Maybe. Because the IV-933 immortals got screwed by science. Turns out that strain of the Immortality Virus comes with more than red eyes. It also slowly atrophies your frontal lobe, which basically means your brain is progressively injured. Immortals with that virus in their system gradually lose their ability to express normal emotional responses and have “decreased executive functioning.”
“Think about it,” Foster whispers. “We know what happened to the IV-933 immortals who stayed on Earth. Most of them got violent and impulsive. Have you read about the Immortal murders? Or the sex rings? But at least on Earth, they could be contained. There are thousands of immortal humans out in space going cray cray this very second, and we sent them to colonize other planets. Like, hello, universe!”
I glance at Stella, and her eyes are enormous while we watch the rest of this presentation. Foster doesn’t have it wrong. There’s a lot of concern in the immortal scientific community about what happens when the IV-933 immortals finally reach their destination planets. Do we really want our first ambassadors to the rest of the universe to be a bunch of mean, impulsive, emotionally bankrupt humans?
“We continue to work on a solution to the Immortal Interplanetary Migration problem,” the presenter says. “But I can assure you, we have learned from our mistakes. One of the reasons we are so careful about the Immortality Program today, even with the improved strains of the virus, is that we must never repeat what happened with the IV-933 immortals. Earth’s mortal citizens depend on us to carry society forward in a way that allows mortals and immortals to coexist peacefully. We cannot, under any circumstance, put that in jeopardy.”
After our history presentation, a panel of immortals is introduced for a Q&A, and this one includes three IV-933 immortals, which really surprises me. We’re far enough back that we can’t really see that their eyes are red, but it’s still weird to think about the fact that there are three people on stage who were alive in 2049. They’re oddballs, too. Where the younger IV-1052 immortals smile at us and answer our questions like they genuinely want to be helpful, the IV-933 immortals are grim, and they only smile at stuff that you shouldn’t smile at.
Someone asks, “what surprised you most about life as an immortal?” and the IV-1052 immortals talk about a sense of invincibility and opportunity.
“It’s like a whole creative world opened up for me,” one says. “I never thought I could be this much, do this much, see this much.”
“My bucket list tripled overnight!” another says.
But an old IV-933 immortal says, “The hardest part is when your mortal friends begin to die, and you realize that you can never have long-term relationships with mortals. They’re passing acquaintances at best. Better to keep them that way.”
Then one of the other IV-933 immortals says, “Everyone thinks they want to live forever, but living forever doesn’t mean you live a perfect life for eternity. It only means you live with more regrets and more mistakes for longer than humans were ever meant to. It is not a happy ending.”
At that, the third IV-933 immortal stands up, snorts, says, “this is bullshit,” and leaves. Just like that. That’s one of the things the IV-933 immortals laugh at that no one else does. We’re reminded by a nervous panel facilitator that the Immortality Virus “really has” been improved since IV-933, and the IV-933 immortals laugh even harder.
The day ends with an old school ice cream social, courtesy of the Immortality Center’s own dairy creamery, which serves the best ice cream I’ve ever had. But it’s hard to make up for that last panel discussion.
We leave with applications for the Immortality Program in hand, and the bus ride back to Detroit is somber.
“I don’t know,” Stella says. She is slouched next to me on the bus. “Immortality doesn’t sound very good to me. I don’t want to outlive my younger siblings.”
“I know what you mean. I wanted Bette and Thea to be my best friends for life,” Grazie says. She is sitting next to Foster in the seat in front of the one Stell and I took. I didn’t know Foster had this kind of game, but I think he and Grazie might be good for each other. “That’s how it was supposed to be.”
“It sucks,” Foster agrees. “But you’ll both get to keep us—” he points to him and me, “and we’ll all make other immortal friends. I bet immortals have awesome Friendsgiving celebrations in November.”
“I bet immortals have awesomely complicated relationships generally,” Stella says.
I grin. “I can guarantee Foster and I will have a complicated immortal relationship.”
“We better, man,” Foster says, then he turns back around with Grazie, and we can hear him say to her, “Hey, so, um, do you want to talk about it? Because I know you’re probably still feeling pretty, you know …”
Their conversation becomes low after that, and I don’t want to eavesdrop, so I slouch down by Stella, grab her hand, and weave my fingers around hers.
“Want to make out on the bus?” I say. It’s a joke. But she seems down, so I think she needs the humor.
To my surprise, she says, “yeah,” and that’s what we do for the next half hour. No joke. We make out like we’re not on a bus with thirty other kids, and no one calls us on it, so this has probably been a pretty stressful day for everyone. Eventually, we’re both tired, and Stella drops her head onto my chest and shuts her eyes.
“Do you mind if I just nap for the rest of the ride?” she says. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
Making out with my girlfriend is good, but having her fall asleep against me is even better. I stroke her hair quietly the whole rest of the way home, and this reminds me why I’m doing this. Stella is the reason. Mortal life or immortal life. All I want is her.
8.
