Numbers Ignite by Rebecca Rode Page A

get is how he convinced so many people that I launched his blasted missile.”
    Edyn frowned. “Mills holds their livelihood in his hands. He’s the person who assigns jobs and living quarters, if you haven’t noticed. His biggest supporters get the nicest homes, the structures nearest the rim. New refugees start at the bottom and work their way up as they prove themselves helpful to his plans. So, no, they won’t contradict him, even if they know he’s lying.”
    “That’s why our clan is living in mosquito-infested swampland?” I spat. “Because they’re too new to be useful yet?”
    “So you do care,” Edyn said. “I wondered.”
    “Let me guess. You live near the rim because you’re a lawyer. That’s what lawyers do—use their clients’ misfortunes to lift themselves higher.”
    “Everything I have, I’ve earned,” she snapped as she rose out of her chair. “Just like you deserve whatever you get.” She strode toward the door and began to push it open. “Oh, by the way, I saw your mom on my way here tonight. She was with Mills, hanging on his arm and laughing like he was the funniest man in the world. Just thought you’d want to know.”
    The door slammed shut behind her.

 
     
     
     

     
    By the third day of school, there were eight students. Many of them were the older siblings of my original students. They’d probably been sent to listen and report. I was careful to keep to the basics, as I’d promised.
    On the morning of day six, Lillibeth examined my leg and then ran me through a few exercises as she did every morning. But instead of injecting it with healing boosters, she sighed. “Your leg is doing well. It will ache when you walk on it too much, but I think that may take months to go away.”
    “That’s fine. Thanks for all your help. Then the only thing keeping me here is the debt, and I’m working hard on that.”
    She studied my face. “Have we treated you so horribly you can’t wait to leave?”
    “Of course not.” She deserved a little more explanation than that, but I hesitated. “It’s just that there’s someone waiting for me.”
    “A boy. Someone you think you love.”
    The words stung, and I glanced away. “I have to get to him.”
    “Or what? Are you worried he’ll find someone else?” She knelt on the floor so I’d be forced to look at her. “If you have to worry about that, then he’s not the boy for you. I’ve seen so many young people make rash judgments after flings. They always regret those decisions later.”
    “If you’re trying to get me to stay, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
    Her lips pulled together in an expression of disapproval, but she nodded and gathered her supplies together. A dull metal ring shone on her finger today. I hadn’t noticed it before.
    “Is that your wedding band?” I asked.
    She didn’t look at it. “Yes. I still wear it on occasion.”
    I wanted to ask her what had happened to her husband, but the look on her face stopped me. Instead, I asked, “Why do you wear it on your pointer finger? I thought it was tradition to wear it on the third finger.”
    “That’s a NORA tradition. Here, the position of the ring on your hand tells everyone how serious your relationship is. Pinky means you’re promised, but no further. Third finger means your intentions have been ratified by the elders, and middle finger means your contributions have been accepted and you’re about to be married.”
    “Interesting.” It explained the rings I’d seen on various fingers while living down here. “So the ring is because even though your husband is gone, you consider yourself married?”
    “No body was ever found, so yes. I’m still officially married.”
    “But that isn’t fair. What if you found someone else?”
    “Since we’re playing the ‘what-if’ game, what if my husband came home? It would make things awkward if I were married to two men.”
    “Yeah, but that’s not likely, right? You should be allowed some