Food for Fools

I’ll be lucky if I’m only nursing a headache by the end of the night. I’d never quite realized how loud a group of people can get before, but now with music blasting in my ears as partygoers screech along, I’m beginning to get an idea. It seems like there’s some sort of correlation between the wild behavior and the noise: the more reckless they act, the louder they scream. At this point, I’m seriously beginning to wonder why I even decided to come here in the first place, especially if I am just going to hide in the corner the entire time.

That’s the million dollar question. Why am I here? I press up against the white wall behind me, wondering if I’m trying to hide myself by doing so. There isn’t much point to it, seeing as every person who moves past me seems completely unconcerned by my existence. I might as well actually be part of the wall. They are all busy laughing and screaming lyrics to a song I’ve never heard before; dancing and tossing balloons; spilling their drinks all over themselves, the floor, and anyone around them. This is what I have always wanted so desperately. I wanted to be at a party like this, among the pinnacle of society, yet now that I have finally arrived, I’m floundering like a fish out of water, gasping for some sense of familiarity.

The fact that I was never invited and decided to just sneak in probably didn’t help matters, but I choose to ignore that.

A quick, sharp wail of an alarm rings out beside me, drawing me out of my personal reflections, and I practically jump out of my skin. “Skies above,” I hiss under my breath, trying to calm my heart.

Despite how loud it is, no one so much as glances in the direction of the out of place noise. Only one boy, wearing a glittering golden mask, pays it any mind, pausing for a moment before continuing in his revelries. Frowning, I focus in on the small screen sitting on the table beside me, the source of the scare. It’s a familiar noise to hear these days, a way to identify that a report would be going out. These days, the reports are only ever about one thing that, frankly, I’m tired of hearing about.

The white-haired reporter on screen begins to read from a paper after giving a half-hearted greeting to her audience. It seemed painfully obvious that Lydia Wing would rather be anywhere else in the world.

Probably she’d rather be here, at one of the biggest Elite events of the year, I consider before shaking my head and attempting to pay attention to what she is saying.

“…Wendy Fifteen has also been reported missing, making for a total of eleven marked as missing in these last three days alone.” It’s exactly what I expect her to say. “Her fiancé says he last heard from her…”

I move away from the screen, taking my cue from everyone around me. Back in my house, my family will be watching with bated breath to make sure no one we know has been brought up. Everyone knows a Norm mentioned in a report is as good as dead; when they go missing, no ever hears from or about them ever again. Somewhere out there, potentially within the town I live in, a family shrieks and wails as the words leave Lydia’s mouth. Yet up here, no one even looks at the screen, instead continuing to giggle and shriek in delight as they fool around.

None of them care, I realize, watching some people on the dance floor near me begin some strange dancing game as two of them hold up a bar with shaking hands and the rest try to go under it. It hasn’t even interrupted their fun.

“Perhaps it shouldn’t interrupt mine either.” After that realization, I decide to slip off to another room to see what else I can learn from this party. I’d rather do that than waste time figuring out how the game in here works.

I walk through the arch, only to make the mistake of glancing back at the crowd I just left. The DJ shouts something unintelligible that sets them all into an excited tizzy. It isn’t the act of looking back that’s a mistake. Actually, the light display, although blinding, is quite pretty. No, the mistake is looking back at that specific instance, because the moment I turn back around I slam straight into some partygoer.

“Sorry!” I shriek in embarrassment, pulling away and covering my face with my hands. I’m not sure if it’s to hide that I don’t fit in or to hide my blush. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

I end the stream of apologies when I take a moment to look at the person I’ve bumped into. The girl has slumped against the wall, giggling. Not a single strand of her red hair is out of place, causing me to subconsciously fiddle with a strand of mine that isn’t held back by the beanie I put on earlier. This girl I’ve bumped into is certainly not as dressed up as some of the other people here, although the fact that her dress is changing colors gives me a pause. Her pink lipstick certainly pops, especially alongside the silver bunny mask she’s wearing. It makes the simple black mask I’m wearing around my eyes seem shameful.

Yet the matter is made even worse as she struggles to unclasp her mask, because I get the dreadful feeling I’m not going to like what I see. And I’m absolutely right, because when she finally gets it off, I feel sick to my stomach. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that there’s no food for it to eject.

The brown-eyed girl giggles again before slurring out, “Addie!” It’s almost a shriek, and I cringe as she throws her arms open and tugs me into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

I wrinkle my nose in disgust, turning my face away. “And you’re drunk.” Her panting laugh is right beside my ear, and it’s enough to push me to push her away. “Seriously, how much have you been drinking?”

