Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I’m doing bookkeeping and menu planning for the cantina, and I’ve already got everything that’s going onto the menu laid out. Zaemen’s in charge of the food, and I’m going to assist, but until the cantina actually opens, I don’t have a whole heck of a lot to do. Her question makes it easy for me to pose the next one, though. “Did you hear we’re opening soon? Next Saturday.”
Simone pauses. “Are you inviting me?”
“Everyone’s invited.”
“Ah.” There’s a beat that lasts too long, and I wonder if I said something wrong. But she gives me a cheery look, reaching up to adjust the sun-shade. “It should be a fun way to celebrate my birthday.”
“That’s your birthday?”
“If you morph the Risda calendar into a human one, sure. Close enough.” She takes a sip of her tea, humming with approval that it’s already been sweetened for her, just how she likes.
“Happy birthday,” I say lamely, trying not to stare at her lips as they move over the rim of the cup. Don’t be weird, Ruth-Ann. Don’t be weird.
“When’s yours?”
“My what?”
She sets the cup down with a wry look. “Your birthday, silly.”
“Oh, uh…I don’t know.” I suddenly feel flustered. Maybe I’m getting too much sun and hot tea. “You know, maybe I should go.”
“Wait, what do you mean you don’t know your birthday?” Simone asks, her brows furrowing. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened.” I manage a tight smile.
“Oookay. Surely one of your sisters—”
“Don’t ask my sisters about our birthday,” I snap, panicked.
Her eyes go wide.
Shit. I am screwing all of this up. She can’t find out that I’m a clone. It’s not just my secret. I’d be endangering my sisters if someone told on us. We’re already so obvious. Three identical Asian women named Ruth? We might as well fucking put targets on our foreheads.
Neck hot, panic in my belly, I do the only thing I can think of. I turn and walk away.
CHAPTER
TEN
SIMONE
Jesus, what’d I say?
I watch as Ruth-Ann marches off toward the cantina, her shoulders stiff and angry. I’m bewildered at what I said to hurt her feelings, but I feel like a monster. She’s my friend, and just the sweetest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. Everything she does has meaning behind it, from the tea she brings me in the morning to the recipes she scribbles down for me, selected specifically because she knows my level of baking or the ingredients I have on hand, or when I’ve burned my fingers and can’t do a lot of finesse-work. She’s thoughtful and notices everything.
So the fact that I’ve somehow made her upset bothers me.
Pluto’s still seated on the ground. His tail thumps once or twice as he watches her leave, but I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or hoping she’ll come play.
I want to chase after her and apologize, but I don’t take more than a step away from my cart before someone’s approaching to shop. I force myself to turn back and put my best sales smile on. “Hey there, Chloe. What can I get for you today?”
I’ll have to apologize to her later.
It takes far too long for my cart to sell out today. I’d made extra this morning, my mind full of the idea of extra credits and what I could put those towards. Now I’m regretting the additional batches of cookies. I want to pack up and go, but leftovers don’t sell nearly as well as fresh food. So I keep chatting with customers and bagging up pastries and sweets and do my best to watch the doors of the cantina at the far end of the settlement. When I’m finally sold out, I pack up and take both Pluto and the cart over toward the cantina as fast as I can. I peer into the windows, my hands pressed to the glass.
No one’s inside. I’m too late. They must have packed up and left already.
And Ruth-Ann didn’t even stop by to say hi. My gut clenches and there’s an ache bubbling deep inside me. I hurt my friend’s feelings. I made her run off and avoid me. Something I said bothered her so much that she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
It’s devastating.
I go through our conversation over and over again, trying to read through the lines, to somehow understand what it is that I stepped into. What did I say that was so offensive? Why are birthdays bad?
It isn’t until I push my cart back to the boarding house and see Janelle at the front desk that I remember: stasis amnesia. Janelle had a terrible case of it and can’t remember where she’s from or how old she is. This must be the same thing affecting Ruth-Ann. It all makes sense now.
Oh my god. I’m such an asshole. How could I have forgotten? My memory’s still seared by Pearl, a woman I’d met when I’d first been enslaved by the praxiians. She looked to be the same age as me—late twenties—but didn’t cuss. Instead, she’d say things like “golly” and “jeepers” and couldn’t remember large chunks of her life.