Alex shook his head and strode back to the dorm, full of impotent fury. He knew it was stupid to care so much about a few pictures, but they were all he had to remind him who he was. He was a son, a brother, a friend, and a person – not a number. He’d been losing himself, piece by piece, ever since he became an IS, and those photos had become his anchor. Without them, he was lost.
It was a foregone conclusion that he’d be spending another night in the cage.
“If anyone gives him so much as a pot to piss in, I’ll beat them so hard they won’t be able to move tomorrow,” F said, glaring warningly at Two.
Alex went into the crate without argument this time, curling himself up into a tight ball. Only Two came to check on him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Alex curled up even tighter and made no reply. “Goodnight, Alex,” Two murmured gently, and then he left.
Alex blinked. Had he imagined it, or had Two called him by his name? How did Two evenknowhis name? Then he remembered introducing himself on their first day, before F had cut him off. The use of his name warmed him a fraction. He still had a friend here. Someone who knew him, who liked and cared about him. He wasn’t alone. It reminded him of how Solange’s friendship had kept him going through those dark days back inVertex Tower. He might not have her photo anymore, but he held the memory of her tight instead.
The next day, he made an effort with the ironing, and for the first time he wasn’t bottom of the group. He felt sorry for Five, who was the only one to perform worse than himself, but was relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend another night in the cage.
After dinner, in the rec room, Two called him over to the table.
“I need your help,” he told Alex. “I don’t know how all the pieces fit together.”
He pointed at the fragments of the photos, which he’d laid out on the table.
“I don’t understand,” Alex said.
“I thought we could put them back together. I have these.” Two pointed to a pot of glue and some sheets of paper. “I thought we could decide where they go first, and then, when we’re sure, we can stick them onto the paper.”
“Where the hell did you get those?”
“From B.”
“You stole them?” Alex asked anxiously. “Shit, Two, I don’t want you getting into trouble like D.”
“I didn’t steal them, I asked her for them. She didn’t have a problem giving them to me, but Iamher star pupil.” Two gave a broad grin. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started.” He began sorting through the fragments on the table.
It was like doing a giant jigsaw, and before long, Three and Five came over to help as well. Four remained on the sofa, making copious notes in his workbook, but the rest of them buried themselves in the task, slowly piecing the pictures together. Alex was the final arbiter of which piece belonged where – he knew them so well that he could usually tell at a glance – but Three, in particular, proved adept at the task.
“You must take the corners first,” he announced. “I’ve always been very talented at doing jigsaws.” He puffed up his chest, and Alex felt a wave of fondness for him. Three might be an insufferable know-it-all, but his eagerness to please made him hard to dislike.
Five’s help was tokenistic rather than useful, and at one point, he reached over to place a fragment and brushed several pieces of an almost finished photograph to the floor with his sleeve, so they had to start all over again. Nothing soured the good atmosphere around the table, though, and they finished the task in a good mood. Four didn’t join in, but Alex noticed him watching, and decided that the aloof man was merely shy.
“This is your mother,” Two said as they finished piecing that photo together. “I can tell – you have her smile.”
“Yes.” Alex helped him glue the fragments onto the paper.
“She’s very pretty,” Five said.
“She’s dead.” Alex blew on the glue to dry it.
“Father and brother?” Three asked as they finished that photo a little while later.
“Yes.”
“Why are they in a magazine?” Five asked, frowning. “Are you famous?”
“No. We were in the news some time ago, that’s all. Nothing special or important.”
“I live in a dorm in my houder’s mansion, and I work from seven a.m. until eleven p.m.,” Five told him. “We don’t see the news or have magazines – although some of the girls sneak them in sometimes.”
“I’m being trained as a personal valet for my houder’s twin sons, for when they go to university next year,” Three said importantly. “I’m kept very busy chasing around after them, as you can imagine.”
Alex was familiar with the life he’d led as Tyler’s IS, but he’d never thought much about the lives of ordinary indies – the kind lived by his father’s servants. They’d simply been a fact of life growing up, always there to pick up after him. Had they also worked these long hours in his father’s service? He realised he had no idea.
