Chapter 8: Jade

I step in front of the full length mirror and take in my appearance for the first time.

Welcome back!

Previously on Melee: Poor Little Rich Girl Jade’s masterminded her way into the desert death race known as the Melee. Meanwhile, street rat Felix has entered the luxurious AI-obsessed city of New Palisades and hates pretty much everything about it.

New to Melee? You can catch up on the other chapters starting with Chapter 1 here.

I step in front of the full length mirror and take in my appearance for the first time. My gown for the Opening Gala is stunning. A halter maxi in the purest white— the same color all the racers are expected to wear— with iridescent chrome accents down the bodice that make me look like I’m adorned by silver flames. I shouldn’t have expected anything less, of course. After Mrs. Belmont’s initial meltdown once she realized my followers’ excitement left her no choice but to send me to the Melee, her next words were, “well, what are you wearing tonight?”. She made some calls, and the next thing I knew, this sartorial masterpiece was being delivered to my quarters.

“What do we think, chat?” I spread my arms wide, admiring how the fabric slinks down my curves. The rope lights around my room pulse lowly, casting muted waves of orange and pink on the plush white sofas and canopy of my bed. I grab a tube of mascara from my makeup stand— all of the brand names turned face-out, of course— as the comments start rolling in.

zzzIHeartJadezzz: do i even need to say it? the MOST deluxe 🤩

SilverMommy94[AG]: our QUEEN!

SilverMommy94[AG]: seriously, we r not worthy

CactusReaper27: also love how the ruching hides ur dreaded hip dips! 🤪

“Oh em gee you’re so right CactusReaper! Hip dips be gone!” My laughter flutters through the air. Inside, though, I’m kicking myself for my slip-up four months ago. Someone in the chat asked me what I’d fix about my body if I ever got an AG augmentation, and like an idiot, I answered truthfully. Now every once in a while barbs like this one pop up, like insidious malware I can’t remove, no matter how hard I try. And the worst part is that I did it to myself.

Lesson learned: the chrome mask stays up, even with my followers.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Jadey? It’s Mama,” Mom’s voice says from the other side. The announcement’s not necessary; Mrs. Belmont would already have waltzed in by now. My mother’s the only one who ever waits for my permission to enter.

“Come in!” I tell her. Mom walks in, her small frame hunched like she’s trying to take up even less space.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything! Oh Jade, you look lovely.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I stand to give her a hug, reveling in the smell of her prickly pear shampoo. She’s used it on her short black curls for as long as I can remember.

CactusReaper27: omg ur mom is so cute!

I brush away the twist of discomfort in my stomach. Ever since my stream started, I’ve tried to have Mom on as little as possible. Sometimes it feels impossible to thread the needle between the Jade my followers pay to see, and the Jade I am with Mom— even though I’ve been living apart from her for three years now, ever since the Belmonts invited me to live in their personal wing of the compound. At first, Mom was hesitant. But the Belmonts insisted, and once they told Mom that residents of the personal wing received access to their suite of private tutors, it was a done deal. As a junior employee of Dominus Security, Mom was so enamored with the Belmonts’ lifestyle, with the idea of me having access to that lifestyle.

As for what I wanted, being in the family wing made it that much easier for Wes to sneak into my room at night, so I wasn’t complaining.

Mom and I sit on one of my sofas together, and Mom looks around. “You know, I haven’t been in here in so long. I always forget how big your place is,” she says with a smile, genuinely proud. “How are you feeling about tonight? About everything?”

That twist in my gut again. I could tell her I’m nervous. That’s what a good daughter would do. But my followers are watching, and there’s only one response.

“Excited!” I say. “I mean, maybe a teensy bit nervous, but mostly it’s going to be a blast. Right chat?”

Fire emojis flood my vision, obscuring Mom’s face completely. But when she speaks again, I can hear the tired defeat in her voice. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” Mom says. “Your father would be, too.” ‘Would be’, not ‘is’. Mom’s never used the holo-vigil technology for Dad, even though Mrs. Belmont’s offered several times. I’ve never asked her why.

The fire emojis have faded now, and I can see Mom clearly, smiling at me sadly like a broken down animatronic. Part of me wishes she’d just do something. Speak up. Tell me she’s scared I won’t come back. Reclaim her right to be in my life, to demand something of me. Act like my mother.