“The first time you see me in forever,” My sister drags out the ‘forever’ for emphasis, “and you reprimand me for a few drinks? I’m totally sober.”

You’re either incredibly lightweight, I remark to myself, or your definition of a few is very different than mine, Lizzie.

But instead of giving that snarky remark, I just mumble, “It’s not my fault you never visit anymore.”

She either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore my comment, instead frowning a little. “Wait,” Again she drags out the word, this time wagging her finger at me and leaning close to my face to speak, “what are you doing here, silly? This is for Elites. You should be at home.”

“Ugh, you reek. Back up a bit.” I groan, massaging my forehead with one hand while gently pushing her back with the other. “Look, have fun at the party. I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”

“No no no," apparently she’s not quite incapacitated enough to misinterpret what I’m saying, because Lizzie shakes her head and grabs my hand, “I can’t let you do that. You aren’t supposed to be here.” The sentences slur together, negating her attempt to sound authoritative.

“Lizzie, let go.” I hiss, trying to keep my frustration under control while ignoring the fact that I’m a horrible person for wishing my sister had passed out somewhere instead of bumping into me. “Go drink some more. It’s fine, okay?”

Lizzie shakes her head, and so after murmuring a brief apology under my breath, I kick her in the shin. She gasps, tumbling back into the wall, and I take the opportunity to rip my hand away.

“Skies above, Addie! Why?” She groans, struggling to regain her balance before landing on her knees.

“I’ll see you later!” I say, not wasting any time as I race off before she can follow. “Sorry!”

If the dance room was chaotic, this next room is like the end of the world. There are so many people that I can barely get through, because it seems no matter where I go I’m being shoved into someone. For a minute, I think that despite it seeming like an inconvenience, it should be beneficial. Even if I find myself struggling to push my way through a giant, white skirt.

But then I hear a shout from behind me. “Addie! Where are you, Addie?”

I groan, especially because now everyone is starting to look for me. I’m the odd one out; it won’t be long before someone shows her where I am. How did she manage to stumble in here so quickly?

“Kill me, kill me, kill me,” I mutter under my breath as I try to move faster, but I only succeed in drawing more attention to me.

Then someone nearby says, “Is that her?” and the crowd around me begins to pull away. I scramble about, trying to follow suit and get away, but it’s too late. Now, not only am I stuck with a drunk Lizzie, but every eye is on me, a Norm who snuck into an Elite party.

I turn to see Lizzie make her way over, panting as she approaches. “Addie, I found you!”

She grabs my arm, completely ready to tug me away, but then another person decides to join the fray. “Who is this, Elizabeth?”

I stare at the security guard as he approaches, feeling like a blade of grass looking up at a pine tree. The man scowls down at me disapprovingly, as if he can see right through me and knows I’m not allowed to be here. I try my best to keep myself from shaking under his gaze, but I can’t force myself to stand up straight.

This party is where I die, I think, glancing at Lizzie.

But in her inebriated state, she’s not any help as she stutters out, “Oh, well…She’s Addie. That is, she’s…” She trails off, completely clueless.

“Due to the circumstances, I’m forced to assume you have no right to be here, and I will be removing you from the premises.” As the man reaches for me, I try to convince my legs to help me flee, but they’re frozen to the spot. Why do their security guards have to be so intimidating?

Apparently luck is on my side despite how the bleak this situation seems, as a voice loudly proclaims, “Addie! Lizzie! There you two are!” Before I can fully process what’s happening, my savior throws an arm around my shoulder, pulling me to their side. “This is my guest, and that is her sister. There’s no need for any concern. I had to grab a drink and we got separated. The usual mess, of course.”

I know that voice. It brings back memories of cold water running down my face from a storm and whispered “good lucks” followed by kisses goodbye. Memories of crumbling bridges, the sound of lightning and rain, the warmth of holding someone’s else’s hand in a cold and lonely world. Memories of giggling while leaping into the freezing river, the sound of laughter over finding a ridiculous way of scraping a knee, and the smell of old, long forgotten buildings.

But most distinctly it brings back the salty taste of tears sliding down my face, when my heart raced in a blind panic in my chest. The sound of hurried, heaving sobs accompanied by a roaring in my ears as one phrase echoes in my head on repeat: “Good luck, Addison, and goodbye.” The pain that flashed through my hands as I beat them over and over again on our old haunt, desperate to make the ache in my chest go away. The smell of alcohol that clung to him as he told me those fateful words, and that last time I ever held his hand.

