Ryn leans against the doorframe, his face carefully blank.
“I miss you, Ryn,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t walk away. He reaches out and pulls me to him, pressing his lips to mine, and then there are his hands, tangled in my hair, the broad expanse of his back that I wrap my arms around. There’s the way his breath catches as he pulls away from my mouth, biting my lip softly. I let myself fall into him, let him hold me close.
“I thought I’d never get to kiss you again,” he says quietly.
I kiss his hands, his neck. I kiss his chest, right over his heart. He takes my hand and leads me through the house, up a winding staircase into his room. One wall is made entirely of glass; the others have shelves from ceiling to floor. The shelves are filled with bird skulls and antlers, dried flowers and glass bottles, all the material artifacts of Ryn’s life. I walk around the room, taking it all in, running my hands across everything he owns. There are small statues of mythical creatures, snakes with two heads, horses with wings.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to a face hanging on the wall, its eyes half open, its mouth stitched closed.
“It’s a Tularan death mask,” Ryn says. “They bury their dead naked, wearing only the mask, to protect their souls from escaping in the afterworld.”
He sits in the middle of his bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, his feet bare. The bed is messy, unmade, the sheets tangled. I walk across the room and sit down next to him, tucking my legs beneath me.
“Ryn,” I say softly. “I’m so sorry about everything. I’m sorry about what I said. It was all so much at once, and I didn’t know what to do.”
He looks at me, his eyes quiet. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I can’t tell how he feels.
“There are things about me,” I say. “Parts of my history, of who I am, that make it hard to be close to someone. My father is strict, it’s true. But there are reasons.”
He looks up at me, his eyes as green as the hidden parts of the forest.
“Li, it’s okay,” he says. “None of that matters to me.”
“It should matter,” I say. “It does matter. You should know who I really am.”
He pulls me toward him, taking my face in his hands.
“I know who you are, Li,” he says. “I know that you’re kind and beautiful, and when I’m with you, the universe makes sense. There’s no part of you that could scare me away. There’s nothing else I need to know.”
I kiss him then, urgent, desperate. He presses against me. I fall back onto the bed and then he’s over me, our bodies so close, moving as one. I feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, his heart beating against my mine. I think of the ways we hide from each other, and then I don’t think about anything at all.
Ryn kisses down my neck; he kisses the space between my breasts. He runs his hands over the bones of my hips, holding on tightly, not letting go. I close my eyes. I gasp for breath, as though I have been underwater and I’m only now coming up for air.
I walk through the doors of the compound and go over to the conditioning station. I step onto the running apparatus and set it to a steep incline. I make the first mile in just over six minutes, the next in five. I close my eyes and push myself to go faster, to move past the burn that spreads through my body. By the time I’ve finished the circuit, I’m completely out of breath. I step off the machine and stretch out, my body loose, blood pumping quickly through my veins.
Mirabae and I meet here every day now to train for a few hours before lectures start. We spend the mornings working out as hard as we can. We spend the afternoons learning everything there is to know about the other planets in the galaxy, all the facets of how the Forces operate, then go back to the compound to train more. I’m almost never home. I spend almost every night with Ryn, leaving his house late, walking through the empty streets, the moon lighting my way.
Mirabae enters the compound, her pack on one shoulder. She comes over to me and we walk to the weight station, grabbing crossbars from the rack. The crossbars don’t weigh anything until they’re activated, turning on only when they register the sensation of both hands wrapped around them. Mirabae and I face each other, holding our crossbars out in front of us. They flash twice with pale green light. Instantly, the crossbar holds fifty pounds. We squat, our knees bent, our backs straight, our arms shaking with exertion. We do a hundred repetitions and pause for breath; then we do a hundred more.
Mirabae lifts her crossbar above her head. She holds it there for a minute, for longer, then brings it back down. I copy her movements, mirroring the way she lifts her bar, the way she lunges. The lights on the crossbars flash from green to red, signaling the end of the workout. We drop them to the ground. Mirabae smiles, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“That felt really good,” she says. “I feel like it’s getting easier.”
She rubs one shoulder, then the other. She tilts her head from one side to the other, stretching out her neck, her back.
“You’re definitely stronger than you were before,” I tell her. “If we keep this up, you’ll make squadron for sure.”
We walk into the changing room, heading to an empty aisle in the back. I throw my pack onto one of the benches and take my boots off, listening as Mirabae talks about the gala, how she wants to spend the whole night dancing, then go to the bluffs and light a fire on the beach, staying awake until the sun rises. I pull my uniform off and go through my pack, finding my dress and slipping it over my head. I turn to Mirabae, tucking my hair over my shoulder.
“Are you still going with Cailei?” I ask, stepping back into my boots.
“Oh, that’s so over,” Mirabae says, pulling her shirt on.
“What happened?” I ask. “I thought you were into her.”
“I was,” Mirabae says. “But she wanted way too big a commitment. I mean, we’re all leaving in a few weeks. It’s not like she and I were going to spend the rest of our lives together or anything.”
