Tracing the Stars

by Amanda Richardson

  Also, Jake had dibs now, and I wasn’t one to break the bro code. Not over someone I couldn’t even have in the first place.

  I wash the coffee mugs and try to orient myself, but it’s no use. It’s as if every memory of her words, her essence from all those years we spent as pen pals, is wrapping around me like a cloud. I’m only interested because I can’t have her. That has to be it. Even so, I have to shake my head to rid myself of the way her moans turned me the fuck on when we came back to the hotel room. The loft-style suite seemed great at first, but I soon realized, upon returning, that I would have to endure the sounds she made as my best friend pleasured her.

  With acoustics.

  I wish I’d stayed asleep.

  Did she have to be the most goddamn gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen while also being the most irritating woman I’ve ever met? She was small, but athletic. Killer ass. Long, wavy, dark brown hair, grey, soulful eyes, and the most perfect set of heart-shaped lips I’ve ever seen.

  We were like two magnets in a crowded room. I was drawn to her, and she was drawn to me. A part of me thinks it’s because of our history. I still have the letters she wrote me when we were in middle school. I remember the graduation announcements, the Christmas card pictures… she was always so interesting to me.

  It’s too bad it never would’ve worked, extenuating circumstances aside. Even if Jake let me have her—which I doubted, especially since he always got oddly possessive of past fucks—it can’t happen.

  There are so many reasons why it can’t happen, and I’m not about to ruin my life, my friendship with Jake, and my career over a simple, selfish impulse.

  It’s not worth it.

  F O U R

  Emilia

  THE BASTARD LEFT without me. He knew we were supposed to meet down here at six-thirty. I’d shuffled down at 6:32, and I was told he and Gretchen had gone without me on the USAP shuttle.

  Asshole.

  As I sit on the bench outside of the Heritage Hotel, the valet walks away and calls the shuttle driver. “Ma’am, it seems the shuttle is already en route. Let’s get you a taxi¸” he says to me.

  I nod and grind my teeth. Prick prick prick prick prick.

  A yellow taxi pulls up a few minutes later. I throw my enormous suitcase into the trunk and place the puffy, red parka underneath my arm. As I close my door, the driver turns around to me and stares unabashedly.

  “You the only one?” she asks, her Kiwi accent thick.

  “I suppose I am,” I answer through my teeth as I squeeze some Purell into my hands.

  “Very good. Where are you off to?”

  “The airport, please.”

  “Fun times. Where are you headed?”

  “Antarctica. I’m conducting research down there.”

  “You’re joking,” she laughs, staring at me with wide eyes. I shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go,” she continues, turning her face around to face the road and shifting into drive. Her accent makes go sound like ger. She’s young with brown hair pulled high up onto her head. She’s wearing glasses. “Reckon I’ll get there someday.”

  “You should try,” I say, smiling. Leo abandoning me couldn’t be further from my mind. Almost. “New Zealand has a station there. They need all kinds of help down there.”

  “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going now,” she says matter-of-factly. I laugh. “So, you’re a scientist?”

  “Not yet. Not technically,” I answer. “I’m a research assistant. I still have to graduate in December before I can add that title.”

  “What field are you in?”

  “Astronomy,” I say proudly.

  “Love the stars that much?”

  “Stars, comets, galaxies, planets, moons, asteroids…” I trail off, my voice dreamy.

  “Ah. Well, you’re crazy for going this time of year. I gather most people are coming home now, before the winter starts.”

  “I guess I am crazy,” I concede. The driver isn’t the first person to mention how unusual this position is. The winters are excruciatingly harsh, and besides that, the station houses only forty-five people—and no one can leave. The weather is astronomically crazy—the worst weather on Earth. Minus one-hundred-degree air, two-hundred-mile per hour winds, snow so deep that it covers the entire station…

  I will be living inside a modern igloo for six months. Not to mention, it will be dark out for most of those six months.