But we’re so far past that now.

“Oh—” I turn and grab a pothos plant off of the coffee table. “Could you, maybe, water this for me?” Mom’s fingers brush mine as I pass her the plant. We make eye contact, and it’s right there. Her maternal instinct. The connection I wish we could have.

“Sure thing,” she says. We share a smile. When I come back from the Melee, I’ll try harder with her, no matter what happens to my chat. I swear I will.

Another knock at the door, harsh and efficient. Mrs. Belmont glides in, in an elegant silver gown that accents her dark skin and the platinum bob she’s sporting tonight. Her gown’s a different color from mine, but the cuts are so similar that we could be twins.

Or mother and daughter.

My chest tightens when I see a gleam of envy in Mom’s eyes. But she blinks and it’s gone, buried deep down with other emotions I can’t begin to fathom.

“Tasha!” Mrs. Belmont approaches my mother, her jewelry-laden arms outstretched. “So good to see you.”

Am I imagining it, or does Mom flinch under her touch?

“I’m sure you’re nervous,” Mrs. Belmont continues. “What parent wouldn’t be? But I have it on strict authority that the Embeds are one hundred percent off limits in the race. Jade will come back to us without so much as a scratch. Though I must say I still don’t understand the reason for this little adventure.” Her icy eyes bore into mine, every inch as sharp as they were when she found out about my arrangement with Jasper yesterday morning. But what’s she going to do, pull me out of the Melee and piss off millions of my followers?

I look back at Mrs. Belmont with a cold smile of my own, while Mom watches on, oblivious to the silent showdown between us. Mrs. Belmont narrows her eyes, then looks away, conceding the match. She and I may not agree on everything, but we play the same game.

A delicate bell chimes. “That’s six o’clock,” Mrs. Belmont says. “Your bags are packed? You leave straight for the training center after the Gala.”

I nod, then stand and give my mom one last hug.

“Bye, my sweet girl.”

“Bye, Mommy.” I haven’t called her that in a decade, at least. But it’s the word that slips out.

CharlieFitzW: not me crying rn

“Tasha, what’s that you’ve got?” Mrs. Belmont leans over Mom’s shoulder, taller than her by at least a head.

Mom shows her the pothos plant. “Oh! Jade asked me to water it for her while she’s away.” There’s a note of pride in her voice.

“No need!” Faster than Mom can react, Mrs. Belmont lifts the plant out of her hands and places it back on the coffee table. “I’ll have Monica come put a sensor in with an automatic water release. Then you won’t have to trouble yourself.” She turns the pot one way, then the other, as Mom nods blankly, like she’s under some kind of spell.

At last satisfied, Mrs. Belmont stands upright. “Much better. Well, Jade, shall we?”

                                                               ❖

“Okay chat, the fun’s about to begin. Don’t forget the stream of the Gala is premium content, so make sure to become a paid subscriber if you want to watch all the drama in real time. I’ll be switching over in two minutes, hope you can join me!”

My chat lights up with variations of ‘let me get my wallet out’, as an icon in the corner of my dashboard shows my paid subscriber count shooting through the roof. The sight settles me. I worried about losing sponsorship money while I was away from home, but these subscriptions should be more than enough to pay for Mom’s lodging in the employee wing of the Belmont compound while I’m gone. A few of my earliest followers know that I’m helping pay Mom’s rent with the income from my channel. But Mom doesn’t, and that’s a secret I’ll take to my grave.

Mrs. Belmont sits beside me in the car, as hundreds of camera flashes go off outside, waiting for us to step out onto the silver carpet. “I won’t pretend to understand why you’re doing this,” she says. “But now that you are, we’re going to make the most of it. Chin up. Ready to dazzle?”

“Ready.”

An escort opens the car door, and we step out to blinding camera flashes and screaming fans. Ahead of us, I can see members of a few other Consortium families have already arrived. Jasper’s mom Petra looks perfectly poised as she gives an interview, while Jasper lurks behind her. He spots me and approaches, walking with a saunter borne of at least half a bottle of wine. As he gets closer, I realize his white suit jacket’s asymmetrical cut is a perfect match for the bodice of my gown. More of Mrs. Belmont’s handiwork, I’m sure.

