Page 61 of Hyperspeed
“Like during puberty, when your whole body lights up like a damn billboard, flaring with emotions you don’t understand. There’s no one around who looks like you, feels like you, or has any idea what it’s like. Just your family, and it’s way too awkward to ask them why your skin won’t stop glowing because someone you have a crush on sat a little too close. So instead, you keep it inside. You pretend it’s fine, hoping like hell it’ll stop.”
“Have you ever met another Iskari?” Lennon asked. “Someone who wasn’t your family?”
“Once.” Kai sucked in a breath. He knew who I was referring to. “Recently, in fact.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
I smiled when I thought of Korvi. The joyful way his skin had pulsed in every colour of the rainbow when our team won. “It was during an event at Karting for Kids. I was just as surprised as anyone to see another Iskari there, so to have two of us in the same place who didn’t know each other? That was some kind of miracle.”
“Were they a volunteer?”
“Nah, one of the kids,” I explained. “Probably the bravest kid I’ve ever met, to be honest.”
Lucia’s smile was soft, and when I chanced a glance in Kai’s direction, it looked like he was remembering Korvi as fondly as I was.
“You should tell her about him,” Kai said, voice tender.
“His name was Korvithan.” I huffed out a laugh, wondering if he’d go wild at seeing his name mentioned in an interview. “He told me his friends called him Korvi, and I was lucky enough to be among that group.”
“I loved that little dude,” Kai said. “He thought you were cooler than me, though, so he’s a poor judge of character.”
This time, the laugh that escaped was fuller. Genuine. And when it did, I caught the slight widening of Kai’s eyes, like he hadn’t expected the sound from me.
I suppose I hadn’t expected it either, not in his vicinity.
“Knowing he was part of Karting for Kids told me he was brave. My parents had offered to send me for years, throughout my childhood, but I never went. I think my fear stopped me.”
“Fear?” Huh, seemed like Kai was taking over this interview, but from the interested look on Lolita’s face, she didn’t seem to mind.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I didn’t have any friends, and I ate my lunch in the bathrooms throughout my entire school career. Kids don’t do well with anything ‘different,’ and Iskari history isn’t a hot topic on the curriculum. I don’tblamemy peers for giving me a rough time. I think they just didn’t understand. They probably still don’t.”
“That’s no excuse for bullying, though,” Kai snapped, a scowl twisting his features. There was heat there, but not the sexy kind. No, it was . . . protective. Like he wasn’t angryatme.
He was angryforme.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “That’s why I’m doing this. Why I wanted to race in the Astro Space League. I want to help people understand, so that any other Iskari kids—like Korvi—can have a much easier time than I did.”
“You want to help the Iskari as a whole?” Lara asked, and to be honest, I’d forgotten she was in the room.
“Yes.” I scolded myself for forgetting why I was here, even if she’d just reminded me. This wasn’t a chit-chat with Kai. This was aprofessionalinterview with . . . whatever her name was.
“We’re no longer recognised as an independent species, and it has a real impact on our lives. We don’t have the same rights. Like, my grandma’s eighty, right? But she’s not entitled to a pension, so she makes money by selling homemade herbal creams on Astrazon. It’s not much, but it’s enough for her to get by.
“My parents both work full time, but they’re paid far less than everyone else. If employers don’t have to pay them a minimum wage, they won’t. My mum’s a cleaner for a major supermarket chain on Zyphar, but I won’t say where, and my dad works at a scrapyard. He’s the one who got me into karting.”
“Ooh!” Luna’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I’m excited to hear how you got into motorsport.”
“I suppose we got heavy there, didn’t we?” I grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Sometimes it’s good to discuss the tougher stuff,” Kai said. “It makes the rest of the story more important.”
Hearing him say that threw me off, because I didn’t expect it. I’d expected him to come in and take the piss—to mock me—but here he was telling me toshare the good, the bad, and the ugly. He was listening to me, taking it in, and talking about what I’d said like he cared.
My parents cared, and that was great, but they were endlessly optimistic, always trying to see the brighter side.
Sometimes I just wanted someone to say,“You’re right, Rev. That is shit.”
