The Cage (The Cage 1)

“Lucky . . .”

“No. Forget it.”

His knuckles popped, and just like that, the tension broke. He slid the tokens into his pocket like he couldn’t get rid of them fast enough, and cleared his throat. “How about that three-note melody? Pretty awful. The Kindred must not be musically gifted.”

She clung to the lighter tone in his voice and tried to work it into her own. “Don’t say that too loud. We should at least act like it’s good.”

He snorted. “Something tells me you’re a better actress than me. Probably inherited it from your mom.”

She gave a tired smile. At least the tension was—wait a minute. Her head whipped around. “How do you know my mom was an actress?”

The grin fell off his face. The wind grew colder, pushing between them. She’d trusted Lucky because he wanted to get home as badly as she did, and because he was missing a watch just like she was missing a necklace, and because if a super-intelligent race matched them together, maybe they knew what they were doing.

But Rolf had said there might be a mole.

Lucky gave a half shrug. “You know. That first night, when we were talking. I told you about my granddad, you told me about your family.” He swallowed like his throat had gone dry.

Cora’s suspicion started to slip away. She had told him that her dad was a politician—but she didn’t remember saying anything about her mom. Her mind started to concoct all kinds of conspiracy theories, but she shook her head. No. Paranoia was too rampant here, and it was a short leap to full-on madness.

“Right.” She rubbed her temples. “It’s because I haven’t slept much, and with these headaches on top of everything . . . it makes me forgetful.”

Lucky hesitated, then reached into his pocket and tossed her a token. “No worries. Here. Buy yourself something nice, like a Slinky you can strangle that Caretaker with. He’d never expect that from his favorite.”

She caught the token, and the uneasiness was gone. Any boy who could joke about murdering their alien overlords was someone she could trust.

She gave him a sly smile. “Just wait until you see what I can do with a toothbrush.”

23

Nok

AFTER THAT CRAZY GIRL with the stringy black hair so casually told them about kids kept as pets and black market traders who sold knuckle bones, Nok had nightmares for three days straight.

She refused to take a step outside of the town.

If she ignored the lack of traffic and unmoving sun and weird mash-up of cultures, she could almost delude herself into believing she lived in a quaint town, somewhere beachy and flashy, like Florida. She told herself the headaches were just allergies.

Cora and Lucky were braver than her—or more foolish. They went out every day to the far reaches of the enclosure, still trying to find the walls, while Leon did god knows what in the jungle, and Mali wandered through the habitats like she’d never seen trees or pumpkins or beach umbrellas before—which maybe she hadn’t.

Nok stayed behind, with Rolf, and earned tokens from the puzzles in town. The candy store was her favorite. She could have done without the pastel paint and the bins of every type of candy imaginable—licorice, mints, butterscotches—but the puzzle might as well have been designed just for her.

She approached the big metal cash register on the counter, an enormous silver thing that looked a hundred years old, with round buttons and a lever to open the cash drawer. The buttons had letters on them instead of numbers, and where the price should have been displayed was a card behind glass with nonsense words printed on it:

LIP LO POL.

Nok smirked. This one was the easiest yet.

She tapped a few keys, and the new word she’d spelled out appeared in the window box: LOLLIPOP.

A token rolled out of the register. She snatched it and started for the door, but paused at the glistening bin of butterscotches. She wiped her mouth. Was that drool?

Rolf appeared in the doorway. “You solved another anagram? Nice.” He’d been in the arcade again, she could tell. He only rumpled his hair like that when he was playing video games.

He peeked at the card. “Lollipop? You never said they were so easy. Let me try one.” He punched a button on the cash register, and another anagram card popped up. AT ECO LOCH. He frowned, trying to figure it out, until Nok took pity on him. She punched in a few keys.

CHOCOLATE appeared on the card, along with another token.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius?” she teased.

“With math and physics, maybe.” She couldn’t help but notice his hands were resting calmly at his sides. He rarely twitched his fingers anymore when it was just the two of them. “You’re the one with a gift for languages. No wonder the Kindred wanted you. Smart and the most beautiful creature on Earth.”

She blushed, letting the pink strand of hair fall over her eyes. It was true that she’d picked up English within weeks of arriving in London and had gone on to learn seven more languages from the other models. Delphine had only sneered when she’d asked if she could start taking translator classes. Speaking foreign languages doesn’t make you smart, Delphine had said, chewing on a black licorice rope, if you have nothing of merit to say. And you, girl, look prettiest when you keep your mouth shut.

Rolf took her hand in his. “I have a present for you.”

Nok’s eyebrows shot up as he pulled her next door into the arcade. The video games blinked and beeped on their own like ghosts were working the controls.

Rolf covered her eyes with his hands. “I don’t want you to see yet.”

She laughed as he led her blind between the beeping games. After sharing a room with four other girls for so many years, she’d missed the warmth of another person.

“Okay. Look.” He removed his hands, and she blinked. Sitting on top of the arcade’s counter was the shiny red radio.

She drew in a breath. No one had ever given her a present before, except some of Delphine’s photographers, who’d been hoping to take a little more of her than just a photograph. “You got this for me?”

Rolf ruffled his hair nervously. “You said you liked listening to the radio back in London. I don’t know if this plays any Thai music.” He was leaning very close to her, twisting a dial, and his cheek brushed hers. He jerked up, blinking fast. “Sorry . . . I’m sure it’s plainer than what you’re used to. You probably had a huge entertainment system at home.”

She wrinkled her face, confused—she’d never even owned a TV—but then remembered that he thought she was a famous model.