The Last Girl on Earth

by Alexandra Blogier

  I open my mouth, about to tell her what I saw, when I notice the necklace she’s wearing, a thin silver chain with a teardrop hanging down.

  “Your necklace,” I say. “Where did you get that?”

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Zo says. “Braxon gave it to me.” Her cheeks flush and she bites her lip. “He told me he loves me.”

  She looks happier than I’ve ever seen her look. The words I was about to say stick in my throat. I don’t want to hurt her; I don’t want her to be angry with me.

  “Are you in love with him, Zo?” I ask.

  She runs her finger over the necklace, smiling to herself.

  “I’m crazy in love with him,” she says. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

  I force myself to smile. I force the image of Braxon and Akia out of my mind. Maybe what I saw at the compound was nothing, something I imagined.

  “I’ll be back later,” she says. “If Dad asks, tell him I had to stay late at school.”

  I watch her walk away, ignoring the voice in my head, the one whispering that I’m lying to the person I love most in this universe.

  * * *

  —

  That night, I meet Mirabae at the cliffs before the sun goes down. She beamed me, asking to see me, saying it was important, but she didn’t tell me why she needed to meet so badly. I get to the cliffs before her, walking over to the edge and looking out at the world below. The city is so far away that the buildings seem miniature, like they’re not even real. I lift my hand in the air, holding it over the shapes the buildings make. How strange it is, I think, to spend your whole life somewhere, only to leave, to go somewhere else, so far away from everything you’ve ever known.

  Mirabae steps through the trees. The light her eyes usually hold is gone. She’s wearing a pair of olive-green pants and a black shirt. Her hair is tangled, unwashed, her eyes bloodshot. She looks like she hasn’t slept for days.

  “Mir,” I say. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  She presses her lips together in a thin line, shaking her head.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” she says, unable to look at me.

  “Mir, you can talk to me about anything,” I say.

  She stares at the ground, biting her lip. I reach up and tuck a purple strand of hair back behind her ear. She buries her face in her hands, and her shoulders shake as she starts to cry. I wrap my arms around her and she falls into me, like I’m the only thing keeping her standing.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

  “Do what?” I ask. I take a step back so I can see her face.

  “I don’t think I can make squadron, Li,” she says, pulling in deep breaths, trying to stop crying. “No matter how hard I train, I can’t keep up. It’s only going to get harder from here.”

  “Mir, it’s okay,” I say. “You’re doing the best you can. All you can do is keep trying.”

  “I am trying,” she says, frustration creeping into her voice. “And it’s not working.”

  She sinks to the ground, resting her chin against the curve of her knees. All Mirabae has ever wanted is to be part of the Diplomacy Squadron, the faction of the Forces that travels from planet to planet, working with political councils to enforce Abdolorean policies. They rarely see combat, though they’re called in as reserves when more soldiers are needed in combat, so they’re not an option for me.

  “I just…I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t make it,” she says, her voice falling to a whisper. “I can’t even imagine being in infantry, taking lives. Losing my own life. I don’t want to die.”

  “Oh, Mir, I know exactly how you feel,” I say, sitting down next to her. “I can’t imagine doing that, either. I’m terrified I won’t place as officer.”

  She wipes the tears from her face and smiles weakly.

  “I didn’t think anything scared you,” she says.

  I think about how far from the truth this is. The fear that runs through my life is constant.

  “I’m scared all the time,” I confess. “Especially now that Conscription is so close. I’m scared to leave home. I’m scared to leave my family behind for so long.”

  “I’m scared of taking someone’s life,” Mirabae says. “I’m scared of having to fight.”

  “You’re getting so much better,” I tell her. “I know you can’t see it, but you are. You’ll be ready to fight by the time Assessment is over.”

  Mirabae shakes her head. “I’m not so sure,” she says. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel ready for that.”

  She looks down, her hair falling over her face.

  “Mir, it’s okay to feel that way,” I say. “We all have fear and doubt, especially now. It just means that we’re here on this Earth and we’re alive.”

  My words settle around us, and I think of how my life has been split into two distinct sections. There’s the part I can share with her, and then there’s the part I share only with Zo and my father. My family will be safer once I’m gone, posted on some distant planet, where I won’t be putting them at risk each day, where I’ll live alone, without them.

  “Li?” Mirabae’s voice floats through the air. “Are you okay?”

  I blink, forcing a smile.

  “I’m okay,” I say. “I just have a lot on my mind.” I look at her, at her gray eyes, always shifting from dark to light. Something breaks away inside me, and I think, for a brief moment, of what it would feel like to say the words out loud.

  “I know how you feel, Mir,” I say carefully. “I really do.”

  The sun hits the surface of the water. The wind rushes past.

  “No, you don’t,” she sighs. “There’s no way you could ever understand. Everything comes so easy to you. You’re at the top of our class, you’re practically perfect at everything you do. Even if you don’t make officer, you’ll still place high in rank. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but there’s no way you could ever understand what this feels like.”