“You can come with me and Ryn if you want,” I say.
Mirabae makes a face. “So I can watch the two of you make out all night long? No way.”
“We’re not going to make out all night long,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “Just most of the night.”
We laugh and walk out of the compound, heading to the train platform.
“Love can wait,” she says. “All I need is to make squadron, get placed on some amazing planet, and get out of here.”
She talks about leaving as though it’s easy, and I know that for her, it is. She’s always wanted a life outside the one she has now, somewhere far away.
“Look, there’s your boy,” Mirabae says, motioning across the platform to Ryn. He walks over to us, lifting his hand in a wave. He gives Mirabae a hug and comes up next to me, kissing me on the cheek.
“Li!” a voice calls out. I look up to see Zo weaving her way through the crowd.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Meeting Braxon,” she says. She’s wearing a jumpsuit of mine, its fabric threaded with gold, and a pair of sandals that lace up her legs. Her hair is in a loose braid, flowers woven into it. She looks beautiful. She looks happy, like she’s really in love.
“We’ve been together for two months,” she says. “We’re going out to celebrate.”
She looks around the crowd, searching the platform for Braxon. He comes up behind her and lifts her in his arms, spinning her around in circles. Zo laughs wildly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“We’re going to the arcades,” she says once he puts her back on the ground. “Come, all of you.”
Mirabae shakes her head. “I can’t,” she says. “I told myself I’d read all of the squadron’s material on code and conduct by tonight.”
“What about you two?” Zo asks, leaning against Braxon’s chest. Braxon puts his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her hips. I glance at Ryn, about to make up some excuse
, invent some place we need to be, but he doesn’t notice.
“I haven’t seen the arcades yet,” he says.
Braxon looks me over, his eyes a paler blue than I’ve seen before, like the open sky, like ice.
“Let’s go!” Zo says, excited.
“Right,” I say. “We’d love to.”
We ride the train into the city, walking down street after street until we get to the pier. We go into the arcades, a relic from human times. All their old games are preserved, kept for Abdoloreans to play. Zo reaches for my hand and pulls me through the rows of consoles, stopping in front of a tiled floor, the squares of color flashing.
“Let’s do this one,” she says.
We jump from one tile to the next, music blaring, our bodies lit up. Zo laughs wildly, spinning in circles, spinning me with her.
“Check this out,” Braxon calls to us. He stands in front of a console, a gun in each hand. The screen before him shows a field filled with deer darting through the grass. He shoots them methodically, one by one, gaining points for each one he kills.
“Ryn, take a shot,” says Braxon, holding out a gun. “Let’s see who can hit more.”
“I’m not really into that kind of thing,” Ryn says.
Braxon rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get all philosophical on me,” he says. “Come on and shoot.”
Ryn leans back against the wall, shaking his head slowly. Braxon looks over at me.
“What about you, Cadet?” he says. “Or are you like your boyfriend, who apparently doesn’t know how to handle a gun?”
Ryn smiles, more to himself than to anyone else. He walks over to Braxon and takes a gun from his hand.
“First one to a hundred wins,” he says, turning to the screen. He raises his gun and starts to shoot. Flashes of light explode on the field. One deer after another falls to the ground. He hits a hundred deer in under a minute, then drops the gun and walks up to me, shrugging casually.
“Not so bad for cruel, empty violence,” he says, smiling.
“Not at all,” I laugh, kissing him on the cheek.
We leave the arcades to explore the rest of the pier. We eat mangos cut into the shapes of flowers. We shoot lasers at glass bottles, watching as they shatter. We walk along the beach, jumping away from the waves.
“We should go to that new Kapnean place,” says Braxon, brushing sand off his pants. “The one that serves those drinks made with flower nectar.”
“I lived on Kapna for a while,” Ryn says. “Those drinks are so good.”
“So you’ll come with us, then?” Zo says. “Braxon, tell them they have to come.”
Braxon looks at us coolly, shrugging.
“Li and Ryn can do whatever they want,” he says.
Ryn glances over at me, slipping his hand into mine. “We’re going to head out,” he says. “But you two have fun.”
Zo unwraps her arms from Braxon’s waist and pulls me into a hug.
“I’ll see you at home,” I tell her. “Don’t stay out too late.”
“We won’t,” she says, and smiles.
Ryn and I walk through the city to the train. We sit facing each other in the small compartment. Ryn reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips. A feeling I don’t recognize rises inside me, at first nothing more than a whisper, blooming until it fills me completely. I close my eyes as the train races over the bridge and see us from above; I see us in the stars. We are here, together. We are everywhere.
* * *
—
Ryn beams me late that night, waking me from sleep.
“Are you busy?” he asks, his voice hushed.
“I was having a really great dream.” I smile at him, pulling the sheets up around me.
He’s standing by the door to his room, fully dressed.
“Are you going out?” I ask.
He smiles. “Yes,” he says. “But only if you’ll come meet me.”
I sit up. “Where do you want to go?” I ask.
We decide to meet in the middle of the forest, halfway between our houses.
