Page 105 of Ruby
Right in the middle, I see Ree giving out orders, eyebrows knit in concentration. She spots me almost immediately, beckoning me.
“You’re awake. I thought you’d sleep much later.”
“Do you need more hands?” I ask, surprised when the words come out of my mouth.
“Always, but not just yet from you. Learn how that new body works first,” she says, smile lighting her face.
“You seem prepared,” I comment.
“Well, years in the ER can teach you that. Just take a seat somewhere and I’ll get you something to eat.”
“You’re awake!” Eli exclaims. “I thought you would definitely take your time in bed.”
“Funny,” I respond, the Bitch stirring, turning to Eli. “Ree said the same thing. Do I look that lazy?”
“Not really,” Eli replies. “You just look, how do I put this… uh… like a delicate flower?”
“Do you recognize me?” I blurt, panicked.
Eli’s tentacles put down the log, drooping, her hands reaching from her skin to clasp each other nervously. “…am I supposed to?”
I blink rapidly, not sure how to process the fact that I wasn’t instantly recognized and they aren’t just being polite by not mentioning it.
They are just acting… normal. Well, normal for here, anyway. Kira is arguing with Drasuk about whether fermented lake grass counts as “adventurous cuisine” or “a biohazard,” and a new woman, with long white hair and green glowing skin, walks straight past me.
She glances at me. Waves a polite greeting. Keeps going.
No double take. No widening of the eyes. No sharp inhale and whispered,Is that—?
Nothing.
I just… exist.
For a second I stand there, oddly off balance.
I’m used to the shift in air pressure when someone recognizes me. The way attention bends. The way conversations stutter and then pivot. The way people look at me like they already know something about me, like I’m a story they’ve consumed.
But she doesn’t know me.
She doesn’t know the interviews. The headlines. The edits and angles and carefully crafted versions of me that lived on screens.
She sees a woman with unfamiliar features, altered skin, two alien eyes, feathers, wings folded tight against her back.
She seesthis.
And she has no idea who I used to be.
The realization spreads slowly, then all at once.
No one here recognizes me.
They know Ani. The sharp-tongued bird woman. They don’t know the brand. The persona. The curated fragments.
My old face is gone.
My old name barely fits anymore.
If I don’t tell them, they will never know.
