Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Zaemen knocks on the table in front of me, scowling. "Are you in or are you going to keep moping?"
I blink, straightening. "Sorry. Wasn't paying attention."
"Obviously," Jerzec says, and then flutters his eyes at me, making a goofy face. "Oh, look, I'm Ruthie. I need a big strong a'ani to come and help me get out of these constricting clothes—"
Getting to my feet, I toss my sticks down and launch myself at him, grabbing him in a headlock. "You're far too ugly to be Ruthie, dipshit."
Jerzec gives a choked laugh and then tries to grapple me, and we topple onto the table, wrestling.
"I guess they're done playing," Aithar says, morose. "Keffing hell, and I was up twenty credits, too."
CHAPTER
FIVE
RUTHIE
"You sure you want another?" Ruth asks me, wrinkling her nose. I'm seated in front of her in the lavatory, on one of the benches in front of the showers. Across from us, Ruth-Ann sits atop the counter, swinging her legs and watching with interest.
"I'm sure." I gesture for her to continue, my head tilted to the side. "Get on with it."
Ruth makes a gagging noise in her throat but holds my ear in place with her fingers. I feel the cool grip of the piercing gun a moment before it punches through the tough cartilage at the top of my ear and then releases. I hold up a hand mirror, pleased at the small metallic hoop that now adorns the top of my ear. Below it are ten other piercings along the shell of my ear down to the lobe, and I've got a tragus piercing, too. On my face I've got two brow rings on one side, and a spiderbite on the other side. I've got a small hoop in my nose and one in the center of my lower lip. I've gotten them all in the space of the last few months, when I received my freedom from being a slave...since I have the same face as Ruth.
And now, Ruth-Ann.
Maybe it's a weird bit of rebellion, or me reclaiming a face that no longer feels like mine. Whatever it is, my sister-clones don't share the same need for decoration. Ruth-Ann has a smooth bob of shoulder-length hair, and Ruth has very long, glossy hair with a few strands cut to frame her face. Neither one is into piercings like me.
Ruth shudders and sets the piercing gun down. "Shit, that gives me the willies every time. Ruth-Ann has to do it next time. Those are the rules."
"Next I want a tattoo," I tell them, admiring my newest piercing in the mirror again. "So you guys can decide which one of you wants to do that for me."
"Not me," Ruth calls again. She puts her hands in the air and leans against the lavatory counter next to Ruth-Ann. "Pukey stomach, what with the baby and all."
Ruth-Ann just gives her a small, amused smile and continues to swing her legs. "You only get pukey when you're stressed."
"You think drawing on someone with needles won't make me stressed? You are sadly mistaken," Ruth retorts. "Maybe you skip harassing your sisters with your body modifications and get Kazex to help you out."
My heart flutters at the name, and I carefully glance over at Ruth-Ann to see if her expression changes.
Ruth-Ann's arrival has turned my life upside down all over again. Just when Ruth and I were getting used to being “sisters” and sharing the same face, along comes Ruth-Ann and the realization that there's more clones of us out in the universe. It's not Ruth-Ann's fault, of course. I don't resent her. But I've noticed patterns in the way Ruth thinks that match up with mine, and I've been watching Ruth-Ann to see if those same patterns emerge.
I've noticed Ruth is a sucker for a luxurious soak. Me too. There's nothing I like better than getting clean, and I love a floral soap. I've noticed that Ruth has very different taste buds than I do, but we're both addicted to the coffee equivalent called “night tea.” We both gravitate towards black clothing and prefer to use a stabbing weapon in weapons training than a shooting one. We're both wigged out by heights and deep purple foods. We both get sleepy after dinner and talk in our sleep. There are differences, of course, but there's a lot of similarities. Enough to make me pause.
Ruth is very heavily and preciously in love with Lord Straik, a mesakkah nobleman turned pirate. And while I'm happy for her and wouldn't mess things up, I can see the appeal. He's utterly devoted to her, and when she walks in the room, there's no other person that exists for him. He's tall and brooding and a loner, and exactly the kind of guy that I would have gone for as a teenager...or well, the original Ruth would have gone for as a teenager. It's because I can see so clearly why she loves him that it makes me wary.