I've never given anyone the silent treatment before, and I don't think I do a good job on Imam. Every morning, I get up and pray with him. I let him teach him. I answer his questions, but only when they refer to school work. And I try to be polite to him, even though I really, really want to push him out of the nearest airlock.

"Just give her time," I hear Riddick say about a week after I start trying to freeze out Imam. "She's a little freaked out."

"I don't understand why," Imam said. "It would be good for her--good for all of us--to stop traveling for a few months and try to live a normal life. We need to be around other people, or we shall surly all being fighting among ourselves."

It's already started, I think, but Riddick doesn't say that. He just says, "She hasn't exactly had the best experience with kids her age or women." He snorts. "Or men. But she's used to us. Just... give her time."

So, Imam gives me time. He teaches me, we pray together, but we don't really talk. And, okay, so I miss him. A lot, actually. And the more time passes, the more I'm not sure if I'll be able to make things right again.

But, life goes on. I find, to my horror, that not only do I like learning, but I'm also really smart. Despite my initial problems with math, once I learn how to divide and multiply without having to think about it, I'm able to start picking up the more complex stuff, like algebra and problem solving, with minimal difficulty. If any of my teachers growing up had been even half as good as Imam, who knows where I'd be right now? He seems to think I could have gotten into an accelerated private school on scholarship if I'd had the opportunity.

And, as luck would have it, there's one on Xanaca. Imam is already going over the admission requirements and having me take practice tests so I can get in when we arrive. Which of course, begs the question, how long are we going to stay?

"Lajjun should take about six months to get there," Riddick says to me when I ask him. "They probably are going to want to stay on the planet for a while after, getting used to each other and everything. I think you'll be staying there a year."

"I'll be staying?" I say hollowly.

He lifts a shoulder. "You. We. I don't know, Jack. We'll see how it goes. I don't even know how I'm going to pass down there."

We're getting ready for bed, and I'm exhausted. Imam had me take three tests today--math, an essay the book The Seven Pillars of Islam, and a really intense grammar test. Not only that, we started some really wordy book called A Tale of Two Cities, which had my head spinning, and then Riddick had me doing gymnastics for three hours. Back flips, front flips, cartwheels, round offs, splits, balance beam... super intense and super tiring.

But I like it. I like feeling exhausted like this. It feels clean. When I lived with Dad, I was so busy trying to survive, just trying to get through the day, I was always tired, too. It was a different kind of tired, though, one based on fear. This is based on contentment.

And if I wasn't pissed at Imam, it'd be happiness, too.

"Can't you just tell everyone that you're Johns or something? Report Riddick as dead?" I hadn't gotten pajamas during my last shopping trip, so I'm still wearing Riddick's shirts and my shorts to bed. I like sleeping in Riddick's things. I mean, I know everything smells like him anyway, because we share the same bed and all, but having him surround me so much makes me feel really safe.

"Tried saying I was dead before, but the mercs still caught onto me back on Rigel. Of course, Xanaca is a bit like New Mecca in some ways. It attract pilgrims and families looking for a fresh start in a place that's not completely alien. So I might be able to blend in." He sits on the bed. "Lights five percent." The goggles come off.

I climb in bed next to him. "What are you going to do when we get there? I mean." Actually, I don't know what I mean.

Riddick gives me a crooked smile and shrugs. "You know I've never had a job before? All I've ever known is school and the slam. The way the military school I went to was structured, there wasn't any vacation, exactly. No summer job. During the school year, we studied and trained, and during the summer, we went off to camp. And then I killed the merc, so..."

"Right." I lean against him, eyes heavy. "You good at anything besides killing?"

"Breaking things." He puts his arm around me and smiles. "Actually, I've got a pretty good feel for computers. And I can fix ships."

We lay down. The last couple weeks, he's been holding me while we sleep, instead of us sleeping back to back. Right after he gave me The Talk, I got a little uncomfortable with that, but since his thing doesn't seem interested in trying to get inside me, I'm back to letting him hold me when we sleep.

It makes me sleep better. Keeps the monsters away.

"You can find work at the spaceport, then." My eyes fall shut and I can feel his heart beating slowly. "That way, you can keep an eye out for mercs and stuff. And if we ever need to get away quickly...." I trail off, feeling waves of sleep wash over me.

"Jack. Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Give this new life that Imam is trying to make for you a chance, okay? I know you're mad at him about Lajjun..."

"He lied to me," I say, feeling tense.

Riddick hesitates. "How do you mean?"

"He made it seem like I was important to him, but I'm not. He's got a woman waiting for him, and that woman's going to want kids and stuff. Her own kids, and there's not going to be any room for me. I'm not going to be like... like... Cinderella or something. I won't be their slave because..."

"You really think that Imam would do that to you?" Riddick interrupts.

"Yes." I don't even have to think about it.

His sigh is warm against the nape of my neck. "Kid, do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Do you? Not just the fact I'll protect you and everything, but do you trust me judgment?"

