Friday Brown Read Online Free PDF Page B

doorframe.
    Her face was feline and beautiful. She looked foreign, exotic. And tall, probably close to five ten. Her skin looked like it had never seen the sun.
    ‘You’re small,’ she said and reached past Silence to stroke my face.
    Her touch was ice-cold.
    ‘And pretty. But you should cut your hair. Don’t you think, Malik?’
    The guy on the mattress turned on his side and propped his head on his hand. He grunted. His hair was shaved close to his head, his bare chest smooth and muscular. Around his neck hung a gold chain that he dragged between his teeth, then flicked out with his tongue.
    The intimacy of the moment was too much for me. I felt a blush crawl up my throat and flood my cheeks.
    ‘We could use another small one, don’t you think?’ she said to nobody in particular. ‘What’s her name?’
    ‘Li…’ I started.
    ‘Don’t tell me your real name. What does Silence call you?’
    Silence relaxed visibly. He pulled out a small, spiralbound notebook from his back pocket. He scribbled something and showed it to her.
    ‘Friday,’ she said, and laughed. ‘Original. I’m Arden. Do you have people? Did you run away, do you have family looking for you? You look young, what are you? Fourteen?’
    ‘Seventeen,’ I said. ‘There’s nobody. My mother died.’ It was the second time I had said it aloud and it hurt just the same. Died. Nobody. Dead. Nothing.
    ‘I’m sorry.’ Arden cupped my shoulder with her hand.Her silver eyes bled compassion and something else.
    My whole being responded like a divining rod. I leaned into her. She looked like a shadow, but she felt solid and real. Charisma radiated from her in waves.
    For some reason I wanted to tell her, right then: I am afraid. I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid of the dark, of closed-in spaces, of being alone and of getting too close. I’m afraid that I’ll never again have the life I’ve always known, my feet in the dust and my heart full. I’m afraid of being alive; I’m afraid to die.
    The spell was broken by a hacking cough from the bed. Malik reached into a black, rectangular metal box on the floor. He placed something under his tongue and tipped his head back as he swallowed.
    Silence dug in his pocket and pulled out the two fifties I had given him. He offered the notes to Arden and she tucked them into the space between the sheet and her skin.
    ‘Well. You have been busy. Now you’re forty up.’ Arden let the sheet drop and sashayed over to Malik, trailing the sheet behind her. ‘Show Friday around. Tell the others. We’ll have an induction tonight.’
    She waved her hand—a dismissive flick—and Malik pulled her back down onto the mattress. Her dreadlocks coiled over her shoulder.
    The tattoo on her back was harsh against her skin. It read:
    No
more
tears
now.
I
will
think
upon
revenge.
    A wicked-sharp knife was tattooed beneath the script.
    ‘Mary, Queen of Scots,’ Arden said when she noticed my stare.
    ‘Are you Scottish?’ I asked.
    ‘Am I Scottish?’ She looked at Malik and snorted. ‘No.’ Her gaze slid back to me. ‘I am vengeful.’ She laughed hard and pressed her hand against her stomach. ‘You should see your face.’
    Silence moved towards the stairs.
    I followed him and reached behind to shut the door.
    At the same time, Arden ducked beneath the sheet and Malik arched his back, as if he was being drawn upward by an invisible thread.
    My hand on the doorknob, I was torn between repulsion and fascination. The moment lasted a few seconds, but it was a drawn-out, painful reminder of Vivienne and the nights her door was closed to me.
    ‘Leave it open,’ Arden said.

CHAPTER FIVE
    We judge others by their appearance: their eyes, their expression, their clothes or hair.
    I learned also to judge a person by their shoes.
    I could only put it down to the many nights I spent dozing under pool tables in front bars while Vivienne used her considerable intellect to pull beers so she could scrape together