Our Price: Of Shifters and Rebels

Chapter 2: Market

“Where were you headed to?” Milo tilted his head, his glasz colored eyes questioning.

Layla held up the list. “The market.”

Bec stood up, sliding his hand through his black hair, which left it tufted up in spikes. “What about lunch?”

She shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.

Bec scowled, but Milo tugged him away and the boys quickly departed.

Caza rummaged through her pack and then tossed her a pera. Layla eyed it suspiciously. “Oh, alright fine! Yes, it’s from Bec!” Caza held up her hands, “You want it, or not?”

“Yeah,” Layla grinned before taking a bite. The boys had already returned with their own bikes.

“Mind if I get a ride?” Caza asked Milo, “didn’t think to bring mine.”

They all laughed. Caza’s family couldn’t afford a cruiser. Somehow, their large family got by with just one ship.

Caza hopped onto Milo’s cruiser, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He pulled on his helmet as did Bec and Layla, and they made their way downtown. At midday break, the streets were bustling full of people. They weaved in and out of traffic, their cruisers responding to their every touch. Low-flying ships were always dangerous to weave under or around. Finally, they arrived. The market of New Chicago was famed for its splendor. Everywhere one looked, stalls manned by citizens, mostly Nomads, bustled full of people. Layla loved to watch the nomads, especially the women. They were so unlike citizens; their clothes boasted all the colors one could think of and their jewelry sparkled. Of course, they were born for talent like this, but sometimes she felt a little jealous. They parked the bikes near a stall as she pulled out her list. Bec grabbed it from her.

“Hey!” she protested.

He laughed, but dangled the list just outside her grip. She jumped once, but who was she kidding; Bec was 6 feet 1 and even with her impressive height of 5 feet 9 …well let’s just say she wasn’t going to cut it.

“Mm, mm, mm…” he murmured, his eyes skimming the list.

“What?” she asked, exasperated.

“Looks like Mrs. Kane might cook tonight,” he grinned.

His father and her mother had been good friends and the two had grown up together since they were kids, but her anger got the best of her. “That’s not funny,” she snapped.

His smile faded and he began to apologize, “I’m sorry Lay, just-”

Her cheeks grew hot and she turned away from him, not trusting herself to control her emotions. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but her mother … well, he shouldn’t have said it.

“Seeing as we have class in an hour, I say we divide up the list into 4 … whoever gets their allotted stuff and gets back to the cruisers first, wins,” Milo stated, yawning. He stood just as tall as Bec, but he was paler. His hair was a longish, black, and curly, and he was thinner than Bec, yet still built. But what was striking about him, were his eyes. They were what people called glasz eyes – a mix of blue, green, gray and a hint of yellow that seemed to sharpen whenever he was thinking. He had a keen mind, Arthur had said, and truer words were never spoken. Milo often stayed up thinking or working on tech pieces and one could often find him crashed asleep at his base ledger. He was the total opposite of Bec, but they were close friends.

Caza nodded at the idea, eager for the game.

“Is there a prize?” Bec’s eyes flashed mischievously, as if he knew some secret.