Chapter 1: Myra

Meet one of our protagonists, Myra, as she tries to hide from her former best friend, Zahir, before they must band together against a dangerous confrontation.

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Myra ducked into the fruit stall, hoping her childhood best friend would not spot her. Former childhood best friend. She wasn’t entirely sure where she and Zahir stood, except for the fact that they had not spoken in almost two weeks, and his last words to her were “Never talk to me again!” Myra was never one to question a rule, so she was determined to avoid him at all costs, even if it meant buying a bag of peaches she had absolutely no need for.

The man behind the stall looked at her impatiently as she studied every single fruit, trying to find some distinguishing features between them that would buy her more time. Only once her cursory glances to the left and the right revealed that he had passed on, did she hastily shove a handful of fruits into a bag. With a sheepish smile, she tucked them into her backpack, weaving through the busy streets towards her apartment, all the while keeping an eye out for Zahir.

Afternoon in the Banks was always a scene. The factory workers drifted into the main road, mingling with overeager children. There was currently a break in the school, one that Myra was trying to enjoy. Once she got the job, there would be no more holidays. Weeks ago, she and Zahir had made plans for all the ways they would relish their newfound and short-lived freedom. They planned to have a celebratory picnic on the roof of his house, where it was possible to have a view of the whole of the Banks. Myra assumed that this invitation, along with her forever invitation, was now revoked. Tonight, her mom would probably still be at work, and she would sit alone waiting for the letter that would decide her future.

With the highest grades in her school, Myra applied for a job in Richardson. Specifically, Phoenix, the premier space agency with the goal of rescuing humanity from the dying planet and starting anew, galaxies away. As a little girl, Myra had never dreamed of outer space. She hadn’t been able to imagine something so far beyond the Dome that enclosed her whole life. It was always one step at a time. Do well in school. Make enough money to support herself and her mom. Working at Phoenix was her dream, but not a childhood wish. It was a practical dream. Getting that job meant her mom was one step closer to never having to worry about money again.

Yet, as her dream had moved closer into her reach, she’d become more taken with the promise of escape. Away from either city, if she worked at Phoenix, she would be first in line to travel far away from all of it.

But first, the letter. Acceptance or rejection, she wouldn’t know until it arrived. All she had to do was keep herself occupied until then. She tried to appreciate the thrum and bustle of the city. Mornings were dreary and cold in the Banks, evenings were when the city felt truly alive.

She wondered for the millionth time what it would be like in the Settlement. Her imagination had conjured towering buildings of glistening glass, the enormous Presidential Palace that she had only heard of. They didn’t show pictures of the Settlement in school or on the newsfeeds.

At the end of the main street, clustered so tightly between two other stalls that it looked like it was being swallowed, was the reason for Myra’s outing.

Myra regretted her previous purchase when she saw the wares Um Samar had set out. Small, perfectly shaped cookies, dusted with powdered sugar and filled with nuts, were stacked into towers. Her absolute favorites in the center were nougats filled with pistachios or rose petals, which were the best. She only had money left to spend on her dinner, so she tore her eyes away to look up at Um Samar, who was carefully packaging a set of fried pancakes stuffed with cream for another customer.

When she noticed Myra, she came out from around the booth to give her a tight hug. Um Samar had practically raised Myra’s mom, and Myra made it a point to stop by her stall whenever she passed by.

“Any news yet? Your mom was in such a rush this morning, I didn’t get to ask all my questions.”

Myra laughed. “No, nothing yet. I will tell you as soon as I hear.” No one was anticipating the news as much as Myra herself.

“Ah, we are praying for you, but I know you already have it!”

‘Thank you.”

“If they don’t want you, then they are the stupid ones,” Um Samar warned, wagging her finger. Myra didn’t want to jinx it, so she just nodded. Phoenix’s owner, Rosalind Richards, was far from stupid. Myra only hoped that she was up to standard, a standard she wasn’t even aware of.

She asked Um Samar about her new granddaughter—now crawling—and the business—slow, but steady. As she left, Um Samar wrapped up a rose nougat. “For your travels,” she said, and refused to take any of Myra’s money.

With a promise to visit sometime soon, Myra headed towards her house when she felt the crowd begin to cluster in the middle of the street, unusual, as everyone was usually trying to get home as fast as possible. From the corner, she could hear a voice pleading, “Let me go! I didn’t do it!”

Myra snuck around the bodies pressed close together, trying to creep to the edges. A woman next to her clucked her tongue in disapproval. “When will they be satisfied? Another boy arrested for what?”

At her current perch, she had a clear view of the center of the huddle. A young boy was shoved to the ground, his arms yanked behind his back as a guard attempted to handcuff him.

“I didn’t take it!” the boy said, attempting to struggle away without further angering the officer. Myra vaguely remembered seeing him before, always playing games with his friends in the schoolyard. The guard, however, she recognized instantly: Jude Sharpe. His father was the head of security for the Banks, which Jude interpreted as proof of his superiority over everyone, especially Zahir. Ever since Zahir had tripped him in the middle of a crowded street, he had been intent on getting revenge.

