Andvari

"Andi!" my sister called.

I ignored her, tightening the bolts in Ms. Lilo's car. It was ancient. Even as early hover models go, it had five engines and actual wheels in case the servos broke down, not that she knew how to use them. Its model was discontinued due to mass amounts of energy exhaust and their tendency to break down. Ms. Lilo was the only person I knew who actually owned a car, and luckily for me, she was too stubborn to give up on it just yet.

"Andi! Come here!"

Grunting, I pushed myself out from under the car. Setting my tools aside, I wiped the grease off on my pants then walked into the house. The garage led out to the kitchen, the small space barely large enough for one person without two of us in the room.

Dad's jacket hung like a tent over Elouise's small figure. She leaned over the counter, blue eyes glued to our grainy holograph projecting some reality show she was watching.

"What is it?" I asked.

She wasn't even looking at me. It had only taken me two seconds to walk in from the garage and I had already lost her attention, which she had asked for, to the HV. She thought I was talking about whatever show she was watching. "Um, it's footage from drones at the Valentine's Kids Gala."

"You mean that charity thing?" I only knew about it because it was founded by the son of Samuel Augustin.

"Yeah. Even the Princess went."

So what? The Princess went to a lot of charity things. She usually didn't get much coverage because she was relatively boring, as far as nobles go. When I looked back at the projection, she was sitting with Augustin's son—what's-his-name—easily recognizable by the white and purple hairstreaks framing her face, and by her bright amber eyes that almost glowed in the dim party light.

It still didn't seem like a big enough reason to pull me away from the car. "So, uh, what did you need me for?"

Shaking herself out of her daze, she muted the HV. "We're out of Mom's Wednesday pills."

Oh, I thought. "Did you give her her dose for today?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Well, then we don't need to worry about it for another week."

"Did you finish fixing that register yet?"

I thought back to its disassembled pieces on my workbench. "No—"

"Andi—!"

"I swear it's done. I just need to put it back together. I'm delivering it later today."

She paused, staring past my shoulder as if she could see something far away. The gears were turning in her head. I knew what she was thinking. "Or I could just—"

"No."

"But you didn't let me—"

"You're not stealing again!" I snapped. "We spent the last of our savings the last time I had to bail you out. I'm not doing it again."

"You'd only have to bail me out if I got caught," she mumbled.

Yeah, but you always get caught.

I sighed. "Just... try not to get arrested before I get back home, alright?"

She shrugged, not looking at me. "What about after dinner?" She made no attempt to hide her sarcasm. "Would that work with your schedule?"

"Only if we invite Officer Amaryllis over."

Huffing, she left the room.

Shaking my head, I glanced back over at the HV. A girl over the projector was yelling so hard at a salesclerk it looked like her head would explode.

"Unmute," I called.

"DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A SIZE NINE TO YOU? DOES THIS EVEN LOOK LIKE THE RIGHT SHOE TO YOU? YOU WORK IN A SHOE STORE, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU SHOULDN'T WORK IN A SHOE STORE IF YOU CAN'T EVEN GET THE RIGHT SIZE FOR MY FEET!"

The picture froze, becoming smaller and smaller until it fit in the corner of the projection while the host of the show stared into the camera with feigned shock. "Maybe not the sweet little princess we thought we knew, after all."

"Huh?" I realized I probably missed something while the HV was muted.

"What we just witnessed was footage taken by drone just days ago at the Scendrio multiplex where Princess Kailani's lady-in-waiting, Irina Marino, was completely descending in a Lambency shoe store after the clerk brought her the wrong size. Now, as if that wasn't bad enough, watch this."

The corner image grew again until we were back on the screaming girl. As it continued playing, two girls and a boy came from off screen and began calming the yelling girl down. She burst into tears in the arms of one of the girls. A woman appeared from the side and talked to the girl holding the bratty one. Despite the grainy image, the white hairstreaks framing her face were distinctive enough that I recognized the Princess. After a moment, the woman nodded, then walked off-screen with the store clerk. She reappeared with a box for the group, which the crying girl accepted gingerly.

I looked away, shaking my head. My lip curled in disgust. "Off," I called, just as it switched back to the host. I was still shaking my head.

What was so wrong with someone that they would just explode for not getting the right pair of shoes? And only a noble could get away with it, of course. Only a noble would have nothing more important in life to care about.

Going back into the garage, I grabbed my bag off the floor, dumping the register pieces inside. Opening the garage door, I grabbed my hover sailor and tossed it to the ground. The sail extended. Stepping on, I swept down the streets of the Maggums.

