She pushes herself up on her elbows, staring at me through the dark.
“The gala was over hours ago,” she says. “I was waiting for you to come home.”
I stare at the ceiling. Her voice sounds far away and strange.
“We walked around the city after, to have some time to say goodbye.”
She studies me, saying nothing. I turn away from her, willing myself to stay still. She settles back into bed, falling asleep easily. I turn over and watch her face in the moonlight. The numbness that surrounds me splits open and panic sets in. If she knew the truth about what I did, what would she think? What would she do?
What will I do?
* * *
—
I wake up at dawn and get dressed, then head down to the water, standing at the edge of the shore, letting the waves rush over my feet. The world around me feels blurred, like I’m seeing everything through glass. I feel Braxon on me, even now. I see us drifting out to sea, forever bound. I see his face, his leering smile, his eyes glaring down at me, realizing just who I am.
I hear the fall of footsteps behind me; I feel the sharp prickle on my skin of someone coming closer. I turn, ready to see him, a corpse rising, but it’s only Zo, coming up beside me.
“What are you doing up so early?” I ask. She rubs her hands across her face, yawning.
“Braxon’s parents beamed,” she said. “He never came home last night. They don’t know where he is.”
“They don’t?” I ask, my voice hushed.
“Nope,” Zo says. “They wanted to know if I had any idea where he was.”
“What did you tell them?” I ask.
She looks out at the water and shrugs. “I told them to ask Akia,” she says. “She’s certainly seen more of him in the past few days than I have.”
I stare at her. “What do you mean?”
She sighs shakily, trying to hold back tears.
“I went over to his place to surprise him before the gala. When I got there, Akia was there with him.”
She twists her hair up off her neck, knotting it on top of her head. She wears a pair of our father’s boots, unlaced, and a shirt that hangs down past her knees.
“I’m sorry, Zo,” I say.
“You were right about him all along,” she says softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”
My hands begin to shake. I shove them into my pockets so Zo can’t see. She has no idea what I’ve lied about, I think. She has no idea what I’ve done.
Zo walks away from the water and sits down on one of the rocks that line the shore. I sit next to her, our bodies close together. She doesn’t look up, but she leans against me, resting her head on my shoulder. The gala flashes in my head, one image pushing up against the next. I see myself in the mirror. I feel Ryn’s mouth on mine. I watch as Mirabae reveals who I am, as Braxon takes his last breath, the light fading from his eyes.
Sooner or later, she’ll find out what you’ve done, his voice hisses in my ear. I stare out at the sea, looking for some sign of him, but all I see are shadows, moving over the waves. There’s no blood, no body, there’s nothing there at all.
“Still, it’s weird though, isn’t it?” Zo says.
“What’s weird?” I ask.
“Braxon,” she says. “He’s just…gone.”
The wind picks up, rushing in my ears. A shiver runs down my spine, a deep, hard chill. How long can I hold this horrible truth inside me before I break apart completely?
* * *
—
That night, I lie awake in bed, thinking about the things that are my fault. I let my best friend die during the sim. I didn’t even try to save her. I just stood there and watched her die, as though her life didn’t matter. It was all pretend, I tell myself. It didn’t really happen. But I know what was real—the moment I took Braxon’s life. I’ve proven every Abdolorean right about the violence humans hold inside.
Ryn’s outline flashes before me, blinking in the air. I know he’s worried, but I can’t bring myself to answer. He beams three, four times in a row, and each time I ignore it. Maybe he thought he could accept who I was, but he could never want me now, not after what I’ve done.
I float through the ocean, my dress gold, my feet bare. Hands rise above the surface of the water. Braxon floats before me, his lips covered in blood, his eyes empty sockets. I look into them, seeing only darkness. You thought you could hide it, he hisses. He wraps his hands around my neck. He wraps his arms around me, dragging me below the waves.
I wake up gasping for air, gripping the sides of the bed. It takes a moment for me to realize that I’m in my room, that I was only dreaming. I look up at the sky, trying to catch my breath. The sheets fall to the floor as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I step over them and walk to the closet. I reach for a pair of pants and a shirt, pulling them on. The shirt hangs loosely off me, its fabric soft and sheer. I slip my hands into my pockets, feeling something brush against my fingers. It’s the flower Ryn gave me, its petals wilted and bruised. My heart stills and I wrap my hands around it, as though it can take me back to the day we spent together in the curve of that tree, before everything fell apart around me. I let the flower drop to the floor, one more thing I need to let go of.
I walk downstairs and sit down on the couch, reaching for one of the books stacked on the side table. I swipe my finger across it. Words fill the page. It’s a book of old stories, written by humans who existed long ago. I read about tiny winged creatures who lived inside flowers. I read about giant serpents beneath the sea, their scales luminous, their teeth sharp and lethal.