The idea of trusting someone is strange enough. I mean, I trust Riddick with no questions. I don't even have to think about it and, sometimes, if I think really hard about it, I think that maybe I shouldn't trust him quite so much. But I do.

But trust his judgment?

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic," he laughs. "But I'm asking you, as a favor for me, give Imam a chance. Go to school, don't kick the crap out of other kids, and when Lajjun gets here, be nice. Maybe she'll like you."

"Fine," I snap, turning in his arms. "But you promise me that if this life sucks, you'll get me out of there."

"Jack..."

"Just promise me."

"Fine. I promise we'll cut out if it doesn't fit us. But we try for at least sixth months."

Sixth months. Sixth months of imprisonment, of exile, and of... of being nice.

But after that? Freedom.

"All right," I promise. "I'll try."

"So, you must be...Audrey," Principal Sellers says with a brightly painted smile on her face. She's dressed in a neat, blue suit, her blond hair pulled into a fancy twist. Her tie has the school emblem on it, and she was very, very clean. So clean, she seems to shine.

I swallow, strangely frightened of her. I've never been in a place like this, and I'm completely uncomfortable. "Jack," I correct her.

She looks at Imam a little blankly. "I'm sorry." She looks at the handheld computer screen in confusion. "It says that your name is Audrey King. Was there some mistake?"

Imam puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. Even though I'm still a little hurt by him keeping Lajjun a secret from me, I lean into him. I wish Riddick was here.

"Her legal name is Audrey King, yes. She prefers to be called Jack."

"Oh. Oh, I see. I'll make a note of that." She pressed some buttons on the screen and then smiled brightly at me again. "All right, so, right now, you're records seem a bit spotty. I understand that you were recently in a crash, but..."

"My dad didn't enroll me in school on the last planet we were on," I say, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. Oh, wait. You didn't end a sentence with a preposition, and maybe now she wasn't going to let me into the school. "He didn't enroll me at school. We weren't there long enough." Because I killed him. "After he was gone, I managed to slip through the system."

She nodded and typed all that down. "Very well. So, you've taken all the tests, and although there are some definite gaps in your education, you also show a lot of promise. I've spoken it over with the board, and they've agreed to enroll you as a scholarship student."

Am I supposed to be happy? I mean, yeah, okay, I feel a surge of pride, but...

"Thank you."

She smiles again, and I wonder if she ever stops. Then she hands a printout to Imam. "This is a list of what she'll need. We have a strict uniform that must be conformed to. I, ah, recommend, though, that until your hair grows out that you wear a green or black scarf around your head." She eyes the very short and unruly hair that had grown since the incident on the space station. It's ugly and itchy and I can't do anything with it. "Just to make you feel more comfortable," she adds.

"Thank you." Imam rises and pulls me up with him. "Can she begin tomorrow?"

"School starts at eight ten. Welcome, Jack." She holds her hand out, and I shake it gingerly. Then, after getting another super-bright smile, we leave.

Imam and I walk together down the street in silence. I'm feel very weird about this whole thing, like it was all to easy and everything was just going too well. But, then, I don't know how things are supposed to go. Nothing is the same anymore; everything is completely alien to me, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

"Do you want to go home, or would you like to go shopping now?" Imam asks after a bit.

I really hate shopping. It seems like every time I do it, something goes wrong. But, we're out, and I have to have the stuff by tomorrow, so, "Shopping's okay."

He smiles at me. "Nothing will happen. Xanaca is a safe place."

"Unlike Rigel?"

He puts his hand on my shoulder again. "You'll like it here, Jack. Here, you can put your past behind you and forge a new future."

I look up at him. For the first time since we got off the planet, Imam looks truly at peace. He's, like, glowing or something. Radiating happiness.

I feel like a slug.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I ask. "I've barely talked to you in weeks."

"You are not he first teenager I've ever dealt with," he says. His hand is on the nape of my neck, and he squeezes it gently. "And I understand that you are afraid."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Of course not."

God, he's patronizing. I'm not sure if Riddick's "no ghosting Imam" philosophy is all that great.

"I'm not afraid," I insist. "I just don't like being lied to."

"I never lied to you."

I'm silent a moment, trying to think of the word that means that you leave something out. "Omission," I say when it comes to me. "You lied by omission. You knew it was gonna bug me, so you just didn't tell me."

He shrugs calmly. "I wanted you to grow comfortable with your place in my life before I told you about her. I thought that by showing you that you're my priority, you wouldn't feel threatened. I see that I was wrong."

I snort. "I don't think a married man can make a stray kid his priority."

"Just because your father could not make you his, does not mean that every man in your life will do the same."

I so do not want to discuss my father or my life before the Hunter-Gratzner with Imam. It's not just that I really hate thinking about my life; it seems so dark and dirty and sad, and every time I think about it, I just want to put my head on my knees and cry. But it's also private. It was strange enough trusting Riddick, telling him so much. Of course, Riddick doesn't want me to talk about it with him. Not about Dad. It works out well, though, since I don't want to think about it.