Heart thrumming in my chest as my mind floods with quick snapshots of a relationship I’ve tried so desperately to leave behind, I force myself to glance over, to confirm with my eyes that I’m right. I want to cling to the idea that it might not be him, that it doesn’t have to be him, that it could be anyone besides him. My lies are laughable, but I hope they’ll be proved right anyways.

They’re obliterated, of course, when I meet his gaze. He’s changed, and if I hadn’t loved him so desperately and known his voice by heart I would never have recognized him. He’s taller than me now, and instead of green eyes that reeked of spring, purple eyes that swirl like the night sky meet mine. I should have known he would have modified himself like practically every other Elite does, but I suppose some part of me clung to the idea that the boy I knew would stay preserved that way forever. His gold hair, once hanging down in his face, now has some wave to it, and his face has gained a fullness it never had before, noticeable even behind his gold mask.

I can feel my breaths grow shorter as his name slips out of my mouth unbidden, “August.” It’s probably impolite to just keep staring up at him, but that’s all I can manage to do as my mind continues to take him all in.

It’s August, but it’s not my August. In that first room, he was the one who paused when he heard the noise for the missing alert, suggesting that perhaps he hasn’t lost every part of him I used to know. Then again, he swore he would never change when he first became an Elite, only to then leave me behind. My mother always said that achieving that status changed a person, but Lizzie didn’t change, beyond growing more distant. Surely that’s how it usually is, not August’s behavior?

“Ah.” While I was caught up in the sudden appearance of my ex boyfriend, I somehow managed to forget that the security guard was standing by. I look back at him, trying not to look too uncomfortable about having August’s arm around me, and am startled to find he looks like a dog that’s been scolded, “my apologies, miss. I had no idea you were a guest. I’ll make sure in the future to learn more about the situation before making such accusations.” He gives me a small nod. “Please, let me know if you need anything at all. I can point you in the right direction if you get separated again.”

Then he heads off, and the people around us lose interest, beginning to mingle again now that the situation turns out to be nothing. It should be a relief, and yet, these people have all bought into this lie. What happens if they find out? And why on earth did August decide to help me out when Lizzie failed?

Apparently I’m going to get that answer, because August drops his arm from around me only to grab both my hand and Lizzie’s and begin tugging us across the room. I try to ask a few questions, but he chooses to ignore me, although I’m sure he’d use the excuse that he couldn’t hear me over the chatter.

Finally he tugs us into one of the many smaller hallways, releasing Lizzie when we arrive. She leans against the wall and grabs yet another drink from a server that passes by, which is probably the worst thing she could do right now. I would be more concerned, but right now I’m preoccupied on August’s death grip on my hand, so I end up just letting it happen.

“Let go of my hand,” I snap, trying to jerk it away, but August doesn’t budge.

“What are you doing here?” he asks instead with a rather dramatic huff. “You know you shouldn’t be here.”

“That’s what everyone’s saying. I can handle myself.” I mumble the words under my breath before saying more loudly in the best love-struck fool voice I can offer, “Obviously I was here to see you, August. I miss you.”

August actually seems to look kind of hurt by the comment, but before I can lash out, he pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, shutting his eyes while he does. That’s exactly what he did when I asked him what he meant by saying we weren’t going to see each other anymore. Then, when he opened his eyes, he proceeded to destroy everything we had. What a fond memory to have come to mind right now. It takes everything in me not to slap him, and the main reason I even bother to restrain myself is because he did just save me back there. Instead, I just let my hands curl into fists, imagining the satisfaction I’d feel from punching him in the face.

“Look, we gotta get you outta here. Now isn’t the time for this conversation. I’ll come talk to you at some other time, but --”

“But what?” I snap. I suppose it’s hypocritical of me to want him to respond to my comment only to be mad when he does, but I don’t care. “You don’t have a right to decide when we have this conversation. You don’t get to decide that.”

“Addie, come on.” He attempts to be soothing, but the moment the words hit my ears I can feel my finger nails dig into the palm of my hands. “Don’t do this right now, please.”

It does, however, distract him long enough to let me rip my hand away from him. “No, you don’t do this right now, August!”

