herself for more violence. “Stop!” she whisper-shouted. “Is killing each other all you people want to do?”

  They both turned to stare at her. Hayden tilted his head, cocking one brow in the same way his brother did.

  “Kinda feisty, aren’t you?”

  Colin snorted. “You should have seen her kick Imon.”

  “Yeah?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, still jittery. “Well, he did a little more than kick me back.”

  Colin’s shoulders dropped. Abandoning his argument with Hayden, he led her past the quiet bedroom, to the bathroom, where he shut the door behind him. It was a tight squeeze with two people. Too tight. Her head began to buzz like the overhead light.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, voice thin. It wasn’t appropriate for them to be in such tight quarters together. His brother was right outside, likely thinking the same thing.

  He reached around her to the plastic shelving unit on the wall. When his chest grazed hers, she backed up even farther, locked between his body and the cracked porcelain sink. The sweat began to dew on her hairline.

  “Back up,” she said. “Please.”

  He withdrew a first aid kit and a ratty towel, and motioned toward her sweater. Now that she looked down she could see where Imon’s knife had ripped it.

  “Let’s see the damage.”

  “Back up!” She tried to keep quiet but her voice broke. “You’re not wearing pants.”

  His mouth turned up the tiniest bit. “Is that the problem?”

  “I…” She placed her hands on his chest, shoving him back sharply. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, focusing on the light. A wave of nausea crashed over her. “I don’t like small spaces.”

  He hesitated, as if to ascertain that this was true. “Fair enough.”

  Without another word, he left. She locked the door before crumpling over the sink. A ragged breath scraped down her throat, and she forced herself to focus on the overused toothbrushes and powdered dental paste on the ledge. What was she doing here? She didn’t know this boy. His friends were rough and crude, and associated with criminals—one who would have taken her life without a second thought.

  So fragile. Her father’s words echoed in her head.

  She fanned her eyes, willing the stinging to stop, then rolled up her sweater. The wound was small, merely a puncture, but she’d bled enough for a thin, orange rose to blossom on the skin from her ribs to her pant line. It stung when she prodded it. A hiss escaped through her teeth.

  Cleaning and dressing the wound steadied her hands and calmed her mind. This, she could do. This, she had practiced. Turning to the side, she inspected the yellow-brown bruise that remained from Otto’s careful hand. A reminder that no matter who tore her down, she could always put herself back together.

  * * *

  When she left the bathroom, Colin was alone. The crate and plywood that had served as a table had been pushed back against the wall, and a line of light pink rags were hanging to dry on the windowsill.

  He shrugged grumpily when she asked where his brother had gone.

  She crossed her arms. Uncrossed them. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands, debating if she should sit beside him on the couch. Was that where he planned on sleeping? She hadn’t seen another bed. Lena had never slept with another person in the room, not counting Shima, who was a girl, and her nanny besides. She was clearly imposing.

  Colin rose, and she was relieved to see he’d put on some pants. They were too big, and hung low on his hips, drawing her eyes to the place where they connected with the bottom of his shirt. He laid out some blankets on the couch, scratching the back of his neck.

  “Not exactly what you’re used to, I guess.”

  She had the sudden urge to show him what it was like at her house. Big, spacious rooms, heated to comfort. Food available any time from the kitchen staff. Bathtubs and hot water and a plush, oversized bed.

  “Not exactly,” she said quietly.

  He frowned, and then the lines below his eyes pinched in anger. There was a bedroll of some sort in the corner, and he tossed it out on the floor.

  “Well, we can’t all be greenbacks,” he said.

  She’d heard the word before, but no one had ever called her it to her face. A hot flush burned through her. She hadn’t asked to grow up in a big house. No one had given her the choice. And even if they had, he couldn’t blame her for wanting nice things. He would have taken them, too.

  She lowered to the couch, settling delicately so the springs wouldn’t groan, and pulled the scratchy blankets to her neck. When he switched the light off, her hand rose to her breastbone, to rub out the hard, hollow ball formed be
neath it. Cherish’s hacking cough came through the thin walls in the adjacent room.

  The mat crinkled as he lay down, and she listened for several minutes to the sound of his breathing. It made her conscious of her own breathing, and she opened her mouth to make herself as silent as possible. If she were still enough, maybe he’d forget she was there, and maybe she would, too.

