A piece of chalk smelling of incense hit him. "Tell me about the Uniformity Accords," the friar's accent was thicker than blood. His garbs stuck out like a sore thumb.
"I'd rather not," Romeo sighed, throwing the chalk back.
"A wave of guilt, Montague?" Julie smirked, her green eyes flashing.
"About what?" His only regret was that he couldn't hold her in his arms. Yet.
"I don't know," the Capulet heir tilted her head. "Betrayal?" Famous for her sharp wits, sharper features, and copper hair, in Romeo's eyes, her only flaw was her name.
It was always fun to argue with her, but he walked on a minefield.
"Mhm," he mulled over his words, "or a cautionary tale about why cloning's illegal—"
"Oh, yes. Because stealing patents is fine." Static crackled between them as the overhead projector came to life. "That's how your father founded the Montague Industries after all."
"I'm still waiting for an answer," the friar snapped, wrestling the remote.
"Fine," Romeo relented. "It's an extensive list of research punishable by death. It includes cloning, gene manipulation, AI,—" and anything threatening the Church.
He didn't add the last part, crossing his arms.
"You forgot the commandments," Julie sneered. "Like 'never betray thy friend, family, ruler, or steal from them.' Sounds familiar?"
The preacher waved the controls at them. "Both are wrong." He projected Verona Island's map on the whiteboard and a nuclear test from a nearby atoll.
Verona High was the island's most prestigious school, run by the Church of Uniformity. And, well, it was the only one.
"Which part?" Romeo barked.
"Knowing you, all parts," Julie yawned, pulling out her phone.
"Yes, no. Cloning is a cardinal sin, and so is betrayal," the friar corrected himself, changing slides. "But the Accords are so much more. Besides—both families were greedy and sinful."
Witches and other abominations filled the screen.
Some were medieval drawings, but most were footage of executions from a decade ago. Gruesome, unfiltered—as expected from the Church. The preacher fast-forwarded them.
"If they were both in the wrong," Julie broke the silence first. "How come the Capulet Corporation paid a high price, while the Montagues got away rich?"
"You're proving my point right now," Romeo snarked.
If only he could whisper sweet nothings into her ears—but it was a distant dream. Arguing was still the next best thing. She stuck out her tongue—but if he were to blink, he'd miss it.
"My father stopped the Capulets who thought they could get away with everything." Romeo pressed his advantage. "That's why the governor rewarded us."
"You mean he pardoned you," the friar shot a warning glance, "Benvolio."
Heads turned—Romeo didn't even notice his cousin raising his hand. Now he fumbled with an inhaler before forcing out an answer. "It is to lay down basic rules and unite humanity—"
He coughed off the end, but the answer satisfied the preacher.
A war report from this island played behind him, from fifteen years ago, on the day Julie was born. The governor's forces suffered heavy losses cornering Capulet mechs at their facilities.
The friar didn't notice it, busy with his lecture.
"We must put our differences aside," he explained. "Humanity has to band together against what's different. Mutants, sorcery. The Accords are about how survival lies in our unity."
"And in the Capulet mechs," one of Julie's thugs—for lack of a better word—heckled.
The slide changed to the aftermath, to a lab of broken vats and scientists' ragged corpses. Romeo didn't know if she lost a close relative there, but her clenched fist spoke volumes.
When the bell finally rang, students left in low spirits.
The argument fizzled out, disappointing. He lingered, catching Julie's eye and cinnamon scent as she stormed out. Her thugs had already crowded the hallway.
Their malicious stares followed him everywhere.
"It'd be high time someone put this Montague dog down for good," a stray sentence echoed.
The animosity wasn't new, but it was also the fight of the previous generation. The last thing he wanted was to get entangled in it. "I wish he was a mutant so the Church dealt with him for us."
Romeo ignored the comments, but the random insults fired his cousin up. "Are you talking about us?!" he pointed his inhaler at the closest Capulet.
"Ben—" Romeo grabbed him too late.
The thug slapped the inhaler away, grinning. "What'chu gonna do about it?"
Julie snapped. "I don't care how you spend your free time, but you're my bodyguard today, so cut the crap." Even when she was under the weather, her lackeys still jumped at her words.
"What? We weren't—"
"Right. We talked among ourselves, and then Benvolio picked on us."
"My cousin, of all people?" Romeo laughed at them, but the crowd was growing. It blocked the school's exit on the sidewalk. "Come on, who's picking on who?"
Street traffic slowed, impatient drivers drumming on their dashboards.
Julie thumbed her phone as if saying 'Solve it yourself' to Romeo. That was a tall order when both sides had so many people eager to throw a punch.
Neither wanted to go first though.
Some Montagues grumbled. "See, they're all bark."
"What'chu say?" The back-and-forth was slipping out of hand.
Then someone lost it.
"Now you've done it."
The sidewalk exploded like a disturbed anthill.
Romeo sidestepped a fist. It came out of nowhere. His muscles buzzed—like static under his skin—but the feeling vanished as soon as it came.
While it lasted, dodging felt like avoiding a snail. But his cousin walked into it.
More Capulets came, and Montagues held nothing back either.
He dragged Benvolio away, but trucks almost collided. They tried to break the gridlock.
"Are you hurt, idiot?"
"Only my pride," his cousin still wanted to go, but Romeo grabbed him, returning the inhaler.
People chanted from the sidelines. Cracks and thuds echoed, and a metallic tang filled the air. Yells drowned out the traffic's honking.
Romeo felt a prickling unease, looking for Julie on the other side. Someone knocked her phone away—her feet slipping off the curb, trying to recover it.
A semi chose that moment to take over the cars stuck on the street. An engine roared as it swerved into the bike lane. Its wheels ground against the curb that Julie teetered on.
She wasn't paying attention, and Romeo was too far.
The crowd was in the way. He couldn't care less. He pushed into the forest of school sweaters, navigating punches and kicks. "Julie," he yelled, but the cheering was too loud.
The truck's brakes screeched, its shadow devouring the girl. She froze, gripping her phone like a lifeline. He watched her face grow in the truck's mirror finish.
Romeo broke through and lunged, muscles screaming.
He'd no longer reach her by the laws of physics, but he still tried. Time stood still. His veins burned—as if lightning replaced his blood. It was all a blur, then the world snapped back.
A sickening thud echoed in the sudden silence.
He was in so much pain, he couldn't even think. The phone hit the pavement with a crunch. Glass shards glittered in Julie's orange hair, still smelling of cinnamon.
Somehow her thin frame was in his arms, right as he wanted, but the bent truck bumper behind him wasn't in his plans. How did things turn out like this?
Sticky, red fluid pooled at his feet, and he passed out.