Bright Star

by Nickie Anderson

I stayed with the Nagis that night. The bed was too big and lumpy in all the wrong spots; the stucco on the walls swirled in unfamiliar patterns; the sheets felt too thick and scratchy. I couldn’t help but think about Papa, about whether Baruj had told me the truth.

  Maybe he is still alive.

  Maybe the Colonel lied.

  I pushed the thought from my mind. Even if Papa survived the crash, he couldn’t survive long in the badlands. They said it was over 35 Celsius there, and only outposts had water. If that wasn’t enough, Timothy once said his papa told him that the badlands were filled with old radioactive material.

  “It makes your skin melt right off,” he’d told me with glee.

  I cringed at the thought of Papa’s skin melting off, but either way, there was no use in trying to leave the outpost to find him. The Colonel had said Papa was dead. If he hadn’t died immediately, he was as good as dead now. I tossed and turned fitfully, waiting for sleep to come.

  .

  Mrs. Nagi woke me in the morning.

  “Sadira.” She gently shook my shoulder. “Time to get up. I have breakfast for you.”

  I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I couldn’t have rested more than a few hours. I still felt exhausted, and my eyes were numb with fatigue.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Nagi,” I mumbled. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  I went to the bathroom to wash some of the sleep from my face. My hair was matted, and deep circles hung beneath my eyes. I splashed some cold water on my face like Papa used to when he first woke up. Nothing like cold water to get the blood moving, he used to say. Instead of just feeling tired, I now felt cold, wet, and tired.

  Papa got things wrong sometimes.

  I toweled off my face, combed my hair, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Here,” said Mrs. Nagi. “Have some eggs. There’s some sim-milk for you as well. Oh, and don’t forget your pill.” I put the yellow pill on my tongue. This morning, the pill had a bitter flavor to it. I thought about Timothy’s story last night. Did it even do anything to help? I threw my head back and swallowed, but the tiny pill stuck in my throat. I took a big gulp of the sim-milk to wash it down.

  I wasn’t particularly hungry. I chased my eggs around the plate with a fork and took a few nibbles to be polite. Mrs. Nagi kept flitting between the kitchen and dining room, cleaning up pans and grabbing tea.

  Her earpiece rang. “This is Mrs. Nagi. Yes, she’s here. We’re having breakfast. Oh, yes, I’ll let her know.” She flicked off her earphone and turned to me.

  “Dr. DeWitt called for you. He said that if you’re free, he’d like for you to go by his shop this morning.”

  I pushed the eggs around and took another tiny bite. “I’ll head over there in a minute. Did he say what he needed me for?”

  She shook her head. “No, but he did ask you to bring him some real coffee and bread. Just like him. I think he only remembers to eat when he passes out from hunger, and I’m sure he’s never cooked in his life.” She tutted, but good-naturedly, and started humming as she fixed a pot of coffee on the stove. She grabbed a bag and put in some flat bread and a container of butter. Then she poured fresh, steaming coffee into a large thermos. I washed down my eggs with the last bit of my sim-milk.

  “Here.” She handed me the bag and thermos. “I packed enough for both of you to eat, in case you get hungry later. Don’t forget your hat. It’s so bright outside today.” She pulled my hat off the rack at the door and handed it to me. “There you are. You have your earpiece? Good. Call me if you’ll be gone very long.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Nagi.” She kissed my cheeks and scooted me out the door. It was a comfort having Mrs. Nagi fuss after me, check after me. Papa always expected me to be organized and independent, but I liked being coddled sometimes. Mrs. Nagi was so motherly. She couldn’t help it.

  Today I was in no particular hurry to get to Dr. DeWitt’s shop, so I decided to take the scenic route. The Nagis’ home and my house stood on the far east end of the Samalut outpost, with the large concrete Wall looming in the background. Dr. DeWitt’s shop stood on the south end. It would be faster to follow the Wall and walk the perimeter, but I decided to stroll toward the center of town, heading off the lazy streets lined with small, blocky townhouses, and into the bustling roads of downtown. I sniffed the air. Even though I had eaten my breakfast, the scent of warm bread and pastries drifted from Faheed’s bakery, making my mouth water. Mr. Scari was setting out fresh produce from the greenhouse, lifting boxes filled with every color—green lettuce, rich red-orange tomatoes, purple eggplants. I only paused in front of my favorite store, Mrs. Kilone’s sweets shop. Papa and I used to go there every week and pick out one of the rich, creamy deserts from the stacks of cakes and chocolates. He always grabbed the baklava, and his thick hands would be covered with sticky honey. I usually grabbed chocolates. We’d walk around downtown, nibble on our treats, and talk.

  Everything in me ached. Seeing the sweets shop, seeing the path Papa and I had walked down—it ripped the air from my lungs. Everyone walked about like nothing had happened, but my world had collapsed. I wanted to believe Papa was alive. I needed to have Papa alive, but everything Baruj had told me sounded too incredible to be true. Papa hadn’t been hiding radios. People didn’t vanish into blinding light.

  I turned from the sweets shop and headed back toward Dr. DeWitt’s office. Papa wasn’t here to share baklava with me. Papa wasn’t here to take my hand or pat my head. Papa wasn’t here to escort me through town. Papa wasn’t here, and I just had to get used to it.