  “You’re wrong, Mir,” I say. “This is so hard for me. Harder than you could ever imagine.”

  If there’s anyone else on this Earth I could tell, it’s her, I think, the skin on my arms prickling. We’ve been friends for half our lives. She’s the person outside my family I’m closest to. There’s solace in that kind of history, in the world we share. My heart pounds against my rib cage, like it could break me open. I pull in a shaky breath, aware that Mirabae’s watching me, waiting for me to go on.

  “The truth is that everything is hard for me,” I say softly. “I’m not like you. I’m not like anyone else here.”

  She searches my face, her eyes unsure.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  This is a mistake, a voice inside me breathes, but the words are already rising within me. There’s no stopping this now.

  “Mirabae,” I say, and her eyes meet mine. “Mir, I’m human.”

  Her eyes widen. Her jaw drops. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move, she doesn’t do anything but stare at me in shock.

  “Say something,” I whisper. “Please.”

  “You’re human?” she asks. I nod. “But…how?”

  I take a deep breath and tell her about my human parents, about the way my father saved me. I tell her how hard I work to pass as Abdolorean, that no one knows but Zo, my father, and now her. I tell her how I could be killed, my family killed, too, if anyone ever found out. I tell her about my dad finding me with Ryn and the real reason I broke up with him. I tell her how lonely I am sometimes, that even Zo and my father can’t understand. I tell her everything, and she listens quietly, without saying a word. She stares out at the ocean, the look on her face one I can’t read.

  “I can’t believe this,” she says finally. “I can’t believe this!”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in,” I say, swallowing hard. “Are you okay?”

  Mirabae laughs joyfully. She throws her arms around me, holding me tight. “T
his is incredible! You have to tell me everything. There’s so much I want to know.”

  I sink into her arms, her happiness contagious, my relief a world unto itself.

  “Mir,” I say, pulling away from her. “I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone. It would be—” I break off, thinking of what would happen to my father and Zo. What would happen to me.

  She nods. I search her eyes, finding only trust there.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” she promises. “I swear on the moon and stars, on the universe itself.”

  She leans her head on my shoulder. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I could never have imagined she’d accept me this way.

  “We’re in this together,” Mirabae says. “Always.”

  “We are in this together,” I say. “And that’s why I’m going to make sure you make squadron.”

  Mirabae lifts her head, a look of resolve crossing her face.

  “You’re going to make it, I know you are,” I tell her. “We have a few weeks of training left, and I’m going to help you every day.”

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice quiet.

  “For what?” I ask, reaching for her hand.

  “For everything,” she says. “For telling me the truth.”

  The oceans shimmers before us, stretching out farther than we can see. We stand up and walk down the cliffs, our hands entwined, the world around us bright and new.

  Mirabae and I walk through the city, turning down the streets leading to the Emporium. This last week has been a blur: Mirabae and I train from dawn until after midnight, and each day she gets stronger, faster, more confident. Today I promised her I would go shopping with her, that we would find her a dress to wear to the gala. She’s so excited about the night, she insisted on going now, even though the gala is still weeks away. For the first time, she feels like she has something to celebrate.

  We walk in easy silence, the noise of the city surrounding us. My thoughts drift to Ryn. I wonder what he’s doing now, where he is. I picture him as he was the first day we spent together, the way the light of the imaginary ocean made him seem like magic, like something I’d always wanted but didn’t know until then. I look at the city around me, watching the way the sun reflects off the sides of the buildings. I wonder if he’s thinking of me.

  We walk down an empty street and Mirabae turns to me, a contemplative look on her face.

  “What’s it like, Li?” she asks. “To be…you, I mean.”

  I think for a moment, cataloging the way my body works, the things it can do, the things it can’t.

  “My body’s more vulnerable than yours,” I say. “I’m not as fast or as strong as you are.”

  Mirabae looks at me, her eyes moving down to my neck.

  “Your gills,” she says.

  “Fake,” I say. “My dad implanted them when I was a baby.”

  “Did it hurt?” she asks.

  “I don’t remember,” I say. “I was too young.”

  She reaches her hand up, then pauses.

  “Can I touch them?” she asks. I nod. Her fingers brush against the side of my neck and I shiver, even though it doesn’t feel like anything at all.

  “They don’t feel any different from mine,” she says, pressing her hands to her own gills.

  “My dad designed them to be as realistic as possible,” I say. “They’re totally useless, though. I can’t breathe underwater or anything like that.”

  Mirabae bites her lip, thinking.

  “How did you do it all these years?” she asks. “How did you hide?”

  I look up at the sun, squinting in the light.

  “My dad started training me when I was really young,” I say. “It was the only way I’d ever be able to pass.”

  I think back to those mornings, the way he pushed me so hard I felt like I’d never make it through.

  “This is why you never come out, isn’t it?” Mirabae says.

  “Yes,” I say. “There was always the danger that I’d be discovered.”

  “It was dangerous for us to be friends,” she says.

