Frederick got the bride and the fortune. I got the drone as promised.

  “Wow, this is so nice.” Devina kept her hands folded in her lap while her eyes took in the interior.

  Wilma on the other hand was used to it and made herself comfortable by pulling her legs up under her and turning to Devina. “Is it true that you don’t have drones in the Motherlands?”

  “We do, but not for ordinary people. We use carbon-neutral cars and buses to get around, and of course bikes.”

  “But what about when you have to go long distances?”

  “Well, for us regular people there are boats, high-speed trains, and planes. But to do long-distance travel would require a lot of energy points.”

  “What are energy points?”

  “It’s sort of a reward system that starts from early childhood. For instance, when I was in school, we had three stationary energy bikes in each classroom. The school was powered by the electricity that we students generated, and excess power was shared with the community home next door.”

  “Kids bike while in class?” I wrinkled my forehead.

  “Not everyone at the same time, but some kids found it hard to sit still for long, so they were encouraged to bike while listening or reading a book. Others did it while taking part in a discussion group. We didn’t have to bike fast, just keep the bike going; and with more than ten classrooms and three bikes in each, creating enough power was never a problem. But anyway, the energy points are given to each person that contributes to creating natural power. It’s also a motivating factor to go to the energy centers. We can create power by running, biking, rowing, dancing, and other forms of movement.”

  “What if you can’t move? Or don’t want to?” my mom asked.

  “In that case you can buy energy points. It’s rare for someone not to have a job that gives them that option.”

  My dad wrinkled his forehead. “Sounds like forced labor to me.”

  Devina looked so different with her bigger eyebrows and glasses. “I like it. It’s a great way to access clean energy and at the same time make people feel that they’re helping. I’m sure you agree that there can be no further pollution of the planet.”

  With a low chuckle, my dad leaned in and whispered to me. “Sounds like you can’t even take a dump over there.”

  Devina heard him and didn’t look the least bit offended. “You can, of course… but only on your assigned deposit days. All feces are collected for fertilizing purposes.”

  “What?!!” My dad jerked his head back. “You’re not allowed to shit whenever you want to?”

  The smallest smile made her lips purse upward.

  “Dancing devils.” My dad laughed and shook his head. “And here I thought Motlanders didn’t have a sense of humor.” Looking to the rest of us he admitted, “Devina got me good on that one.”

  “Devin,” Wilma corrected him. “It’s better if we stick to Devin so we all get used to it.”

  “Fine.” William raised up a hand to signal he understood.

  My mom wrinkled her forehead. “I still don’t understand what Motlanders have against drones? Why would you use cars and bikes when you can fly around?”

  “Mom, it’s something about them rejecting technology.” Wilma spoke over the rim of her tea. “They’re afraid after what happened during the Toxic War. That’s why they prefer everything as natural as possible.”

  Devina gave Wilma a nod. “That’s right. We don’t strive toward technological breakthroughs. What matters to us is a life full of purpose.”

  “Purpose… like how?” my mom asked.

  “We care about each other and it’s our goal that each generation leave the planet cleaner than we got it. So much of the world is still uninhabitable because of pollution and radiation, but we’re cleaning up oceans and streams one at a time. One of our Council members compared it to spending your life cleaning up after a party you didn’t attend.”

  My parents had a ton of questions for Devina but I had a hard time concentrating because the responsibility of her safety lay on my shoulders like two heavy blocks of lead. I’d been a protector for as long as I could remember, but this was different. Devina didn’t know our customs and expectations. She wouldn’t know how to read a situation and had already proven by coming here the first time that she was a curious risk taker.

  When we arrived at the large fields that had been transformed into a marketplace with ten arenas for fighting, we flew over the area very slowly.

  “I love that we’re allowed to park inside the VIP area,” my mom mumbled low with her nose pressed against the window.

  “That’s because it’s my tournament.” Wilma sat up taller. “I’m the only one who gets to do it. Well, except for the King of course.”

  “About him.” I lowered my voice and spoke directly to my sister. “Keep your distance. Just nod and smile but do not under any circumstance go with him anywhere.”

  Wrinkling her nose up, she snorted. “Eww, why would I? He’s so vile.”

  I could feel Devina’s eyes on me but explaining how crazy and unpredictable our king was would have to wait.

  My dad and I were the first to exit and we helped our mother and Wilma out.

  “Devina.” I held on to her arm as she exited last. “Promise that you won’t do anything stupid.”

  A triangle formed between her eyebrows. “Like what?”

  “Like getting me killed.”

  Inhaling deeply, she shook her head. “I promise to follow your lead.”

  “Good.” I should let go of her arm, but the connection between us with my touching her and both of us looking deep into each other’s eyes made my body tingle with excitement.

  “I…”

  She waited for me to finish my sentence.

  “I’m sorry, but I like touching you.” To soften my rude words, I laughed a little.

  Devina smiled a little. “It’s just because it’s new and otherwise forbidden to you, don’t you think?”

  “Are you coming?” My sister was shouting for us and after locking up the drone, we hurried after her as I thought about Devina’s question.

