CHAPTER FIVE

"That was… so… cool—!" Rizavi all but screamed in my ear when I walked out of the change rooms.

I leapt out of my skin in surprise, covering my ears and staring at her distrustfully. It was only then that I realized the crowd hadn't dissipated since I'd gone to remove my suit—in fact, it'd only grown. The hallway was packed with people, and someone was passing around a phone. As it slid past me, I recognized myself on its cracked screen, hurtling through the air with only the heat-flushed sky as a backdrop.

Oh, I thought, watching it move from hand to hand, away from me. Oh no. How far had that spread? Had all of the Garrison seen it? Someone moved, jostling me, and my heart started to thud against my ribcage. I was completely and utterly closed in by people, the crowd pressing in around me once they realized I was there.

"It was alright," Katie said, adjusting her glasses. She was typing on her phone and—thankfully—wasn't looking at me. Not like everyone else was. "If it'd gotten you, you'd be toast."

I flinched, letting out an awkward chuckle. She was absolutely, one-hundred percent right. What I'd done was Grade-A stupid, and if I'd been even a second slow on engaging my jetpack, I'd of been pancaked in what was supposed to be a simple demonstration. Not to mention that I had incredible social anxiety—what had I been doing, trying anything that might get me noticed?

You deserve this.

All around me, eyes were staring at me expectantly, and I squirmed. How was I supposed to react to this? And, how was I supposed to get out of it? I tried to back away as Rizavi cheered again, but one of her friends had moved to stand directly behind me, and I bumped into her. It was that blonde girl with the clipped bangs, and she stared at me, her expression vacant. A cold stab of fear sliced through me.

"Your program director's gotta be pissed," Someone else—a man with slicked-back hair that I also recognized from the cafeteria—said.

Also right. My lips pressed into a thin line as I fidgeted with the hem of my uniform jacket. Dr. McKay was probably holed away, thinking up all kinds of drills and exercises to torture me with, whether I'd pleased her or not. But, if it would've gotten me out of this, I wouldn't have complained. I hated crowds, and I hated crowds where I was the center of attention even more.

"I know!" Rizavi said loudly, causing me to flinch again. "Isn't it great!?"

I turned my head away from her, one of my eyes pinched shut, and in doing so, I spotted Keith on the very edge of the crowd. He was leaning against the wall, watching the commotion with his brow furrowed, and I pleaded at him with my eyes. Help me, help me, help me. My desperation must have been written all over my face because the moment his eyes met mine, his eyebrows flew up into his hair.

Help me, I mouthed. Keith started forward slowly, hesitantly, like he was pretty sure he was mistaken. But he wasn't—my chest was in a vise, and if I didn't get out of here, I knew I would meltdown in front of everyone. There was too much noise, too much pressing, and too many people staring at me. I couldn't take much more of this.

A space opened up between the blonde girl and a tall Galran woman who'd somehow wound up in the middle of the fray. I sidestepped, trying to slide into it, but then it closed, and I bumped into someone I didn't recognize—a sharp-featured guy with dark blue eyes. He was thin, but he towered over me, and I shrank down into the press of people, my shoulders inching up toward my ears.

"Qué te parece si vamos a bailar más tarde?" He asked under his breath, leaning closer.

No—no freaking way. Was he hitting on me? Here?

"Ignore Lance," Someone—a woman—said. "He just wants to take you out and not kiss you."

My mind skimmed over her words, not really recognizing them. All I knew of my mother's language was a sparse spattering of words, like the remnants of water flicked off the tip of a paintbrush. I didn't know enough grammar to string together a single sentence. But, just maybe—

"Ayuda," I gasped in probably the worst accent anyone had ever had. Help. "Need to get out."

He blinked twice at me, and I saw his eyes brighten as my words finally clicked in his head.

"Oh, yeah," He said. "Here."

