First World(31)

She shrugged, but didn’t comment further. It was a circular argument we’d been having for years.

I worked hard and eventually my thick hair caved to the vigorous attack. Braiding the shiny curls off my face, I smiled. It was stupid, but my braid gave me a sense of normalcy. Lucy grabbed my arm as I moved to the toilet.

“There’s no tissue. You’ll have to use a few from my stash.”

I looked down at the two small pieces she was waving at me.

“Your generosity knows no bounds,” I said drily.

She smiled sweetly. “It’s that or your hand. We’re on rations – I will not be using leaves, thank you very much.”

Shaking my head, I moved to the toilet. It looked ultra high-tech, buttons and gadgets running along the right-hand side. The exact type of thing I would have broken in minutes. Ignoring the buttons, I was going with the hope it worked on the same basic principles as back home. Finishing quickly, I stood. Without any assistance from me, a loud flush sounded. Well, that was a nice change from the drop pits which had replaced flushable toilets in New York. Not enough running water for that little luxury.

Moving back to the sink, I washed my hands. Lucy was finished, dressed in fresh clothes, her two layers of mascara applied and everything. Grabbing my pack, I unearthed a new shirt and underwear before dressing quickly. This was one of my favorite black vintage band tees, last year’s birthday present from Lucy.

Shouldering my pack, I followed her over to the door.

“How do they open? It’s not a sensor. We’re standing right here.” Lucy jumped up and down, waving her hands.

Her bag just about toppled her backwards. She grabbed my arm to rebalance.

“No idea. I can’t figure how anything works on First World.”

Lucy leaned closer. “Oh, and by the way, you totally understated Brace: hot, hot, hotttt.” She drew out the last, fanning herself.

I sighed. “I told you he was gorgeous. It’s a waste; I wouldn’t know what to do with him.”

Lucy opened her mouth.

I interrupted before I could hear her sure-to-be suggestive ideas. “Remember, virgin here, almost eighteen and never been kissed.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Unlike Lucy – who makes out with the extremely good-looking Josh, the delivery dude – for shoes.”

Her mouth dropped. But before she could respond, the door slid open.

Brace was standing exactly where we’d left him. His lilting accent filled the small bathroom.

“Let’s go.” His eyes lingered for a moment.

My face warmed as he turned away.

Lucy, already past my teasing, nudged me and whispered, “You’re staring at him the way I stare at my vintage Manolo Blahniks.”

I shook it off. I was stronger than this attraction. I’d seen Lucy actually drool when she stared at her shoes. Reaching up, I stealthy wiped at my mouth. Thank the gods: drool-free.

We lagged behind. Even I struggled with his long-legged pace.

Finally we caught up to him.

He stood outside a half-size door and gestured for us to step inside. It was a laundry – not the room I expected to be staging an escape from.

Brace faced us, his white teeth flashing. “Well, Abby – and Lucy – since we’re friends now, I’m about to trust you with a protected childhood secret.”

He moved to the back wall and with little effort shifted a large white machine to the side. Bending over, he flicked a latch and lifted a trap door.

“This is an old laundry chute; it drops out into the forest.” He smiled cheekily. “I used this to sneak out when I was young. The only problem was figuring out how to get back inside.”

Judging by the grin, Brace was a terror of a child.

I peered into the wide space of the chute-opening. “How long since you’ve used it?”

He laughed quietly, a sparkle lighting his deep brown eyes. “Quite a few years. My father pretty much lets me come and go as I please now.”

Lucy pushed me aside to carry out her own inspection. “It’s still safe, right? What if it’s rusted away in places?” Her voice echoed down the length.

Brace shook his head, his confusion noticeable. “Rusted? It’s made from Destruck, and isn’t even through a third of its thousand-year guarantee – it’s safe.”

Lucy snorted. “A thousand years ... I guess that’s good enough for me.”

Brace squinted at her; he didn’t understand the source of her sarcasm. With a half-smile, he turned away.

“I’ll go through first and see you at the bottom.” He pulled himself into the opening, long legs hanging down. “Don’t worry about the alarm and fields; I’ll disable them.” Then he pushed off and was gone.