Displaced

My mom should have killed me

My mom should have killed me the day I was born. In her nearly nine-hundred-year reign as the Empress of the First Family, sparing my life seventeen years ago was her single act of mercy. 

Evians around the world refer to me as “Enora’s Folly.” 

It’s no wonder I’m fatally flawed, a blemish among the shining population of evians Mom rules. I spent my childhood running away from my twin sister’s taunts. Maybe that’s why no one on the island can catch me. On days when life feels too heavy and my heart struggles to beat without melancholy, the Kona wind blowing against my face reminds me the world is vast and full of possibility. And on days when I need that wind, but my mom’s too busy to run with me, there’s always Lark. 

“Wait up,” she calls from dozens of yards behind me. 

I stop at the top of the northeastern cliffs, the highest point on Ni’ihau, and scan the horizon while I wait for her. Dolphins leap energetically in the distance. I’ve been on this island the majority of my life, yet every single time I stop to take in the lush island of Kauai in the distance, and every time I stand at the highest point of Ni’ihau, the majesty of my surroundings astonishes me. When Lark finally reaches my side, her lungs heave in great, gulping breaths and she bends over double. “We should’ve taken the horses.” 

“Are you okay?” I lift one eyebrow. 

She waves her hand at me absently and wheezes. “Fine, you i***t. Not all of us are machines. You’ve got to ease up for the little people.”

“You’re the one who suggested we take this trail.” 

“I guess that makes me the idiot.” She straightens next to me, her heart rate decelerating back to normal. 

“As your best friend, I officially disagree with you.” I grin. “You’re smart and talented, Lark. People like you. Now repeat that until you believe it.”

“Speaking of how much you love me...” Lark won’t meet my eye. 

“What’s up?” I ask.

“I need help.” 

Most evians don’t do favors, not without negotiation and quid pro quo, or at least a few moments of analysis to weigh the impact and risk to them. But I’m the broken heir, the defective twin, the one who doesn’t view friendship as a commodity like I should. 

Which is why I immediately say, “Anything. You already know that.” 

Lark’s voice drops to a whisper. “The intelligence subsection is getting more competitive every year.” 

She’s a year older than me and recently completed her training, which means placement for her first work assignment happens in the next few days. 

“Right,” I say. “Balth said it’s gotten popular.” Not that I care, since I’ll never be placed anywhere. I’m stuck here forever. 

“A few years ago, Mom could’ve gotten me a spot for sure.” 

“But now?” 

“Well.” She clears her throat. “She can’t do much now. But if I could defeat a seventh gen in a challenge. . .” 

Lark wants to fight me. And more than that, she needs to beat me. Publicly.

“You want to stab me with a sword in front of everyone we know?” That’s a pretty big ask. I mean, I heal lightning quick, but it still hurts. Plus, Lark is tenth gen. Losing to her would be a new low, even for me. 

“I really don’t want to get stuck working for Uncle Max.” 

“Oh come on. He loves fostering the young minds. He’s always talking about it.” 

“He is.” Lark groans. “The idea of restructuring corporations all day long. . .” She closes her eyes. “I’ll die of boredom.” 

Lark has always been melodramatic. “Just submit your DNA and you’ll be auto-admitted into intelligence. It’s not that competitive. I mean, you suck at appearance modification, and your mom is pretty well known, so you’ll probably be stuck human side initially, but you can buckle down and practice your modifications and you’ll cross over eventually.” 

“But if I defeat you, I’d be automatically ranked number one in Alamecha’s class.” 

And I’d look pathetic, losing to someone with three generations more genetic deletions. I open my mouth to tell her no, but her quick inhalation stops me. She can test right into a top tier Security placement with a simple blood draw. Usually only candidates below fifteenth gen resort to theatrics like a public challenge. Why would she ask me to destroy my reputation for something she doesn’t even need? 

“You’re absolutely positive you want a Security placement?” I ask. 

Her gray eyes widen and her breath hitches again. This request matters to her. She might have even orchestrated this run to ask me without interruption. Heaven knows she never wants to go jogging, so this suggestion came out of the blue. My oldest friend has never asked me for a single thing, not in seventeen years. She probably knows better than anyone else how hard things are for me, and now she’s asking me to do something she doesn’t really need, knowing Judica will never let me forget my defeat. 

Why?

I want to shove the thoughts away and ignore the nigglings at the back of my mind. But I can’t. I’m not wired that way, and I keep circling back to the same conclusion. “I can only think of one reason you’d ask me to throw a challenge.” 

Lark’s heart rate spikes and the scent of her perspiration rises, almost as strongly as when she was running full tilt. 

Unfortunately, that’s the confirmation I need. “You can’t do the blood test.”

Her nostrils flare. “Of course I can.” 

She’s lying to me, but I hope I’m wrong about why. Because I think she just asked me to commit treason, and she didn’t even plan to tell me I was doing it.