Zo comes downstairs and settles into a chair by the window. She opens her sketchbook and looks out over the cliff, drawing whatever it is she sees. Soon after, my father comes down from his room. He goes into the kitchen and I listen to the sounds of glasses clinking, of a knife cutting into fruit. He walks into the living room, his hands full. He sets bowls of sliced apples and blackberries down on the table. I reach for a bowl, holding it in my lap. The apple is tart and crisp, the sun streams in through the windows, and for a moment I feel like maybe this will all be okay somehow.
The Agency symbol appears in the air before us, a shark fin rising from the waves. It flickers for a moment, then fades, and a man’s solemn face appears. His eyes are green, but for some reason they remind me of flames. His jaw is sharp, his dark hair slicked back. He looks out across the room as though he can see us, as though he’s really here.
“Good morning, citizens of the Bay,” he says. “I’m Chief Hael from the Internal Investigations Unit. As the lead investigator in the case of Cadet Braxon’s disappearance, it’s my duty to inform you that this morning, we discovered his body washed up on shore. We believe that he was murdered.”
Zo gasps. Time slows, then stops completely. I look out the window, past the cliff, down to the ocean below. I think of what it holds, sand and water, empty space and all my secrets.
“May his spirit reach the stars,” Chief Hael says; then his face disappears.
* * *
—
At dusk that night, we gather in the graveyard around the space where Braxon’s body will be buried. There are lanterns strung along the cemetery gate, flames burning inside them. They’ll stay lit for the next seven days, marking the time it will take for Braxon’s spirit to leave his body and ascend into the galaxy. On the morning of the seventh day, Braxon’s mother and father will come to the graveyard and blow out the fire inside the lanterns. His mother will leave her hair unbrushed and his father will leave his beard unshaven, so the world knows they lost their child.
We’re all dressed in white, all standing, as is Abdolorean tradition. Braxon, too, is shrouded in white, his body cocooned, his face covered completely. A wreath of flowers rests on his head. The hole in the ground where his body will lie is dug straight down into the earth. He will be buried standing, as we all one day will be, as though prepared for battle. Even in death, he’ll be ready to fight.
“It must have been a foreign attack,” says the woman standing behind me. “It could have been the rebels from Tevru, or the gangs from Hulna.”
Braxon’s parents step forward. Behind them, standing to the side, is Chief Hael, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the crowd. His uniform is gray, like the ocean at dawn. He catches my eye and an anxious charge rushes through me. I look away, staring at Braxon’s parents.
“Our son was a kind, openhearted person,” Braxon’s mother says, her voice shaking. “He was smart and giving.”
I close my eyes, thinking of Braxon’s violence, his cruelty. But to his mother, perhaps he was kind. To his mother, he was good. We all live so many lives at once.
“All he wanted was to join the Forces, to protect the galaxy and bring harmony to the universe. That dream is gone, his life cut short.”
His father points to the sky. We all look up, watching as the sun slips away, as the moon appears.
“And now,” his parents say together, “from Abdolora to Earth, from first breath to last, we bury our son.”
Braxon’s body is lowered into the earth. His parents lay flower petals around the grave, to circle him with beauty and life. They gather dirt in their hands, throwing it into the grave. One by one, everyone around me reaches down to the ground. We will bury him together, covering him with earth, sending his spirit to the stars.
I look up to see Mirabae standing across from me. She meets my eyes, then turns away, slipping through the crowd. I tell Zo I’ll catch up with her later and follow Mirabae, walking quickly through the streets to catch her.
“Mir, we need to talk,” I say once I reach her.
“About what?” she asks, still walking, moving quickly away from me.
“You know what.”
She stops walking and turns to me, but she won’t meet my eyes.
“There’s really nothing for us to talk about,” she says. “At the end of this week, you’ll be on Penthna, and I’ll be on Senu, and none of this will matter anymore.”
I stare at her, confused. “You were placed on Ativu.”
She shifts from one foot to the other, still avoiding my gaze.
“Didn’t you hear?” she says. “Since Braxon’s position…opened up, everyone shifted up a spot in ranking. It turns out I’ll be in squadron after all.”
The street we stand on is empty, and I wonder what we look like from far away, two old friends, saying goodbye.
“Senu,” I say quietly. “At least you’ll be closer to the sun.”
She sighs, running her hands through her hair, the way she does when she’s nervous.
“I’m sorry I said those things about you,” she says, her voice pleading. “It was the Kala. I know that doesn’t change anything, but, Li, if I could take it back, I would. I was just so angry, and you were there, and…” She trails off. “I’m not going to tell anyone about who you are, I promise.”
I look into her eyes, and I know I can believe her, because some things are unbreakable, still.
“I never should have told you,” I say. “I never should have made you hold my secret for me.”
“Don’t you get it?” she whispers. “You should have told me sooner.”
We’re quiet then, the air rushing past us the only sound.
“I’m not sure I ever really knew you,” she says. “I’m not sure what parts were really you.”
“It was always really me,” I say.
She just shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears.
“You’re never coming back here, are you?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Never,” Mirabae whispers, looking up at the sky.