  “If you want to go home tomorrow, I understand,” he said.

  She thought of the soup she’d eaten earlier with his parents, the pride in their eyes when they talked about how well he’d done in school, or what a hard worker he was. Despite the fact that their table was a board tilted up against the wall, and they had barely enough blankets to stave off the chill, he didn’t seem so poor right then.

  “I meant what I said,” she whispered. “I want to help.”

  She remembered what he’d told her—that she couldn’t help on the line, she probably couldn’t even help in the charter. But she could help in the office of the Small Parts factory. That’s where she could make changes that would matter.

  But that meant going home, and speaking to her father. He probably wouldn’t even consider giving her a role in the business after what had happened, especially not after he learned that she’d agreed to assist the charter.

  What Ty said had been true. Colin had made a mistake trusting her.

  “Your friend was right about Mr. Schultz collecting money from my family,” she said. “I saw my brother pay him at a party at my house.” Admitting this to Colin felt wrong, but what Otto had done was wrong, too. If the payment had been a legitimate business transaction, it would have been recorded. She would have seen some reflection of it in the documents she’d pored over preparing for her factory visit. She pushed aside her feelings of unfaithfulness. Outside, she’d joined Colin’s cause. She would do what she could.

  “Ty never liked Jed.” He sighed. “I should’ve listened to her.”

  “She doesn’t like me, either,” she said.

  Colin didn’t answer right away. “You fired her.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” She could hear the mat rustle as he rolled toward her. “That job wasn’t just a job to her. It was the only thing keeping these streets from eating her alive.”

  “But, her family…”

  “I’m her family,” Colin said, and the edge in his voice made her lie still in attention. “Half the time that stoop outside is her home. Work is all she had. These jobs, they’re not just jobs, Lena. They’re the only things keeping us going.”

  Which was why they were willing to fight armed men for their right to form a charter. Why they were going to press, and take on one of the most powerful men in the Northern Federation.

  She felt sick. Disgusted with herself. How arrogant and limited she’d been to think patching things up for Ty was as easy as getting her more work. When she’d told Minnick to let her go, she’d displaced Ty from her family. She’d taken away food, and clean water, and all the things Lena had taken for granted.

  “I didn’t know,” she said.

  “I know.” He rolled back.

  “I’ll make it right.”

  He said nothing. He probably didn’t believe her. Why should he? Trust, as he said, was a hard promise to keep. But she would keep it. Even if that meant going home to face her father, just so she could set up a meeting for the Small Parts Charter.

  “Thank you for letting me stay,” she said. And she listened as his breaths grew longer, and heavier, and free of all worry.

  * * *

  Dawn found them outside the Small Parts factory. Thirty-five of them. Everyone who had promised they’d be there, even herself.

  Zeke and his sister brought signs. “WE GOT RITeS,” one said, “SP CHARTER” said another, and while they waited, some of the others painted more on trash can lids and soggy boxes. Lena thought she might be the only one dreading the day; everywhere she looked people were grinning, laughing, even boxing in their own teasing, Metaltown way. But for Lena, the gray sky seemed heavier than before, and the fear inside of her was thick.

  She’d been gone two days, and her father had not come looking for her. He didn’t know where she was, but that didn’t matter. He had the resources to send out a search party. He could have found her if he wanted to.

  He would never forgive her for this. He had a long memory, and prided himself on learning a lesson from every experience. She had taught him one in return. That she was a traitor. That she couldn’t be trusted.

  She’d learned from the best. After all, he’d betrayed his own federation.

  In her heart she knew that the treatment of the Small Parts workers had been wrong. She’d known it since she’d reviewed Otto’s books and seen the discrepancies—the missing pay, the absorption of the Medical Division from its missing heir. Then she’d been to the factory, and sweated beside them on the floor. No breaks, no set hours, dirty water, and abuse by the foreman. Not to mention the exposure in that dreaded “hot room.” It was barbaric. Humiliating to the core. And she’d been there one day.

  Worse than the danger they endured was the fact that her father would hire replacement workers as soon as they were gone. Shells, the people called them. The ones who covered, but weren’t the meat beneath. Josef Hampton didn’t care how the job was done as long as it was done—as long as he had weapons that he could ship to the Northern Fed to fight the East, and the Advocates to fight the North. If this kept up, there would be more weapons than people left to fight.

