Forget Tomorrow

by Pintip Dunn

  The future was right about me. If I needed proof that I’m toxic to the people around me—well, here it is. Logan’s life is a shadow of what it could be, and the very future of Harmony is in jeopardy. All because of me.

  “Callie.” A gentle hand drops onto my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I turn and bury my face in Logan’s chest. The hard contours of his muscles press against my cheeks. I should be furious with him, but this is my fault, too. Why couldn’t I get myself here? Why wasn’t I strong enough?

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He winds his arm around my back. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry, for not telling you everything sooner.”

  I pull back and look into his face. We’re standing in the shade of one of the dome huts, and the breeze carries on it the scent of fresh pines. I breathe it in, realizing that I’ve never been this far from civilization. So far that I can’t even smell the city.

  “Why are you so nice to me?” I ask.

  He sighs. “You look at me like that and it makes me want to keep pretending I’m the hero you make me out to be. When I’m no hero, really. Far from it.”

  I lean my head against the tree. In my book, he’s only made one decision that’s been less than heroic. “Couldn’t you have told me one thing? I understand I’m a stranger to you. I understand we’ve only been talking again for a short time. But I told you my memory. Wasn’t there one secret you could’ve shared?”

  “I was scared,” he says.

  “Of what?”

  “It’s a long story.” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, as if he’s deciding whether or not to confide in me. “When I stopped talking to you five years ago, it was because seeing you made me remember what I didn’t do. But everyone else? I avoided them because I saw the way they looked at Mikey, like he was a freak. And I didn’t want them to look at me that same way.”

  I take his hand. I know how he feels. I’ve seen Jessa on the playground during the Outdoor Core, standing by herself, pretending not to notice the other girls as they shrieked and giggled and played tag. Her classmates may not have known why she was different, but she clearly was.

  All that lost time. While Logan was hiding his abilities from the world, I was hiding Jessa’s. We could’ve trusted each other. We could’ve suffered alongside one another, comforted by the knowledge that someone else understood.

  “You should’ve told me,” I say. “I wouldn’t have judged you.”

  “I know. And I wanted to tell you. Especially that day in the park, when I saw Jessa calling out the color of the leaves. But I’d just gotten my future memory, and it changed everything.”

  I wait, my breath caged in my lungs. My hopes hemmed in my chest.

  “My memory wasn’t what I expected.” The words drip from his mouth like molasses from a tree—slow, sticky, and worth every second. “Like I told you, I saw myself as a gold-star swimmer. I was warming up for the final heat of the national meet, and I was a shoo-in for the win. But that was only part of it. Every detail leaped out at me. The wet concrete under my bare feet. The smell of chlorine saturating the air. A scar down the center of my palm.” He holds up his hand, and we both stare at the smooth, still-unblemished skin. “And then I looked out at the audience, at this girl, and I had this overwhelming feeling of belonging, of being totally accepted for who I am.”

  He kicks his foot rhythmically at the base of the tree. The bark chips away, leaving a smooth, naked patch of wood. “I was so mad when I got the memory. I didn’t even understand what it meant, so how on earth was it supposed to guide my decisions in life? And then I saw you at the park.” He stops kicking. “And I thought, maybe the memory was telling me to trust this feeling, to go after it. Maybe it was saying: this is the feeling that makes life worth living.”

  “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “The girl in my memory was you.” He shifts until his shoulders block my view of the huts, with the smoke curling out of their roofs. Until his eyes loom above me, as green as forest grass plump from soil and rain. Until his face becomes my entire world. “You make me feel like I belong. You’ve always made me feel that way. And that’s why I didn’t tell you about the backpacks. Because I was afraid it would change the way you felt, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling for just a little while longer.”

  22

  I don’t think I can speak. My heart feels too large for my chest, like I’m a Russian nesting doll put together in the wrong order. I lift my hand and place it against his cheek. A few days ago, he was clean-shaven. Now, the newly grown bristles prickle my fingertips, and a shiver climbs my spine. It winds down my arms and blows a cool breeze at the nape of my neck.