Lance lifted his arm for me; I ducked beneath it, shooting between two clusters of people and out into the open air. I took another few steps, then sagged against the wall, hanging my head. Relieved tears sprung to my eyes, and I blinked them away. I was in trouble. That—the video—had been exactly what Dr. McKay wanted. She wanted the program to be admired; that was the whole point of the demonstration. But what about me? How many more of these crowds was I going to have to escape? Were people going to start accosting me in the hallways? What if someone found my Twitter, or worse, my YouTube channel?

I don't know how long I stood there gasping, my head spinning with fears and potential horrors. Before I could recover, however, I felt a presence at my elbow. I lifted my head and saw Keith standing beside me.

"You okay?" Keith asked.

I turned to look at him. One of his hands was outstretched towards me, but when I looked at it, he let it drop. He tucked it awkwardly into his pocket, and I politely tore my eyes away. For some reason, seeing his hand stretched out to me made me remember the warmth of his shoulder, and I shook my head, trying to clear the sensation.

I was definitely a creep—a freak. I wanted this guy I barely knew—this guy that looked like he'd dropped out of the bottom of a sci-fantasy novel—to touch me. Hell, I was a freak for just wanting to be touched, period.

"Yeah," I said, turning my back against the wall. "Sorry—I'm not good with crowds." Understatement of the century, possibly even the millennium. Meeting his gaze, I frowned. He'd come over here worried about me, which was my fault. "Sorry," I said again.

Keith looked away. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. What was this vibe with him? It was almost like he was unsure of himself—an impression his appearance and confident smile that night didn't back up. I blinked twice, straightening, but before I could say anything, Lance walked up behind Keith and slapped him on the back. He stumbled, and Lance put an elbow over his shoulder. I watched, surprised, as his eyebrows pulled over his eyes in probably the most intense scowl I'd ever seen. My eyes widened.

"You kidding?" Lance said. "You were literally begging for my help."

I pressed my lips together. Even I could see that Keith didn't like how this guy was leaning on him, and I was, by clinical definition, unable to read body language. I regret it, I opened my mouth to say. It was mean, but watching how he was bugging Keith, I kind of did. But before the words could come out, Katie and her friend—who I was now pretty sure wasn't just a cook—sidled over.

"Hey," he said, offering me a big, blunt-fingered hand. "I'm Hunk."

I hesitantly reached out my hand, then hesitated. The thought of shaking Hunk's hand made my body tense up, but I didn't want to offend him, so I nudged his wrist with mine and quickly pulled back. If he noticed my hesitation, he didn't pay it any mind. Instead, he offered me a smile as broad as he was.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Ría."

"I'm Katie," Katie said.

"I remember," I said, nodding my head awkwardly.

There was no way I could've forgotten her—not with those glasses and not with the confidence she spoke with. Her eyes widened, but only for a moment. I looked away. Was it just me, or did nothing take this girl by surprise for long?

"Oh, okay," she said.

"Listen," Hunk said. "We're having this barbecue—"

"News to me," Lance said.

"—with steaks and skewers and fried fish and stuff—"

"And garlic knots?" Lance asked, but it sounded like a plea.

"—And you're new here, right? You're gonna need to make friends and all—"

Keith growled under his breath, shaking Lance off. He tugged his wrap back down over his shoulder, and I looked from him to Lance—who stared at me with desperate eyes—then back to Hunk.

"And eat garlic knots?"

"No garlic knots, Lance," Hunk said firmly. "It's a barbecue, and garlic knots are pasta."

Keith's eyebrows were twitching, and I saw a vein pulsating in his neck. Was he okay? Were these people not his friends or something? Did I need to do something to help him? And, if so, what was it? I stared, my brow furrowed in concern before Hunk caught my attention again.

"So," He said. "I—we—were wondering if maybe you—"

"Do you want to come?!" Keith shouted, causing us all to jump in surprise.

I blinked twice, my eyes wide. The silence was scalding, with some of the hallway's other stragglers turning to look at him. Even his friends slowly turned to stare at him, their faces colored in varying shades of confusion. Keith's eyes widened, and then his face went bone-pale. He tore his gaze from mine, his shoulders inching further towards his ears with each passing second.

