Four of their construction crew members had died in a collapse. Lu didn’t know any of them, but Benny cried when their glass bricks emerged from the crematorium as family members stepped forward to place them into the funeral wall that circled Caldera. Pa had offered inclusion options—the expensive additions that would color the glass, making it easier to identify at the wall, but they’d all declined.

Lu watched them glare: spouses, siblings, and children, hating Pa with tense shoulders and scowling hackles raised high. But the funerals had become too familiar, and all Lu could think about was that Adon was probably wearing his gravity suit coat to school, looking for him on the balcony, and remembering it was a district day for the Wells. Lu thought of the perfectly unworn pair of gravity boots sitting in the coatroom by the door. Ores had left them a year ago, surely outgrown and forgotten. They would fit Mess perfectly. Benny elbowed him and Lu focused for several more minutes as the uncles sang their farewells and lawyers consoled families with Pa’s settlement fees. Lu noticed how none of them wore their masks, even though they knew what the smoke in the air had burned. He choked down a cough and didn’t inhale fully until they were once again in the safety of filtered air, heading back home. 

☆

Lu ran to school with the lunch he’d made for Adon, only to realize it was Indigo’s district day and Adon was working. He ate the food himself, sitting in front of Aphro’s portrait and counting all the ways it didn’t look like Adon. It was a kind, untroubled version of him maybe, but Adon’s sure grip on the rope of survival was what drew people to him. He knew the way out, so people followed. When his grip slipped, he laughed and held tighter, and that kind of awareness, forgiveness, and determined progress was infectious. Especially when it came with results. 

Adon texted Lu back hours later with a quick apology. He’d been at the cakeshop and was running to his shift at the ramen cart. He sent a picture of a failed cupcake pulled off the belt with Lu’s name written in bright yellow frosting. 

“Lu-Bird, just the young man,” Jane Turq interrupted him, flipping her tablet so he could see she was grading his midterm exam. 

Lu jumped at the sound of his full name. The Janes usually left him alone, but here was his general science teacher and homeroom advisor, standing beside him looking at the portrait of his mother with an understanding sigh, thinking he was pitifully sulking at the second place ribbon and not impatiently critiquing his own dish, running through ways to make it better before he presented it to Adon. He’d forgotten the name of it again, the instant he’d read Adon’s message that he would be at work all day, all the information he’d memorized had vanished. He blinked up at the Jane without a word. 

She crouched beside him with an encouraging smile. “I just wanted to say to keep it up with the good work lately. I never expected to see much improvement, but I really should have known better, Adonis is a first-rate tutor and your scores have really improved exponentially. Don’t let him down and keep it up, kiddo. You might even have a shot at that top-20 spot in your CAPT block if you want it—not that you need it, of course, but still.” She laughed at her own joke, clapping his shoulder fondly, then shuffled her tablet back in front of her and continued down the hall. 

Lu scowled, too many emotions colliding, left only with questions, scoffing as the cloud of confusion cleared. No one ever expected much, but they never said it. They’d noticed him together with Adon? And they’d assumed Adon was his tutor? It made sense now that he thought about it, but it annoyed him nonetheless. He thought it over and realized he’d ended up completing assignments out of boredom while Adon graded, that he paid more attention to the Jons and Janes to compare their methods to the ways Adon explained an idea or taught his students history in songs and acronyms. Lu couldn’t help his smile as he took another bite and looked up at Aphy’s imitation of Adon, blushing at the memory of their interlocked fingers and willfully letting himself tumble toward whatever it was that made his chest warm and velvety, brainstorming ways to to make Adon warm back, his guts sparking like a Duster can-fire. 

“Hey.” Aphro stood over Lu, kicking his foot while her friends paused down the hall, watching wide-eyed but waiting. 

Lu choked on his rice, coughing, then sat straighter with a greeting smile, “hi!”

Aphro rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, “I don’t know what you’re up to this time, but I beat you fairly, so leave my brother alone.”

Lu frowned, tired of his general state of confusion at everyone else’s assumptions. He sighed, covering his dish and tucking it back in his bag, annoyed that his abandoned arts hallway was so busy.