It was just then that another figure burst through the crowd, standing right up to Jude’s face. Or rather, above his face, since Jude was significantly shorter than the man. Myra’s stomach sank when she realized it was Zahir.

Jude grinned sharply when he saw him. “Move over, unless you want to be arrested.” One wrong move and he would have Zahir where he’d always wanted him. “This does not concern you.”

“Oh yes, it does,” Zahir replied, positioning himself in front of the boy. “He is just a kid. What problem do you have with him?”

Myra pulled the strap of her bag tight around her fingers, trying to root herself in place. She’d always been the one at Zahir’s side to pull him back when he was doing stupid things like goading a guard.

Jude tugged the boy away from Zahir. “He stole from that vendor there.”

Zahir gestured to the man hiding behind a large stack of lemons.

“Is this true?” he said.

The man shook his head, just barely. Jude’s power was greater than anyone’s, but Zahir, too, carried the notoriety of his father, Ahmed, whom everyone in the Banks respected, but whom the guards were always attempting to capture. Anger Jude and you would go to jail, but anger Ahmed and your fate wouldn’t be much better.

Jude grabbed the boy’s hands, shoving him in the direction of the security pod. “We cannot tolerate criminals here in the Banks.”

Zahir put his finger right in Jude’s face. “He didn’t do anything wrong. You’d better leave before you embarrass yourself anymore.”

Myra was close enough to see the glint in Jude’s eye shift from vengeful to deadly, and she burst through the crowd before she could even realize what she was doing, tugging Zahir out of Jude’s face.

He did a double take, his anger fixing on her, a stab in the gut.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“You need to step back,” she whispered back, trying to avoid his eyes, which seemed to be avoiding hers. She could see him deciding whether or not to ignore her. She gripped his shirt tight until it seemed like he was going to listen.

“Mr. Sharpe,” she said to Jude, even though he was the same age as her and Zahir. It made him turn to her and loosen his grip on the boy for a moment. “Please just let the boy go. We can vouch for him.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Myra hadn’t even seen the stealing in question, but she knew without pause that it was false. It almost always was. With the way the boy’s hands were shaking, she knew it wasn’t him.

“Zahir has backed up, you can back up, and you can release the boy.”

“Give me your remaining coins.”

“What?”

Jude held his hand out expectantly. Myra only had the remaining coins to buy dinner, but she pulled them out of her bag as fast as she could. If she could reason with Jude, she needed to do it fast.

Zahir wouldn’t meet her eyes as she placed the coins into his hand. It was barely even any money; Jude only wanted to make their lives as difficult as he possibly could.

Myra didn’t relax until he relinquished his grip on the boy, who cowered back into the street.

“Don’t think I will be so generous next time, Karib,” Jude snarled to Zahir as he turned around. “You’ll get what you deserve when your girl isn’t there to save you.”

Myra grabbed Zahir’s arm again, a precaution, as she felt him tensing up.

She didn’t let go until Jude had walked back his hovercar and it sped through the quickly parting crowd. Her hands were shaking as she watched Zahir kneel down to the boy, who was breathing heavily, as if he were trying not to cry. He couldn’t have been older than ten.

“What’s your name?” Zahir asked.

“Faisal,” the boy replied. “Faisal Damar.” He wiped his eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

“I think I know you. Your sister is friends with mine. Don’t worry, you’re going to be safe.”

He offered a hand to Faisal, pulling him up to his feet. The crowd had mostly dispersed, everyone’s fears averted. Now, it was just another day.

A man turned onto the street, running frantically towards them. He had the same wide eyes and bent nose, and grabbed Faisal in a tight hug. “They told me the officers made trouble with you.”

“It wasn’t me,” Faisal cried, “I promise I didn’t take anything!”

“I know,” his father said, stroking his hair again and again. “I believe you.”

“She paid the guard,” Faisal said, pointing at Myra.

His father clasped Myra’s hand. “Thank you. I will pay you back. I can get you the money in three days when I get paid.”

Myra shook her head. “No. Do not worry about it at all.” He tried to argue again, but a glance at his threadbare pants made Myra refute him until he relinquished. She and her mom were by no means wealthy, but they had enough to give.

He thanked her and Zahir again and again before leading his son home. As soon as they were far down the street, Zahir turned on her. He still wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“You did not need to intervene,” he said, his voice harsher than she had ever heard it.

“I think I did.” Myra made her voice have the same bite. “Jude was about to cart you away with that poor boy.”

“It is still none of your business. I told you to never speak to me again, and I mean it.”

“It is my business if you are being reckless. Help that boy, sure, but you were completely antagonizing him, Zahir!”

“Do you want to know what you were doing, Myra?” He said her name with a sneer that made her blood run cold. “He’s always had a soft spot for you, and now I know why. I don’t care if he’s got me pinned down on the ground, I don’t need your kind of help.”