“Shut up, you two.” Lizzie says, rolling her eyes and looking like she dumped more of her drink on herself than she drank. I’m surprised there’s any still left in the glass with the way she’s waving that hand around. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“You ended anything between us, simple as that. You don’t get to call the shots on when we talk about that.” Perhaps it’s rude for me to disregard my older sister, but with the state she’s in, does it really matter?

August looks ready to pull his hair out as he shoots back, “I was drunk, Addie. I didn’t know what I was saying.”

I shrug, feeling my lips form a sneer. “You never came to find me and fix things.”

“I tried! You didn’t want to be found!”

That makes me pause, seeming to give him a bit of satisfaction. However, those words that my heart ached to hear do nothing to stop my pride, and without thinking I spit back, “And what, I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“I would never lie to you. Lie for you, yes, but never to you.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that. You don’t get to try and pull the 'I'm doing this because I care about you' card here, not when I’m finally where I’ve wanted to be my whole life. These parties, these are what I want to spend the rest of my life doing.”

“You want to mindlessly follow the crowd?”

“Skies above, Aug, why do you want to make everything seem like a compromise of morals?” The nickname for him comes out unbidden, just like his name earlier. “If that’s what you think this is, why are you here and enjoying the high life?” I take more satisfaction than I should from how he rears back as if I slapped him, taking that as motivation to keep going. “I want to be accepted. I want to not have to care anymore. I don’t want to give a crap about any of this! What’s so wrong with that?”

August shakes his head, saying, “Addison, this is nothing like what you think it is. What can I do to prove that to you? This party is hosted by Magnet, and they dominate the media. They basically hand feed you their agenda through Lydia. This world among the Elites, it’s so much more complicated than they paint it to be.”

“Then why do you stay? If it’s so hard and complicated, why would you keep partying with them?”

He doesn’t speak, but before I can berate him some more till he breaks and says what he’s dancing around, Lizzie points past us to announce, “Hey, party poopers, looks like the banquet is starting up.”

I glance at where she points to see all sorts of people heading to some place with a sense of purpose. I suppose it’s the banquet, whatever that is. It’s odd to see so many of them, with so many shapes, colors, and styles mixed among them. Not only that, but I’ve never seen so many people dressed in so little clothing. A part of me wants to cover my eyes as one particular man walks by, wearing nothing but silver paint all over his body, but I remind myself that dressing like that is what you’re supposed to do here. That’s how this works.

August stiffens beside me, but then sighs in what I can only assume is defeat before gesturing for me to follow him. I hook arms with Lizzie, not trusting her to keep her balance and not be trampled by the crowd in such a giggly state, before following him. He whispers under his breath as we go, pointing to a few people he knows or has heard of who work for Magnet. He also points to different outfits, praising the ones made by the ever-desired Vague and criticizing the ones that hope to make it look like that’s what they are. How he can identify anyone in this mob, especially with the masks, I have no idea, but he manages it.

For a moment, it seems almost like old times. Even with all the people and noise, and even with Lizzie being tugged along behind me, it feels like it’s just August and me in our own little world, like it used to be. But I don’t get to revel in the feeling for long. We approach a set of doors and funnel into a huge room, filled with so many fancy tables that I actually think there might be more available chairs than people. High above the candlelight dinner sets is a balcony with its own table, but I don’t dwell on who might be eating up there among the chandeliers. I’m more concerned about how much of a danger all the open flames are in such an alcohol-filled environment. Do the Elites want one of their drunk members to accidentally knock a candle over and send this this place up in flames?

“This way,” August murmurs, gesturing to a table near the corner of the room.

Ducking my head low and staring down at my black boots, I do as instructed. All this talk of outfits has certainly managed to make me feel quite insignificant in my own sewing. It seems idiotic now to have ever thought any sewing I did could manage to look anywhere near the quality of Vague, or any other Elite fashion company for that matter. I take a seat, with Lizzie barely managing to slide the chair next to me out so she can sit. August looks torn between helping her or letting her do it herself, but sits down across from me once she manages to sit as well.

They already have glasses of more fancy drinks set out for us, and I snatch Lizzie’s away before she can get her hands on it. “Let’s take a break from those, Elizabeth.”

My sister shakes her head, but quickly gives up reaching to take it back in favor of staring at the candle flame on the table. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she’s mumbling under her breath about how beautiful the flame is, and her eyes are watering. I cringe, tempted to move that as well, but August grabs my hand from across the table, shaking his head.

“Hey!” I hiss, scowling at him as I rip my hand away. “Keep your hands to yourself. You had your chance for hand holding and you blew it.”

