Dear Emerson,
We have arrived at a town called Warshaw. The middle ring is much nicer than the outer. Harmony has nothing on this place! Except for our secret spot, Emerson, nothing will ever compare to that.
B says this is where they fly us into Jericho.
I hope this letter finds you well. B doesn't like me buying stamps, but I thought you would like to know where we are since you will make the journey yourself soon. I can't wait for you to meet B. I will send money when we arrive in Jericho.
Only one more day, Emerson. I will see everything we have ever dreamed of. B says you will live with us, get your own room, and go to the school near his villa. (He calls his house a villa, Emerson!)
Things are finally looking up for us!
-Jez
This letter was sent three weeks ago. I reread it every day. She sounds so happy. I can't wait to tell her about what Riley gave me for my 16th Birthday, but it will have to wait until I see my sister in person.
Riley is nothing like his brother Corey. Even though they have the same brown hair and honey eyes, they couldn't be more opposite. If I had to describe Corey in one word, it would be creepy.
Not Riley Bronze. He is thoughtful and always has been. He shares his lunch and makes sure I never walk home alone at night. Corey thinks I should get used to doing things on my own. That I should learn about what the real world is like. He says I won't always have someone around to “play bodyguard.” And maybe he is right, but I will have this. I look down at the silver piece in my hand. The gun Riley definitely stole from the shop, from right under Corey’s nose.
These are the kinds of things they are not supposed to have, but I don't ask questions. Corey and Riley are always getting their hands on contraband. It's part of their gig, the one Riley makes sure I know nothing about.
“Hold it like this,” Riley says from the safety of Jez's apartment living room, with the colorful curtains drawn. It's her apartment because everything here smells, feels, and is hers. None of it is my own, right down to the clothes on my back. “Only take the safety off if you're about to use it,” Riley instructs while he flips the lever on the side to show me. I nod at him as he squares my shoulders with a gentleness only Riley possesses. He looks mean, but he is soft.
He tucks a strand of blonde from my face that was covering my right eye. “Look down the barrel. See those lines? That's where you put their heads.” He says.
I roll my eyes. “Riley, that's morbid.”
“No, it's reality. Never give them a second chance, Emerson. They will take that chance and run.” Emerson, he never calls me by my full name. That means he is serious. He has been more and more that way recently. Not at all the fun-loving Riley I used to know.
I see the pain behind those dark eyes. The truth. The one Riley has never told anyone, not right out anyway. That he knows a thing or two about second chances. And third, fourth, and fifth chances.
Riley will soon be gone as well, and there goes my last friend in Harmony.
He leans in to see where I aim. His dark hair is buzzed, making his ears stick out, reminding me of when we were kids.
When Riley was drafted into the Palen Army, not even his brother could stop it. He already has an outpost to report to after graduation. It is outside the wall. They never give the Inner Ring to people like us, people like Riley. If you were born in the Outer Ring, there is nowhere to go but down.
Jez really showed them.
“Any news from Jez?” Riley asks as if he knew I was thinking of her. He is still hunched over, looking down the barrel of my pistol with me.
His cheek grazes my shoulder. The stubble on his jaw catches on the fabric of my school uniform. An ugly white collared shirt paired with a navy skirt. “No, not after the first letter. She will write again soon. I'm sure she is just busy with wedding planning. And you know how B is.” I lie.
Riley's face falls as he turns his head to look at me. “No, I don't, and neither do you. You have never met him.” He states.
Jez told me all about B, how he is a gentleman, and how he wants to get us out of Harmony and into Jericho, where he lives. But it is true, I do not know B at all.
I turn my head slightly, looking into Riley's right eye—the one with a gold fleck in it. Jez told me men like when you look at them past their flesh and bone. Look at them like you're searching for their soul, she would tell me.
It is hard to look for Riley's soul because when he straightens and clears his throat, he stands a whole foot taller than me, putting me at his chest. He also hardly looks me in the eye long enough for me to see anything at all, let alone the deepest part of him.
When I first met Riley while Jez was working at the pawnshop, I thought he hated me. He avoided me like the plague, always slipping to the back to be as far away from me as possible.
Jez told me to follow him one day, but before I could reach the door he was always disappearing behind, his father had stepped in the way. He smelled like gasoline and always talked too close to my face. All the Bronze boys have the same square jaw and dark features, which makes them terrifying creatures, yet beautiful.
He grabbed my shirt and pulled me close to his chest that day. “You should come work for me, kid,” he told me before planting a wet kiss on my forehead. Riley stood behind him, hardly even 12. I'll never forget the look on Riley Bronze’s face before he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me to a room in the back.