STELLA
I hate the idea of the Immortality Program. I don’t know why. I know it’s my best chance at life, but there was something about the immortals we met at the conference that makes me sad. Especially the IV-933 immortals. What will it be like to be three hundred years old? Who sticks with you for that long? What about five hundred years? A thousand? Three thousand?
I talk it over with my parents, and Dad reminds me that applying for the Immortality Program doesn’t mean I have to become immortal immediately.
“You’re lucky,” he says. “Because you’re a young sophomore. You have almost two years before you have to make your decision. Myles will have to do it a lot sooner since he’s older. And how are things with the Kayes going?”
I don’t know how things are going with Myles’s parents, but he’s been steadfast about his commitment to me and the Immortality Program. I still don’t know how to feel about that. If our roles were reversed, would I give up so much for him?
I do apply for the Immortality Program, and I receive my acceptance right away, the same day Foster gets his. Myles is cagey about his acceptance. He won’t even confirm that he applied.
I don’t like that, but I’m busy enough to stay distracted and not overthink it. I doubt I can change anything Myles is going to do right now anyway.
Once I get to the Immortality Center, I’ll go through a whole orientation program designed to get me comfortable with immortality, and the program will last as long as I need. That’s what the acceptance letter says. You will be given as much space, time and information necessary to make a rational, self-actualized decision, with the limitation that the Immortality Virus is not administered to anyone over the age of seventeen.
The acceptance letter also advises me to take certain actions over the next four weeks before reporting to the Immortality Center in Lansing. I’m to wrap up my extracurriculars, say goodbyes to my friends, and do at least one thing you’d regret doing if you don’t survive the virus. Red flags, like me, even get some money to make that “last hurrah” happen.
Maybe this is a lame choice, but I use the money to take my family to Disney Universe in Montreal for the weekend. We’ve never been, so Aura and Andrew are over the moon, and it is the best three day
s ever. Kaimee only cries once. Dad rides roller coasters with me.
When we get back, I tell myself I can do this. I feel supported by my family, loved by my boyfriend, and happy to be making friends with Grazie, who is now dating Foster. Everything is going to be okay.
Then one evening I get a phone call from Mrs. Kayes and everything flips.
“Stella?” she says when I answer on the second ring. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered, but this is Mrs. Kayes, and I’ve always been polite to her.
“Hi, Mrs. Kayes, how are you?” I say. It’s a false pleasant, but what else am I supposed to do? I can’t imagine why she’s calling. “Is, um, Myles okay?”
There’s a pause before she says, tersely, “No. He is not.”
Sometimes I’m not sure if I love Myles the way he loves me, then something like this happens, and I imagine my world without him, and it’s like all the lights go out. That’s what I feel right now. Like the bottom is dropping out.
“Did he get hurt?” I manage to say.
“He has asked for our permission to apply to the Immortality Program,” Mrs. Kayes informs me.
Oh. Okay, so he’s not hurt. But—
“We, of course, told him no. As I’m sure you understand, immortality was never our plan for Myles.”
Their plan. Really? That selfish—
“Mr. Kayes and I are aware of Myles’s … ahem … affection for you. And I did have high hopes for you before … ahem … well … I think you need to know that the Kayes family stands firmly against the Immortality Program. We want nothing to do with it. And Ms. Dellucci, I’m going to have to ask you to leave my son out of whatever heathenry you bring into your own life with immortality.”
I have no idea what to say to that, and I don’t think heathenry is a thing.
“Stella Rose Dellucci?” Mrs. Kayes says, like maybe I’ve hung up or the connection has dropped.
“I’m still here,” I tell her.
“Then you heard what I said,” she affirms. “You will break up with my son, and you are no longer welcome in our house.”
That last part is the stinger. “But I haven’t even—” I start to say as if maybe I can defend myself to her by explaining that I haven’t even decided to become immortal yet. It doesn’t matter, though. This woman isn’t going to be able to hear anything I have to say. And sure enough, she cuts me off.
“That is all.” I hear a soft click and am left holding my com and looking at it dumbly.
I try to call Myles, but his number is disconnected.
9.
MYLES
I always thought I loved my parents and that my parents loved me, but the night my mom tries to break up Stella and me and takes away my com, I am irate.
“This is my life,” I shout at her when I find her in the kitchen after realizing my com is gone. I’ve been grounded since they figured out that I went to the Immortality Program informational thing—how did they know?—but this takes it to a new level.
My mom yells back. “It is not your life until you turn eighteen, young man!”
“The decision to become immortal happens at seventeen!” I just about scream. “That’s my decision. You don’t get to take that away from me!”
My dad comes in—we’re yelling pretty loud—and he tries to defuse the situation. “What’s going on here?” he asks, trying to throw some humor into the question. As if there’s anything at all funny about this.
“What’s going on is mom took away my com and won’t let me apply for the Immortality Program,” I say. Then I give them the only teenager argument that literally never works. “All my friends are applying. I’m the only one who will be left behind as a mortal.”