At first glance, one might take the Maggums for a colorful pile of sandstone and rocks, which wouldn't be far from the truth. The houses were carved from the Sandstone Mountains that used to dominate the landscape. Murals of people and flowers were painted on sidewalks and walls in greens, pinks, oranges, and aquas, matching the pennants spanning the width of the streets. But that didn't change what it really was.

The Maggums were built to house the growing homeless population in Fossit after the war started between the Eight Kingdoms and the Empire of Danöu. Danöu was on the other side of the ocean, and since Fossit sat right on the water, we took more damage than any of the other seven kingdoms.

Coming to the edge of the neutral zone and edging on Black territory, I came to stop at the end of the street. Sitting on the curb, I stuck my screwdriver between my teeth and began reassembling the register before delivery. The scanner had to be in working order, or it would be for nothing.

I waved it over my tube just to be sure, and when I heard the ping, I knew I had done it.

"Beautiful, Andi. Wonderful job! No, it was nothing." I stood. "No, I'm not being modest at all. You want to give me a tip? How generous. I can't, oh, okay. Thank you. Bye, and have a wonderful day!"

Walking into the store, the first thing I noticed was the smell. The walls were literally covered in shelves of junk. A sign reading Every trinket's a treasure hung on the wall behind the counter and I had to fight a scoff every time I saw it. I couldn't speak for everyone but I knew what treasure really was. People brought their recycling there for extra cash. I didn't know what happened to it after that. But despite the odd smells, the place reminded me of my garage, and if it wasn't for the owner, it might have even felt like home.

She barely spared me a glance as I sat the register down on the counter. She was cleaning some object—I couldn't tell what—with all its dirt and grime finding its way under her fingernails.

"I finished fixing your unit register, ma'am," I said in Stan-Be'turan. It was the only language she spoke.

"I see that," she said, looking unimpressed. Setting the object aside, she brought the register closer to inspect it. "Are you sure it's in prime condition?"

"Positive."

Rolling her eyes, she brought the scanner to the barcode on her wrist.

A shiver ran down my spine. I didn't think I'd ever get used to seeing people scan with them. They were originally given to factory workers when people were losing jobs to robots and could actually sell themselves to factories. The practice was outlawed after the Massacre of 2426 when a horde of androids decided to go on a killing spree and themselves were made illegal, effectively ending the unemployment crisis, but the barcodes were still in use. My friend Jonny had one just like it. His mom had forced him to drop out of school when his sister was born so he could help pay the bills.

The owner shrugged. "It appears to be in good condition. Good work." She typed a number into the machine and I held out my wrist so she could pass the scanner over my tube.

A little smiley face appeared. "Transaction complete. You have received twenty units."

"Twenty..." I whispered. "This isn't what we agreed on."

"So?" She was already cleaning the gizmo again.

"So? So the part your register needed was twenty units. You're fifteen short."

"I can do math."

"So...?"

She scoffed. "So? You're a seventeen-year-old without a mechanic's license working out of his dead mother's garage—"

"Hey, she's—she's not dead."

She shrugged. Standing up, she grabbed a rag off the shelf next to her. "Close enough. I could have you arrested right now, so I suggest you leave my place of business before I change my mind."

I slammed my fist down on the counter, but when her head snapped to me, I froze. She smiled through clenched teeth, venom dripping off her lips. "Before I change my mind."

I looked from her to register, wondering how far out the door I get with it before she put the store on lockdown and we were stuck inside together. And I'd be blamed for it, of course. When the police came asking why the store went on an emergency alert, it'd be because I was trying to steal her property. I deflated. It's not worth it.

I was halfway out the door when she called, "Bye, and have a wonderful day."

I slammed the door shut. Sitting on the curb, I put my head in my hands to muffle a scream. I needed to calm down. Okay, okay, we can still get Mom's medicine with twenty credits. Just no toilet paper... or parts for other commissions... or anything else. That was the last time I didn't take money upfront. I'm such an idiot!

A bottle was lying next to me. I had a sudden vision of throwing it against the wall and watching it shatter. The thought faded when I saw a mother and daughter across the street, looking warily at me as they walked past. I saw that look a lot. Being paranoid in this neighborhood was the only way you could stay safe.

Picking up the bottle, I dumped it in the trash. The Maggums were bad enough without my help.

I threw my hover sailor to the ground, stepped on, gripped tight, and sailed down the street. I thought about sailing home, but found myself heading in the opposite direction. I was going toward the beach.