This was what I wanted, right? To meet people? To meet… Keith? For some reason, staring at their astonished faces, I didn't feel scared. At least, I didn't feel scared now. They were silly—and funny—and Lance hadn't continued to hit on me. And… I looked at Keith, taking in his flushed ears and his mouth buried in the space between his thumb and forefinger.

"Sure," I said, my voice eerily calm in my ears and a smile curling my lips. His eyes twitched back to mine, then snapped away, and I turned back to Hunk. "Any ancho chili?"

Hunk's face spread into a wide smile.

"Yes!" He said, pumping a fist. "Keith was right—you are cool!"

A sound emanated from Keith that sounded suspiciously like he was choking, but I still found myself laughing. It felt good to laugh, like it something heavy in my chest was breaking up a little. I offered Keith a tentative smile, then turned back to Hunk.

"When?" I asked.

The next afternoon, I returned to my room early to prepare for the barbecue.

I'd apologized profusely to Dr. McKay for my reckless behavior, and she'd lectured me fiercely about proportional risk and my life's value. In the back-and-forth, I'd had next to no time to think about anything else. That included the fact that I'd been invited to a barbecue by a boy—a boy whose presence I'd been trying to ignore for the last three days.

I'd been so self-conscious, afraid he'd turn on me and call me a creep, but… could my fears be overblown? I mean, he had snapped up the opportunity to ask me before Hunk claimed it—or at least, that was what it'd felt like. Shaking my head, I stripped off my uniform and jumped in the shower. The Arizona heat washed from my skin, mingling with the lukewarm water and swirling away down the drain until I was cool and uneasy.

My heart beat muffled in my chest, thick with what I recognized as hope. Hope that Keith wanted to know me. Hope that Keith might potentially come to like me. Hope that I wouldn't have to be alone anymore and that things would get better. That someone would finally love me.

My fingers shook as I steepled them against the tile wall, leaning down so the water poured over my head, drowning out the ringing of my overactive danger bells. I sank into the bottom of the shower, wrapping my arms around my knees.

Back home, as a kid, hope had been my enemy. My dad freaked at the thought of me needing him, and as I'd grown, I'd come to recognize the same compulsion in others. If I let my desperation for comfort show, whoever I'd reached out to thought I was going to hurt them. They struck out at me, over and over, and I'd eventually become so covered in seeping, infected wounds that I'd stopped reaching out altogether.

Something was different now, though. I'd wanted to turn away from Keith on that rooftop, but I hadn't been able to. I'd wanted to talk to him so much that, at that moment, rejection hadn't seemed so scary. Could it be possible that he was… safe? I mean, there was no way I was going to let hope run wild with me even if he was, but…

Wincing at the creak of my knees, I got to my feet and turned off the shower. I had to give it a chance—hold onto my reservations until I knew for sure whether I was right. If I shut down and walled myself off now, there'd be no opportunity—no nothing. Just another painful missed opportunity to harangue me at night while I tried to sleep.

I toweled off, then wiped off the mirror and stared at my own reflection. It's not like I was ugly. I wasn't classically pretty, not in the straight-featured way Keith was, but my features were large, my face heart-shaped, my skin clear and dusted with freckles. The green-brown eyes my father gave me took on a hazel cast in the sunlight, I knew, popping against the backdrop of my tanned skin and dark hair.

If someone could get over my damaged psyche, my anxiety, my weirdness, and my past…

Shaking my head, I tried not to think anymore as I rubbed moisturizer into my skin. I dressed in my second, freshly-laundered uniform, then started to put my hair up in a ponytail. I paused—maybe I should leave it down? Going back to the mirror, I peered at myself. It didn't look bad that way, but it didn't look good, either.

I rolled my eyes, turning away from the mirror.

"Get it together, Rí," I said, opening the door and heading for the cafeteria.