Z 2134

here?” she whispered to Michael. “You know I hate this place.”
    “I’m sorry.” He looked down. “You said you couldn’t bear to watch it at Chimney Rock. I thought this was better.”
    Chimney Rock was what they, and most of the younger people, called the orphanage where Ana had been placed. It was one of City 6’s three State-run orphanages, and while they knew it as Chimney Rock, its official title was The Home for Wayward Youths and Miscreants.
    The Rock was a sprawling complex in the beating heart of the City, its outside as sooty and black as the spirit inside. The Rock was where they sent the children of State prisoners, and where Ana and her 14-year-old brother, Adam, had been living for the past two months, ever since her father had murdered their mother.
    Ana was assigned to stay at Chimney Rock until she turned 18 — six long months away. Only then would she be allowed to claim custody of Adam, provided she earned her keep at the textile, where it was her job to sew buttons onto shirts, all day, six days a week, 12 hours a day, until her fingers were numb or throbbing. Usually both. As awful as the throbbing was, most times Ana preferred it since it was better than the numb which tricked her into thinking her fingers had disappeared. Where she’d go after Chimney Rock was anybody’s guess, though.
    Most likely, she’d have to move to the Dark Quarter, the nearly lawless ghetto of City 6. In some ways, she wondered if Adam would be better off staying on at the orphanage. Sure, he’d be miserable, but at least he’d be safe, something she couldn’t guarantee in the Dark Quarter.
    A day never passed when Ana didn’t wish she’d tested well for any other aptitude back when she was 15 and chose to test for sewing, only because her friend Ginny Thompson thought it would be fun working together. Ironically, Ginny failed the test and wound up working the fields instead. How farming — being out in the open all day long — was what you got when you failed, and being trapped inside a hot factory through nearly every hour of sunlight was what you got when you passed, well, it seemed a cruel joke to Ana.
    Ana still remembered her mom congratulating her when she was first awarded her placement at the textile factory — as if she’d made a tremendous achievement and would thus be rewarded with meaningful work. It was easy enough for her mom, who had been gifted at planning and therefore landed a comfortable desk job with the City, as did her father, who had worked all the way to Major at City Watch before the events that changed all their lives.
    The chants of “Jo-nah!” finally died away, save for one lone screamer, a drunken, long-haired 18-year-old she’d known all too well. Liam Harrow was tipping back his glass and going on long past everyone else. He turned to Ana mid-swig, then turned his eyes back to the screen. A second later he turned to Ana.
    “What?” he said, a slur of hostility thick in his voice. “Think you’d be happy your daddy made it to the Final Battle.”
    “Do I look happy?” Ana shot back. “Don’t worry,” she added, “he won’t last five seconds against Bear.”
    “Some way to talk about your father,” Liam said, finishing his beer. He climbed from his stool, breaking rank with his trio of drinking buddies, each of them ranging between 10 and 15 years older than him, and each looking every bit as rough around the edges. Probably Underground scum.
    One of them, a red-haired, green-eyed man with a thick beard, slapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder and said, “Leave her be, Liam. Let’s watch the recaps.”
    Liam shook his buddy’s hand away, then glanced back as if to say, “Don’t fuck with me.”
    Though Liam was younger than the others, he was also in significantly better shape. Fighting shape, though Ana had little doubt he’d be wearing a permanent ale gut by the time he was 25 — if he lived that long, or didn’t wind up in prison. Or, even more likely, outside The Wall. Liam had always been in trouble, and his father was a known troublemaker before he killed himself, back when Liam was nine.
    Michael started to stand as Liam approached their table.
    Ana put her hand over his, then shook her head and said, “No. I’ll handle this.” She held his stare and made him silently agree.
    It wouldn’t do to have Michael playing hero.
    He was a gentleman — sweet, good looking in a nice guy sorta way, and in excellent shape, but not a fighter.