"It's just that, you knew her first," I say softly as Imam leads me into the clothes shop. "And it's unfair to her to spring me on her, right?"

"Lajjun is the type of woman who's heart is open to all, even the unexpected." Then, he drops the conversation as a sales girl comes over to help us.

I've never had to wear a uniform to school before. When I was a real little kid, I wore a few dresses and skirts sometimes, but mostly, I just wore boys clothes. I never stuck out, either. Most girls just wore jeans and tee shirts, the only difference between them and the boys was they had long hair. The only difference between me and them was the hair and the fact I went by a boy's name. We were all usually dirty, and our clothes were stained and patched, but that's the life we lived. Transient, poor, and rough.

Not here. I've never seen a place so clean before. Every house has a lawn out front, and there's water and trash collectors and street sweepers. There's no graffiti or litter anywhere, and you can walk outside after dark and not have to worry about getting hurt. Okay, yes, there are the bad parts of town, but I don't have any reason to go there. Riddick's already told me that if I try, he'll make my life miserable.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way of saying that my life is definitely going to be different. This school has uniforms for God's sake. I can wear two different things to school: a skirt and sweater set, or slacks and sweater set. The school colors are green and black, and the skirts are green plaid, the blouses white, and the sweaters either green or black. On each sweater is a patch with the school emblem, and it's kind of embarrassing because it falls right above my breast. It's like they're trying to draw attention to them or something.

Anyway, besides the actual clothes, there's the gym uniform, shoes, socks, jackets, coats, rain gear, book bags, hair ribbons, and ties. Imam, despite my protests, buys me everything, even the stupid hair ribbons. I protest, pointing out that I don't have any hair, but he insists, saying that if I grow my hair out, I might want to look pretty.

I don't want to look pretty. Pretty gets you noticed and noticed means that people want to touch you.

But he buys them anyway. And then, he buys me some more pretty underwear because apparently underwear is some sort of status thing with girls and he doesn't want me to be teased. Now, I honestly don't get this. Who the fuck cares what kind of underwear you wear, except, obviously, for spoiled little rich boys who think satin panties will give you cooties.

Why girls would care, I don't know. But I do know that the only reason Imam cares is that he thinks I'll beat up anyone who hassles me about it. I want to tell him that he's wrong, because I promised Riddick, but, deep down, I'm afraid I might slip up.

So, we get the new underwear, and some new every day and workout clothes for me to wear. We get three different kinds of shoes--a new pair of boots, some workout shoes, and a pair of black girl shoes. I've never had shoes like this before, and they feel weird on my feet.

After that, we get the rest of the school supplies, which include a jump drive to transfer my work from school to home, some books, and a lock pad for my gym locker.

I'm ready to go home after that, but Imam wants to take me out for ice cream. Being completely addicted to the stuff, I, of course, agree.

There's a shop a couple blocks from our house that both Riddick and Imam have take me to a few times now. Before we landed, I'd had ice cream only about six times in my life. They've brought me here every day since we landed, and I'm in heaven.

So, we're at the shop, and I'm trying to think good thoughts about Imam. I mean, he is trying so hard, and I am being kind of mean. Maybe...

"Lajjun wants to speak with you," Imam says after our sundaes arrive. He's looking at the dish in front of him, avoiding my eyes.

I stare at him for a long moment, mouth open, spoon paused midway. "What?"

"Lajjun. When we last spoke, she asked if she could meet you. Speak with you."

"Why?" I ask, baffled.

"I've told her about your many times. And, I've told he how upset you are about the idea of you coming her. She's leaving tomorrow and will be in cryosleep for her journey. She was hoping to meet you before she departs."

Fantastic. I poke at my ice cream viciously. "I don't want to," I tell him sullenly. "She's not going to like me, so why start all the tension now? We can just wait until she gets here."

"Of course she will like you. Why wouldn't she?"

"Because I'm a freak. I've got no hair, and I've killed two people, and my dad made me do icky things, and I'm just not...." I put the spoon down. "You know I'm not going to be able to stay with you once she gets here."

"Jack." He leans forward and puts his hand over mine. "Jack, you are not a freak. You've had a hard life, but you've survived it and will survive much more. Lajjun will love you as much as I do."

Tears spring to my eyes. I swallow hard, blinking to try and make them go away, but they just won't. "Why?" I whisper.

"I've told you before. You have a beautiful soul and are a wonderful human being." He touches my face. "And you are impossible not to love."

"I don't feel impossible not to love." I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and swallow. "Imam, I'm scared."

"I know."

"I don't want things to change."

"Life is change, my child. And you are the bravest girl I know."

Before I realize it, I'm out of my seat and in his arms. My face is buried in his neck, and I'm trembling.

Imam sighs and rubs my back in strong, sure caresses. "It will be all right, Jack. I promise you."

The words comfort me a little, but, even still, I know that even a holy man can't keep promises like.