by Beth Revis
Page 24
“If I open the hatch for you, will you spend the night down here and make sure no one messes with the frozens?”
Amy’s smile is more than enough reason to ignore the voice in my head warning me that Eldest won’t like me leaving Harley here, alone.
“Sure,” Harley says.
I tell Harley the location of the hatch and the access code as I retrieve the floppy he’d tossed away. Tapping quickly, I set up access approval for both him and Amy so they can come and leave the cryo level as they please, and I add in access for Amy to use floppies. Harley runs straight to the hatch as soon as I scan his thumbprint, not bothering to hide his eagerness. Amy’s still laughing at him when I press her thumb into the scanner on the floppy. When she stops laughing, I realize I’ve been holding her thumb down for a full minute.
“Sorry,” I say, snatching my hand back.
Amy smiles at me.
“Wannagogardenwime?” I ask all in one breath. My eyes grow wide. What came over me? Why would I blurt that out like that?
“What?” Amy asks, her smile widening. She leans against the metal table behind her.
“Want to see the garden?” I ask, speaking much slower than my heart is pounding. “With me?”
She bites her lips, and although she doesn’t look away from me, her gaze grows distant and unfocused. Her hands grip the edge of the table, and she looks as if she’s afraid I’m going to drag her from this cold, dark place against her will. It’s not hard to guess why. She wants to stay close to her parents. Her eyes flick to the right, where Harley ran off. She wants to see the stars, too.
My heart sinks. How can I compete with that?
Then her eyes focus on me again, and she smiles. “Sure,” she says.
And in her smile I see something more beautiful than stars.
31
AMY
ELDER TAKES ME TO A SPRAWLING GARDEN BEHIND THE Hospital, the one I ran through this morning during my jog. I hadn’t noticed its beauty—before, I’d only ever seen the walls surrounding it. But really, it’s lovely. It has a chaotic feel to it, like it has grown wild, but there are paths and clusters of plants and no weeds, all indications that a true gardener has had his hand in the development of this contained beautiful mess.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A statue of the Eldest during the Plague. ”
“So everyone who’s leader around here is called Eldest?” He nods. “That’s a stupid way of doing it. It gets confusing who’s who. How many Eldests have there been, anyway?”
“I. . . er. . . I don’t know. ”
I look up at the face of the statue. It’s not carved from stone. I think it was made of concrete, or something very similar to it. Makes sense. Where would they get stone? It’s not like they could just dig into the ground to extract some.
A drop of water splashes on my head. I glance up, expecting for one crazy moment to see rain clouds. I have always loved rain, but, looking up at the plain metal ceiling, I think I will not like this ship’s version of rain. It reminds me, once again, of how false Godspeed is. There are no rain clouds, no dark sky punctuated by lightning. Here on Godspeed, when it rains, water just falls from the sprinkler system attached to the ceiling. I taste a drop of it on my tongue. It’s cool, like real rain, but there’s a slightly stale, recycled taste to it, and it smells very faintly of oil.
The “rain” is not heavy now, though, just a few drops sprinkling down, so I continue down the path, closer to the statue.
“I’m surprised you have rain,” I say.
Elder smiles at me, a sort of half-smile that looks like a smirk.
“What?”
“You talk funny,” he says, which is ironic since his words sound like “ya tal-funnae” to me.
“Ha! You’re the one with the weird accent!”
“Wee-urd axe-scent,” he mocks. I stick my tongue out at him, but I’m laughing, too.
A few raindrops fall on the statue’s head, and they snake down his face like tears, leaving behind dark trails. I squint. The face is not as detailed as I’d expect. In fact, it looks weatherworn.
“How long ago was the Plague?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” Elder says, strolling away from the statue. “I’d have to look it up. Why were you surprised we have rain?”
“Well. . . ” I drawl the word out, emphasizing the accent Elder says I have. His smile broadens. “It’s just that—it’s not rain. Why make it look like it? You could just water the plants yourselves with sprinklers. ”
Elder shrugs. “It’s in the ship’s original design. ” He pauses, then mutters to himself, “Biological Research. . . ”
“What?”
“I saw some old plans of the ship at the Recorder Hall. Originally, the Feeder Level was labeled ‘Biological Research. ’ I didn’t think of it at the time, but. . . Eldest engineers the weather patterns. To emulate different conditions that Centauri-Earth may have. He changes the pattern every five or so years. Last time. . . last time the rain was scheduled to fall only once a month. The scientists had to help the farmers develop different irrigation methods. And. . . ” He’s thinking now; he’s practically forgotten I’m there, listening. “When I was a kid, it used to rain a lot. I helped dig a drainage ditch. The sheep pastures kept flooding. Eldest has us change the soil sometimes, too, adding or taking away different minerals. ”
He looks up at me now, but he doesn’t really see me. “The Feeder Level really is biological research—researching conditions of what Centauri-Earth might be like. There are records in the Recorder Hall of all the different methods we’ve come up with out of necessity. No. . . not necessity. It’s what Eldest does. It’s part of Eldest’s job. . . . ”
“That means it’s part of your job, too, right?” I say. “You’re the next Eldest. ” I want to ask, Why didn’t he teach you all this? But it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I should say aloud. Elder can see the question in my face, though. He turns down the path toward the pond, but I can tell he doesn’t have an answer for my unspoken question. He’s just got more questions, too.
