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of deep-fry from the kitchen below and there are two dark stains on the timber floor, but otherwise it seems clean.
    The showers are right across the hall. Before long my scalp burns from the bleach. While I wait for it to work, I munch on a green apple. It’s tart, sweet, and juicy, and I wish I’d bought more. Then I ease my aching muscles under the shower’s hot spray. A few minutes later, I’m clean and dry with orange fuzz for hair. I drag on the black jeans I bought, glad to have my ankles covered at last, and add a secondhand gray t-shirt.
    I check my reflection in the cracked mirror on the back of the door. It will do. I dump the dead boy’s pants on the way back to my room. As glad as I am, it’s kind of strange to get rid of them. I’ve had them almost as long as I can remember.
    Now what?
    I sit on the edge of the mattress to think. It’s softer than it looks. Almost comfortable. I lie back, better to think that way. Tension seeps out of my aching muscles and I stare up at a ceiling speckled with yellow and brown grease stains. There must be some way to find out who I am. Someone might have reported me missing, but finding out involves speaking to authorities. I yawn. Some instinct holds me back. The dull ache behind my eyes ramps up to throbbing. I close my eyes for just a second.
    And sleep.
    I wake to the sound of a hundred people in the hallway outside my door. Blinking, I jump to my feet, weapon in hand. My sleep-addled brain takes a second to revise the noise outside to one person. In a hurry.
    Still half asleep, I key in the code and the door slides open. It’s the girl from the bar and she’s headed this way down the hall. I’m starting to think there’s something familiar about her, but I can’t trust the emptiness in my brain. I fumble with the door, not wanting to be caught gawking.
    My hope of remaining unseen ends when the toe of a heavy black combat boot jams my door. Purple painted fingernails drag the door open. Her lips curve. “Just so you know, these doors aren’t exactly secure.”
    “Um, yeah, I see that.” I’m talking like my mouth is full of sand. Probably because I’ve been asleep. Asleep. Hell, I hope my breath isn’t too bad.
    Her eyes, now green instead of lilac, study me. Amusement crinkles their corners like she hears the thoughts tumbling through my brain. Did I speak aloud?
    She steps back, allowing me to appreciate that she’s changed her shorts for some tight camo pants to go with the high black boots. “Talkative, aren’t ya, Blank?”
    “Who told you my name?” I blurt the question and feel heat rush to my ears. At least the new orange of my hair might help disguise them.
    “I overheard it,” she replies.
    “Oh.” The strange guilt of being near her sits heavy in my gut. But I want to keep her in the hallway. Think. Think . The noise of her heavy boots at high speed woke me; she was in a hurry. “Going somewhere?”
    Good one, remind the hot girl she has somewhere to be .
    A challenging grin lights up her face. “Why? Do you want to play with the big boys?”
    The question hangs in the dingy hallway, keeping the cobwebs and peeling paint company. Before I ask her what or whom she’s talking about, she executes a graceful turn and heads toward the stairs.
    “Is that an invitation?” I call after her.
    But she’s out of sight.

Chapter Five
     
    [Asher]
     
    Lady has a surprise? For me? Shock leaves me speechless. Fishies do not give their servants anything but weary muscles and gossip to share below. Her frown indicates she’s waiting for some kind of response. I cough to clear my throat. “Um…okay.”
    Smooth Asher .
    I rise and cross to where she stands in the middle of a yellow and white striped rug. The softness beneath my feet is unbalancing after the hard floors I’m used to, but not so much as this woman.
    Her hand reaches out and clutches my sleeve. The long nails remind me of bird talons in the history recordings of Earth I watched