Vicissitude: Yang Side (Lost Earth Series) Read online

  My heart sears behind my breastbone. Pounding hard. A slow, fiery throb. And not in a good way. It feels more like I’m in the middle of a public X-ray. I glance around, looking to see if anyone looks like they’re having mixed feelings, but Hiro his big president smile on and Ash is doing some funky sign language code with Seraphim.

  Megumi is the first to give an outstretched hand. “So glad you made it, Heaven.” Then she gestures to me. “This is my friend, Jun. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

  “You told her about me?” I ask.

  Heaven smiles and steps closer. Peach perfume wafts into my nose. “All good things, I promise. You play jungle, right?”

  I nod, taking a discreet step back. I clear my throat. “Yeah. And you can play top lane, right?”

  “Yes. And Megumi already told me about the name thing."

  “Cool.” I rub my hands together. “Then we’re all set for tomorrow.”

  “Do you have the address to the gaming house?” Hiro asks. He glances at me. “I know you don’t, Jun. Here.” He hands a small card to me and then Heaven. “It’s right off the freeway when you’re driving on Ringo Road. Across the street from Twenty-Pho-Seven and that snazzy jazz club we booked for last banquet. Game starts at seven so you’ll have plenty of time to get situated.”

  “Oh I know that place.” I slip the card into my pocket and look up at Megumi. “Then we can stop at home and change clothes.”

  Megumi’s gaze slides to Heaven. “Umm, actually I have to pick something up from work. So, Heaven will drop me off at home, but we can ride there together, if you want.”

  Heaven tilts her head. “We could go in my car so you don’t have to drive.”

  Hiro raises his hands before I can reply. “Can I have everyone’s attention please? Heaven is here so we’re gonna let her say the pledge.”

  We all take a few steps back, surrounding Heaven in a circle.

  Hiro gestures to Heaven. “Whenever you’re ready, Heaven.”

  “I am the bearer of the hat,” Heaven begins. “Wearer of plaid, master of excellence. I am the helping hand of my brothers, the pillar of guidance for my sisters. I am the keeper of peace. I am all who came before me and all who follow. I am all who stand with me and the might of those who can’t. My clan’s victory is my victory. My clan’s loss is my lesson. My greed has no place here. My pride is not welcome. I pledge my heart and honor to this clan and uphold all this hat represents, or so help me, Great Fedora.”

  A wave of claps spread through the group.

  I can’t help but clap, too. She didn’t even stutter or need to look at notes. Not bad, new girl.

  Hiro reaches into his backpack and hands Heaven a black-felted fedora to wear. “Welcome to the clan.”

  Heaven takes off her sunglasses and puts on her hat.

  A male in the back yowls a preachy-sounding, “Hallelujah!”

  “You must abandon all worldly attachments and bow to the image of the felt hat god!” calls a smug-grinned girl.

  Heaven’s eyebrows raise at the comment. She only lowers her fedora over her eyes in a way that says You’re weird.

  Hiro huffs. “Don’t listen to Mia.” He checks his watch. “Alright, people, I know some of you have finals, so I won’t keep you. But if any of you wanna grab some breakfast off campus, I’ll drive.”

  Those magic words are enough to get everyone to break the circle. Some walk off with Wannabe-Thug Hiro. Others linger awkwardly for friends.

  “I think I’d better go,” Megumi says. “My final is all the way in the Engineering Tower.”

  “So is mine,” Heaven says. “Wouldn’t be the same one, is it?”

  “Calculus? 8:00 am?”

  “Eww… it is the same one.”

  My attention wanders. I can’t relate to them talking about their exam. I glance at the coffee shop. “Alright, you, two. I have a job to do.”

  The two of them don’t seem to hear me. Side-by-side, they walk up the leaf-dusted courtyard steps.

  A nagging tug holds me there looking at Heaven walk away. Something seemed missing from her. I rethink through our whole interaction, but nothing had been off about that…unless feeling weird counts.

  Not that it matters, I guess.

  Pigtail Girl skipped out on wipe-down duty again.

