Jesse was a good sister. Unlike the rest of the family, she never treated Meira differently for being a Spark. They ate meals together, and even shared a cozy bedroom with a bunk bed facing a window that overlooked the city’s third ring. When Papa insisted on moving Meira to the basement, Jesse protested feverishly, refusing to eat until Mama begged him in tears to let “children be children.” It was the first time Mama had stood up for Meira, but it was hard to know if she was only afraid of Jesse starving to death.
Still, Meira was grateful.
A room with a window, let alone, a comfy bed, was way more than most Sparks had in the Circuits. She knew, because she often overheard Papa talking about how he would send Meira there with her own kind when she got older.
That night, a heated argument had grown loud enough to wake her.
Meira scuttled out of the top bunk (which Jesse had gracefully given her as a birthday present when they turned six) and tiptoed toward the window. If Meira squinted through her Chtara’s visor, she could see the forests of alloy sparkling like stars in the distance. She would someday visit them, Meira thought. Even if Sparks weren’t allowed outside of the city walls.
Jesse was still fast asleep by the time their parents had finalized their decision. In the morning, Meira would be sent away.
She looked at her sister — moonlight bouncing off her perfect, porcelain skin. Then she ran her fingers on the cold, smooth surface of her Chtara. A thought stirred. What if she wasn’t that different underneath? Would they let her stay?
Trepidation became anticipation, and the Chtara hissed as it detached itself from her head.
Meira turned to face the mirror on the wall. She was surprised to see the face of her sister looking back at her.
Only it wasn’t her sister, exactly. Meira’s complexion was pale in contrast and the years of half rations had made her cheekbones more pronounced than Jesse’s. But it was her sister’s face.
No. It was hers, too.
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