  “I don’t think anything could have kept us apart,” I say, remembering when we met, on the first day of school. We were eight years old. She came over and sat down beside me, her hair in braids hanging down to her waist. She told me her name, and I told her mine, and that was that.

  The Emporium is shaped like a spiraling shell, its surface paneled with colored glass. We walk around the atrium, the air filled with arcs of color. We head into the bookstore, its walls lined with tall shelves reaching up to the ceiling. I wander through each aisle, pulling out a book of ancient Zatruan myths, another about the wildlife on Latni. I scan the pages, reading the first few sentences of each one, losing myself in the words.

  Mirabae walks up to me, holding books of her own in her hands. We go to the counter and buy them, slipping them into our packs. We walk back into the atrium, its walls covered with ivy and wisteria. We each step into a chute and rise to the top floor.

  The next store we go into is filled with clothes. Sparkling music floats through the air. Slips made of lace hang from the ceiling. Suits and gowns line the racks on the floor. I run my fingers along a row of dresses, some made of silk, others covered in jewels, all of them shimmering in the light.

  “Li,” Mirabae calls, and I look toward the back of the store. She stands in the doorway of the dressing room, wearing a long purple dress the same shade as her hair.

  “What do you think?” she asks, and spins in place. The dress floats out around her. The mirror reflects her twirling, over and over, a hundred versions of her, incandescent.

  “It’s incredible,” I say. “You look gorgeous.”

  She studies herself in the mirror, her eyes moving up the line of her body, until she catches my eye in the mirror.

  “I’m getting it,” she says happily.

  She slips the dress over her head and pulls her clothes back on. We walk to the front of the store and Mirabae lays the dress down on the counter.

  “How much is it?” she asks the woman at the register.

  “Ten,” the woman says, looking up from the shirts she’s folding.

  Mirabae reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of shells, counting them out on her palm. The woman wraps the dress in cloth and puts it into a bag. Mirabae hands the shells to her and takes the bag off the counter, slipping it onto her shoulder as we leave the store. We lean over the edge of a railing, watching people on the floors below go past.

  “Hey, isn’t that your dad?” Mirabae says, pointing across the atrium. I look down and see him, dressed in his lab coat, leaving the art supply store. We’ve barely talked in weeks, not since he forbade me to see Ryn. There’s so much I want to say to him, if only I could find the words, if only I knew how.

  “Li,” she says quietly. “Go talk to him.”

  “I don’t know what I would say,” I tell her. “I don’t think there’s any way he’ll ever understand.”

  “You have to tell him how you feel,” she says. “Tell him the truth. All you can do is try. I’ll beam you later.”

  I hug her and walk to a chute, moving down until I reach the first floor, following my father’s movements with my eyes.

  “Hey, Dad,” I call out. He turns around, surprised.

  “Li,” he says. “Your sister asked me to pick up some paint.”

  He lifts the bag he’s holding. People stream past us, going in and out of stores in an ordered kind of chaos.

  “I’m heading back to the office,” he says. “I have work to finish up.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” I tell him, knowing that if I don’t say the words now, I never will.

  We step out of the atrium, along the curving walkway that connects the city buildings. Before us, the ocean crashes into the cliffs. I take a deep breath and stare out at the horizon, gathering my courage around me.

  “Dad,” I say. “There’s something I want to tell you, something I’ve been mea
ning to say for a while.”

  The hint of a smile crosses over his face. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me, no interruptions,” he says.

  The sun’s light spills out around us, and I look at the ground, watching the way our shadows move.

  “I know you’re trying to keep me safe. I know that everything you’ve done is so I can live. But this, what I’m doing, this isn’t a life….” I trail off, trying to breathe, trying not to cry. Being human has never been so hard before, the weight of my secret pressing down on me in ways I didn’t know it could. “You told me, the night before my exam, that I wouldn’t just need to survive in this life, I’d need to live. I want a life, Dad. I want to be with Ryn.”

  “Li—” my father starts, but I cut him off.

  “I can’t ignore how I feel about him. I tried to, and it just didn’t work. I need to see him again. I need you to trust me.”

  “I do trust you, but—”

  “Dad,” I interrupt again. “I’m leaving soon, and you can’t protect me once I’m gone.”

  My father stops walking and looks down at me. “I know that,” he says quietly.

  I look at him, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his beard is flecked with silver. I think about everything he’s given me: a home, his love, my life.

  “I know I can’t stop you,” he says. “If you’re going to be with him, you have to promise me you’ll be careful. Promise you’ll stay safe.”

  I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

  “I promise,” I say. “I promise.”

  * * *

  —

  I press my hand against the door to Ryn’s house, my heart beating wildly. I wait for what feels like forever; then the door slides open and I look up at Ryn.

  “Li,” he says, his voice thick, like he’s been sleeping. “What are you doing here?”

  “I know this is crazy,” I say. “I know that in a few weeks, we’ll be far away from each other. I know that I’m the one who broke things off, I’m the one who said we couldn’t be together. But all I do is think about you, all I do is want you.”