The Perfect Outcast

and Alina fell back on her bed and groaned. She despised large crowds. Jade hated the Day of Genesis too, but attendance was required for all citizens. Each year was the same: the dancing, the eating and drinking, the long, emotional speech by Father Sampson, and the Sleep. Children snuggled with their fluffy pets, grown-ups dressed in their finest nightclothes and clasped their lovers, if they had one—and everyone fell asleep for a night and a day. Big deal.
The Sleep was a big deal. Alina didn’t understand why everyone loved sleeping under those blinding stars. She suspected some didn’t sleep but did something exciting instead, and only those who stayed awake knew about it. Each year she vowed to stay up no matter how tired she got, but she never kept that promise. She admitted she dreamed her best dreams on the night of Genesis, but still, why did everyone make such a fuss over sleeping?
She heard Jade in the kitchen, singing softly, opening and closing the cupboards. Alina left her room in her nightgown. She didn’t care to get ready for the day.
Jade wore stretch pants and a slim top and kept her raven hair swept back in a messy bun. She looked up from the fruit she was slicing and smiled.
“You’re not excited for today, either,” she noted, handing Alina a plate of fruit. “You won’t have to eat much this morning. You know how much food there is at the feast.”
“Thanks.”
They said nothing else through breakfast, but it was more words than usual. Alina had long given up asking questions, as they caused Jade to drop her heavy eyelashes, run her fingers through her hair, and pretend she hadn’t heard. If she answered at all, she said the same thing each time:
“Don’t tell anyone these things, or they might be mean to you. It’s best to keep them secret.”
“They’re already mean to me.”
“I know, and I don’t want it to get worse.”
Then Jade pressed her lips and furrowed her brow, a look Alina had seen many times before. For some reason, these questions troubled Jade. But in spite of how little they spoke, Jade seemed to sense Alina’s emptiness and wrapped her arms around her or rubbed her back when they were together. Her strong palms were a salve to Alina’s aching heart.
They ate slowly, trying to delay when they would have to join the masses outside. When the excitement grew so loud they could hear it through the closed windows, Jade met Alina’s eyes and gave a small sigh.
They slipped into their dresses and fixed their hair, then walked across the manicured lawn to the bustling street. Pria was a perfect circle of continuous round streets, smaller circles set inside larger ones, connected by long, intersecting avenues. Gordian Palace, Father Sampson’s home, sprawled over a high hill in the center. The bull’s-eye.
Jade and Alina lived on Evergreen Loop, the outer ring, where the small houses all looked the same except for their crisp, candy-colored exteriors. The kids at school teased her for living on Evergreen, so she avoided speaking of it. Sometimes she overheard the neighbors gossiping, discussing who had moved to a ‘better’ street. There was always something better out there. No one on Evergreen stayed for long, if they could help it. But Alina had known no other home.
The important people lived on Infinite Way, near Gordian Palace, in sprawling estates with massive grounds. Alina used to love the turrets and balconies that glittered like fairy castles, even in daylight—but she hated them now. They reminded her of what she and Jade couldn’t have.
This was her twelfth Day of Genesis, and the celebration had long lost its appeal. She watched with glassy eyes as children tapped their feet in unison for the Forever Pria performance and throughout the Last Great War reenactment. She didn’t scream with the crowd when Father Sampson stood and waved from the stage with his sumptuous girlfriend at his side. In the evening, after a brief adjournment to change into their sleep clothes, the people gathered in the outer gardens for Father Sampson’s speech. Jade and Alina always sat on the edge of the gardens during the speech, isolated from the congregation. Jade spread a soft blanket under them and brushed and braided Alina’s hair, whose eyes grew heavy at the gentle tugging of her hands.
Applause broke out, signaling the beginning of the speech. Father Sampson ascended into the air where his voice carried to all twenty thousand citizens of Pria. Alina knew a pedestal raised him, but he appeared to be standing above the ground as if by magic. Large screens transmitted his face up close for all to admire. He bowed and blew kisses for a long time, basking in the flattery. Women screamed with their hands outstretched, tears rolling down their cheeks, and men stood upright in a stiff salute. One man rolled his eyes back into his head and bellowed Father Sampson’s name in a loud, rhythmic chant. His expression frightened Alina until she caught Jade covering her mouth and shaking with silent laughter.
“Dear citizens of Pria,” Father Sampson’s voice boomed. “Welcome to the annual celebration of our Genesis!”
The audience cheered, then broke into Pria’s anthem, “O Hail, Fair Pria.” Alina’s voice embarrassed her, so she didn’t sing. Jade never sang the anthem either, though she sang and hummed plenty at home. By the eighth verse, she fidgeted and rolled her eyes.
When the song finally ended, Father Sampson nodded and continued. “As you all know, today we celebrate the establishment of our world. Many hundreds of years ago, before Pria existed, I was born in Carthem and grew to adulthood in its savage environment.”
Father Sampson paused, his broad chest heaving with emotion. “In Carthem, violence overshadowed peace, hatred destroyed love. Wars were fought in succession, the intensity increasing with each one. In its final, bloodiest war, of which I fought many battles, nearly all inhabitants were destroyed. Friends turned against friends, lovers against lovers. Men betrayed