When I get there, Ryn emerges from the darkness. He comes up beside me, wrapping his arms around me, and I sink into him. I let him hold me tight. I press my lips against his neck, my heart beating fast.
“Li,” he says, his voice low. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
He looks at me so intensely, I feel like he can see through me.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he says. “Being with you has been so amazing, like nothing I’ve ever known before.”
The branches of the trees reach out over us, swaying in the wind.
“I’ve lived all over the galaxy, and every planet I’ve been on, something’s been missing, and I didn’t know what it was until now.”
He takes a deep breath, as though to steady himself, then he goes on.
“It’s you, Li. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”
“Ryn,” I whisper, my voice caught in my throat.
“I’m in love with you,” he says, and my heart flutters in my chest, so fiercely I could lift off Earth.
I look up to the sky, searching for the moon, the stars, something to give me the courage I need for what comes next. “There’s something I want to tell you, too. But it might change how you feel about me, about us.” My voice trembles as I speak. “I understand if you hate me for lying, or for what I’m about to say, but I need you to know….”
I draw in a shaky breath, terrified to say the words out loud. Ryn looks at me, his eyes calm, and I feel the ground shift beneath me, the galaxy expand above.
“Li, I know,” he says. “You’re not Abdolorean. You’re human, aren’t you.”
I stare at him in shock, in utter disbelief. The forest seems to condense around me, the thin lines of moonlight vibrating in the air.
“B-but…?” I stutter. “How…?”
He brings his hand up to my cheek, running his thumb along my jawline.
“The day we spent at the Cove,” he says. “The way you swam, just a little differently from everyone else. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so much time on other planets, but I knew something was different about you. And then, when you got pulled under the waves, I knew for sure.”
“You never said anything,” I whisper. I can’t believe that I was about to tell him my deepest secret and it’s something he’s known all along.
“I love you, Li,” he says simply. “Nothing can change that.”
Now that I’ve told Mirabae my secret, now that we’re on the brink of the exam, I know what I’m doing is reckless. But because it was Mir, because it’s Ryn, it doesn’t feel that way.
It feels like what is supposed to happen. What must be said.
“It’s true,” I whisper. “I’m human.”
Ryn shakes his head. “I don’t care that you’re human. I love you regardless. I love you because of it.”
He lifts my face to his and kisses me. I pull away, resting my head on his chest.
“I love you,” I say to him.
We walk through the forest, down my street, to my house. We go through the garden, the flowers around us fully in bloom. We stand by the door and stare at each other. Neither of us knows what to do next. I lean back against the side of the house. I reach up, running my fingers across the line of his collarbone, under the thin cloth of his shirt. His lips part and he laces his fingers through mine. I look up at the sky, watching the way the clouds move over the surface of the moon.
“How can we have so little time left?” I breathe, and Ryn pulls back, away from me. He looks down, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boots. He breathes in and lets it out slowly.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he says, his voice quiet.
Across the cliff, the moon reflects off the ocean and twinkles. I reach out and touch his wrist, his cheek.
“Who knows?” I say, pressing my mouth to his. “There’s only so many planets out there. Maybe we’ll be placed together. M
aybe this doesn’t have to be over.”
Ryn keeps staring at the earth below his feet, as though he can find some answer there.
“I can’t lose you again,” he says, his voice a whisper. “Not when I just got you back.”
While he looks at the ground, I look into the sky above.
My heart pulses like the stars, entire galaxies exploding at once. I think of the way worlds are created in an instant, birthed from nothing more than the smallest spark in the sky. I’m still the only human left, the last girl on Earth, but I no longer feel alone.
On the morning of our placement exam, I wake up before dawn, staring at the stars until they seem to move across the sky. I slip out of bed, wrapping the sheets around my shoulders. I walk to the window and press my hand against the glass. The window opens, revealing the ocean below. The waves glow as the moonlight hits them; they crest and fall over the shore. I breathe in, filling my lungs with the salt air of the ocean.
The sky turns pink, then blue. The stars fade, the sun rises, the night becomes only a memory. I turn from the window and walk to my closet. I take out my uniform, pulling it up over my legs, my hips, my arms. I tug my boots on, tying the laces tight. I braid my hair down the length of my back. I look at myself in the mirror, turning my body from one side to the other. This is the day my whole life has been leading to, what every hour in the forest with my father was for. I summon my courage. I reach for the strength I know I carry inside.
I walk through the hallway, passing Zo’s room on my way downstairs. I stop at the doorway and peer in, looking at the paintings lining the walls. Some are images of her, one after the other, smaller and smaller, her body descending into the sea. Some are her face, covered in shadows, waxing and waning like the moon.
I look over at her, still sleeping, her body in the middle of the bed, her legs curved together, her hands tucked under her cheek.
Zo’s eyes flutter open, as though she can feel me watching her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. She looks no different than she did when we were younger, her hair messy from sleep.
“Nothing,” I say, crossing the room and sitting down next to her. “I’m just nervous.”
The Last Girl on Earth Page 12
