Heaven Gilded Zarcroft Hybrid

Eighteen

Cynaline got some to-go containers to put our leftover breakfast in, and even helped us set up our new phones. Somehow, he switched the physical keyboard letters from Zarcrotian to English. I didn't see it happen, though—he just set the phones in front of him, fiddled with them, and handed them back to us, along with something else.

"You can use the burner card for now," he said. "We'll meet up at the front entrance later."

"We're splitting up?" I asked

"So we can all find new stuff. Look around! Besides, I need to get something."

Then he disappeared on his hunt for a new tennis racket. Apparently, his old one broke when he used it for a school science project.

Jamie... he just vanished without a word, leaving Dorothy and me on our own.

We weaved through the crowds of people until we made it through a dark entryway to another area. The space was void of many people, making the high ceiling look like the sky. Three wide picnic tables sat against the wall across the room.

A group of about twelve people stood around them. They wore long black ponchos with intricate sapphire and purple silk robes underneath, though it varied between them. The four little kids sorted a bunch of jewelry into different colors of the rainbow, or threw them at each other. The other middle aged adults pulled ornaments and tinsel out of transparent, black crates.

Everything they said was foreign and scrambled. I adjusted the translator in my ear, until I realized they were probably just speaking another non-Zarcrotian language.

As we walked closer, I saw hundreds of accessories strewn everywhere. Some of them were in boxes or on hooks, but most of them were a jumble of shimmering diamonds and metal.

"Are you getting married?" Dorothy joked.

"No," I giggled. "I just want to stand out a little. Imagine having an alien bracelet at school. No one else will have one but me."

"Since you put it that way..."

We dug our hands in the pile of gold and ruby necklaces and rings. Some were real wedding type stuff, and others were random gadgets from a toy capsule or a school store. They didn't look cheap; they looked just like gemstone or metal. I only thought they were fake because no one would sell diamonds for less than an arm and a leg. Even though I loved blue, yellow always caught my eye the most.

Someone put their hand on the table. A guy around my age, with bronze hair to his neck, golden eyes, and a red baseball cap. He wore a black motorcycle suit with a poncho over it, like it was an attempt to fit in with the others (but who am I to judge?). He didn't look up at me at all, and picked at his nails.

I pulled my hand away. "Sorry! Are these not for sale?"

"Oh, they are," he said in a hollow, low voice. He must've been there all day. "Just not all of them. They're for the festival."

I thought for a second. "Sorry about that. What's the festival?"

"A celebration thing. The meteor and all that."

Then it caught my eye: hanging from a small hook on a pole was a necklace. It had a thin bronze rope with a matte, black egg pendant at the end. Shiny gold splotches pitted the coat.

It weighed about a bag of quarters or a small potato. And even though it looked somewhat metallic from afar, it felt like smooth wood.

He finally looked up. His eyes widened, like he expected someone else, but he stayed relaxed.

"They finally gave the Meteor a real name," he explained. "Nervadasha."

"Wait, you were serious? A meteor?" I asked. "It's not crashing here, is it?"