He’s dismissed me. The bluntness of his answer is like an abrupt splash of cold water extinguishing the flame of my anger. I return to my desk, defeat like a toxin that spreads through my blood, avoiding Alma’s eyes as she makes her way up front. She’s so eager to learn about her placement she doesn’t even notice my expression. I sit down quickly and stare ahead, grateful that I’m in the front row so no one can look back and see my face.
“Octavia,” Rondo says quietly from behind me. I ignore him. He doesn’t try again, but a moment later I hear the tapping of his fingers drumming out their gentle cadence. I can’t explain it, but I know he’s doing it for me. I close my eyes and focus on the slow, steady sound, trying to convince my racing heart to match it.
Alma is back in her seat next to me a moment later, vibrating with excitement.
“The Paw!” she squeals, she and her hair both bobbing. “Thank the stars. I’m going to be the next head of the Mammalian Compound. I can feel it. This. Will be. Amazing.”
I smile and nod, trying to control the constricting feeling in my throat.
“Octavia?” she says, cocking her head at me. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?”
Her face suddenly becomes grave, her eyes rounding with concern as her excitement drains.
“Oh damn,” she says, her hand flying to her mouth. “Did he . . . did he put you in the Fin?”
I stare at her blankly for a half second. She stares back, her eyebrows angled high on her forehead, her mouth slightly open and ready to offer consolation. And I burst out laughing. Behind me, the drumming stops.
“Wh-what’s so funny?” she says.
I can’t even speak: the laughter comes in gusts like a cloud bank fleeing before a storm. My life suddenly seems terribly strange and uncertain, but the fact that the worst thing Alma can imagine is my being placed in the Aquatic Compound for my internship is so absurd that I can’t contain myself.
“Nothing, nothing,” I wheeze, trying to get a hold of myself. Maybe I’ll explain everything to her at some point. For now I can only allay her immediate worry. “No, I’m not in the Fin. I’m in the Paw, with you.”
She shrieks, causing a few of our classmates to glare in our direction, and I allow myself to smile back, pushing my doubts out of my mind for a moment, along with the look on Dr. Espada’s face when he said, There are always other factors. I think of the egg I found in the main dome with Rondo, now hidden carefully in my room. If I’m going to be in the Paw for my internship, I can at least try to learn more about the strange object and whatever secrets hide in its beautiful shell.
“Experientia docet,” Alma goes on, her hands flapping like two quick-bodied birds.
“Um . . . what?”
“It means ‘Experience is the best teacher’!” she squeals, babbling on in her glee. “It’s just an old tongue—Dr. Espada told me scientists from the Origin Planet used it to name stuff. I come across it a lot when I’m studying old comparative files. We’re going to see so many incredible things, O. Can we go into the Zoo whenever we want? I’m never going to leave, I swear to stars.”
She goes on. I listen and join in every now and then, hoping her excitement will infect me.
“Rondo Okadigbo,” Dr. Espada calls. Rondo walks to the front of class and is only at the desk for a second or two before he returns to his seat, expressionless. He doesn’t attempt to catch my eye, just sits. Alma has finally calmed down and turned her attention to the assignment Dr. Espada beamed out to our slates to keep us busy while he calls up the rest of the class one by one, distributing everyone’s fate. I pull my slate close to me, but instead of opening the assignment I open my messages. I type: So?
Paw.
I crinkle my eyebrows. He said that if he had to pick a concentration he’d prefer it to be birds. I wonder if he’s upset.
Sorry, I respond. I know you wanted the Beak.
I requested the Paw, he writes.
Wait, what?
I requested the Paw, he types again. I turn around to glare at him, causing Alma to look at me with a raised eyebrow before returning her eyes to her slate.
Yeah, you said that, I type. Why? I thought you said you’d study birds if you had to choose?
I knew he’d put you in the Paw, he types.
I read it twice and then a third time.
What do you mean?
You know.
I know what?
But he doesn’t respond, and I get sick of waiting for an answer. I turn to the assignment Dr. Espada has sent out, but by the time I open it and force myself to concentrate Dr. Espada is rising from his desk. Everyone has been called.
“Well, class,” Dr. Espada says, sounding tired, “that wraps us up for today. You have your assignments. You might have noticed that the text each of you has pertains to the compound to which you’ve been assigned.”
Alma nods and a flare of shame shoots through me. I didn’t notice. I haven’t even started reading yet, lost in my own thoughts. I really need to get my head together.
“This will be your last day in the Greenhouse for a while,” he continues, and I think his voice sounds strained. “As of now, I’m not sure if you’ll be returning to formal education post-internship. Dr. Albatur is working on developing a new structure. But the assignment that you have now will be due the day after tomorrow, when you report to your internship. I’m giving you tomorrow off to make preparations for your new course of study. If your internship is in a compound other than the one you live in, you will be relocated for the duration within the next few days. Are there any questions?”
Alma shoots me a pointed look, and that I do have the energy to smile about. We’re going to be living in the same compound soon, at least for a while.
Everyone rises from their desks, chattering. Even those who weren’t assigned to the compound they’d hoped for—myself included—are carried along in the swell of everyone else’s enthusiasm.
“You know you’re going to be my host, right? A week ago we didn’t think we would see the inside of the Zoo for years. A week ago I didn’t think I’d see the inside of another compound for years. You may not be as excited because your dad has taken you to other compounds, but this is a big deal for the rest of us. Not only are we going to . . .”
She goes on and on, and I respond between her pauses with one or two words, enough to give the impression that I’m as excited as she is—I don’t want to ruin this for her. We gather our things, and I look around for Rondo. He’s gone, already outside, the classroom empty behind me, glowing slightly green as always from the tint of the windows. Dr. Espada remains, standing idly by his desk. Alma is still talking animatedly, but behind her voice my ears start ringing. Or at least, I think it’s my ears. I hear noise in my head, a buzzing. I stick a finger in my ear and wiggle it as we approach the door to leave the classroom.
Something makes me turn back before I walk through the doorway: something like an itch inside my head. I’m surprised to find Dr. Espada staring at me pointedly, his eyes almost angry in their intensity. I pause, thinking there’s something else he wants to say, a lecture he’s been saving for the end of class. Alma continues on, unaware. Dr. Espada says only one word.