  Is my attraction to her only because I can’t touch other women?

  No! The answer rose up from within. Even now that Devina was dressed as a moody teenage boy, my body reacted to her. There was something about her personality and the old soul looking back at me every time our eyes met. Devina wasn’t a girl bride. She was a woman with about the same amount of life experience as me. She had known joy and suffered devastating loss. She was complex and flawed, but at the same time fascinating and beautiful. If I was honest with myself, she’d been on my mind morning, noon, and night since before I met her in person.

  My dad stopped and hurried us along. “The fight is about to begin.”

  Devina and I jogged to keep up with my parents and Wilma but as we were about to enter the VIP area up front, I stopped them. “Wait. Everyone will be looking at Wilma and her entourage. It’s better if Devina and I blend in with the crowd.”

  “It’s Devin,” my dad reminded me while my sister begged in a loud whisper:

  “No, I want Devina with me. We’re shielded off from the masses, so she’ll be safer in the VIP area.”

  “Except everyone will be talking about who the boy is and you can’t be seen whispering to a young male as if you’re best friends. Think about it; if Devina’s identity is a troubled boy, that would look suspicious.”

  With a pout, Wilma gave in and squeezed Devina’s hands. “I’ll see you later then.”

  “Okay.” Devina looked to me for instruction and I assured her that we would meet up with the others later.

  As the others walked ahead, I threw a nod. “Come on. Let’s find some seats up back.”

  I stopped talking when we were swept up into a large group of Nmen all trying to get as close to the fight as possible. Devina looked small but kept her head down just like we had instructed her. With the hoodie covering parts of her face, no one would get a clear look. I thought I saw her pinch her nose and I didn’t blame her. The reek of unwashed bodies was overpowering until we got up to the back row of the bleachers.

  Devina sat down next to me and muttered a question, “Is hygiene not a thing here?”

  We were at a distance from other spectators, but I still leaned forward and kept my head straight ahead, speaking almost without moving my lips. “Most of these men are camping in tents. You saw the large areas when we flew in.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Most of them arrived on Wednesday and they’ve filled their days watching fights and drinking beer. There’s a lake about ten minutes from here where people go to bathe, but some don’t bother and with the heat wave we’ve had, it makes little difference since we’re all sweating like pigs anyway.

  “You don’t smell bad.”

  That comment made me turn my head and look at her. “You think I smell good?”

  “Compared to this bunch, you smell lovely.”

  It was hard to keep a disinterested façade. “That’s a first.”

  “What is?”

  “No one has ever used the word lovely while describing anything related to me.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes as more people filled up the rows in front of us.

  Using a deep voice to imitate a boy, Devina whispered, “I didn’t realize that you’d have to give up good seats in order for me to come. I’m sorry about that.”

  I shrugged because I couldn’t tell her that I was excited to be alone with her.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No. I’m doing this for my sister. It’s not your fault.”

  When the two fighters entered the ring, they made a spectacle out of flexing their muscles and scowling at each other. This part was for the audience and I’d always felt stupid for doing it when I’d fought.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Pumping up the audience and trying to intimidate their opponent.”

  Devina’s eyes widened. “Did he really just smack his chest like a caveman?”

  “Wayne is a show-man, but he’s got the skills to back it up. He’s a great fighter and one of Wilma’s favorites because he’s only twenty-eight and charming.”

  She crossed her arms. “But look at the way he prances around.”

  I had seen more than thirty fights these past few days and even though this was one of the finals and I had bet money on Wayne, I was more focused on Devina’s reaction to the fight than the actual fight itself.

  When the two men began throwing punches through the air, the audience cheered, while she squeezed her eyes closed. It didn’t take long before she was pushing herself back against the barrier behind us as if it could swallow her whole and take her away from the violence in front of her. Both her hands were formed into fists and pressed against the lower part of her face.

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  “Just remember they pay to be here. The contestants and the audience members. We all love this.”

  Shaking her head in a slow movement, she looked at me. “How can you enjoy another’s pain?”

  I gave a grimace. “I wouldn’t say that I enjoy their pain, but for someone to win there has to be a loser and I want my sister to marry the strongest protector. You get that, right?”

  “Even if it means that he’s a violent lunatic?”

  I frowned. “He won’t be violent toward her.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Because if he is, she can divorce him and that would be the most humiliating thing a man could ever experience.”

  “To get divorced?”

  “Yes. The prestige of winning a wife is enormous and for someone to screw it up and mistreat a woman is unthinkable. A husband is expected to protect and care for his woman. We have so few women that they are considered the most rare and precious thing in our country.”

  “Women aren’t things.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  For two rounds of fighting, we didn’t talk. Devina looked sick but stayed in her seat.

  When Wayne jumped up into the air and planted his foot in the other man’s face, blood spurted out and a loud roar of excitement was heard from the audience, who rose to their feet just as Wayne’s opponent fell backward.

  We were sitting high up and with no one blocking our view, we could see it all.

  “Oh, Mother Nature.” Devina gasped, her eyes fixed on the fight ring where Wayne was waltzing around with a cocky attitude, riling up the audience.