  My nails drum against the side of the cold cash register. Everyday it’s the same thing with her. Hide in the bathroom or the supplies room when it was time to clean. She won’t last at this coffee shop. That’s why I don’t bother to learn everyone’s names. People come and leave all the time. There isn’t much point in getting to know someone who would be done and gone tomorrow.

  Mint-Popping Guy scrubs the area beside the blenders with a stiff scowl. He mutters under his breath, rolling a striped peppermint over on his tongue. “It’s like she wants to lose her job. Work-study kids don’t take their job seriously.”

  The words aren’t for me. I stay quiet. Instead, my gaze shifts to the clock. 2:30. Thirty more minutes, and I can get away from this place.

  Now, it’s still Thanks-A-Latte’s slow period. There is something miraculous about 2:00 pm every day. Students aren’t clawing their way in the doors to stand in a monstrous line that winds around all the tables in the shop like an anaconda. A person can actually hear the swinging jazz instrumental playing on the speakers, instead of blenders whirring, the frappe ice grinding, the milk steamers hissing, customers jabbering, and baristas yowling out the ridiculous fake names that customers gave us at the register. Just me, my coworkers, the seductive lull of lingering coffee in the air, the cold air conditioner, and all the quiet students with books cracked open and the latest Daobook Yin on their desks. Zen hour.

  Acne-Faced Literature Boy comes in from the bathroom, tying his apron on. He stops beside the cash register next to mine, grinning a crooked smile at me. His front teeth tilt inward like a poor pair of double doors that someone kicked in. “Hey, are you busy this weekend?”

  An inferno churns in my gut. My fingers pull into a fist. He asks this every Friday. A few weeks ago, I told him that I read poetry for fun and somehow he interprets this as me wanting to go out to every poetry event, every MFA reading, and reading every half-assed sonnets he scribbles onto crumpled college-ruled paper. I’m tempted to send one back to him. I’ll call it: 21 Ways to Piss Me Off in 14 Lines or Less. He doesn’t seem to understand basic, straight-forward Common Tongue words like “Doesn’t interest me”, “Not my thing”, or the blatant, “I’ve got a boyfriend”. Maybe his “deep soulful” poet mind would understand better it if I reject him in cryptic, beautifully-crafted horse shit.

  “No thanks,” I say.

  He sits on the counter casually, his calloused hand fingering the space next to my hand. “Man, you’re always in high demand. So many poetry readings on campus and I never have anyone to go with.”

  Hmm, I wonder why. I withdraw my hand to my side.“Why not ask poetry classmates?”

  His smiles shortens. “Eh, I feel like… they just don’t appreciate real poetry, you know? I think I’m probably the only passionate one in that class.” His tongue lingers over the word "passionate".

  My gaze strays to the clock. Please be 3:00.

  2:32.

  Fuck.

  A few customers prowl in. Drained-faced, a pack of short moon-faced girls in spaghetti-strap tops, acrylic nails freshly polished on their sandaled feet. Their alpha, a rosy-lipped sorority girl donning a wristful of clacking bead bracelets, prowls to the cash register on the hunt for caffeine.

  I straighten up, grateful for the distraction. Grabbing a marker from the cup beside the register, I put on my best smile. “Hi. Welcome to Thanks-A- Latte. What can I get for you?”

  Acne-faced Literature Boy hops off the counter and turns to face the crowd. “Hi. I can help the next guest in line.”

  High-Maintenance Girl takes out took her wallet out from her faux leather purse. “Oh hi. I’d like a small green tea frappuccino, please. With whi
pped cream.” She pushes her hair back in a slow, prim sort of way. Her gaze flits up and down the length of my body. “And can you please use soy? Only one pump of sweetener. I don’t like a whole lot of sweetener in my frappe.”

  In the corner of my eye, Mint-Popping Guy is scowling. I know what he’s thinking. Oh gods, another fucking complicated order.

  I reach for a small plastic cup, scribbling the letters “GTF” on the cup. “You got it. And your name?”

  “Hina.”

  I write that down, too, then hand the cup off to Mint-popping Guy. “That’ll be five mon even.”

  High-Maintenance Girl hands me the money, takes her receipt then moves off to the side.

  I open the register, stowing it in. “Next customer in line.”

  “Hi. I’d like to have one date with you.”