  He leans closer. “Does it? Change the way you feel, I mean?”

  “Only for the better.”

  His lips touch mine, as light as a moth dancing on the breeze. I’m lost. In school, we learned about the butterfly effect, that something as insignificant as the flapping of insect wings could cause a hurricane on the other side of the world. Well, that’s me. There’s a storm inside me, swirling violently, threatening to sweep me away. For once I would be happy to drown.

  The kiss deepens. Heat spreads from the contact of our lips all over my body, enveloping me in the warmth that is Logan. I wrap my hands around his neck, and he backs me up until my shoulders hit the bark of the tree. His mouth moves across my lips, my tongue, my teeth. And then, his hands touch my face.

  I die. That one brush of his fingers against my cheek, at once tender and aching, slays me. I didn’t know a kiss could be so exquisite. I didn’t know a boy could mean so much. I didn’t know I could be this happy ever again.

  I move my hands to his face, touching his cheeks the way he’s touching mine, and it’s like we’re holding the very essence of each other between our fingers. No secrets between us. No misunderstandings or hurt feelings or fears of the future. Just his mouth and my lips; his ribs, my chest; his thighs, my hips. I don’t think of our five-year distance. I don’t think of the separation yet to come, when he goes back to Eden City. All I can feel is our convergence. The togetherness of our bodies and souls. In that moment, Logan and I are one.

  An eternity later, he pulls back and smiles. We are so close, I can sense the contours of his lips, feel the rush of air as it leaves his mouth and enters mine.

  “Well,” I say when I can finally talk again, “if that’s the reaction I get from an overdue confession…any other secrets you want to share?”

  He laughs and pecks me on the lips. “I’m clean out at the moment.”

  Hand in hand, Logan and I walk down the path toward Mikey’s hut. As we approach, Mikey lifts the flap of rawhide and steps outside. I thought the brothers looked like twins before, but in the stark sunlight, I see differences I missed earlier. While Logan has a nice golden tan, Mikey’s skin resembles the dark brown bark of pine trees. What’s more, his veins pop and protrude against crazy cords of muscle—the kind of build that must come from living in the wilderness.

  He scowls at our linked fingers. “You lovebirds kiss and make up?”

  Flushing, I drop Logan’s hand. Clearly Mikey doesn’t approve of our relationship. And why should he? Logan may be here for the moment, but he belongs in civilization. What we have can only be temporary.

  What we have can only be temporary.

  The words frost my spine. Oh Fates. How could I forget? Logan’s future is back in Eden City, where he is a gold-star swimmer with a room full of medals. Where he’s needed to communicate telepathically with Mikey and stock the backpacks with essential supplies.

  The ice settles in my lungs, stacking up until I can hardly breathe. Holding Logan’s hand feels so good. Kissing him feels so right. When we’re together, I don’t feel like a monster. I feel like the girl he sees, the one who can be strong when she needs to be. But none of that matters. I don�
�t get to keep him.

  I wait for Logan to respond to his brother, to explain that it’s not important what Mikey thinks he sees. It will all be over in a few short days, anyhow.

  But he doesn’t say a word. That’s when I get it. I have my weaknesses, and he has his. Logan can save me from FuMA. He can drag me across a river. But the one thing he can’t do is protect me from his brother’s wrath.

  That’s okay. In this one area of our lives, I can stand up for both of us.

  I face Mikey and lift my chin. “I’m sorry I took away your source of communication with the Underground. If I had known, I might’ve made a different decision. But it’s done. I can’t go back and change either of our choices, and resenting me isn’t going to make that any less true.”

  The wind sweeps over my hair, and the harsh sun burns my forearms. Mikey studies me, and then he gives a curt nod. “Fine.”

  I understand I’m not forgiven. He’s merely putting his resentment on the back burner. The problem with the back burner is that the pot continues to simmer, and sooner or later, its contents overflow…or burn to a crisp.