  “He’s taunting him.” Devina tucked her sleeves over her hands and pulled the hoodie closer as if she could shield herself from what was happening in the fight ring.

  “The audience loves a show and Wayne is popular because he always delivers.” My words were unnecessary since the wild cheers and stamping feet from the audience told that much.

  Not far from us a man in a tank top and a leather vest stood cheering with his fist swinging in the air. “Wayne. You’re the fucking champion. Kill the loser.”

  Devina’s eyes went from the man to me and in her eyes, I read the question that she didn’t ask. She wanted me to assure her that he wasn’t serious. I looked straight ahead.

  When the man on the ground tried to get up with slow and uncoordinated movements, Devina whispered as if she was speaking to him, “Don’t get up.”

  The man couldn’t hear her and kept pushing up from the floor.

  “I think he suffered a severe concussion.”

  “Could be,” I agreed.

  “Then he should stay down.”

  It was clear Devina didn’t understand the rules of fighting.

  The man on the floor made it up on all fours and was trying to lift his knee to find his footing when Wayne planted a solid kick in his ribs that made him groan out in deep pain.

  Laughter and boos followed when the man on the floor vomited.

  By now Devina’s foot was tapping like she wanted to run away. “Why don’t they stop it? He clearly needs medical treatment.”

  Some of the people in our row looked over.

  “Stop tapping your foot,” I muttered low enough for only her to hear. “It’s making the bleachers vibrate and people are looking over. Play it cool and pretend you’re either bored or enjoying the show.”

  “But can’t you see the poor man needs help? Why don’t they stop the fight?”

  “The only one who can stop is himself.”

  “How? He’s throwing up and he’s injured.”

  “Unless he gives up, the fight continues.”

  Like a true performer, Wayne was showing disgust for his opponent by making faces of revulsion and pulling the man away from the pile of vomit. The fact that he pulled him by his hair made the audience laugh and for the first time in my life I didn’t feel amused by any of it.

  The empathy and distress that radiated from Devina made me see our culture through her eyes and it wasn’t pretty. “All of this happens with consent, you know. We love the adrenaline kick of fighting and every time I walk into a ring, I understand that it comes with a risk. So do the men down there.”

  “Why doesn’t he give up then? He has to understand that he’s losing.”

  “Because giving up a fight means giving up your dignity.”

  “So?”

  I sucked in a deep breath and spoke on my exhalation. “A life without honor and dignity is no life at all.”

  Devina couldn’t fathom what honor meant to us Nmen, and it wasn’t something I could explain to her in a few mumbled sentences.

  In the ring, the loser was taking another round of beating to his face and from this distance he seemed unconscious.

  “Kill, kill, kill,” the men around us chanted and sure enough, Wayne lifted his elbow in the air.

  “Close your eyes,” I warned.

  “Why? He’s not really going to kill him, is he?”

  A sunbeam landed on Wayne as he stood over his opponent. It made the perspiration on his face shimmer. Closing his eyes, he smiled like this was his moment in the spotlight.

  “Kill, kill, kill,” the audience continued, but instead of crushing the man’s throat with his elbow, he spread out both arms and spun in a full circle until he faced Wilma and our parents.

  The VIP section where Wilma was sitting was on the right side of the ring and I could see my sister smiling at Wayne. Unlike Devina, who saw only a monster, Wilma saw a strong and powerful warrior and she was pleased he was winning.

  “He’s giving her the choice.”

  “What choice?” Devina’s fake bushy eyebrows were drawn so close they gave her a unibrow.

  “Whether to spare the man’s life or kill him.”

  Wilma rose to her full height and beamed from all the attention. Even from this distance I could see the blood rush in her eyes, but then my mother tugged at her dress and whispered something to her. Wilma turned her head in our direction and her shoulders fell.

  Thank you, Mom. My chest eased a little. I had no doubt Wilma would have asked for the kill, but my mother had reminded her that a Motlander was watching and that Devina wouldn’t understand that killing the man on the floor was the kind thing to do.

  “Let him live,” Wilma said and sat down again. My dad shook his head in disappointment and the audience booed.

  “As you wish.” Wayne bowed his head to her and the referee came to raise his hands in victory.

  With the loser lying passed out on the floor, the audience rose up on their feet and applauded the winner.

  “Get up.” I pulled Devina up with a strong hand to her arm.

  “Just so you know, I’m only clapping because he spared his life.”

  “Wilma only made that choice because of you.”

  “Then it was a good thing I came today.”

  I frowned. “You have no idea how much that man is going to hate being spared.”

  She gave me a skeptical glance, so I continued my low mutter, “It’s different in the early rounds, but this was a champion fight and it’s always to the death. Being spared by a woman will make him a laughing stock wherever he goes.”

  “But at least he’ll be alive.”

  “Yes, but it will take years for him to rebuild his pride.”

  Devina arched a brow and looked deep into my eyes. “And he’ll have those years now. Maybe if he uses his time wisely, he’ll come to realize that what others think of him is of little importance.”

 

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