My dad gives me a look. He doesn’t even have to say the thing that goes along with that look. I know. If all my friends jumped off a cliff, would I do it, too? But this is different. This isn’t a peer pressure thing. This is Stella Rose having no real choice but to become immortal, and me caring too much about her to let her do it by herself. This is about …
“This is about Stella,” I tell them. “She’s scared. She didn’t want to have to apply for the Immortality Program. And now she’s stuck in it, and I’m sure as hell not letting her go through this alone.”
“Stella will make other friends,” my mom says.
“Not like me,” I say.
“Stella will love other boys.”
“But I won’t love anyone but her!”
“I don’t care!” my mom says. “This isn’t your decision, and you’re not applying to the Immortality Program!”
Then she storms out of the room.
My dad stays, and I sense that this is my one chance to appeal their decision.
“This isn’t right,” I tell him. “I should get to decide.”
He sighs. “It’s not right that anything like this has to come up at your age. No one should have to make a decision like this.” He looks weary.
“Dad, this is important to me,” I plead.
“Myles, your mom is right. There will be other loves of your life and other loves for Stella. Sometimes things just don’t work out.”
I am too angry to talk.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and then he leaves me alone.
I have never found it productive to stay angry. Instead, I get busy. For every problem, there is a solution. In this case, the biggest problem is my parents and their control issues. But they’re wrong. This is my life. If I want to apply for the Immortality Program, I get to apply. And hey, guess what? Turns out the law is on my side with this one.
And so is the school.
I find the Immortality Program representative one afternoon at lunch. He’s a hip young guy who just transitioned three years ago.
“Man, didn’t they tell you? We don’t use the word ‘transition’ anymore,” he says when I tell him I want to talk about doing the same. “Because that implies some kind of supernatural vampire voodoo, when really, you just get injected with the virus, get sick for a week and a half, and wake up one morning feeling all better forever.”
I like him. I explain that I want to apply for the Immortality Program. “But my parents won’t let me. How do I get around that? Is there a way?”
“Yep. Your parents do not get the final say on this, dude,” Hip Immortal tells me. “And you’re not the only kid who ever had to get around daft parents. We have an option for applicants who have to apply without the support of a parent or guardian. All you need is to fill out some forms and find somewhere you can stay for a few weeks before you head to the Immortality Center. If you’re serious about it, I can help you with the emancipation papers. Just, uh, be serious, because parents take it badly when their kids go behind their backs to become immortal.”
I thank him, fill out those emancipation papers right then and there, and tell Foster I’m going to need a place to stay. Stella freaks out about it.
“Your mom actually called me, Myles,” she says. “She’s panicking. You can’t do this to them. They’ll hate me forever. They’ll never forgive you. I don’t think you should apply for the program.”
“What part of ‘we’re in this together’ don’t you get?” I say cheerily to her. “I told you I’m not sending you off to Lansing to do the Immortality Program by yourself, and I’m not. I don’t go back on my word.”
“You don’t know that,” she says. “You might not get in.”
I snort. Yeah, right. I have perfect grades, excellent social acumen, am athletic and ambitious and have a beautiful high school resume. Plus, I come with money. I checked it out. My parents can kick me out and cut me off if they want, but they can’t write me out of the Kayes Family Trust, and immortality doesn’t void it. If the Immortality Program should want anyone to choose to be around in the immortal community for a while, it’s me.
“I just don’t understand how you can blow off your family that easily,” Stella says. “Your poor mother.”
“My poor mother doesn’t get to decide this for me
,” I tell Stella. “This is me and no one else. It’s my call.”
“It needs to be,” Stella says grimly.
At home, I secretly pack up a huge suitcase and avoid my parents as much as possible. Three days later, I get my acceptance into the program.
My parents do exactly what I expect. They flip the hell out and say things I know they’ll want to take back someday.
Mom says, “If you choose to become immortal, you will no longer be my son.”
Dad says, “Myles, I know you think immortality is right for you, but you need to remember that you and Ms. Dellucci will be completely different people ten years from now. A hundred years from now, you might not care about her at all. A thousand years—” He clenches his fists and closes his eyes. “Please … try to give it some real thought. You still have a few months, don’t you? As long as you’re mortal, you can always come back home.”
I say thanks to my dad, avoid eye contact with my mom, and politely inform both my parents that since I’m officially emancipated, the trust kicks in immediately.
“Don’t worry,” I tell them. “I’ll set up my own bank account. And I’m going to stay at Foster’s place until we move to the Immortality Center.” I look only my dad in the eye while my mom begins to weep. “And if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to come back home as an immortal.”
Then I get a taxi to Foster’s place. His parents are Foreign Service Officers, currently living somewhere in Africa, and he lives with an aunt who greets me at the door with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Foster’s family had no problem at all with him applying to the Immortality Program. I’m jealous, but the cookies are good, and I appreciate Foster letting me stay with him.
“Hey, this is to my benefit,” Foster reminds me that night as I’m trying to sleep for the first time on an air mattress in his room. “It was going to blow to have to watch you die eighty years from now.”
“Thanks, bro,” I say, but when I add, “Do you think Stella’s going to be okay with this?” Foster thinks about it for a long time.
Stella Rose Gold for Eternity (The Immortal Mistakes Book 1) Page 4
