She’s speaking a foreign language. “What’s a legacy?”
“It means your parents are thieves. I’m a legacy, too. In fact, all of us are, except you, I guess. My parents are hustlers in Vegas by day and Cirque du Soleil performers by night. Fitting into tight spaces is my specialty.” She smiles, and her cheeks bunch up.
If by tight spaces, you mean your uniform. The cruel thought hijacks my brain, and I immediately compliment her to counteract the shallow thinking that’s ingrained in me. Ugh. I’m the worst. “Judge the girls and worship the guys” no more. “You must be really flexible,” I say, summoning genuine interest.
“I am.” Coming to a halt, she bends over backward and grabs her ankles before wedging her head and shoulders between her knees and pushing into a handstand to get out of the pose.
Jaw slack, I stare as she flips onto her feet.
“What do your parents do?” she asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“I was adopted, so I’m not sure if I’m a legacy,” I say, regaining my wits. “I suppose it’s possible.” We continue down the trail.
“Oh.” She frowns. “I’m sorry about your real parents.”
“Don’t be. I never met them, so I don’t miss them. But my adoptive parents definitely weren’t thieves.”
We stop in front of a massive tree. “This is the entrance to the dorms,” she says, running her fingers lightly over the trunk. To my surprise, the tree splits up the middle, opening to reveal an elevator.
“How did you do that? Does the tree recognize your fingerprints?” We step through the opening.
She laughs. “No. Keystone doesn’t allow biometrics. There’s a button on the ground next to the tree that opens the doors. I stepped on it while you were watching my hands.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you up to speed.” She presses the letter D on the panel inside the elevator, and we descend below the earth—I have no idea how far.
“What are your adoptive parents like?” she asks.
“They’re farmers who make and sell organic jams, but, like I said, I never fit in. I was always in trouble—I’ve been stealing for as long as I can remember. I can’t help it.” I conjure my real mother’s acting lessons to deliver the lies. “They didn’t know what to do with me, so I made it easy on them and disconnected. They won’t miss me. They’re probably relieved.”
“That’s so sad,” Rayelle says. “You must be lonely.”
“I am,” I admit, and it’s a relief to tell the truth for once. “It’s like I just got to camp and I’m counting down the weeks until I go home, but then I realize I don’t have a home anymore.” My voice cracks.
Putting her arm around me, she squeezes my shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’re your family, now. This will feel like home in no time. You’ll see.”
She sounds so genuine my throat aches. I wish I could tell her everything, could reveal myself to this girl who, in another life, could have true friend potential. But it’s impossible.
“Thank you.” Smiling, I wipe away a tear. “I hope so.”
“I know so.”
The elevator doors open, and we step into a greenhouse with high glass ceilings and a scaffold system of bright, white lights. Rows of plants are lined up in black barrels. It smells of damp earth, life.
“What is this place?” I ask, putting the past behind me, where it belongs.
“It’s the grow house and the dorms. There are vaults that store every kind of seed in existence, and the weather changes in each corridor to mimic actual climates. The first-year dorms overlook Brazilian sugarcane fields, second-year is China rice terraces, and our rooms are in California—strawberries and oranges. Next year, we’ll be in the Netherlands—tomatoes and chilies. Our wing smells like orange blossoms. It’s my favorite.”
She points out each farm as we walk through the glass hallway that forms a circle around the grow house, separating the dorms from the crops, our footsteps echoing on the bamboo floors.
“Keystone is completely self-sustaining. We can grow anything,” she says. “And survive if we have to.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, in awe that a secret of this magnitude exists.
Up ahead, Kyran picks an apple and tosses it to Garrett. My stomach drops at the sight of him, my arm hairs standing on end.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Rayelle says, studying me. “That’s Garrett Alexander. Yes, he’s hot, but he’s practically married to Chloe over there.”
On the other side of the crops, a copper-haired girl with tawny skin is headed for Garrett. Her jumpsuit somehow manages to make her look like a curvy goddess. In my old life, I would have pinged her as a potential friend—the prettiest girl I’ve seen, and therefore a required ally.
“She’s a total decoy,” Rayelle says. “The only thing she’s good at is distraction, but Garrett seems to be into that.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
Rayelle smiles. “It is. He’ll probably pick her as his partner when he wins the Quest, but every girl here wishes he’d pick them.”
“Not me,” I say as we pass into another glass room. The air here is thick and humid, and sweat beads on my forehead. “I hope nobody picks me.”
“It’s not an option. You have to assist in the Initiation Heist—it’s your training for next year, when you lead your own heist. But don’t worry. He won’t.”
Disappointment dips in my belly, and I’m annoyed that I care in the first place.
“Hey Sophia,” Rayelle calls out. “Who’s your roommate?”
Up ahead, a girl with white-blond hair that reaches her butt turns around. “Ugh. Harbor.” Her eyes are huge, painted like a cartoon, and the only thing asymmetrical about her is a set of whiskers snaking over one of her cheeks.
“Weird,” Rayelle says as we fall into step with Sophia. “Who’s Chloe rooming with, then?”
“Nobody. The boys are in a triple, and she has a single. Wonder who arranged that.” Sophia rolls her eyes.
“This is Elisha, by the way,” Rayelle introduces me. “She’s my roommate.”
“New girl. Nice work at the assembly,” Sophia says. “Were you trying to jump out the window or something?”
I feel the blood drain from my face as I picture my ridiculous-scarecrow-act—all flailing arms until I launched myself across the room. Awesome first impression. “There was a bird flying straight for the glass, and I thought I could stop it.” Tripping over my words, I quickly change the subject. “Do you two want to room together? I’ll stay with Harbor. Everyone is new to me anyway.”