The Forsaken

leave!”
    His words get drowned out by the crowd.
    The argument lasts for the next half hour. I stay silent the whole time, just watching and listening.
    What I learn is this: Most of the camp wants everyone to stay at the village. They feel like it’s their home. They’ve made a life here, even if it’s an imperfect one. They’re also worried about the Ones Who Suffer, and don’t want to abandon them. And they’re scared about what the hunters will encounter in the unknown heart of the gray zone, assuming the hunters can even get back inside now that the tunnel is destroyed.
    A minority of the camp—comprised mostly of hunters and warriors—wants to leave the village as soon as possible and go on the expedition. This vocal contingent of boys wants to search, and fight, for a way off the wheel.
    Nothing gets resolved by the end of the debate around the fire pit. I’m hoping that maybe no decision will get made for a long time, not until some crucial event tips the balance. I just got to this village. I don’t want to see it disintegrate around me. And I need to help David. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him.
    As the group begins to disperse, Gadya and I stand up.
    Liam has already disappeared into the forest barefoot, completely at home in the outdoors. After spending my whole life in the concrete and asphalt of New Boston and New Providence, the natural world still feels like a stranger to me.
    I turn to Gadya. “What do you think about Operation Tiger Strike? And why’s it called that, anyway?”
    “I dunno. Stupid BS the boys thought up,” she answers absently.
    “So do you agree with Liam, like he said?”
    “I don’t see eye to eye with Liam on anything .” She stares at me long and hard. Too long. She’s scrutinizing my face. “You like him. I can tell,” she finally mutters. “Wonderful.”
    “What? I barely know him.”
    “Just don’t pursue him. He’s off-limits to you.”
    “Fine. No problem. I know that you guys dated, but I thought—”
    “Rika should have kept her mouth shut,” Gadya snaps. “She doesn’t know what went on between me and Liam. No one does. It doesn’t matter if we’re together right at this moment. It just matters that you stay away from him.” She’s starting to sound pissed off at me, for no reason. “You can’t just flounce in here with your wavy hair and your pale skin and try to go after all the guys, y’know? It doesn’t work that way.”
    “I’m not doing anything but trying to stay alive!” I sputter. “Liam talked to me. I didn’t talk to him.”
    Gadya isn’t appeased. “Let’s just see how you look after a year on the wheel. After a bad diet, and all the stress, and all the battles. You’ll look like a ghost of yourself. A wretched, skinny, beat-up ghost!”
    I feel like bursting into tears. If I were alone, I probably would. But I refuse to cry in front of Gadya. I’m mad at myself for even feeling like I want to.
    I glare back at her. “So what if boys are giving me attention? Back home I was invisible for the first sixteen years of my life. Boys never gave me the time of day. Ever. I was just a random orphan girl.” I swallow hard, to stop from getting teary again. “Here, I feel different, like I’ve found people who don’t look through me. Like you, Rika, Veidman, and yes, Liam too. But I am not going after him, or anyone else, okay? So back off.”
    Gadya blinks a couple times, keeping up a hard face to mask the emotions roiling beneath the surface. “That’s exactly how I felt before I came here,” she finally mutters. “Invisible, I mean. I guess it’s been so long that I forgot how it was back home. I could never get along with anyone. I don’t even know why things are so different here.”
    I keep glaring at her.
    She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her face softening. “Look, I’m an idiot, okay?” Words come tumbling out like a painful confession. “Maybe I’m used to getting a lot of attention from the guys. Not as much as Meira gets, of course, but Veidman scares everyone away. And yeah, I do remember what it was like to feel unwanted in the UNA, like you’re just part of the wallpaper. Or a crummy piece of old furniture. A number instead of a person.” She exhales shakily. “So do you forgive me for acting like a spaz?”
    “Yeah,” I say, relieved. “Of course.”
    She steps forward, and we hug. Then she lets go of me. “I guess I still haven’t gotten over Liam, huh?