“But she totally wants you to hold her hand. Just don’t say anything. It’s a secret.” To emphasize her point, Lizzie puts a finger to her mouth and shushes us both.

August huffs and ignores my sister, running a hand through his hair. “Could you try and not make this awkward for once in your life? I already told you I didn’t mean what I said, but beyond that I’m trying to keep you from calling any more attention to yourself. You’ve made quite the splash already.”

I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “What would you like me to say? Sorry? Because then I’d just be lying.” He gives a quiet sigh and I growl, “Skies above, you’re absolutely unbearable.”

He raises an eyebrow and shoots right back, “Really? Because I recall you once being desperate to spend time with me.”

I gape, ready to lunge across the table and slap the smirk right off his face, but Lizzie stops me by loudly shushing the two of us again. “Shut up! One’s gonna talk.”

For a moment, I think that she’s just drunkenly rambling, but August shuts up and sits up straight, so I take that as my cue to be quiet as well. I don’t sit up though, instead just slouching further in my seat and looking in the direction everyone else seems to be focusing in on, the balcony across the room.

There’s a man standing up there, dressed in a flashy, golden suit. He’s far enough away that I can’t make out too much of his appearance, but his sagging stomach, thick eyebrows, and bald, egg-like head give me the impression he doesn’t become any more attractive up close. How he got the beautiful, much taller blonde girl to stand beside him and let him wrap an arm around her waist, I’m not sure. Maybe that’s just a normal thing on this side of the social world.

The room has gone dead silent, and I quickly learn why as the man begins to speak, something amplifying his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for attending the largest Elite party of the century!” A cheer rings out from everyone in here, so I clap along, giving August an uncomfortable smile when he looks over at me. I thought it would be much easier to hide in plain sight here, but I’m beginning to reconsider that thought. “We here at Magnet would like you all to know how grateful we are for the support you have given us.

“You all have created legacies. You are worthy of this honor. You are the most valued members of our society, rising above the rest. Only you can handle the tasks of showing the rest of our society what they should do. Our ancestors rebuilt after World War III, rebuilt from the ashes and have formed something that lasts. This party is to celebrate that, and to celebrate many more years of it! None of that would be possible without you. We at Magnet are happy to support you in that endeavor, and raise you to new heights!”

“Is the guy talking up there the owner of Magnet?” I ask across the table to August as the man pauses to allow everyone to cheer for him.

August nods, not applauding alongside everyone else, much to my confusion. “Yes. Supposedly his father, or maybe his grandfather, founded it. Whichever one it was was the first Elite, and in honor of that, this guy is named One.”

“Now,” the man regains control of the room with just a word, causing it to grow so silent that I swear I can hear August breathing across from me, “I know some of you have expressed concern over the higher amount of recent protesters to our peaceful system recently. I too find it mind boggling as to how, let alone why, anyone would find issue with our society. But these nonconformists --” he practically spits the word, “-- will not continue to menace our society. You have my promise that Magnet will do everything within its power to put a stop to their absolute nonsense. These people are being punished.

“Some of the more vocal protests led to an attack that occurred only weeks ago. It was squashed instantaneously, as expected. They thought we were afraid of their rebellion. In fact, they still think we’re afraid, but we feed on it. We continue to feed on our success against them, as we do tonight. They will not last long. I can assure you that every great thing will have those who gnash their teeth at it, but if it is meant to stand, it will stand. This protest will soon starve with no ammunition to feed its arguments’ for change. I only ask that you stand by with patience, and have pity on those who are merely following the dangerous leaders. They are misguided, being slaughtered in a rebellion for a cowardly leader’s cause. Their leaders have let this idea of a better peace being needed consume them, but I urge you to not let your worry over this situation consume you. So east and be merry, my friends! Eat, be merry, and celebrate our success!”

As everyone cheers once more, One raises a goblet from his spot on the balcony, and as he takes a sip a red mist floats down from the ceilings. I stare, mystified as to what its purpose could be. When I glance at August, he gives me no hint as to what it is, just watching it as it’s released. I suppose it’s one more phenomenon I won’t understand in this world, not until I manage to claw my way through the ranks to be here on invitation instead of sneaking.

Parts of the tables slide open, and a dish pops out in front of each seat. The cheers settle and slow, classical music begins to play from somewhere in the room as people eagerly dig in. I grab a fork from beside me, looking at the meat on the plate before me. It looks incredible and smells heavenly. The dressing alone makes me wonder just how much money they spent to make this possible. I know some people who would kill to get their hands on this quality food, or the amount of money required to make it. Not sure how to proceed when faced with food of this caliber, I glance at my companions to see how they’re going about eating them.