  I turn to Logan, desperate to change the subject. “Is this ability rare? Can Mikey communicate with someone else in Eden City?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Mikey says. “I can’t send a message to just anyone. There has to be a genetic connection, and the closer the DNA match, the better.” He runs his fingers over his beard. “My link with Logan is the strongest, but I can also communicate with our mother. Nothing like the whole sentences I can speak into Logan’s head, but I can usually convey a concrete image, if I focus long enough.”

  My chest loosens. “That’s great. You’ll still be able to send messages.”

  “No, it’s not great,” he snaps. “Tedious at best, ineffective at worst. It’s not an answer, just a stopgap measure. It will do for a few days, but it’s not a long-term solution.”

  He glares at me like it’s my fault. Clearly, the issue’s not resolved, not by a long shot. It’s just shoved to that nasty back burner again.

  23

  Mikey leads us into the woods west of the village. After half a mile, we come upon a large field with rows and rows of plants. Several people are scattered across the plot, digging in the dirt, pulling weeds, and piling up root vegetables. I see lumpy brown potatoes. Fat, papery onions. And carrots! The orange skin is dulled by dirt, but the leafy tops are green and lush.

  I suck in a breath. I’ve read about how they grew food in the pre-Boom days, but I never thought I’d actually see it. We had a small garden in the Manual Cooking classroom, but most vegetables these days are produced in hydroponic greenhouses, in elevated rows to save room and increase efficiency.

  Mikey steps forward, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Angela! Got a minute? I want to introduce you to your new roommate.”

  A woman stands up and hoists a basket of carrots onto her hip. A rag covers a thousand tiny braids in her hair, and dirt streaks her pants from the knees down. As she walks toward us, her brilliant eyes shine. That smile could power Eden City.

  She reaches our group and trails her hand down Mikey’s arm, with an ease that only comes from a long relationship. Their hands link, and matching bracelets woven from the fronds of a plant flash in the light.

  I slip my own wrist—with its conspicuously absent hourglass tattoo—behind my back, as Angela draws Logan into a hug. “You must be Mikey’s brother. Welcome to Harmony. Although I’ve got to say, I’m sorry to see you. I was pulling for at least one Russell brother to live peacefully in civilization.” She gives Mikey a loving look then winks at Logan. “And, between you and me, I was pretty glad it was you.”

  “Well, I’m happy to be here.” Logan gestures to me. “This is Callie.”

  Angela directs her blinding smile at me. “Welcome. I’m done with the carrots here. Why don’t we let the boys get reacquainted, and you can help me prepare dinner? You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?”

  “Oh, no,” I say, my fingers itching to grab a carrot from the basket. “I live for this stuff. I can’t believe you get to cook manually every day.”

  Angela laughs. “Most of the community sees it as a hardship, not a luxury. If I burn the stew, they have to eat it anyway.”

  “But that’s the beauty of it!” I give in and snatch up the orange root. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale deeply. This is how vegetables should all smell—as if they came straight from the earth, because they did. “Who cares if your food tastes good, or if it tastes the exact same every time? It’s the variety that brings the flavor to life.”

  “Callie here was in training to be a chef of the pre-Boom era,” Logan says. “She was at the top of her class.”

  I lower the carrot. “How would you know?”

  “I sampled your dishes every year at the Extravaganza,” he says softly. “And you’re right. I like food better when it’s not subtle. I heard some people say your guacamole had too much cilantro. But I thought it was sublime.”

  Our eyes meet and hold. I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be feeling this tingle in my spine. Shouldn’t store his words in my memory so I can take them out later. He might be the most perfect boy in the world, but he doesn’t belong with me. He belongs in Eden City, where he is needed to keep Harmony alive. Deep down, I know this. I force the tingling sensation away, smothering it with my guilt.

  Mikey clears his throat. “We’d better get going, Logan. I’ve got a lot to show you before dinner.”