  My gaze flicks up.

  Clad in his favorite black MURICA tee, my boyfriend and the bald eagle on the shirt beams at me. Between his matcha green eyes, bright ginger hair, and that MURICA shirt, saying that he lights up the room with his presence is an understatement. Regi’s sheer shameless dork-factor could moon the world to kingdom come.

  The statement draws Acne-faced Literature Boy’s gaze over to us. Creases form between his thick eyebrows, but he says nothing.

  Praise Fedora. The word boyfriend actually means something to him now. “Small, medium, or large?”

  He smirks. “I’ll take a medium.”

  “All right, but that’s going to cost extra,” I pull from the counter a medium plastic cup. “Seriously, what do you want?”

  “Caramel frappe.” Regi pulls out his wallet. He handed me a five mon coin and a one mon coin.

  I scrawl the name “Lovable Dork” on the cup and put a heart next to it. “So, what brings you here? I thought we agreed Saturday.”

  Regi’s lips press into a thin line. “Ugh. Work. Dad is making me help set up a concert here on campus since he overheard I was free today. And our stage manager’s assistant is out and I’m the only floater, so… I need the caffeine if I’m gonna make it through today.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  “Nope. I’m off the clock at three today,” I say. “I’m meeting Megumi at home, right after this.”

  Regi pouts playfully. “Dammit you’re so hard to catch up with.” He leans over my register for a peck on the lips.

  “Saturday,” I remind him, opening the register. “But I can stick around for a few minutes when I’m done.”

  “By the way… I’ve got a nice place planned out for our date.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to guess?”

  His eyes brighten. “Nope!”

  I throw him a look of mock-disgust. "Get out of here then. Disturbing my peace."

  Regi puts an hand to the MURICA, "Ow." He turns to Acne-faced Literature Boy, pointing his thumb at me. "See what I gotta deal with? She's so mean to me."

  Acne-faced Literature Boy just chews his lower lip, fingering the cash register. "Must be real hard, bro."

  1-5 'Ah'

  I pull up behind Tammy’s car in the driveway, right next to the neighbors’ invading ivy that droops over the fence.

  In the house, Jin and some brawny boy in a black baseball jersey crowd the TV while they scarf down two bowls of instant ramen. They’re watching a rerun of The Red Hood.

  “I didn’t know you watched anime,” I say.

  “Megumi told me to watch it,” Jin calls back. “It’s really good.”

  Good gods, Megumi is spreading that anime faster than Devil’s Disease.

  King stands in our doorway, peering at something with his head tilted and his curly tail wagging. Heaven’s voice drifts from inside. “Yes, starter crumble feed is okay. They can have oatmeal, hardboiled eggs, and a little bit of yogurt, if you want to give them a little treat.”

  Them? I pause next to King.

  Megumi hunches over a wooden house-shaped coop laying across her desk, her thumb stroking something cupped in her palms. “Okay. And for the bedding? I can use sand right?”

  “Sand is fine.” Heaven closes the small coop window. “Or pine shavings.”

  I toss my apron on my bed. “What’s all this for?”

  Megumi pivots to me with a wide smile. She holds out her hands. “Look at what I get to keep for the weekend!”

  A two tiny chicks peer back at me with beady, amber eyes. Scarlet fluff cloaks their body as if someone dipped them in dye.

  I scratch my head. “Are they supposed to be that red?”

  “Yeah, they’re specially-engineered chicks from work.” Megumi puts the chicks back inside the coop. “I’m gonna keep her over the weekend while Heaven is away.”

  Eyeing the coop, I lean against our bunk frame. “Those birds aren’t gonna cheep all night are they?”

  Heaven shakes her head. “They’re not noisy. The chicks’ internal clocks are programmed to make loud noise between eight in the morning and nine at night unless they don’t have sufficient food, water, or suffering some kind of emergency distress.”

  My hands fall to my sides. “That’s pretty clever.” I brush past Heaven to reach the closet. “Do they do anything special?”

  “They understand human speech,” Heaven says. “We’re hoping they can speak it when they’re fully grown.”

  I rummage through my clothes, imagining a talking chick. Would it be just like a parrot? Or actually hold a conversation? That might be neat, but… is that ethical?