Lizzie is still wafting the smell towards her nose, although her hand is wrapped around the glass that I swear I took away from her before. How she got it back, or got another, remains a mystery, but I guess I’ll have to let it go for now. I’m not in charge of making sure my sister makes good life decisions, and besides, she’s an Elite. If anything, that would suggest I follow her lead.

August, on the other hand, has begun to cut his with his knife and fork. He doesn’t so much as glance at me as he stabs one of the pieces and eats it. I decide to take my cue and do the same, cutting a small piece and carefully putting it in my mouth, nervous I’ll make a fool of myself. Yet I ignore that as the taste of pork floods my mouth, not bothering to savor it as I swallow and quickly devour another piece.

“This is excellent pig,” I comment to August, moving to eat another piece.

August freezes, and stares down at his plate as he says, “It’s not pig, Addie.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “Are you sure about that? It tastes like pork, Aug. I may not know fancy foods very well, but I think I can identify this. Maybe we just have different --”

“Look, I know you don’t want to, but just this once, please trust me. It’s not pork.”

“Then what is it?” I ask, trying not to sound too disbelieving.

“You don’t want to know.”

“What the heck could be so bad?”

“Be quiet!” He snaps before dropping his voice back down to a harsh whisper. “You’re getting too loud. You really want to know, Addie? One basically told you. Those people who aren’t conforming? That’s what we’re eating.”

I spit the piece in my mouth out on the plate, eyes wide. “You’re kidding. You’re kidding.”

August shakes his head, shushing me again. “No, all those people going missing? They’re not lost.”

I actually feel like I’m going to vomit, and maybe even cry. “No. No. No no no. No!” I end up screaming the words, leaping to my feet and looking up at the balcony. “Skies above, you monsters!”

“Addie?” Lizzie asks in confusion, and I can taste the vomit in my mouth when I see a bit of meat fall out of her mouth while she tries to speak. “Calm it down. You’re always so loud.”

“What seems to be the problem over here?” The guard from before appears seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing my shoulder and digging his fingers in.

“She’s just drunk, it’s fi --” August tries to cover for me, but the guard isn’t having it.

Instead, he and another guard who followed him over grab August and Lizzie, escorting the three of us out of the room and down a fair amount of hallways. Lizzie has absolutely no idea what’s happening, August is still trying to spout off excuses as to what happened, and I just let it happen, too shocked and furious to really do anything about what’s occurring. If what August said is true, what makes them think committing such an atrocity was okay?

Finally we stop in front of a door, one I could have sworn we passed previously, and the guard gripping my shoulder shoves me towards it. I yelp, flailing about as I attempt to keep myself from ramming into the handle. As I catch myself, the door opens, and the footing I just regained is taken away as I trip inside, falling onto my knees.

“My apologies for the long walk. It was to allow me time to pacify the crowds you stirred up with your behavior.” Looking up from the fluffy white carpet, I’m faced with One as he crouches down before me. “You created quite the commotion in a party you weren't even invited to.” I freeze at the words, causing him to laugh. “Do you really think that with all the technology we have, I couldn’t identify you as a Norm when you started shrieking?”

“You’re a monster.” My hands tremble as I speak, ruining any attempt at sounding confident. “Skies above, you’re a monster! You take out those who question your rules and you feed on them? That’s sick and twisted!”

“And yet I bet you, like every other person out there, long to be living among us.” Those words cause me to pause. “Let me offer you a deal, Addison Ten. If you stop this commotion, pretend that everything is fine, I will offer you a spot among the Elites. You can have everything. You’ll want for nothing. Don’t you crave that in your life?”

“Be an Elite?” I whisper, and in the back of my head I remember a time when August and I sat under a tree, and I fiddled with the grass and went red in the face as I avoided his gaze and told him that’s what I wanted to be. Now it’s so close I feel as if I could reach out my fingers and touch it. All I ever wanted in life is being offered to me on a silver platter.

And all it’s asking for in return is exactly what I told August I wanted to do. To mindlessly follow the crowd. To ignore my moral compass in favor of a life of luxury. This should be the easiest decision in the world, a dream come true, but it’s a dream within a nightmare.