  I say good-bye to the boys and turn to find Angela watching me.

  “What was that all about?” she asks.

  I put the carrot back in the basket. “What do you mean?”

  She adjusts the basket on her hip and walks into the woods. I trail after her.

  “This may be none of my business,” she says. “I know I’ve just met the two of you, but I’ve been hearing stories about Logan for years. I love him because Mikey loves him, and I don’t want to see him hurt. So what’s going on between you two?”

  I rub my chest, but it does little to soothe my aching heart. How do I sum up our history in a few words? But when it comes right down to it, it’s not all that complicated. “We used to be friends, and then we weren’t. And now we are again, and maybe we could be something more…but he’ll have to go home soon. It could never work in the long run.”

  I pull my shoulders back with new resolve. Forget the long run. It’s not going to work now. Which means I have to fight our attraction. Logan won’t keep us apart, but for his sake, I must.

  She turns left at a tree that looks identical to every other one. “Half of us are here to escape our futures, Callie. We can’t dwell on what might happen tomorrow, so we focus on the day-to-day. That’s all we have.”

  I skirt around boulders and hop over roots, thinking about her words. My entire childhood has been a countdown to the day I receive my future memory. I spent so much time anticipating tomorrow—making plans, imagining scenarios, worrying endlessly—I’m not sure I know how to live in the present. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  We step around a tree, and all of a sudden the village is there, with its rows of huts lining three sides of a square. I push thoughts of Logan from my mind. Plenty of time to feel sorry for myself later. Now, I’ve got a whole way of life to learn.

  Angela heads for the log cabin and dumps the carrots on one of the long tables in front. “We call this the village square,” she says. “It’s the center of life in Harmony, where we eat, cook, hang out. The general store is inside the cabin, and we all sleep there in the winter.”

  She moves to two wooden basins standing side-by-side in front of the log cabin and takes the lid off the first one. “We’re out of drinking water. I’ll have to make some more.”

  She scoops some water out of the second barrel with a large aluminum can and takes it over to a tripod of sticks. It looks kinda like Mikey’s tripod chair, but instead of a seat, three levels of porous ma
terial are tied to the sticks. Angela pours the water into the first level, and it drips through the three tiers into a basin below.

  I peer at the porous material in each tier. Grass, sand, and charcoal. “Unbelievable.”

  “Haven’t you heard stories about this stuff?” she asks. “Mikey says all the Underground kids these days talk about coming to Harmony. Logan’s been practicing building fires for years.”

  So that’s how he learned how to do it. It wasn’t his Ancient Methods elective, after all.

  “No, I never heard of the Underground before, even though my sister has psychic abilities.”

  “That’s weird,” she says. “The Underground’s got a way of reaching the right people. Your parents must really have their heads stuck in the concrete.”

  Stuck in the concrete is right. We’ve always kept to ourselves, and my mom’s always taught me never to talk about our family. I thought the big secret was Jessa’s psychic ability.

  But there’s a whole group of people with the same abilities. And they’ve banded together to help one another. Mom should’ve wanted to be part of this group. It would’ve been easier to protect Jessa with the resources of the Underground.

  Unless Jessa’s ability isn’t the secret, after all. Unless my mom’s hiding something else entirely.

  I frown as Angela sweeps up the basin of freshly filtered water and pours it into the cauldron. “I need to warn my mother about my future memory. A few months from now, my sister is going to be arrested by TechRA. When her hair reaches her shoulders. I know Logan’s your usual source of communication, and he’s here now. But do you think Mikey could pass a message through his mom?”

  “Sure. I’ll talk to him,” she says. Just like that. No questions, no conditions. I should ask Mikey myself, but no doubt he’ll be more receptive if the request comes from Angela. “Your mom’s Phoebe Stone, right?”

  My mouth drops. “How did you know?”

  Her hand stills on the cauldron. “Isn’t your mom an Underground member?”