I follow him down the path. Hydrangeas with big, blossoming heads spill out onto the walkway.
The rain picks up. It has a steady, methodical way of falling, but it’s close enough to real rain that I tip my head back and let the water splash on my closed eyelids and pretend.
“This whole Eldest thing. . . I don’t see how it works. ”
“Why not?”
We stop near a pond about the size of the swimming pool in my high school. A man and woman, laughing in the rain, collapse on a bench further down the path.
“He’s not a peaceful man. He must scare everyone into obeying him. ” I don’t want to admit that he’s got me scared, too, but I think Elder can guess it.
“Eldest is a great leader. I don’t always agree with him, or his methods, but they work. You can’t deny that. ”
“That old man’s a dictator—that’s how it works,” I mutter. I catch Elder smirking. “What?”
“I like how you call him an old man. Most people around here worship at his feet. ”
“He seemed like a jerk to me. More than a jerk. He was pretty much King Asshole to me. I mean, I know he’s your leader and all, but he did want to basically kill me. ”
“Maybe he wouldn’t really throw you out of the hatch. ”
“Really?”
Elder stares at the flowers at our feet. “He might have. Yes. He probably would have. ”
I kick at the big orangey-red flowers, like tiger lilies, that line the edge of the pool.
The couple on the bench are really going at it. The man’s got one hand up the woman’s shirt, another hand down her pants. Elder follows my gaze and stares at the couple.
“Eldest said that the Season would start soon. ”
“This is the Season? People don’t act like that in public. ” At least, they didn’t used to. Is this what happens when you coop peopl
e up together on a ship, or am I just a prude compared to their evolved standards?
Elder doesn’t watch the couple on the bench; he’s watching me. The rain is pouring harder now, and I think about going in, but in a strange way I like how the rain makes me feel as if I am grounded, connected to this place. Even though I know the rain is fake, it feels the same as real rain, and I desperately need that.
32
ELDER
ACROSS FROM US, THE MAN AND WOMAN ON THE BENCH ARE using the rain as an excuse to remove their clothing. The man rips the woman’s shirt off, and she arches her back, pushing up against him.
“That’s disgusting,” Amy says.
I don’t want to talk about the Season, though, even if the couple is giving me some ideas. I want to know if her hatred for Eldest is limited to the man, not the title. “He’s not all bad,” I say. “Eldest is actually quite a good leader. ” I take a step closer to her. “I mean, I know he can be forceful, but he’s really kept everyone on board working together and happy. ”
Amy snorts. “So, are you going to hate people because they’re different, too?”
“I would never hate you!”
It is her differences—her red hair, her Sol-Earth background, the way she doesn’t blindly follow Eldest—these are the things I like best about her.
The rain is pouring now, but neither one of us cares. Amy looks at me expectantly, as if she’s waiting for me to prove to her I’m not Eldest.
Instead, I reach around and pull out the paintbrushes holding up her hair in a knot. A flash of red as her hair cascades down, then the rain drenches her heavy locks, darkening them so much that her hair almost looks brown like mine. Almost. I reach up and tuck one orange-gold strand behind her ear. She flinches as my fingertips brush her skin.
“Eldest is a great leader,” I insist, my voice soft. “But,” I say before Amy can protest, “we disagree on the issue of differences. I happen to like differences. Quite a lot. ” I swallow, hard. My mouth feels too wet, my throat too dry.
And then—I’m not sure how it happens—but she takes a step closer and I take a step closer, and then we’re both just entirely too close.
And there is nothing between us but rain.
Then there is nothing between us at all.
My lips melt into hers. A drop of rainwater slips around the edge of my mouth, and then her lips part, and so do mine. The raindrop falls on my tongue, and then it’s lost on hers.
My body is drenched; I should be cold. But the warmth of her fills me.
My arms snake around her body, pulling her hard against me. I want to crush her into me.
I never want this to end.
And then—
—She’s pulling away.
She’s stepping back.
Her fingers are on her swollen lips.
Her eyes are wide and sparkling.
Raindrops drip down her cheeks, but it’s not rain, and for the first time, I taste salt on my tongue.
“It’s always in the rain,” she murmurs. “With Jason, too. ”
