Nightmare

For someone who just rode a dinosaur, he told himself, you’re acting awfully scared.

Pitr was talking in a small group of people, each of whom carried a bowl and a candle. Kendi had neither, hadn’t wanted to get one until now. He remembered Dorna telling him that it would be customary to offer drinks from his bowl to other people as a way of greeting. Kendi cast about and saw a Ched-Balaar sitting dog-like behind a table piled high with Festival bowls for sale. Kendi hurried over and grabbed one. He thumbed the Ched-Balaar’s pad, charging the bowl to his student account. The Ched-Balaar filled the bowl with a purple liquid that smelled vaguely alcoholic to Kendi. Kendi thanked the merchant, who chattered something back to him. Kendi, who didn’t understand a bit of it, merely nodded politely and turned away. He took a big gulp from the bowl-it was indeed something alcoholic-and caught up an unattended votive candle burning on a nearby rail. Forcing himself to move forward with firm steps, he approached Pitr Haddis. This was going to be it. He would find out one way or the other. As he walked, a prayer came to his mind, one he remembered from the Real People Reconstructionists.

If it be in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, he thought, let Pitr choose me tonight.

Mouth dry despite the weak wine, Kendi came up behind Pitr and cleared his throat. 'Hey, Pitr. Want a drink?'

Pitr, who had been leaning his elbows on the platform rail with his back to Kendi, turned and smiled. So did several of the people around him. Kendi didn’t recognize any of them and he briefly wondered where Trish was.

'Kendi,' Pitr said brightly. 'Joyous Festival. I was wondering if I was going to run into you.'

'Really?' Kendi raised his bowl. 'I’m here. I was wondering if I-' he had to pause to clear his throat again '-if I could talk to you for a minute.'

'Sure,' Pitr said, and Kendi’s insides twisted at the sight of his smile. 'Oh wait-I’m being rude. Kendi, this is Holda.' He gestured at a petite blond girl who looked to be about Pitr’s age. She had brown eyes and a round, pretty face. 'Holda, this is Kendi Weaver.'

Holda held out her hand. Kendi automatically set the bowl on the rail so he could shake it. No jolt-Holda wasn’t Silent.

'You’re the guy who was attacked on the ultralight?' she asked. 'Pitr told me all about it. You were pretty brave.'

'Yeah, thanks,' Kendi said, wondering how he could get rid of Holda so he could talk to Pitr alone.

'Tonight’s our one-month anniversary,' Pitr said, and he kissed Holda loudly on the cheek. She laughed and pushed him away.

'Don’t,' she admonished lightly. 'You’re too cute when you do that.'

Kendi’s heart froze solid in his chest. He stared first at Pitr, then at Holda. They were holding hands. He didn’t know what to do, what to say.

'Anyway-you wanted to talk to me?' Pitr said.

Kendi continued to stare, then something broke and his wits rushed back to him. His face began to burn. 'It can wait,' he said faintly. 'It was just something about …about the ultralights, but it’s no big deal. I just remembered that I’m supposed …supposed to meet someone at the games. I’ll catch you later.'

He caught up his bowl and fled before either Pitr or Holda could say anything. He kept walking, dodging around Festival partiers, until he found a place away from the noise and the lantern light. His candle had gone out. Darkness closed in around him. Insects called and night birds sang. Two walkways met here, and Kendi leaned on the rail to stare out into the night. The drums were only a faint sound in the distance.

Stupid, he thought fiercely. I was so stupid. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to ask Pitr if he had a girlfriend, a perfectly innocent question, a question people ask all the time in idle conversation. But for some reason it hadn’t occurred to Kendi to ask it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had come within millimeters of making a complete fool of himself, just as he had done with Pup. Thank all life something had stopped him. Otherwise he’d have never been able to look Pitr in the face again and flight lessons would have been impossibly awkward. Sudden loneliness welled up in him. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed like he was always alone these days. That was the worst part of it-being alone.

Festival night, he thought. Beginnings, changes, and new directions. Well here’s a change for you.

Kendi flung his clay bowl over the edge. He heard it collide with something, probably a tree branch, and shatter. They wanted resolutions? Here was a resolution-from now on, Kendi was going to leave well enough alone, no matter how lonely he got.

And he wasn’t going to cry about it. No, he wasn’t.

The latter resolution lasted less than a minute.

CHAPTER NINE

Just because I can reach the Dream doesn’t mean I want to spend my whole life there. Unlike some people.

— Daniel Vik

Mother Ara turned a baleful eye on Kendi and Jeren. Kendi tried to meet it and found he couldn’t. Mother Ara had the best glare of anyone he’d ever met and he still couldn’t stand up to it. Even after repeated practice.

'Didn’t we go through this at Festival last year?' she growled. 'I truly don’t know what to do with you two.'

'You could-' Kendi began.

'I didn’t mean for you to give an answer,' Mother Ara snapped. 'I’m tired of all this. You’ve been here for- what? — a year now. An entire year. You’ve signed your contracts with the Children, you have your own teachers, you wear the ruby ring. And still you keep breaking the rules. This may come as a surprise to the both of you, but yes, it is against the rules to hijack an ultralight and buzz a pod of mickey spikes. You caused a stampede, for god’s sake. What if someone had been standing in the way? They would have been killed.'

'I-' Jeren said.

'And don’t think I know how it all works by now,' Mother Ara continued ruthlessly. 'You, Jeren, cook up some cockeyed scheme and you egg Kendi into joining you. Kendi, I’m especially surprised at you. I thought you’d been making real progress. Then you go and do this. What would the Real People say about that kind of treatment toward animals?'

Kendi ground his teeth. That line always got to him, and Mother Ara knew it. He replied with the only defense he knew. 'Most of them are dead. They don’t say much.'

'Don’t get flip,' she answered. 'You know I’m right. And you, Jeren …'

In the end, they each got an extra four hours of work detail. As they headed out the door of Mother Ara’s tiny office at the monastery, Mother Ara called out, 'Kendi, wait a moment.'

Jeren caught Kendi’ eye. 'I’ll catch you outside,' he murmured, and shut the door.

Kendi turned back. Mother Ara was still sitting behind her desk, her hands folded on top of it. The little room was crammed with …stuff. Kendi couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. Shelves of bookdisks on the walls, a bulletin board covered with cartoons and little comics, two small statues of Irfan Qasad serving as bookends, brightly-woven wall hangings with quilting and tassels, little trinkets-some tacky, some tasteful-and a dozen awards and framed certificates all crowded around a desk top littered with more disks, a data pad, and a portable telephone. Two pots of red and blue flowers had been somehow squeezed in as a concession to Festival. A head- and-shoulders hologram of a teenage boy with red hair and blue eyes occupied the ledge below the room’s only window. The boy was good-looking and bore no resemblance to Mother Ara whatever. Kendi wondered who he was. Nephew? Family friend? He was definitely cute, whoever he was.