“I bet you have a ton of points saved up,” Huxley said as she wrapped her arm around Glass. “I’m jealous.”
“All I have is what my mother transferred to me this morning.” Glass gave her a weak smile. “The rest were eliminated after my arrest.”
Huxley shuddered dramatically. “I still can’t believe it.” She lowered her voice. “You never did tell us why you were Confined.”
“She doesn’t want to talk about that,” Cora said as she glanced nervously over her shoulder.
No, you don’t want to talk about that, Glass thought as they turned onto the main B deck corridor, a long, wide passage bordered by panoramic windows on one side and benches tucked between artificial plants on the other. It was midday, and most of the benches were occupied by women her mother’s age talking and sipping sunflower root tea. Technically, you were supposed to use ration points at the tea stand, but Glass couldn’t remember the last time she’d been asked to scan her thumb. It was just one of the many small luxuries of life on Phoenix that she’d never given a second thought until she started spending time with Luke.
As the girls strode down the corridor, Glass could feel nearly every pair of eyes turn to her. Her stomach twisted as she wondered what had been more shocking—the fact that she’d been Confined or the fact that she’d been pardoned. She held her head up high and tried to look confident as she walked past. Glass was supposed to be an example of the Colony’s sense of justice, and she would have to keep face as though her life depended on it. Because this time, it did.
“Do you think there’s any chance Clarke will get pardoned too?” Huxley asked as Cora shot her a warning look. “Did you guys ever like, hang out, while you were in Confinement?”
“Oh my god, Huxley, will you give it a rest?” Cora said, touching Glass’s arm in a supportive gesture. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that, when Clarke was sentenced just after you, nobody could believe it: two Phoenix girls in a few months? And then when you came back, there were all these rumors.…”
“It’s fine,” Glass said, forcing a smile to signal that she was okay talking about it. “Clarke got put into solitary pretty quickly, so I didn’t see her much. And I don’t know whether she’ll be pardoned,” she lied, remembering her mom’s imperative that she not talk about the Earth mission. “I’m not sure when she turns eighteen—my case was reevaluated since it’s almost my birthday.”
“Oh, ri fyway?strodght, your birthday!” Huxley squealed, clapping her hands. “I forgot it’s coming up. We’ll have to find you something at the Exchange.”
Cora nodded, seeming overjoyed to have found their way back to such an acceptable topic, as the girls approached their destination.
The Phoenix Exchange was in a large hall at the end of B deck. In addition to panoramic windows, it held an enormous chandelier that had supposedly been evacuated from the Paris Opera house hours before the first bomb fell on Western Europe. Whenever Glass heard the tale, she felt a twinge of sadness for the people who might’ve been saved instead, but she couldn’t deny that the chandelier was breathtaking. Dancing with reflected light from the ceiling and the windows, it looked like a small cluster of stars, a miniature galaxy spinning and shimmering overhead.
Huxley let go of Glass’s arm and dashed over to a display of ribbons, oblivious to the nearby group of girls who’d fallen silent at Glass’s arrival. Glass blushed and hurried after Cora, whose eyes were trained on a textile booth near the back wall.
She stood awkwardly next to Cora while her friend rummaged through the fabric, quickly reducing the orderly stack into a messy pile while the Walden woman behind the table gave her a tight smile. “Look at all this crap,” Cora muttered as she flung a piece of burlap and a few strips of fleece to the side.
“What are you looking for?” Glass asked, running her finger along a tiny scrap of pale-pink silk. It was beautiful, even with the rust marks and water stains along the edges, but it would be impossible to find enough matching pieces for a small evening bag, let alone a dress.
“I’ve spent a million years collecting scraps of blue satin, and I finally have enough for the slip, but I need to layer something over it so it doesn’t look too patchworky.” Cora wrinkled her nose as she examined a large piece of clear vinyl. “How much is this?”
“Six,” the Walden woman said.
“You’re not serious.” Cora rolled her eyes at Glass. “It’s a shower curtain.”
“It’s Earthmade.”
Cora snickered. “Authenticated by who?”
“How about this?” Glass asked, holding up a piece of blue netting. It looked like it had once been part of a storage bag, but no one would be able to tell once it was applied to the dress.
“Oooh,” Cora cooed, snatching it out of Glass’s hand. “I like it.” She held it against her body to check the length, then smiled up at Glass. “Good thing your time in Confinement didn’t affect your fashion sense.” Glass stiffened but said nothing. “So, what are you going to wear?”
“To what?”
“To the viewing party,” she said, enunciating her syllables as one might do with a small child. “For the comet?”
“Sorry.” Glass shrugged. Apparently, spending six months in Confinement was no excuse for failing to keep up with the Phoenix social calendar.
“Your mother didn’t tell you about it when you got back?” Cora continued, holding the netting around her waist like a petticoat. “There’s a comet on track to pass right by the ship—the closest any has come since the Colony was founded.”
“And there’s a viewing party?”
Cora nodded. “On the observation deck. They’ve been making all sorts of exceptions so there konsoman saidcan be food, drinks, music, everything. I’m going with Vikram.” She grinned, but then her face fell. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you come along. He knows there are, well, extenuating circumstances.” She gave Glass a sympathetic smile and turned back to the Walden woman. “How much?”
“Nine.”
Suddenly, Glass’s head began to pound. She murmured an excuse to Cora, who was still negotiating with the shopkeeper, and wandered off to look at the display of jewelry on a nearby table. She brushed her fingers absently along her bare throat. She’d always worn a necklace chip, the device some girls on Phoenix chose as an alternative to earbuds or cornea slips. It was fashionable to have the chip embedded in a piece of jewelry, if you were lucky enough to have a relic in the family or managed to find something at the Exchange.