That she feared being rejected really resonated with me. If I hadn't liked her already, I would have then. “I like you,” I said.
“Maybe we can be partners or something. But you better not let me down. I refuse to be one of the losers sent home.” She pranced around the small room, radiating excitement. She even rubbed her temples against the walls. “Just think. If we make it to the end of the program, we'll get to fight crime and all that shit. There's nothing better than kicking ass and taking names!”
I could think of a few things I liked better. Boys, music, relaxing.
“This is, without a doubt, the coolest thing to ever happen to me.” As she spoke, her nails elongated to sharp points. The slight sheen of golden hair on her skin stood at attention.
I'd never been in a fight just for the fun of it. But I didn't have nine lives—did she?—so was going to be careful with the one I had. Finally.
“I wonder if we'll get to stay in barracks with the boys or not,” she said.
“I don't know.” What I wondered was if the instructors lived here. Say, a certain hand-to-hand combat instructor named Ryan…. Did he have a girlfriend? My hands tightened into fists at the thought.
“Uh, who are you thinking about, girl?” Kitten smiled over at me. “Your face got all gushy and red. And you better not say Bradley. I'd have to hurt you. That boy is a mhore and no friend of mine is going to date a mhore. Wait. We are going to be friends, right?”
“Yes.” I blinked in confusion. “A what now?”
“A mhore. A male whore.”
I barked out a laugh. “You don't have to worry about me and Bradie boy. He's not my type.” I hadn't dated in a while and had rarely dated boys my own age, but I didn't tell her that. I didn't want her to ask questions, like where I'd met my last boyfriend. Then I'd have to admit I'd been to rehab.
“So we're friends?” Kitten asked again.
“I hope so. I could use one right now.”
“Me, too.” She leaned close, whispering, “Who were you—”
The door opened for the third time, and the ballerina—Mia Snow, Ryan had called her—strode inside, holding a plastic cup. Kitten pressed her lips together and stared in awe.
Mia wore confidence like a cloak; it oozed from her. Despite that confidence, she didn't look capable of fighting me and actually winning. I was taller than she was by two inches.
However, she did look capable of killing me in cold blood. There was something about those enigmatic blue eyes that said, “Enjoy your current breath because it's your last.”
Why had she fought for me? I didn't understand and was afraid to hope she saw something good in me. Yeah, she'd mentioned passion. But that didn't seem like enough to me.
“My name is Mia, and I'll be your guide.” She stopped just in front of us and slapped the cup in my hand. “This is for you. I'm sure you already know the drill.”
A blush heated my cheeks. My first drug test would be today, it seemed. Kitten stared at the cup in confusion.
So I wouldn't have to comment, I returned my attention to Mia, who was clad from neck to toe in skin-tight black syn-leather. At least, I thought it was syn-leather. I'd never seen material so soft and supple. Surely it wasn't real.
When the aliens had first came to our planet through inter-world portals and war had erupted, animals and plants had nearly been decimated. Some of our lakes had even dried up. We'd had to rebuild, well, everything—one of the reasons we were the “New World.” Now we were a society who relied totally on synthetics—fakes, manufactured reproductions.
I didn't just know that from my history books. I knew that because of my great-grandpa. He'd lived through it and had delighted in telling me story after story of poverty and famine. During the rebuilding, the “Enlightened Age,” he said they'd had to find new ways to survive and had relied on alien technology and alien food supplies.
“I'll be here for the next few weeks, helping you settle in,” Mia continued. “If you're lucky, I'll even train you.” Her voice was dainty, but like her eyes, it held layers of sharp steel. “If anyone bothers you or gives you trouble, don't come to me. Handle it yourself. That's part of being an agent.” She paused, studied us. Whether she liked what she saw, I couldn't tell. “I believe a good team works together but a great team likes and respects each other. I can't make the others like you. You have to do that.”
O-kay. That had just seriously lowered my chances.
“No questions? Good,” she said before we had time to respond. “Let's do the tour thing. This way.” She pivoted on her heel and seemed to float away.
Kitten and I shared a reeling glance, then trailed after her. I kept the cup at my side as a long, white hallway closed around us. What was it with these people and the color white?
This way, you'll stand out on the monitors, my common sense piped up.
Ahhh. Now that made sense.
“Did Bradley make it or was he rejected?” Kitten asked Mia, and I had to wonder about her obsession with the boy. Seemed like more than simple curiosity.
“For now, he's in,” was Mia's response. “Who knows how long he'll be allowed to stay. He's been taken to the boy's quarters.”
Kitten frowned. “No co-ed, huh. That would have rocked.”
Mia cast a dark glance over her shoulder. “Fraternizing isn't forbidden, but it is discouraged. At least in the beginning. Neither of you need the distraction right now.” Her gaze focused on me for a split second longer, hard and knowing.
I experienced a flash of resentment. She'd fought for me, but even she acted like the slightest thing would send me into a drug-induced tailspin.
I bet nothing distracted Agent Mia Snow, though. I stared at her. Long black hair swished over her back. The strands were like a midnight waterfall. Still, she looked like she was marching into battle. Ready to kill.
She made a sharp turn, and the walls became silver panels. “The floors are heat and weight sensitive; they logged you into the database the moment you stepped upon them. Your shoe size was taken, your measurements, and your retinal ID.”
Wow. Talk about high-tech.
Talk about Big Brother. Constantly being watched was one of the reasons cameras had been outlawed without a license.
“This is a restricted area, and we'll know the moment you enter without permission,” Mia said. “The computer will recognize your identity, and because of your measurements, it will know exactly how much of an electric shock to administer to hurt without killing.”