At last, Jasper reaches me, wordlessly extending his arm. I hear Mrs. Belmont’s voice in my head. Ready to dazzle? I take Jasper’s arm.

And dazzle we do.

The scene in the banquet hall would put the most sumptuous Roman bacchanal to shame. Intricate towers of buttery pastries and sauce-laden meats rise up toward the ceiling, while servers in barely-there mini-togas offer hors d’oeuvres, their faces and bodies painted to resemble plaster. Electronic music pulses from invisible speakers, fueling the handful of people already gyrating on the dance floor before the full guest list has arrived. Jasper unwinds his arm from mine and sways over to join them. No sooner has he arrived than some waitress who looks like she’s already on the verge of clocking out for the night stands on her tippy toes to pour some pinot noir into his mouth straight from the bottle.

VolcanoWave002: holy shit this is absolutely worth the premium subscription

It’s the Consortium’s worst kept secret at this point that the Gala is essentially an orgy, a chance for Melee racers to blow off some steam before the training and competition begin. I’ve even heard of Bounders and Palisaders sharing a bed for a night, then denying it all the next morning at the training center. Regardless of how steamy things get tonight, it will be nothing but business tomorrow— “thanks for the sex but unfortunately I’ve got a mace with your name on it.”

I’m sure Jasper will find multiple bedfellows before the night’s over, but I’ve only got my sights set on one person. The Gala is the first time all of the Melee racers will be in the same room, meaning this is my first chance to find the Buzzard. The Melee announcement page didn’t show Nathan Cervantes’s face, so I’m not exactly sure who I’m looking for. But all of the racers wear white, and I can compare everyone else’s faces to their photos on my glass, until the Buzzard’s the last one standing.

It’s a simple plan, but the execution is frustratingly difficult. Two hours later I’m sulking at the bar, so familiar with everyone dressed in white that I might know all twenty-two of them by name. The Buzzard isn’t even here, which I don’t think is allowed. Did he forfeit? Did I join the Melee for nothing?

Two tree trunks wrap around my middle. “There she is.” Jasper slurs the sentences so it sounds like a single word. His breath is hot in my ear as he lifts me off the ground.

I turn around in his arms.

“Come dance,” he says. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

MariefromParis923: lord i see what you have done for others…

MariefromParis923: if she doesn’t go with him istg

“You should get some rest,” I say, unwrapping his hands from my waist. “We both should.”

His eyes light up, like he’s a puppy and I just suggested a game of fetch. “My thoughts exactly.”

What do I do? It’s my job to make Jasper look good to my followers, but I am zero percent interested in him. Jasper leans in, one arm on either side of me as he presses me into the bar.

“It’s… sweet of you, to keep me company,” I say.

“Sweet?”

“It’s what Wes would have wanted. You’re a good friend.”

“A good friend…” he pulls back, repeating the phrase like I’m working some kind of hypnosis. Okay, at least he’s listening. Now how do I get him off of me?

I point to an equally-drunk reveller, a girl whose family runs the second biggest art lab in the city. “She looks friendly, too.”

Jasper assesses her, then grins. “The more the merrier?” he asks.

Not exactly what I was thinking. But by the time he goes to proposition the girl I’ll be long gone from this stool. “Absolutely.”

Jasper grabs a stranger’s drink and downs it one gulp, slamming the glass down on the bar. “Hold that thought.”

“Don’t be long!” I shout out to him. My chat fills with suggestive emojis and tips I absolutely did not ask for. But I’m too distracted by the sight of a figure in white to acknowledge them. He’s new, not one of the racers I counted before… I would have remembered someone so tall.

The man’s walking away from me, toward the banquet hall exit. Tomorrow we may be too busy with training for me to speak to him. Now’s my chance.

“Stop.” I follow him toward the door. I’m sure I was close enough for him to hear me; is he ignoring me? “Hey, you. Stop!” I grab the Buzzard’s shoulder, and he spins around.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was sure you couldn’t have been talking to me like some kind of animal.” Dark brown eyes glare down at me. He’s…

Terrifying.

During the riot days, Bounders evaded our surveillance cameras’ facial recognition software by masking their faces. They used charcoal and face paint to draw abstract designs on their faces—crude shapes and geometric patterns that would confuse the computers and enable their brutality.

The sight of the black rectangles and triangles— like daggers— on the Buzzard’s face is a declaration of violence.

