Home > The Host (The Host #1)(102)

The Host (The Host #1)(102)
Author: Stephenie Meyer

“It’s too much.”

“We have to eat all the perishables the first day,” Jamie encouraged me. “Everyone eats themselves sick—it’s a tradition.”

“You need the protein,” Trudy added. “We were on cave rations too long. I’m surprised no one’s in worse shape.”

I ate my protein while Jamie watched with hawk-like attention as each bite traveled from the tray to my mouth. I ate it all to please him, though it made my stomach ache to eat so much.

The kitchen started to fill up again as I was finishing. A few had apples in their hands—all sharing with someone else. Curious eyes examined the sore side of my face.

“Why’s everyone coming here now?” I muttered to Jamie. It was black outside, the dinner hour long over.

Jamie looked at me blankly for a second. “To hear you teach.” His tone added the words of course.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I told you nothing’s changed.”

I stared around the narrow room. It wasn’t a full house. No Doc tonight, and none of the returned raiders, which meant no Paige, either. No Jeb, no Ian, no Walter. A few others missing: Travis, Carol, Ruth Ann. But more than I would have thought, if I’d thought anyone would consider following the normal routine after such an abnormal day.

“Can we go back to the Dolphins, where we left off?” Wes asked, interrupting my evaluation of the room. I could see that he’d taken it upon himself to start the ball rolling, rather than that he was vitally interested in the kinship circles of an alien planet.

Everyone looked at me expectantly. Apparently, life was not changing as much as I’d thought.

I took a tray of rolls from Heidi’s hands and turned to shove it into the stone oven. I started talking with my back still turned.

“So… um… hmm… the, uh, third set of grandparents… They traditionally serve the community, as they see it. On Earth, they would be the breadwinners, the ones who leave the home and bring back sustenance. They are farmers, for the most part. They cultivate a plant-like growth that they milk for its sap.…”

And life went on.

Jamie tried to talk me out of sleeping in the supply corridor, but his attempt was halfhearted. There just wasn’t another place for me. Stubborn as usual, he insisted on sharing my quarters. I imagined Jared didn’t like that, but as I didn’t see him that night or the next day, I couldn’t verify my theory.

It was awkward again, going about my usual chores, with the six raiders home—just like when Jeb had first forced me to join the community. Hostile stares, angry silences. It was harder for them than it was for me, though—I was used to it. They, on the other hand, were entirely unaccustomed to the way everyone else treated me. When I was helping with the corn harvest, for example, and Lily thanked me for a fresh basket with a smile, Andy’s eyes bulged in their sockets at the exchange. Or when I was waiting for the bathing pool with Trudy and Heidi, and Heidi began playing with my hair. It was growing, always swinging in my eyes these days, and I was planning to shear it off again. Heidi was trying to find a style for me, flipping the strands this way and that. Brandt and Aaron—Aaron was the oldest man who’d gone on the long raid, someone I couldn’t remember having seen before at all—came out and found us there, Trudy laughing at some silly atrocity Heidi was attempting to create atop my head, and both men turned a little green and stalked silently past us.

Of course, little things like that were nothing. Kyle roamed the caves now, and though he was obviously under orders to leave me in peace, his expression made it clear that this restriction was repugnant to him. I was always with others when I crossed his path, and I wondered if that was the only reason he did nothing more than glower at me and unconsciously curl his thick fingers into claws. This brought back all the panic from my first weeks here, and I might have succumbed to it—begun hiding again, avoiding the common areas—but something more important than Kyle’s murderous glares came to my attention that second night.

The kitchen filled up again—I’m not sure how much was interest in my stories and how much was interest in the chocolate bars Jeb handed out. I declined mine, explaining to a disgruntled Jamie that I couldn’t talk and chew at the same time; I suspected that he would save one for me, obstinate as ever. Ian was back in his usual hot seat by the fire, and Andy was there—eyes wary—beside Paige. None of the other raiders, including Jared, of course, was in attendance. Doc was not there, and I wondered if he was still drunk or perhaps hung-over. And again, Walter was absent.

Geoffrey, Trudy’s husband, questioned me for the first time tonight. I was pleased, though I tried not to show it, that he seemed to have joined the ranks of the humans who tolerated me. But I couldn’t answer his questions well, which was too bad. His questions were like Doc’s.

“I don’t really know anything about Healing,” I admitted. “I never went to a Healer after… after I first got here. I haven’t been sick. All I know is that we wouldn’t choose a planet unless we were able to maintain the host bodies perfectly. There’s nothing that can’t be healed, from a simple cut, a broken bone, to a disease. Old age is the only cause of death now. Even healthy human bodies were only designed to last for so long. And there are accidents, too, I guess, though those don’t happen as often with the souls. We’re cautious.”

“Armed humans aren’t just an accident,” someone muttered. I was moving hot rolls; I didn’t see who spoke, and I didn’t recognize the voice.

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