1
Simone
I deserved a treat for teaching the children, or at least that’s what the merchant said. When they say things like that, they’re usually trying to rip you off — which Dargar was. You could always tell which stall at the market was his because he lined it with vibrant, orange curtains instead of canvas. The old man insisted they were silk, even though they weren’t.
It had been three years since I last saw a strawberry. Dargar didn’t know this, but he knew I had a sweet tooth. He made it his business to know such things. I’m sure he’d been watching me come and go all week, noting how much I did or didn’t buy, which is how he’d arrived at the price of three food tickets.
It was outrageous. I called him a few choice names.
He said I was a beautiful young woman who’d one day make a lucky man very happy.
I asked him what the hell that had to do with his exorbitant prices.
He said he’d saved the last strawberry just for me.
Yeah right. He just hadn’t found the sucker who’d pay so much for so little, yet.
And then, I bought it.
The small fruit is almost weightless in my hand. Bright red. Forbidden.
Workers don't need indulgences — or at least that's what our government says. They claim that we have inferior taste buds, and can't even tell the difference between something fresh and the expired vitamin C pills they give us.
It's a lie, of course. But the wicked don't care, and the bleeding hearts believe it because it helps them sleep at night.
I shut my eyes and place the strawberry on my tongue. Immediately, my mouth waters. Every part of me wants to wolf it down, but I can't. I only have one. So I chew slowly, trying to make the moment stretch on as long as possible.
But it can't go on forever. Eventually, I swallow the last of it.
I look down at my red-stained fingers. I could have bought six meals’ worth of beans and rice with those food tickets. Was it worth it?
Yes.
Maybe in a few days, when I'm lying in bed with a growling stomach, I'll curse my short-term thinking. But I can't be upset now—I just wish there was more.
I remove the cardboard covering my broken window and drop it next to my sleeping bag. Then, I sit against the wall and grab a book, angling it so that the page I’m reading is illuminated by the afternoon light.
It’s my day off and I’m in the mood for romance because lord knows I’ll never get any of that here. Just as things are about to get good between the hero and the heroine, I hear a knock at the door.
I drop the book and suck in a breath.
I don’t get many visitors. Wait, scratch that—I don’t get visitors, period. This can’t be good. Did I teach something to the students that I shouldn’t have? No, I’d never do something so foolish. Do they know about the fruit? I mean, indulgences are illegal, but small infractions are rarely enforced. Still...should I answer the door?
Before I have a chance to make up my mind, the persistent visitor knocks again, this time introducing herself. “Hello? Simone? My name is Taryne. I’m with the Supernova Escapes sweepstakes!”
I frown. "Supernova Escapes? I've never heard of it, and I haven't entered any sweepstakes."
The woman is undeterred. "We’re a new company that showcases up and coming resort planets. These hidden gems don't get many tourists because they're so new. However, their loss is your opportunity, because you just won an amazing vacation to Talrak!"
Is this some sort of joke? None of it makes any sense. I'm a teacher. I can barely afford to eat, let alone take a vacation. Besides, these things are usually rigged, and people like me don't win them. There must be some catch. "I'm not interested."
"But Simone, this is an amazing opportunity."
"Then the runner-up will appreciate it."
"At least take a look at the brochure. There are white sandy beaches, blue sapphire waves, and so much fruit it falls from the trees."
My traitorous stomach growls. "Fruit?"
"More than you could ever eat."
I guess it wouldn't hurt to look at the brochure, but all I'm doing is looking. I slide all four locks free and twist the knob, cracking open the door.
A gorgeous woman stands in the dingy hallway. She’s average height with a slight frame, but holds herself with such grace that she appears larger than she is. Her hair, the color of molten chocolate, is pulled back in a high ponytail on the crown of her head. She’s wearing a kimono-style dress, with small, pink cherry blossoms stitched onto black silk.
In my casual pants and button-down shirt, I might as well be wearing a potato sack, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I open the door wider and invite her inside. "Let's see that brochure."
“You’re direct—I like that,” the woman says.
I cross my arms over my chest, hoping she’ll get to the point. Nodding curtly, she hands me a touch screen device that probably costs four months' rent.
My mouth starts watering. There, right in front of me, is the most awesome fruit display I've ever seen. Strawberries the size of my palm dusted with blueberries and surrounded by fruits I don't even know the name of.
I shut my eyes. I shouldn't have asked to see the brochure. This is torture. "I can't afford this," I tell her, handing back her device. Pretty sure one of those fruit platters would put me in debt for the rest of my life.
"Oh, you don't have to pay for anything."
I scowl at her. "What?"
"It's an all-expenses-paid vacation. All that's required is for you to write a review after your stay and sign a waiver. We can sign the waiver right now, in fact, and tomorrow morning you can wake up in paradise!"
My heart hammers in my chest. Wake up in paradise. That sounds too good to be true, so it must be. “How did you get my name?” I demand.
Her smile doesn’t even falter despite my abrupt change in demeanor. “You’re Simone Cetera. You have a dual degree in literature and history, which you got in three years instead of the usual four, and two years earlier than most, at twenty. You teach at the local school. Your students report that you are strict but fair, and that you are kinder than their other teachers once they get to know you,” she says. “In other words, you can read and write Common, which is very important since we want a review!”
Well, she’s not wrong. And that sort of checks out. On earth, the ability to read and write in Common is about as rare as a piece of fruit. “I’ll need to think about this.”
“Take all the time you need,” she says brightly. “The ship leaves in one hour.”
“What? I thought you said I could take all the time I needed! I have to pack.”
She slowly takes in my surroundings—or rather, lack of them. “How long could that possibly take?”
She has a point. And besides, the vacation is all expenses paid, and due to recent developments I’m a little behind on food credits this week. Maybe this is my lucky break.
I sigh. “Let me see the waver.”
She hands the device over and I scan its contents, making sure I’m not signing myself up for a stint on a mining moon or pleasure planet. Fortunately, the terms seem legit. It really does seem like a vacation, except…