  “When it’s dark for that long, we can observe the stars and galaxies uninhibited.” I think of the South Pole Telescope—literally on the South Pole, and Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station—the southernmost place on Earth. I remember my mom telling me about the opening, and rushing to my advisor only to find I was the first to apply. I was a shoe-in, and while I was excited, I was wary of the drawbacks. Most importantly, I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t leave. I was mildly claustrophobic, so this winter would definitely be a learning experience.

  “Wow,” she says, in awe. I stare out of the window, savoring the sunlight and the green shrubbery. Before I know it, I’ll be stuck in the middle of an arctic tundra with no way out. I swallow nervously and try to memorize the way the sun reflects off of the dewy lawns. The way the dirt looks almost red from the sunrise. The feel of the cool air on my skin as I roll the window down slightly.

  Thirty minutes and two unusually deep conversations about the universe later, we pull up to the airport. The driver doesn’t go to the normal terminals. Instead, she snakes around the lanes and drives up to the United States Antarctic Program terminal. I get my passport ready. The driver turns the car off and comes around to help me with my suitcase. I say goodbye, giving her a nervous smile and a wave before she drives off.

  It only takes a minute to pass through check-in and security. The terminal is basically abandoned—they’ve cut the staff to the bare bones, and once I get through the security checkpoint, I begin to look around for Leo and Gretchen. I spot Gretchen leaning over in a chair, her face in her hands, so I walk over.

  “Rough night?” I ask, taking a seat beside her.

  “I feel like I might die,” she confesses. She holds her head up and gives me a small smile. Even though she’s hungover, she still looks put together and beautiful in her jeans, snow boots, and cream-colored sweater. “Leo said you left before us. Why are you just getting here?”

  I want to tell her the truth—I want to slander Leo. However, the last thing I want to do is bring drama into what will become a tight-knit group. At least she doesn’t seem to remember my indiscretions from last night.

  “I caught a taxi. We must’ve had a misunderstanding,” I reply, giving her an easy smile. And Leo is a jackass.

  “I’m glad you made it,” she mumbles. “I might go grab a muffin. I’d rather freeze to death than eat something right now, but I should grab something for the journey. Want anything?” She stands uneasily and grimaces, palming her forehead.

  I try not to laugh. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.” She nods and walks away. I can’t help but wonder where Leo is. He’s probably laughing maniacally behind one of the pillars. He may have tried sabotaging my morning by leaving without me, but I was not going to stoop down to his level. If he said anything, I would act nonchalant. I was a grown woman, not a teenager.

  Trying to distract myself, I look around the terminal. The flags of different countries with stations on Antarctica line the wall. There are at least a hundred seats here—all usually filled with people clamoring to go to Antarctica in the summer, when the weather is much more manageable. I know all of those people are now safely home, eager to get off the wintry continent before the storms begin to hit. But… I know it will all be worth it. I would do just about anything for my career. I’m hoping to write my thesis while I’m there, so the darkness hopefully won’t be much of a bother since I’ll be hunched over my computer reading scientific articles in my downtime.

  I brush my loose hair away from my face and tap my snow boot against the chair in front of me. I’ve read up on
so many aspects of the program, but now that I’m actually here, I run through the basics of the station. Amundsen-Scott has three large generators, plenty of food (even a hydroponic greenhouse for fresh fruits and vegetables) and ways of communicating with the outside world. There is a doctor, a cafeteria, a laundromat, a gym, and a library. Really, anything a person could need in such an isolated place. Right? Yes.

  Blowing out a heavy breath of air, I attempt to soothe my wound up nerves. I check my watch. It’s almost eight, and I know we’ll be boarding soon. I swing my backpack around and draft a quick text to Anastasia and my mom.

  Boarding soon. Also, you might want to talk to Mrs. Kennedy and inform her that her son is a total douche. Love you!

  I delete and rephrase it. I don’t think I’ve ever used the word douche before, but it so perfectly describes Leo...

  Boarding soon. Met Dr. Kennedy. He’s somewhat amicable when he tries to be. Love you!

  I delete. No need to lie. Amicable, my ass.

