I followed his pointed look to the blood dripping from my clenched fist. I had buried the sharp point of my quill into my thumb. Seeing it, I suddenly felt the pain. I removed the quill and brought the wound to my lips. I looked over, meeting his eyes.

“Stop it!” I hissed. “Look away!”

“Take it out of your mouth. You’re making it worse.” His low voice forced me to read his lips.

“It’s none of your business,” I whispered.

Ignoring me, he pulled my hand from my mouth and laid it across his lap. He pressed the sleeve of his tunic against my thumb. The cloth was rough and warm from his skin. It felt strange. I forgot to protest. Jones droned somewhere in the distance. He pressed hard for a while then carefully removed the dressing. I looked down. It had stopped bleeding. He deposited my hand onto my desk.

“Don’t use that hand for an hour. Can you write with your other?”

A moment passed. I shook my head.

Reaching across me, he took a notebook from my desk along with my ink.

“Remember, you owe me,” he said. His eyes flashed and, all at once, I remembered where I’d seen their color—a mix of gray and brown. They were the exact shade of the thatch roofs on the Cobane village huts.

The Keeper Faction

THE KEEPER FACTION

After lecture, I waited hopefully at the classroom door. Maybe, in an unprecedented bout of generosity, Jones hadn’t wanted to undress the new kid publicly on his first day. Maybe, when the two were alone, Jones would answer his insolence.

I watched as he took his time stretching and stood. His desk creaked, relieved of his weight. I heard his footsteps pause by Jones’ desk. I leaned in to watch. He passed by. She didn’t look up.

Before the new kid reached the door, I slipped around the nearest corner and wilted against the wall.

“What did she say to him?”

My eyes popped open. The senior class, minus the Vine Keeper, surrounded me in a half circle. They’d been waiting. Slowing my breath, I addressed Covington’s question. “Nothing.”

Covington edged closer. “This isn’t the time to keep secrets, Arika. Whether you know it or not, we all have a stake in the New Seed.”

My mouth twisted. There was that phrase again—the New Seed. “What do you mean we have a stake in it?” I asked.

Covington waved aside my question. “Just tell us what Jones said to the Vine Keeper!”

“I told you, nothing. She said nothing.” I didn’t believe the truth myself. “She just let him go.” I flattened my palms against my face, trying to wrap my mind around it.

“That’s impossible. Jetson, talk to her.”

Jetson huddled closer. “Arika, please, be honest. She must have said something.”

I uncovered my face to stare him down. “She let him go.”