  If she’d stayed at home, if she’d swallowed her pride and been patient, she might have been able to help the charter. Her father would never listen to her now, but maybe that was for the best. Stopping production at Small Parts meant stopping production at all the weapons factories—they couldn’t build their bombs without the necessary pieces created by this division. Stopping weapons production as a whole meant stopping her father from fueling the Advocates, but it put a lot of people out of jobs.

  There was no way to win.

  She sat on the sidewalk, separate from the others who congregated outside the alley that led to the entrance. On the walk from his apartment, she’d told Colin all she could about how to list his suggestions for change, and the proper ways to address her father to elicit respect. He’d listened carefully, seeking her advice in a way her family never had. But when they’d arrived he’d joined his friends, leaving her on the outside. She couldn’t say for sure, but maybe the safety he’d called on her was some sort of protection from the others. They seemed intent to keep their distance.

  Not that she knew what to say to them.

  Ty walked past, bumping into her so hard she spilled across the sidewalk.

  “Oops.” Ty kept walking. Lena saw her find Colin, and take a place beside him. Her skin burned. But when she looked down the street, at the homeless, at the scantily clad women, she couldn’t help feeling like she deserved everything Ty threw her way. She’d banished her to this life, and until last night, hadn’t realized exactly what that meant.

  She’d thought she could wipe away what she’d done with an apology, but nothing could fix what she’d done. Nothing, except perhaps supporting the charter—Ty’s family, as Colin had put it. And even then, forgiveness would be hard earned.

  Mr. Minnick arrived first, scowling as he approached the building.

  “We got rights!” she heard the little one—Chip—yell. The others cheered behind him. Lena got to her feet.

  “What the hell is this?” Minnick demanded.

  “We want to talk to Hampton,” said Colin. “We’re not working until we do.”

  The throbbing at the base of Lena’s skull had begun again. Before she knew it, she’d backed away from the group, biting her lip so hard it had begun to bleed.

  “You want to talk to Hampton, you go through me,” sneered Minnick. “Then I go through Mr. Schultz. Then he goes to Hampton.”

  Colin took a bold step forward. “See, that’s not going to work,” he said.
“We didn’t sign with Schultz, and we don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Listen here, you self-important little prick,” he growled. “Get your ass inside, or you’re all fired.”

  “Call Hampton,” said Colin. “Tell him the Small Parts Charter wants a meeting.”

  Minnick’s fist shot out, but Colin ducked out of the way. The momentum swung Minnick forward, and he crashed into Ty, who shoved him back. With a thump and a grunt, Minnick hit the ground. The crowd laughed. Lena’s breath caught. They couldn’t fight the foreman. What were they thinking?

  The cheers erupted as Mr. Minnick retreated. He pushed his way back to the employee entrance, his face a furious shade of red. The door slammed shut behind him.

  Lena kept her eyes trained on Colin, fearing the reckless smile that lit his face. Yesterday he’d called off the mob from attacking the Brotherhood, but this was no better.

  “We’re pressing, Minnick!” he yelled. The others joined in. “Press! Press! Press!”

  No. She bounced on the balls of her feet.

  Hampton Industries had its faults, but it had kept all these workers alive.

  Hampton Industries couldn’t care less if these workers lived or died, just as long as they produced.

  When they produced, their products went to the enemy.

  Hampton Industries was fueling a war.

  Choose a side, Ty had told her.

  The sun came, eerie and pink through the haze, lighting the hard, serious faces of the Small Parts Charter as they chanted. The day shift had begun to arrive. A few people joined Colin and the others. Most attempted to push through the gauntlet to the safety of the factory, but found the foreman had locked the doors behind him. Lena watched, terrified, unsure how long they would be able to withstand the pressure of the charter, who hurled insults and blocked their retreat. Finally, Minnick emerged, and her throat clamped shut when she recognized the black pistol in his hand.

  “Back up, rats!” he said. “Let the employees through!”

  People began to yell, curse, focusing their efforts down the alley at Minnick. Lena took another step back, into the street. To her horror, Ty took a swing at a boy trying to get inside the factory. He hit her hard in the jaw with his elbow. She saw Colin take him down and screamed his name.