  Boarding soon. Love you!

  I send it and then shoot off another one without thinking.

  Also, If Leonardo Kennedy happens to turn up dead this winter, I trust that you’re both smart enough to come up with an alibi for me.

  Just before I shut my phone off, my mother’s ringtone sounds. It’s noon in California. I’m sure she has questions, considering she thinks Leonardo Kennedy is the bee’s knees. I decline and shut my phone off. This is a conversation for another time.

  I stand and walk over to the bathroom. As I round the corner, I bump into the man of the hour, the subject of my murderous thoughts.

  “Oh good, you made it,” he says casually, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets and looking me over with an unsmiling, slightly abhorrent expression.

  I hate him.

  Taking a step back and away from him, I wonder if he knows his smug expression will be the death of him. I’ll make damn sure of it by winter’s end.

  “Oh yes,” I say sweetly. “I was able to catch a taxi. No problem at all.” I’m momentarily distracted by the cyan shirt he’s wearing—it turns his eyes a striking shade of lime green. He leans against the wall next to me, clad in jeans and snow boots. No converse today. He notices my obvious observation and the corners of his mouth tick up. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts of his appearance. “If you’re trying to sabotage my career, I won’t let you,” I growl, keeping my gaze steady. “You can’t hold last night over my head all winter.” We stare at each other for a good ten seconds before he finally cracks a coy smile.

  “I can hold a lot of things over your head all winter, Emilia.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes.

  “Fuck off? Like you did last night? ‘Oh, Jake, yes! Harder!’” he mimics, and I feel my face heat with mortification.

  “You’re insufferable,” I bark, pushing off the wall and marching to the bathroom. I’m fuming by the time I close and lock the door behind me. Taking a few steady breaths, I lean against the small sink on both hands, staring at my reflection. I’m not wearing any makeup, and my grey eyes dart around nervous and scattered. I run my fingers through my hair and tuck it behind my ears. I put some Chapstick on, smoothing it over my lips, and I check my watch. 8:20 a.m. We’ll be boarding soon. I wash my hands thoroughly.

  I step out of the bathroom and join Gretchen and Leo, who are having an animated conversation. I ignore the sourness in my stomach and smile as I walk up. Gretchen smiles and says hi, as does Leo. His face doesn’t give a single thing away. Good, I think. At least he seems to be able to keep this between us.

  “Emilia, are you okay? You were in the bathroom for quite a while,” Leo admonishes, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. “Must have been all of the sausage you had last night.”

  I glare at him, horrified, just as we’re called to board.

  Let the games begin.

  F I V E

  Emilia

  AS THE THREE of us walk across the tarmac, I glance nervously at the behemoth vessel that’s supposed to transport us safely. It’s the biggest plane I’ve ever seen. The exterior is gray with military jargon printed along the side. The interior is cavernous, and unlike commercial airliners, tubes, wires, and vents line the sides and ceilings of the plane. Cargo is packed up into groups of boxes, netted and secured to the side. There are only two rows of three seats. I suppose they weren’t expecting many people to volunteer their sanity this winter in lieu of scientific advancement.

  “We’re the last plane out, and that means one word: cargo,” Leo explains to both Gretchen and I. “It’s my second winter,” he adds, glancing at me. I don’t say anything.

  Goodbye, Sun.

  Goodbye, sanity.

  I suddenly remember a sickening fact about Antarctica in the winter. The population goes down to one fifth of its normal 5,000. One-thousand people. I will be only one of one-thousand. As a scientist, I know my odds are great of surviving this winter with my sanity intact. But as a woman—a woman who has been pushed too far to the brink in just over twelve hours by a self-satisfied man—I’m seriously starting to doubt myself.

  “You ready?” Gretchen asks, squeezing my arm as the two of us get settled in our seats. She’s sitting next to me. Leo opted for his own row behind us. I feel like a sardine stuffed in a can—just the three of us, and all the supplies that are supposed to keep us warm and alive this winter.

