Chapter 6

Romania

It's been a while since the one day Tino and Berwald decided to ignore me, and ever since then they've been just as friendly as usual, bar the odd stares from Berwald. I sit with them every day, and despite the constant teasings from the other girls about hanging out with the boys because I love them, I feel at ease. I mean, if I'm going to dress up as a boy, I doubt I could ever fall in love with one. Most boys in the army, if interested in love at all, are probably interested in girls, and I can't let my identity slip at any point. So it's a loveless life for me. That's how I planned it in the first place. Loveless is good, safer, more secure; I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. Berwald is looking out for both himself and Tino, and he may be the strongest boy I've met at this camp, out of the few I have actually spoken to. Tino always talks about how high Berwald scores in the fitness tests they do, and I always listen, intrigued, because the activities the boys do differ so greatly from the girls that I can't help but be curious about it.

Then there's Felicity, who's always bubbly. She sleeps a lot, as expected from an Italian, and calls it her 'siesta'. When people ask her what she plans to do after 'graduation', she laughs and tells them she only worries about the present and that the past and future are so far away, she can barely touch it, so she leaves it. It's an odd way of thinking when it's so close on the horizon. Girls are already whispering to each other their choices. I wonder how many of them would rather sell their bodies than do domestic chores for some upper-class folk. I'd probably be surprised at the numbers, to be honest. But Felicity doesn't seem like the kind of girl who would become anyone's servant, as she'd just sleep all the time, or take the other route because she's far too innocent. So what does go in that girl's mind? Maybe she's just putting on some show for the rest of us. She is oddly happy all the time.

I'm worrying far too much about a girl who's only spoken to me for half a minute. She sleeps in the bed Ainsley left behind. She doesn't even know who Ainsley is and nobody has the heart to tell her, so we remain quiet and mourn sadly. For some of us, sadly – and it's not really mourning, because we've received no news of her being found or being dead. The guards will have a lot to answer to, letting just a small Scottish girl get away from the camp. I envy her. If I could have just escaped, with a flawless plan, I could just run away to where the upper-class men and women live and try and blend in. I'm just as sly as Ainsley – I could pickpocket and manage to scrape by.

But I wasted my chances because I was too scared. I still am too scared; I hate being a coward. I hope I can make it into the army without my legs shaking too much. I'd hate to be the person who falls flat on the ground on the first day of training drills (Berwald says there's always one boy who does that). I don't want to be that person.

I refuse to be weak because I'm a girl. I refuse to do domestic chores just because I have longer hair and a more feminine face and I'm deemed 'weaker'. I'll throw on that muddy, camouflaged, ugly military uniform and I'll don the cap and work it like a man would. I'll shoot the guns and hit the targets and run faster than the others with twice the weight on my shoulders. I'll crawl under nets and through mud, working the muscles in my legs to the extreme and leaving me faint and weakened, but I won't be the weak one; I'll be the strongest, and stand next to Berwald in the rankings beaming and proud because I refused to be weak and I didn't let the fact that I'm a girl cloud my vision towards the future. I will be the soldier that everyone desires to be. Every boy dreams of being a soldier or a sailor, or a merchant or a tailor. But I'll be the first girl to achieve that dream.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine as I walk down the corridor, my shoulders slightly tensed as I rub my hands together and try and remain calm as the same adrenaline rush that rocked over my body when I fought Ainsley slowly creeps under my skin and into my bloodstream. Then there's a male voice from next to me, which shocks me, because boys aren't allowed here. But-

"I can help you."

It makes me jump. Not just the fact that a boy is in the girl's section of the camp, but because it's like he read my mind. He's offering help. But what for? I turn to him and stare blankly, trying my hardest to make it seem like I have no idea what he's on about. He walks out from the shadows, as if trying to make his presence more dramatic. It works, too, a shiver running down my spine once again as I take in the sight of this strange man.

He's wearing a hat. You're not allowed hats in the camp, but he sports one, red with a purple bead on the side which leads off to two separate ribbon-like strands, one red and one white, and a white line circles the hat. His coat matches the crimson-like colour of the hat, and he wears purple boots. His hair is quite similar to my new cut, and he has eyes that seemingly match the crimson red theme, or maybe the purple of the bead – I can't tell. All I can tell is that he's very colour-coordinated; but another thing I notice that leads me to stare is…this boy has fangs. The sharpest teeth I've ever seen on another human being, one tooth standing out amongst the rest as a sharp and fang-like tooth. I stare in awe and shock for a moment before he reaches out a pale hand and snaps his long fingers, finished off at the end with nails as sharp as his teeth, and I see his other hand is gloved and holds the glove from his currently outstretched hand.

"You look lost." His hand is still reached out as if he wants me to take it, and when I don't he smiles and chuckles slightly. His voice is higher than I expected, and a lot more dull. Quite like mine.