I can’t speak. Can’t even think for a moment. I can feel my sweat prickling, my body telling me to run run run run RUN. But then somewhere in the room, two people clink their champagne flutes together, and I remember where I am. Under the Veil. On my home turf.

“How dare you,” I snarl. “Coming here with that garbage on your face, and I’m the rude one? You know that shit doesn’t even work anymore, right? Daze, or whatever you call it.”

“Dazzle,” he corrects me. “And I could give two shits if it works for the cameras. Sure seems to have gotten your neon-tinted panties in a bunch.”

“You wish you knew what my panties looked like.”

AmberEnchantress99: ohhh shit!

AmberEnchantress99: get him, girl!

MariefromParis923: excuse me, i believe ive been lied to. they make em like this in the boundary??

That’s when I look at the offender properly for the first time, seeing past the barbaric face paint to his light golden skin and thick dark brows. Is he wearing eyeliner like Jasper, too? No, his lashes are just that thick.

He leans forward, and I freeze. With gentle hands, the man slowly moves my chartreuse wig to the side, his lips brushing my ear so closely that I can hear his breath over the music’s punishing bass.

“Not if the carpet matches the drapes, I don’t,” he says. “See ya later, Highlighter.”

What in the voided hell? My ears are on fire as the Buzzard walks away. He does not get to treat me this way, especially when my followers are watching. I’ve never met anyone so insufferable—

Wait. Yes I have.

“You,” I sneer as I jump in front of him, cutting him off mid-stride. “From the holding cell. You’re the Buzz—”

“Buzzed one?” His eyes widen with an unspoken message. “Not yet, but I might need to step my game up if you keep ruining my night. My… friend, Nathan, was supposed to do the Melee instead, but he couldn’t make it. I’m here in his place.”

Shit. The Buzzard isn’t even here? My stomach rolls. Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life? Maybe there’s still a way to salvage this.

“Can you get him a message for me?” I ask. “Please, it’s important.”

The man folds his arms across his chest, amused. “What, you think there’s some kind of Bounder party line?”

“You just said he was a friend of yours.”

WaveRiderStgo: hahahahaha dudes funny

Enough, we’re wasting time. I open my clutch. “Fine. How much do you want?”

“Ugh, this shit again.” He rolls his eyes. “You must be a few pixels short if you already forget what happened last time you tried to pay me off. And there’s no wall between us this time.”

“Seriously, name your price.”

“I. Don’t. Have. One,” he says slowly. “I don’t take bribes, especially not from people like you.”

Idiot. “If by people like me, you mean Palisaders, then that means you only take money from people who have none. Good luck with that strategy.”

“By ‘people like you’, I mean cheaters. I don’t know whose idea this media Embed shit was, but it’s criminal. Either everyone should get an Embed, or no one should. Not that I’d expect a Pallie to uphold equality.”

That word again. Here, under the Veil, of all places. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

He cocks his head, his venomous eyes narrowing. “Not lately.” I notice a twitch in his jaw. I’m getting to him. Good.

“Hey,” the troglodyte says casually. “How’s your boyfriend doing, by the way? Wes, was it? Wonder what he’d think about you cozying up to He-man over there.”

Suddenly I couldn’t care less about this asshole’s Drivel makeup or whatever he called it, because all I see is red. “Go fuck yourself,” I say.

“Already gone, Highlighter. Already gone.” With one final glare, the Bounder steps around me and I sense him disappear through the sliding door. If I was alone, I’d fall to my knees and sob. The Buzzard’s not here, just this asshole in his place. A new aggravating obstacle in my path. I’d slam my fists on the floor and give in to my despair.

But I’m not alone, and I haven’t been alone in many, many months. So, I smooth out my dress, tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and rejoin the party.

---

Another chapter in the books! If you’re enjoying Melee but wish the chapters would come faster, why not check out some of my critically-acclaimed, traditionally-published dystopian novels?

• The Dividing Sky — now available in paperback (we love a floppy book)

• An Ocean Apart — on shelves October 14th (pre-orders help a TON)

And lastly, something new: a post-chapter debrief!

I got this idea from my brilliant friend Gretchen Schreiber, who’s publishing her own serial fantasy over on her Substack. Do yourself a favor and go check out Ascension!