  “I hope so,” I say, my voice unwavering. “What about you?” I throw my coat on. It’s Siberian in here. I guess I better get used to the cold. Gretchen does the same. Her cheeks are pink and flushed, and I notice the large coffee in her hands.

  “I’d like to think so, but who’s ever prepared for an Antarctic winter?” She gives me a weak smile and sips her steaming coffee. “A part of me feels deranged for even applying.”

  I laugh. “I know how you feel.” I fasten my seatbelt and cross my legs. “My professors urged me to go. Instead of writing my thesis in my mother’s basement, I get to be here, observing it in real time.”

  “Nice. MSc?”

  I nod. “Yep. You?”

  “I’ve already graduated, but I’ll be moving to Boston in the fall to start my PhD.”

  “That’s impressive. I’m officially the least qualified person on this team.”

  We both laugh. Her smile quickly drops from her face. “This assignment will be a much-needed breath of fresh air,” she continues. “Newly single.” She gives me a grim smile.

  “Well, you did pick the most remote place you could possibly go.”

  Gretchen chuckles and opens her mouth to say something, but then decides against it. She slumps into the seat. “What about you? Seeing anyone?”

  I hear Leo’s head snap up behind me. How am I so aware of his movements? “No. I’ve been concentrating on my research, mostly.” It was true. I’d been asked out several times in grad school, but the truth of the matter was, my mother had taught me to rely on myself. So, I did. I was so good at it that I hadn’t slept with a man in over two years. But, I wasn’t going to allow that kind of distraction. I had my wits about me.

  “Good luck with that at the station,” she jokes, giving me a coquettish smile. “I hear the isolation turns everyone into sex freaks.”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m actually considering taking a vow of celibacy this winter.”

  Leo stifles a cough, and I grit my teeth. Jackass.

  “You are so strong. I could never do that.” Gretchen clucks her tongue and pulls out a magazine.

  “It shouldn’t be too hard. I doubt I’ll find anyone appealing.”

  Leo coughs loudly. Gretchen looks back at him. “Would you like a cough drop?” she asks him sympathetically. I can’t help but smile widely.

  “I’m good. Thank you.” His voice is hard and irritated.

  Gretchen turns her attention back to me. She ushers for my ear, and when I’m close enough, she whispers into it. “It’s too bad Dr. Kennedy is off limits. Why is it that
the attractive ones always are?”

  I pull back. “What do you mean?” I whisper. I hate the small edge of disappointment that fills me at her words.

  “The stipulation?” she asks, and I stare at her blankly. Gretchen apprehensively peeps over her shoulder at Leo like we’re in middle school. I’m ashamed to admit that I copy her movements. In the last ten seconds, he’s managed to pull on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones that seem to be blasting some kind of angry music. To be on the safe side, she leans back into me. “It’s in the contract. We can’t have any… fraternization within the department.” She backs away and raises her thin eyebrows. “It’s a shame,” she adds, louder.

  I’m silent for a few seconds. Clearly I did not read the contract closely enough. I don’t remember any text about fraternization, but it makes sense. Universities have a similar clause; as does the military. Gretchen continues.

  “Personally, I think it’s foolish to have a rule like that, considering where we’re headed. What else are we supposed to do with all of our free time?”

  “Well, you have your pick of forty-three other people that aren’t in our department. I think you’ll be just fine.”

  Gretchen laughs. “Oh, I know.” She looks down at her magazine for a minute, and just as I think our conversation is over, she continues. “I’m secretly terrified,” she utters softly. “I wouldn’t admit that to anyone else, Emilia.”

  I manage to give her a consolable grin. “There’s nothing to be terrified of.” I place my hand gently over hers. It’s ironic that I’m consoling her, though. Currently, I’m subduing the urge to bolt off of this plane.

  “I don’t do well with rickety planes,” she starts, eyeing the bare-bones interior. “Don’t even get me started on where we’re actually headed. Storms, lockdowns, freezing to death, injuring yourself… if I need life-saving surgery, it’s not like they can airlift me out.”