Myra wanted to pierce him with her eyes. He had her entirely wrong. What a pain it was for her oldest friend to be completely blind.

“Fine,” she said, though she didn’t mean it. Anywhere he went, anything he did, she would be there. He had to know that.

“Good.” He turned towards the direction of his house. “Stay away from me, Myra,” he added over his shoulder.

Myra watched him walk away. She was rooted to the ground, unable to move. The light from the windows swam before her eyes as he disappeared from view. He didn’t turn around again, and she was forced to walk home.

The stairs up to the apartment creaked under her feet; she was too tired to avoid the broken ones. Now it was late, but in the daytime there were plenty of children running up and down. Myra’s apartment was larger than most, not due to an increase in space, but a decrease in people. Just her and her mom, sometimes it seemed too big. Behind the door, her mother sat alone at the kitchen table, slumped forward onto the table.

Myra set the peaches on the table gently so as not to startle her. She woke anyway, looking up at Myra with hazy eyes. Myra’s mom woke up before dawn every morning to go to work. Unlike most people in the Banks, her commute wasn’t merely a few blocks away. Instead, she was one of the few workers who had the privilege, or misfortune, of crossing into the Settlement every morning. Those born in the Banks could never live there, so she would return late in the evenings every day. She was a tailor for one of the poorer Settlement families, though they were richer than anyone in the Banks by any stretch of the imagination. The wealthiest had poor Settlement workers.

“How was your day?” her mom asked, slowly standing as she held her back, wincing. All the bending and ironing over the years had taken its toll.

“They almost arrested a boy,” Myra said with a sigh, “Zahir, too.”

Myra’s mom looked up at her, questioning. “And where were you?”

She knew the answer. Myra and Zahir were always next to each other. Zahir was now refusing to speak to her, but Myra wasn’t going to disclose that part.

“I had to pay the guard. He was going to take both of them!”

“Myra.” She sighed deeply. “What have I told you? That boy, his father is encouraging him to get into some dangerous business. I don’t want you to get caught up in it.” Zahir’s father was ever a topic of contention. Leading them all to ruin, in Myra’s mom’s opinion.

“I know.” She was constantly aware. Her entire future relied upon being accepted into the Settlement. One word from a guard, one wrong move, and all her work would be for nothing.

“That poor boy, he was trying to stop himself from crying. We couldn’t just stand there!” Myra exclaimed. As soon as she’d realized it was Zahir, Myra had known he wouldn’t back away until the boy was safe or until Jude had carted them both away. She didn’t know who would pull him back when she wasn’t there. Which, if he had any say, was the way it was going to be.

Her mom didn’t have to see the arrests every other day. She was out of the Banks for so long that it felt like she didn’t live there at all sometimes. Myra had no idea what the majority of her life looked like. Just a vague imagination of a fancy house from the brief descriptions her mom gave.

She went into the small kitchen at the back of the apartment, fishing around for a plate for her peach. Her only dinner, which made her feel all the more stupid. If it had been a regular day, she’d have been walking alongside Zahir, and they would have bought dinner for their families together. Hiding from him had been worthless in the end.

Myra offered her mom a slice of the peach, a peace offering. “There’s some food from yesterday in the fridge,” her mom said at last. She grabbed Myra’s hand as she was turning away. “You did the right thing. I just want you to be careful, that’s all. You can’t give them any reason to reject you.”

“I know, Mama, I know.” It was her only goal, her greatest wish.

When she returned to the main room, her mother was almost asleep on the couch. “Everything will work out,” she murmured as Myra covered her with a blanket.

With nothing to corroborate that statement, Myra could only hope that she was right. She fell into bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep. She liked to look out her window where she could stare out at the Banks beneath her. If she squinted, she could make out the Dome at the edge of her vision. It was what protected all citizens from the toxins of the outer world. Within it, the Banks and the Settlement were divided by an enormous white wall.

Myra could see it clearly from her window, for it intruded into the landscape in a way that could not escape notice. Many liked to leave writing or drawings on the wall, much to the dismay of the guards. Any marks were promptly erased within a day, leaving the surface harsh and bright. It didn’t stop people from trying, despite the consequences, which only grew more severe. Myra could see the latest edition, an interlocking circle and triangle spanning the entire height of the wall. It was the symbol of Ahmed’s father and his associates. They were getting more ambitious.

Beyond, the skyscrapers of the Settlement floated up to the top of the dome, so faint it was almost a mirage. A sea of lights towering over the blanket darkness in the Banks. She hated the second-nature longing that so quickly sprang to her brain.

Soon, she would see it for herself, not just in the depths of her imagination. She would stand in the streets, dwarfed by buildings higher than she’d ever seen. Looking up at the Dome, illuminated by the grandeur below, all her dreams would come true. Myra would get there.

She had to.

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Thank you for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts below :)