"You're the boy who's in the girl's section," I say in return, keeping my hands planted by my sides and not moving towards him or away from him. He steps closer to me, though.

"Maybe I'm the lost one."

"Get out of here."

"You're a bit cold, aren't you? Most the other girls seem to be quite chirpy. There's one missing though, isn't there? What's her name? Ainsley?"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout, and slap across his perfectly smooth and pale face, leaving a small cut where my nail scratched his skin. Hah. His creamy white skin is now stained with the crimson of his blood, but the awful thing is, it just blends into his colour coded appearance. He doesn't flinch at the slap, and I glare at him. He infuriates me for no reason. "Why?"

"Pain doesn't really matter to me. I don't mind it as much as others do. You have very sharp nails. Maybe as sharp as mine. Maybe not. I'm not sure." He reaches out his hand and I slap it away, cringing in pain as the tip of one of his nails scratches the palm of my right hand ever so slightly. They really are the sharpest. "Please stop slapping me."

"Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here?"

"I'm from Romania."

"You missed two of my questions."

"Don't wanna answer them."

I sigh in irritation. "Don't you have friends here?"

"Maybe."

"Who?"

"I have a little brother. And a best friend."

"Well, go talk to them instead of wasting both your time and my time here. You're not even supposed to be here. There will be guards in a moment."

"I'll bite them."

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna make a bet?"

"Not really."

"Lame."

"Why are you still here?"

He reaches the ivory pale hand around the back of his neck and scratches it awkwardly, probably making a few small cuts in the process, but he doesn't even seem to flinch from the pain of his razor sharp nails. "I don't know. I was walking around the corridors and I ended up here. Looks like fate brought me here to meet you."

"Fate didn't do shit. You're just a lost idiot in the girls' section of the camp trying to play it cool."

"You look like you belong in the boys' camp. What's with the haircut?"

My hair's become unravelled, and it looks more messy and boyish. That's what I'm assuming from how he looks at me. I don't answer his question and instead reach my hand up and brush the hair gently with my fingertips so it looks neater and more like it was this morning. I unclasp the clip and put it back on just as quickly so he doesn't see what my fringe looks like without it. I haven't kept my hair down like that since I was back in Canada. I vowed never to again.

"Never mind. You look better now. And I could still tell you're a girl, you just look kinda boyish. I don't see you being a servant or a prostitute any time in the future." He grins and it looks kind of cheeky, but the fangs scare me still. "My best friend and I are still plannin' what we want to do. We don't know if we should join the military and fuck shit up in those camps, or maybe go sailin' and travel round the world together, or become merchants and earn a shit ton of money. But whatever we do, we doin' together. Do you have a friend you'd do anything with?"

I think of Tino and Berwald and how we're planning to go to the military together. I don't know if I'd go anywhere they went – if they jumped off a cliff, I doubt I'd follow. But just to keep things short and snappy I mutter a simple "Yes" and he seems satisfied. Then he claps his hands together and I'm almost used to his freaky pale skin.

"Well, Romanian guy whose name I don't know," I say before he has the chance to speak. "You better get out this part of camp before they arrest you. Not that I'd care if they did, of course."

"Sure thing, Nordic girl. So, which one is it? Finnish or Swedish?"

"Does it matter? Maybe I'm neither."

"Hell no. Norwegians are extinct and Danes live outside camp."

"Eh, whatever. Pretend I never said anything. Just say I'm a Nordic for now."

"Sure thing, Nordic girl. See ya around. Or not."

"I don't really care."

"Sure you don't!" Then he grins, showing off the fangs once more before he runs off back into the shadows. I never get a chance to ask what he meant by saying he'd help me. Well, that'll remain a mystery – there are a lot of mysteries in my life which need to be solved, but I doubt I have the time nor resources to solve them. It does my head in, all the curiosity.

And then there's the mystery of Ainsley the Scottish girl. And the mystery of the cheery Italian Felicity, and the Canadian who escaped execution and my true heritage and what lies outside the camp and what I'm going to do when I leave this place, what career path I'll take and whether my plan to dress as a male will go smoothly or not. What if I have a future of killing people to maintain my secret? A life full of loneliness, if Tino and Berwald are carelessly killed in the military? If I'm killed in the military and these mysteries are never solved? If I'll ever see this Romanian vampire dude again?

I want answers, but there's no way to get them.

So I take off and run all the way back to the dorm before changing and settling down into bed, and when my eyes close, they don't open again for the remainder of the night and the mysteries swirl into a deep whirlwind of curiosity and confusion and I'm sucked right into the middle.

There doesn't seem to be a way out of the whirlwind for quite a while, and I'm not sure whether I'm okay with that.