“There is absolutely a Sting look. The Sting look is more intense and slightly angry. The Rogue look is…” She smirks at me and points with one finger. “This. Giggly.”
“I am not giggly.”
“You’re a little giggly.”
I am a little giggly. I drop onto the bed beside her and lie on my back and close my eyes and let the glow do its thing. For about ninety seconds, everything is fine.
Then Mara says, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’ve been hanging out with this guy Tommy. He’s so nice. He’s been showing me around, helping me understand how things work. Like, who handles what, where stuff comes from, how the trade system operates. It’s been really helpful.”
My eyes open.
“Who’s Tommy?”
Instant suspicion. Jesus, am I a product of the Rot now, or what?
“He’s just a guy. He works in trade logistics or something. He’s been here awhile. He’s older, like forties. Super friendly. You’d like him.”
“How long have you been hanging out with him?”
“A few days? Maybe a week? He started talking to me in the neutral zone and we hit it off. He’s great.”
Something pricks the back of my neck.
“Mara. You’ve haven’t been here long. You don’t know these people.”
“I know. That’s why I’m getting to know them.”
“By telling them what? What do you talk about?”
She stops playing with her hair and looks at me, frowning. “What do you mean, what do we talk about? Normal things. Life. The Rot. How I’m adjusting. He asked about you a little, like how you were doing, if you were settling in okay.”
“He asked about me?”
“In a nice way. Like, caring. He knows you’re dealing with a lot.”
“What does he know about me and what I’m dealing with?”
“Vi, what is your problem? He’s a friendly guy making conversation. I didn’t give him your diary.”
I sit up. The glow from my rendezvous with Rogue melts away. Whatever he gave me ten minutes ago has been replaced by something colder and sharper. I know I’m about to be unfair, but I can’t stop it.
“My problem is that you’ve been here less than a month and you’re trusting strangers with information about me and my situation. You don’t know this guy. You don’t know what he wants or who he talks to or what he does with what you tell him.”
“I didn’t tell him anything important?—”
“You don’t know what’s important, Mara! That’s the point. You don’t know the rules here. You didn’t go through what I went through to learn them. You walked in the front door because I asked the guys to let you in, and now, you’re making friends and telling people about my business like this is summer camp.”
Mara’s face changes. The easy warmth is gone and what’s underneath it is harder than I expected.
“Wow,” she says, raising her hands in surrender. “Okay.”
“Don’t ‘okay’ me.”
“No, I think I will ‘okay’ you. Because what you’re actually saying isn’t about Tommy. You’re saying I don’t belong here. That I haven’t earned it. That I showed up late and I didn’t pay my dues, the price of admission by going through the shit you did, so I don’t get to have friends or feel comfortable or do anything without your permission.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s exactly what you’re saying. You’ve been thinking it since I got here. I can see it every time I do something on my own. Every time I talk to someone or go somewhere or act like I’m allowed to exist in this place without checking in with you first. It drives you crazy.”