I take her hand, holding on to her one last time, and then she turns and walks away.
The next morning, I’m upstairs when the doorbell rings. A voice I don’t recognize echoes through the house. I walk downstairs, into the living room. The door to the house is open, my father’s back to me. I look past him to the person standing in the doorway, registering the gray of his uniform, the gun in a holster on his hip.
Chief Hael.
Zo walks in from the kitchen, scanning through the pages of a book. She looks up, startled, her lips pressed together in a tight, anxious line. We’ve prepared for this day—when the agents might show up—so many times, but now that it’s really happening, it feels surreal.
“What’s this about?” our father asks, raising himself to his full height.
“I have some questions for your daughters,” Chief Hael says. “We understand that they both knew Cadet Braxon quite well.”
“Yes, they knew him. ‘Quite well’ might be an overstatement, however.” My father turns to Zo and me, and I know he’s asking himself what the right decision is. Going through everything that could go wrong, every way I could be discovered.
“We can answer your questions,” Zo says, her voice calm. “We have nothing to hide.”
Chief Hael steps into the house, his eyes moving over the bookshelves in the living room, the walls lined with Zo’s paintings, as though there’s some secret we’re keeping there.
“I’d like to speak to them alone,” he says, his gaze shifting back to my father.
Dad hesitates, then nods and goes into his study, closing the door behind him. Zo sits down on the couch. Chief Hael walks into the kitchen and pulls a chair out from the table. He sits down, motioning for me to do the same. I sit on the edge of my chair, my back straight, my arms folded.
I remind myself to breathe, remembering everything my father taught me. I picture the nights we spent in the cabin deep in the woods, sitting across from each other. I remember all the ways he taught me to lie. He spent those nights questioning me, asking me where I was from, where I was born, who I was. I am Abdolorean, I answered each time he asked. If I hesitated, even for a moment, we’d begin again. He taught me how to calm my pulse, calm my brain. He taught me to believe in what I said. I pushed down everything I knew about myself, everything I knew to be true. I learned to pretend that I never had other parents, that I wasn’t born on Earth.
Who are you? he would ask, and I would tell him what he wanted to hear. I am Abdolorean, I said to him, over and over, pushing the truth down to a place I couldn’t reach, until my lies became a new kind of truth, or something close enough.
“Officer Li,” Chief Hael says, and I look up at him, not used to my new title.
I am Abdolorean, I think, the words pulsing in my veins.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them as honestly as you can,” he says. “Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, every muscle in my body tense, my brain buzzing with fear.
“Where were you the night Braxon died?” he asks.
“I was at the gala with the rest of the cadets,” I answer.
Hael’s gaze is cold, assessing, like he knows there’s a lie buried beneath my words and he’s trying to figure out just what it is.
“Did you leave the gala at any point in the night?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, fighting the urge to turn to Zo. “I was there the whole time.”
“What was the nature of your relationship with Cadet Braxon?” Chief Hael asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Would you consider him a friend, someone you spent a lot of time with?”
“We were in the same unit during Assessment,” I respond, my voice sounding calmer than I feel. “And I’m guessing you already know that he and Zo were together.”
Hael’s gaze flicks briefly to Zo in the other room and then back to me. “I am aware,” he says. “But tell me more about you and Braxon. Your magister informed us t
hat you and he were paired together during one of your practice simulations.”
“We were,” I allow. I think back to the dark water we moved through, the angry rush of words between us.
Hael stands up from his chair, walking around the table toward me.
“Your magister also stated that Braxon was visibly upset after the simulation,” Hael continues. “Would you agree?”
“Yes,” I say, my mouth going dry. “He was disappointed, as was I.”
Chief Hael leans against the table, and I’m suddenly nervous that he can feel my heart beating.
“Did your relationship with Braxon extend personally outside of the unit?”
“Not really,” I say, but I can’t help it, I look away from him, to Zo. Her eyes catch mine, and I know I’ve made a misstep.
“Explain,” he says.
I swallow and look back at him. I am Abdolorean, I think.
“We were friends with the same people,” I tell him. “We spent time together outside of training, but I wouldn’t say we were close.”
Hael stares at me, watching me in a way I don’t know how to read. He turns to Zo.
“You were Braxon’s girlfriend,” he says.
“Not really,” Zo says, her voice bitter. She’s still wearing the clothes she slept in. “We were together for a while, but we broke up right before the gala.” She pauses, and Chief Hael motions for her to keep talking.
“I caught him with someone else.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “With Akia. That was the last time I saw him.”
She looks so vulnerable. I wish I could reach out and hold her.
“Where were you for the rest of the night?” he asks.
“I was here,” Zo says, shrugging. “I have no idea what Braxon did after I left his place.”
Hael looks from Zo to me. It takes all my strength not to think of that night, Braxon’s hands clenched around my neck, Braxon collapsing against me.
“What about you, Li? What did you do after the gala ended? Did you go straight home, or did you maybe stop somewhere first?”
The Last Girl on Earth Page 15