One mistakes my silence as a need for further incentive, rather than contemplation and grappling to reconcile my two ideas together, so he begins to talk again. “You wouldn’t be the first. You certainly wouldn’t be the last. Why, your boyfriend who sat with you, August? He made the same decision in your shoes.” I don’t mean to gasp, but I don’t really have control of that right now. “He was smart, and I can tell you’re a smart girl too. Smart and pretty, if you had access to the Elite's resources. You could be a real benefit, really make something over yourself. Why, I could even offer you a position at Magnet!” He laughs, grinning at me. ”You aren’t stupid. I can tell you’re very, very clever. Why would you pass up this opportunity? You’re not like that idiotic girl. What was her name? Wendy, I think it was.”

And that, that’s what truly settles the matter. Those words cause the alert to flash back up in my mind with a horrible thought. At this party where money was wasted on hosting instead of fixing the homes every Norm must live in, Wendy was eaten. Whether she was already dead or slaughtered tonight, at least one person had to have eaten her. It could have been August or Lizzie.

“Skies above, it could’ve been me.” I mumble, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

But One mistakes my comment to mean I have agreed, and he pulls me to my feet, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “I knew you’d see it that way, my girl! I knew you were a smart cookie, just like August. Come along, come along, we should get you set up as soon as possible.”

He ushers me out the door to him, back into the hallway where August and Lizzie both wait. Lizzie is talking to the guard next to her about something, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s flirting. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she kissed him; actually, I’d be surprised if she didn’t. She doesn’t seem at all concerned about what’s occurring. August, on the other hand, just looks at me with deep disappointment, and I wish I could sock him in the jaw for his cowardice. He has no right to judge me, especially when I haven’t made the same decision he did.

I step away from One, scowling at him. “You can’t bribe me with this life and think I’ll take it to keep quiet. Not after the atrocity I’ve just discovered. Skies above, you’re cannibals! I want nothing to do with that.”

It's almost impressive, how quickly his emotions shift. "I thought you were clever. It’s a shame, really. You could have achieved so much.” One steps closer, and it’s startling to see fire burn so intently in blue eyes. “You stupid, stupid girl!”

He raises his hand, and I realize what’s coming seconds too late. It connects with my cheek, and I yelp more from shock than pain as I stumble backwards, tears beginning to leak from my eyes. Again he steps closer, raising his hand, and I shut my eyes and flinch, awaiting the sting from contact.

However, it doesn’t come. My eyes flutter open as I hear the smack, only to see August standing in front of me, shielding me from the blow with his arm. His free hand finds mine, giving it a squeeze, and I wonder if he really wasn’t lying when he said he went looking for me to take back what he said when we broke up.

“Good luck, Addison, and good bye.” He says, pushing me backwards. “Now go!”

August attempts to bar the path as I rush away, trying not to think of what might happen to him. As I flee, I grab Lizzie’s hand, tugging her along with me. But she rips her hand away after we make our first turn, and I freeze for a moment and lose crucial time to look back and see why.

“Elizabeth --” I begin, but she shakes her head furiously.

“No! No, I’m not going with you. I’m fine here!” She’s drunk and absolutely hysterical, and I realize there’s no use dragging her along.

“Skies above, please don’t let anything happen to her. Or August.” I whisper as I take off again at the sight of the guards turning the corner to follow us.

Three turns later, and I’m hit by the realization that this running is futile. I'm already starting to burn myself out, and I have no clue how to get out of here. Panting, I glance at the pictures on the walls, hoping for some clue as to where we came from. Why the heck is everything in these hallways so sterile white in color?

Hearing voices and desperate for some chance, I throw the closest door to me open and leap inside, not thinking clearly as I slam it shut behind me. As I glance around, I already regret my decision. There’s no windows in here, just a skylight so high that I’ll never reach it in time. I glance around wildly, spinning and looking for something to help me get up, but there’s nothing. As I spin back to the entrance so that I can try and find some other room that will have an escape route, the door swings open and I scream.

---

The party was even wilder than the one a few days prior. The fact that Magnet would upstage itself so quickly was quite unexpected, but no one really questioned it. In fact, this newest one was so grand that the previous one was old news, the latest one keeping everyone’s attention solely on it.

An alarm rang out, going completely unnoticed by the drunk party goers as they danced and laughed. They were far too distracted by their spilled drinks and blaring music. On the screen in the corner, Lydia Wing was shown sitting on her bright white couch, only bothering to give an obviously fake smile before launching into her latest report.