“Did you hear me?” Aphrodite demanded, kicking again, “he’s been through enough, so leave him out of your games and fight me fair.”

Lu stood, chuckling. He finally understood, leaning toward her but watching her friends flinch in awe and fascination, Pa’s reputation obviously preceding him.He bent to her ear, whispering, “I’m not the one playing games, Aph.” Lu straightened with a wink and sauntered back toward the cafeteria. It was Aphrodite who’d convinced Calli to ruin an amazing piece, only to successfully gaslight the entire art department into believing it was Lu. It was Aphro who lied to Adon every time he asked where she’d been, dismissing his concern. It was Aphy who didn’t like Ly because she was a sore loser. It was definitely Aph who played the games. He didn’t owe her explanations about Adon when she was the one who took his dinners and lunches without questioning what her brother ate, where their unit fees came from, or how her art supplies magically appeared at her desk when Adon took his tutor fees in trades instead of credits and hardly slept between jobs. 

Lu was mad enough to inhale and turn around to say it all out loud, but the girls were gone, pushing through the far door. He paused to glare at Aphro’s bad portrait looming over the others, annoyed at the glossy perfection, the illusion of Adon that ignored his hardwork and suffering. It was a willful ignorance that would starve him to death before he even got his CAPT results. 

Lu stomped home. He’d never been angry for someone else before. He made the egg dish in one try, surprised no one kicked him out of the kitchen, and leaving it as spotless as he’d found it, finished his homework, and waited for Adon to text back, yelling at the clock on his tablet for moving so slowly. He sketched out his art assignments, playing with the idea of warm Grounder firepits and the loneliness of the cold outside the tunnels. When he sank too deep into the feeling and still had hours to go before Adon’s shift ended or school began, Lu restlessly called Phaios and followed his directions to the pop-up race location, joining the rail rally as bikes and boards drifted, flipped, and jumped the illegal loop tracks. 

Lu ran a few rounds, tucking expertly into his turns the way Junior had taught them when they’d been close to brothers, putting on a good show, but still lost all three rounds, relegated to the bunny routes. 

Phaios clapped his shoulder at the bar cart with a smile, “Nika said you were pretty good. She actually felt like she was racing.”

Lu rolled his eyes. It was a compliment, Nika was a professional and it was her family’s track, the Quartet loved them. But it still felt condescending when Phaios said it. 

“No, really,” Phai insisted, “a bit more speed and you could take on the ground!”

Lu chuffed, “no way, Pa would kill us both.”

Phaios laughed, wrapping an arm around Lu and taking the drink he offered, “not if Benny did it first.”

Lu nodded, “plus I like my hands. I use them a lot.” Ground bikes were notorious for burns and glove fires near the hood, the obstacles deadly and the purses a gamble. 

“Awww, little artsy boy,” Phaios teased, pinching Lu’s cheek.

Lu elbowed him in the gut, but Phaios jumped back before the hit could connect. 

“Hey, speaking of art, I’ve got some right here,” Phaios reached into his pocket and began unfolding a poster that could only be pornographic in content. 

Lu rolled his eyes and stomped away, a crowd already forming around Phaios. Lu yanked his phone from his locker, not even an hour had passed. He grumbled, tossing the phone back in and slamming the door, spending the rest of the night pushing through bunny rail routes until a group of kids got mad at him passing them and ganged up to tell him to join the races if he wanted to go so fast and stop running through their trick park. A kid Lu recognized from school whispered something to their impromptu leader and he paled, all of them apologizing and backing away and Lu remembered who his father was. 

He was no mafia prince or son of the Quartet. He was worse. An affiliate snake with a proven track record. The Conductor’s new pet, dangerous to the ground rats. He wondered if Adon knew he was dangerous. He wondered what Adon would say when he told him his name. He wondered then, as that fuzzy feeling returned to his gut and he slowed, weaving through track, if Aphy hadn’t already told Adon. Adon must not have cared if she’d come to threaten Lu. 

Lu returned home and slept soundly, without a single dream of the pits or dread of the workout Benny would run him through in the morning for skipping nearly an entire week of training, all of it to follow Adon.

☆