“Four months, Garan,” Adri said. “We’re behind by four months, and Suki-jiĕ has already threatened to start auctioning off our things if we don’t pay her soon.”
“She’s not going to auction off our things,” said Garan, his voice a strange combination of soothing and strained. Garan’s voice had already become unfamiliar to Cinder’s ear. He spent his days out in a one-room shed behind the house, “tinkering,” Peony said, though she didn’t seem to know what exactly he was tinkering with. He came in to join his family for meals, but hardly ever talked, and Cinder wondered how much he heard, either. His expression always suggested his mind was very far away.
“Why shouldn’t she sell off our things? I’m sure I would in her place!” Adri said. “Whenever I have to leave the house, I come home wondering if this will be the day our things are gone and our locks are changed. We can’t keep living on her hospitality.”
“It’s going to be all right, love. Our luck is changing.”
“Our luck!” Adri’s voice spiked in Cinder’s ear and she flinched at the shrillness, quickly urging the volume to decrease again. It obeyed her command, through sheer willpower. She held her breath, wondering what other secrets her brain was keeping from her.
“How is our luck changing? Because you won a silver ribbon at that fair in Sydney last month? Your stupid awards aren’t going to keep food on this table, and now you’ve brought home one more mouth—and a cyborg at that!”
“We talked about this…”
“No, you talked about this. I want to support you, Garan, but these schemes of yours are going to cost us everything. We have our own girls to think about. I can’t even afford new shoes for Pearl, and now there’s this creature in the house who’s going to need … what? A new foot every six months?”
Shriveling against the wall, Cinder glanced down at her metal foot, the toes looking awkward and huge beside the fleshy ones—the ones with bone and skin and toenails.
“Of course not. She’ll be fine for a year or two,” said Garan.
Adri stifled a hysterical laugh.
“And her leg and fingers can be adjusted as she grows,” Garan continued. “We shouldn’t need replacements for those until she reaches adulthood.”
Cinder lifted her hand into the faint light coming down the hallway, inspecting the joints. She hadn’t noticed how the knuckles were fitted together before, the digits nestled inside each other. So this hand could grow, just like her human hand did.
Because she would be stuck with these limbs forever. She would be cyborg forever.
“Well, how comforting,” said Adri. “I’m glad to see you’ve given this so much thought.”
“Have faith, love.”
Cinder heard a chair being pushed back. She retreated into the hallway, but all that followed was the sound of running water from the faucet. She pressed her fingers over her mouth, trying to feel the water through psychokinesis, but even her brain couldn’t quench her thirst on sound alone.
“I have something special to reveal at the Tokyo Fair in March,” Garan said. “It’s going to change everything. In the meantime, you must be patient with the child. She only wants to belong here. Perhaps she can help you with the housework, until we can get that android replaced?”
Adri scoffed. “Help me? What can she do, dragging that monstrosity around?”
Cinder cringed. She heard a cup being set down, then a kiss. “Give her a chance. Maybe she’ll surprise you.”
She ducked away at the first hint of a footstep, creeping back into her room and shutting the door. She felt that she could have wept from thirst, but her eyes stayed as dry as her tongue.
* * *
“Here, you put on the green one,” said Peony, tossing a bundle of green-and-gold silk into Cinder’s arms. She barely caught it, the thin material slipping like water over her hands. “We don’t have any real ball gowns, but these are just as pretty. This is my favorite.” Peony held up another garment, a swath of purple-and-red fabric decorated with soaring cranes. She strung her bony arms through the enormous sleeves and pulled the material tight around her waist, holding it in place while she dug through the pile of clothes for a long silver sash and belted it around her middle. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Cinder nodded uncertainly—although the silk kimonos were perhaps the finest things she’d ever felt, Peony looked ridiculous in hers. The hem of the gown dragged a foot on the floor, the sleeves dangled almost to her knees, and street clothes still peeked out at her neck and wrists, ruining the illusion. It almost looked like the gown was trying to eat her.
“Well, put yours on!” said Peony. “Here, this is the sash I usually put with that one.” She pulled out a black-and-violet band.
Cinder tentatively stuck her hands into the sleeves, taking extra care that no screws or joints caught the fine material. “Won’t Adri be mad?”
“Pearl and I play dress-up all the time,” said Peony, looping the sash around Cinder’s waist. “And how are we supposed to go to the ball if we don’t have any beautiful dresses to wear?”
Cinder raised her arms, shaking the sleeves back. “I don’t think my hand goes with this one.”
Peony laughed, though Cinder hadn’t meant it to be funny. Peony seemed to find amusement in almost everything she said.
“Just pretend you’re wearing gloves,” said Peony. “Then no one will know.” Grabbing Cinder by the hand, she pulled her across the hall and into the bathroom so they could see themselves in the mirror.With her fine, mousy hair hanging limp past her shoulders and awkward metal fingers poking out of the left sleeve, Cinder looked no less absurd than Peony.