“Good evening, viewers. It’s me, Lydia Wing, here to tell you the news. We have yet another missing notice, this time for a girl named Addison Ten. She was last seen by both Elizabeth Ten Skyfall, her sister, and August Nine Starlight, who are both here with me tonight.” The camera panned over to reveal a pale redhead, free of makeup with bags under her eyes, and a golden haired boy, who was holding his stomach and looking like he might throw up. They sat on the couch opposite Lydia with a table sitting between them. On it was a fancy stew, bowls to dish it out into, and three plates with meat on them: the one in front of Lydia was empty, the other girl’s was untouched, and the boy’s appeared to be half eaten. “Elizabeth, could you tell me anything about when you last saw your sister?”

The redhead shook her head furiously, beginning to tear up as she grabbed her glass and chugged the contents. “I can’t. I don’t remember any of it. I was drunk. I was so drunk.”

An obvious lie. There was a haunted look in her eyes, one that suggested she at least had a vague grasp on what happened, some idea as to what had occurred. The girl that sat on the couch clutched her glass like a lifeline, and it was almost shocking she didn’t shatter it from her tight hold. It was painfully obvious that she was close to getting drunk, if not there already, right then as well.

“Nothing? You have no clue as to what has occurred to your sister, or where she’s gone?” Lydia continued with the line of questioning, pushing at her current victim, but the girl just kept shaking her head, grabbing the untouched glass from beside August’s plate and chugging it as well.

If anyone were paying the announcement any attention in the party, they would have noticed the smug, tight-lipped look on Lydia’s face. They might have noted the way she leaned into Elizabeth’s space, might have heard the slightest sliver of amusement in her voice at her last question. But no one so much as looked at the screen to see the interview, too caught up in their partying.

“Leave Lizzie alone.” August interrupted, pulling the attention to him as the girl began to furiously wipe at her eyes. His tone left room for no argument, and his eyes bored into Lydia’s, as if he could tell her some silent message that way. “If she doesn’t remember, she doesn’t remember. Ask her something else, don’t continue to push her. She’s a grieving sister.”

Lydia jumped on the opportunity to switch targets, a hungry look in her eyes. “And you’re a grieving boyfriend. How are you holding up?”

“I wasn’t -- I mean, I’m not -- her boyfriend. I mean, I was, at one time. But we broke up. I…I got drunk, and I said some stupid things. I’d have done anything to take them back, and I thought I was getting that opportunity when I saw her again.” August paused to look at his wrists, almost scowling down at them before looking back up and just to the left of Lydia, earning a glare from the reporter. “I told her that night, but I don’t think she believed me. Now…I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to prove it.” He looked sick to his stomach just saying it, eyes boring into his plate once again.

“And those new tattoos of yours, are they in reference to her? They look quite professional.” The white-haired reporter gestured to the cursive words now adorning his wrists, for once her questioning seeming genuine.

“Oh, yes.” He shifted uncomfortably, as if he had not meant to have attention drawn to them. The camera zoomed in, and after a moment, August gave in to the prompting with an angry sigh, making eye contact with Lydia again to express his distaste. “‘Skies Above’ on the left, because she was left-handed, and ‘Good Luck’ on the right. I’d explain what they mean, but it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else.”

Lydia pursed her lips, but nodded anyways. “What do you think happened to Addison?”

“To Addie?” He gave a bitter chuckle. “I dunno, she went missing. Isn’t that the point?” There was an edge in August’s voice, sharper than one would expect. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t even have the slightest clue? No guess?” There was a teasing tone to her voice, as if she were leading up to a great joke.

“No, I just said that, Lydia.”

“Alright, fine. What would you two say to her if she could hear you right now?”

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely caught by her microphone, but Lizzie said them all the same, throwing the glass she held to the ground and placing her face in her hands to cry as it shattered. “I’m so, so sorry.” The reporter greedily lapped up the words, nodding her head and eagerly waiting for more.

August took over from there, before Elizabeth could say anything else. “I know you wanted to change the world, Addie, in your own way. You did what I couldn’t and stuck to your morals. Wherever you are, I hope that you know I love you more than anything, and I will find you. And if something has happened to you,” he stared into the camera, almost as if to challenge the partygoers who still paid the broadcast no mind, “I will not stop till I’ve torn whatever hurt you to pieces.”

Lydia opened her mouth, a question on her lips. Her brows were furrowed in obvious confusion, but she would not get the chance to ask, at least not publicly. The screen froze, and then went black. No one in the party even noticed, continuing to shriek in pleasure and spin around the dance floor.