  “So are we going in your car or Jun’s?” Megumi asks.

  “I’ll drive,” Heaven offers. “I have to pass by here on the way back to my place anyway.”

  Megumi skips into the bathroom. Shower water hisses inside.

  The room is quiet.

  I slide my black team hoodie off its hanger and put it on the bed so my in-game name, iSoFly faces up. A strange prickle slithers up my spine. Should I say something to Heaven? I feel like I should. She is our guest, after all. I straighten up, turning my attention to her. “You’re from Pua’alowhe, right?”

  Heaven tilts her head. “I am. Why do you ask?”

  I shrug. “My father came from there. He talked about it a lot.”

  Heaven’s gaze doesn’t move from my face, as if she’s expecting me to say more. It makes my silence seem incomplete or that I didn’t say enough. I want to call it refreshing—it’s rare for anyone in Tokaido to listen without their cellphone in hand—but I don’t feel refreshed. I'm reminded more of our neighbor's tabby and its thin-pupiled gaze trained on some prey.

  She chuckles. “I figured that you were half, but I didn’t want to assume anything. Thalur Shefe, moalu.”

  Heat radiates in my cheeks. I move back to the closet. I'm much more comfortable with my back to her. “I don’t speak any, so I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “I only said 'Good High-sun, sister.' Or 'Good afternoon' if you like cleaner translations.”

  The warmth coursing in me rises to a slow boil. I’m not your sister. “You say that to anyone?”

  “Hmm? I suppose. Moalu can be for any girl who is a Pua Moana. We are a very family-minded culture. Even strangers are family.”

  I bet you got a rude awakening when you got here then. I take out a pair of cozy sweatpants. “How long have you been in the country?”

  “A few years,” Heaven says. “May or may not stay depending on if my work situation changes.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Genetic testing. Same as Megumi for the moment. But I handle negotiations too and other things.”

  I fold my pants over my arm. Which reminds me, didn’t Genji want me to do lab work too? “I may have to look into that soon. Does it pay well?”

  Heaven gives a light chuckle. “My position does, but I’m sort of the exception, not the rule. And I’ve been here for a while. Megumi is probably better to ask.”

  “But is it worth it?” I ask.

  Heaven tilts her hea
d. “The money you mean?” Her gaze flicks away. “It’s not glamorous work. If you’re not into that sort of thing then it’s not really worth it.”

  I don’t say anything more and lay my clothes out on the bed. King pads in the room with a chew toy in his mouth. In the corner of my eye, Heaven stiffens, or at least I think she does. It’s so brief that I’m not quite sure what else to call it. But when I turn my head to look at her, she’s relaxed again. “Something wrong?”

  I get a delayed, “Hmm?”

  “I don’t know, you seemed tense for a moment there,” I say. “Just wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

  Heaven blinks slowly, lips contorting in confusion. “No, I’m fine. Just didn’t see the dog.”

  Maybe I’m just imagining things, then. But when I turn my back, I get that same nagging from before. That something’s missing, but I don’t dare turn back. She said nothing is wrong, just leave her alone.

  Violet, magenta, and blue cascades down toward the sun, a sinking drop of molten gold on the horizon; they drip and blend into one another like watercolor pigment. Cool air pours in through the window of Heaven’s car. Tokaido University recedes to a small speck in the distance. The black and white polarity lanes stretches out before us on the freeway, lane lines lighting the road brightly with chi-powered lights that get their power from the great Tower of Dao. Sitting on a remote isle of concrete not too far of the city’s coast, the tower’s single light blinks green to signal that the city is utilizing Yin chi, but from here, the light looks like the eye of a dragon watching us.

  “Chi is the way of the future! Clean! Affordable! Renewable, perfect energy! Don’t forget to pay your monthly chi contribution at home.” blares the radio. “One pint of chi is enough to power a whole neighborhood! Do your part, and…”

  My gaze shifts from the backlit dashboard to the tower in the distance. The advertiser’s voice fades to the back of my mind. Does the Tower of Dao have to run that ad after every program on the radio? I’ve heard that shit a thousand times by now. It’s like the government thinks we’ll forget.”