Beneath the Shadowlanders

Chapter Seven: Calista

I wake to the click of the door closing. Probably Bee leaving for class, I think. The smell of waffles wafting up the stairs confirms it. I smile and shift my feet off the edge of my bed and let out a gaping yawn, stretching my limbs across the thin mattress. I roll off the bed, scratching my head. My small closet stands open across the room, filled with the few possessions I managed to save from the surface. A few pairs of worn jeans, some t-shirts, one sundress I'll probably never get to wear again – this far underground, it's about sixty degrees year round – a few pairs of shoes in varying styles, a sweater, and a leather jacket that I refused to leave behind.

I glance out the window at the artificial sunlight casting a yellow-orange glow over the rundown city. The light will get gradually brighter until noon, when it will start to dim again. It's meant to imitate the rise and fall of the actual sun, so that if we ever do make it back to the surface, those too young to remember will at least be used to the shifts. At night, a complicated system of lights imitate the glowing stars along the five-story-high roof of our little underground world. The phases of the moon are even brought to life through a large diffused floodlight gradually covered and uncovered by someone who's probably paid way too much to move around a hunk of board or metal or whatever it is they use. At night, it casts a warm glow over the whole city. Sometimes, I climb onto our roof and watch as one by one, the houses go dark.

Now, however, it's midmorning, and I need something to wear to school. I shuffle through my closet and select a pair of jeans that accentuate my hips and a blue t-shirt with the logo of a band I used to listen to on the surface. Down here, bands are a thing of the past. Music is considered frivolous. All we're left with is the CD's and mp3's we managed to smuggle from the surface. A meager collection, sure to be lost to time as soon as our Walkmans and iPods die with no way to revive them.

I carefully pick apart my curls, smoothing them with my palms. I try pinning them back, resulting in a weird trapezoidal hairstyle that I immediately reject. I flip my head over, finger-combing the ringlets into a high ponytail, but several pieces stick out, flopping this way and that and giving me the impression of a mad scientist. I huff, blowing a strand out of my eyes, and yank out the ponytail holder, finally giving up and scooping the whole mess into a bun at the nape of my neck.

I throw on a pair of sneakers and grab my leather jacket and backpack and trek downstairs. Mom and Orion are already at the table, a plate of waffles set in the center. I drop my stuff next to my chair and grab a plate, filling it with the smooth, compartmented rounds. Mom pours me a glass of orange juice and sets it next to my plate.

She and Orion still seem to be involved in some kind of standoff, refusing to look at each other or speak. Ri stares intently into the syrup wells of his waffle. "Good morning!" I attempt, hoping at least one of them will respond. Nothing. I scoop a forkful of goat butter on to my waffle, drawing it across the grid, then pour the syrup directly into the center, watching it flood the cells and pour over into their neighbors until it winds its way into rivers across the thin ceramic of my plate. We finish our breakfast in total silence.

On the way out the door, our mother stops us, breaking the silence at last. "Ri, I want you home immediately after school," she says.

Orion begins to protest, but she cuts him off.

"I don't care how fair or unfair it is, or what you supposedly have to do this time, or how many lies you can coerce your sister into telling –" at this, she takes a moment to stare a dagger into my heart, "– I expect you to walk in that door at exactly quarter after 3, and if you don't, you're grounded for two weeks, and you will not be eating dinner again tonight. Is that clear?"

Ri stands firm, refusing to acknowledge our mother.

"I said, is that clear?" Steam pours from her ears, and her eyes burn.