I thought I was in trouble with how tightly he had squeezed my hand. “Don't ever talk to my Da again, understand?” he told me, but I wasn't listening. The room had some discarded toys and a TV. We could never afford a TV. I was instantly hooked.
After that day, Riley never let me out of his sight again. Every shift Jez had after school, I was there, and so was Riley. We watched reruns of a show about cowboys with guns. The shootouts had pistols that looked much like the one Riley has gifted me. We laughed at their strange way of talking, and cried when our favorite characters died. During the time we spent together, I guess I convinced him to like me somehow.
Years later, when Riley's father was shot and left in that very room, the police chalked it up to some pissed-off gang member his father had owed money to. It wasn't uncommon in Harmony for that to happen. It also wasn't uncommon for the police to give less than two shits about its people. They don't care if we live or die, not in Harmony.
Riley turned up at my place that night. Jez was still at work. There was a knock at our door I planned on ignoring, like Jez taught me. When Riley called out to me, I broke our rule and let someone in, not just anyone, Riley.
He didn't tell me what was wrong, but I knew something wasn't right. He was all jittery. His eyes were sunken in like he hadn't gotten sleep in a long time. His face was swollen from a fight, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was he was here, and he was scared. I just didn't know what he was scared of at the time.
Riley clears his throat a second time, and I am forced to the present once more. “Can you stay?” I ask him as I slowly put the gun back in its holster.
A little too slowly because as Riley watches me, he says, “It's not going to hurt you.” He laughs as he continues to watch me struggle. Then, “No, I have a shift.” He answers my question. Riley works at the pawnshop, the one his father owned. Now, it belongs to Corey.
“But it's my birthday,” I plead jokingly. He rolls his eyes and glances at the door. I know he doesn't want to go. I also know he doesn’t have a choice. Nevertheless, it's fun to tease him.
“Come see me. After Corey leaves at 11 like he always does.” Riley says coolly.
“Fine” I push my bottom lip out and pout as he passes me and reaches for the knob.
He looks down at me on his way, “Come on, don't do that.” He spins around quickly and brushes his finger across my bottom lip so it makes a small slapping sound. We both laugh. I used to get mad when he would do that, but now, when I get the old Riley back, even for a second, I take it.
“Don't tell anyone about the gun, Emerson.” He warns me, all serious again.
I step closer and look up at him, pretending to be appalled. “Why Riley Curtis!” I exclaim. His lip twitches at his middle name. I ignore it. “Did you steal my birthday present?” My words drip with sarcasm. Now, he is full-on suppressing a smile. Every now and then, I can get him out of that stiff personality he sometimes takes on.
Riley leans over and places a kiss on my cheek. “Anything for you, Em.” He says near my ear. My face burns for reasons I cannot explain. Riley has kissed my cheek many times. We know more about each other than anyone else. Many of Riley's wounds from fighting have been mended by my own hands, not all of which were so easily accessible. I know every scar on his body.
Lately, something has changed. It's not a bad change, just… different. His words have become less playful, his actions more thought out, calculated. Still, he always finds a way to see me during the day, even with his job and school, and now with the Palen Army creeping its long fingers around his neck.
Maybe he feels bad for me because my sister has left. Maybe he thinks I need someone around now, especially since the apartment is empty. I still go to school, have barely passing grades. I still cook, clean, and take care of the bills with the money Jez left me. I have been doing everything by myself since I was a child, he knows that. Riley has always been overprotective of me, even when I don't want him to be.
I can't help it when the little girl I used to be screams at me from the far recess of my mind. The one who thought I would marry Riley, who thought he was mine and mine alone. Of course, he is not.
In fact, he has a girl who comes into the pawnshop and stares at him. He flirts with her, and she flirts right back. Her dark hair falls in perfect curls, and she is closer to his age, or at least she looks it, although I have never seen her at school. Her full lips are always coated in a thin layer of neutral lipstick, and she wears skirts that lie nicely on her hips and expose her legs. She is exactly the opposite of me, with my pale blue eyes and white hair to match my sisters. My stubby legs and curves could not even compare to the gazelle Cherry is. She could be on one of those posters on the trains, the ones with the ads for useless, expensive shit that is not meant for the people of Harmony.
I see how he looks at her. He has never even glanced at me that way. When he does things like that, I shrug it off. I am not the one he wants. No matter how hard my heart pounds against my chest when he is near.
“See you at 11,” I assure him, and he is out the door.
