The Queer Rebels

Chapter 16: Balancing

The room feels smaller tonight, or maybe it's just the weight of everything we've learned pressing in on us. I stare at the white walls, plain, bare, empty. Instead of seeing a blank canvas full of possibilities, they are a stark reminder of how little we know about this place.

How little we know about everything.

Marcy and I sit on the edge of the bed, our backs against the wall, our ankles hanging off the edge. The silence envelopes us.

Outside, the compound is quiet, but my mind is anything but.

I still can't shake Sylvia's image from my mind. The drip of blood trickling from the corner of her lip. The stillness of her eyes.

I didn't know her. Didn't even know about her until a few hours ago. Yet she haunts me.

Marcy shifts. The softness of her shoulder presses against mine. "I feel like my whole world was cracked open today, you know?" she breaks the silence, her voice thoughtful.

"Hmm," I grunt in agreement.

"You never told me about where you went when you disappeared." She glances at me.

I've never lied to Marcy. Never kept anything of consequence from her. She has always been my confidant, my counsel, my compass.

But Harry was very clear with his directions. And, I don't feel any urgency. He made it sound like nothing would happen for at least a month.

"He showed us a supply closet," I say, which is the truth.

"Well, he's certainly shown an interest in you," she teases, lightly elbowing me in the side. "Any fun new gadgets?"

I shrug one shoulder, unsure how to respond, not wanting to dig myself into a hole that I can't get out of. "Everything is new, you know?"

"Yeah. It's strange, isn't it?" Her voice becomes thoughtful. "Back in the city, everything felt so... predetermined. Like we were just following a script laid out for us. But here, it's different."

My brows furrow. "Hmm. I don't know." I try to remember what I was thinking on my Choosing Day. It was only the day before yesterday, but so much has changed since then. I was so ignorant. "We thought we had choices. Thought we had control."

I glance over at her, and Marcy nods with her bottom lip jutting out, pondering what I've said. She turns her face, and her gaze meets mine. "Yeah, but those choices were about what path to take. There was still a general map we were all following."

"I guess that's the mistake I made." The words taste bitter, and I look away. "The choice I made wasn't on the map."

Her hand touches my knee, sending a shock of warmth up my leg.

"Hey," she says. Soft. Cooing. "You didn't do anything wrong. You just wanted to follow the path while also being yourself."

"You're right," I agree. "That's all I wanted to be. Myself. Wanted to have a career. Have a family. Follow the rules. Be part of society. Fit in. Just be a normal man. I–I didn't want to buck the system or break the rules. To be some anomaly. It's not fair."

As the words leave my lips, I think of Alex. Are they an anomaly?

Two days ago, I might have thought so. Put them in the same category as the guy who wanted flames for hair.

A rush of heat flairs in my chest.

I'm angry with myself. Angry at the city for making me think that way.

For categorizing people as freaks.

Harry has a point. If I had known about the Queer Rebels when I was growing up, if I had known people like them existed, maybe I would have seen that there were more possibilities.