  I walked past the Central offices and over to the south side of the outpost, toward the greenhouses and Dr. DeWitt’s shop. The buildings thinned out, and instead of hard packed dirt dominating the landscape, there were small trees and scraggly bushes popping up here and there.

  As usual, the garage bays in Dr. DeWitt’s shop stood wide open, and he was nowhere to be seen. A half-finished hovercab filled one bay of the garage, and the rest of the room was filled with the usual jumble of parts and scraps, organized in no particular order. I stumbled over to his office, sliding behind stacks of spare parts, and knocked three times on the door. Instead of Dr. DeWitt’s wild white-blond hair popping up, Baruj opened the office door. A broad grin stretched across his face, making his already small, dark eyes seem even smaller. He was in civilian clothes today, a completely skiff white and neon jumpsuit with a gray vest. Instead of having his hair neatly parted like the other Central soldiers, it spiked into a short mohawk.

  “There you are, Sadira,” he said. “I wondered if we’d have to send out a search party.”

  “I didn’t realize I was on a schedule,” I said stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping.” He leaned against the doorway, looking smug.

  “With what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Where is Dr. DeWitt?” I tried to peer around Baruj, but he shifted his weight slightly, blocking my view.

  “Where do you think? Hiding in his office.” Baruj eyed the bag in my hand. “Is that bread in there?”

  I clutched the bag tightly to my chest. “It’s not for you. Now move.” I pushed past Baruj and walked into the office. Dr. DeWitt was sitting on the floor, stooped over a nest of wires that draped over his legs. I cleared my throat.

  “Ah, Sadira!” he said. “I’m glad you’re finally here. Do you have coffee?”

  I handed him the thermos, which was still warm. He inhaled deeply. “Mmmm, nothing like some real hot coffee to get the brain going again. I’m tired of that sim garbage the dispenser feeds me. No caffeine.” He sipped the coffee for a moment, and his eyes opened wide. “Oh, Sadira dear, give the bread to Baruj. I’m sure he’s starving.”

  I clutched the bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. Baruj tapped my shoulder, and I reluctantly handed the bag to him.

  He opened it. “Oh, there’s butter in here, too! Mrs. Nagi’s a treat.” Baruj sat cross-legged on the floor and began spreading thick
clumps of butter on the warm bread. “That’s delicious,” he said between mouthfuls. “I haven’t eaten since last night.”

  I clenched and unclenched my fists rhythmically. “Dr. DeWitt, why is he here?”

  Baruj answered in between mouthfuls. “Since you said you didn’t have a radio, Dr. DeWitt was the next person I could think of who might have one.”

  “Of course I don’t have a radio. My papa was not a criminal, and neither am I.” I glared at Baruj, but he winked at me. I resisted the urge to slap him.

  “Anyway, I have dozens of radios!” laughed Dr. DeWitt. “They don’t work very well. No range. Central’s compromise with me.”

  “So we tried to get one of them working properly.” Baruj wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve, then brushed the crumbs off his lap. “Then, early this morning that crystal started making noise again.”

  “What kind of a noise?” I asked.

  “Well,” said Dr. DeWitt, “at first it was that same humming noise that you heard earlier. Then—”

  “It started talking!” Baruj said. “Like really talking!” His face lit up with excitement.

  “It was a standard distress message. Here, I recorded it earlier.” Dr. DeWitt pressed a button on one of the speakers, and the message began.

  “MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY, this is the Bright Star, Bright Star, Bright Star. MAYDAY, Bright Star. Position 31 5 North 29 59 East. We have 3 on board. We have lost control of our ship. Altitude is 20K and falling fast. MAYDAY Bright Star, OVER.”

  The message repeated once more and then crackled out. I sat quietly, thinking about the transmission. Was this the last thing the crew had said?

  Dr. DeWitt broke the silence. “I know that’s not your Papa’s voice, Sadira, and Baruj has assured me it’s not his brother’s, so it must be... uh—”

  “Ben, Ben Nassihr,” Baruj said. “He was the copilot. Naeem was the pilot.”

  “Have you heard anything else?” I asked.

  Baruj chewed on another piece of bread. “Nothing since about twenty hundred last night.”

  “I’ve been trying to see if I can stimulate the crystal somehow to receive a transmission. That’s what this bunch is for.” Dr. DeWitt gestured to the wires. “I’ve tried various electrical pulses, and I’ve tried vibrating the crystal at various frequencies. We’ve had no luck yet. Here.” He handed the crystal to me. “Let’s see if you have the magic touch.”

  The crystal felt warm in my hand. I turned it over a few times. It was smooth and glossy, and heavy in my hand. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. What had I done when the crystal started humming before? I remembered looking at the coloration of the crystal, of the orbs and swirls of white within, and seeing its odd glow.

  I opened my eyes and held the crystal up to the light, turning it this way and that. The waves of white were mesmerizing. I stared deeper and deeper into the stone, hypnotized. It began to hum. A voice came from within.

  Sadira.

  I jumped and set the crystal down on the table.

  “Of course!” Dr. DeWitt jumped to his feet. “There must be some type of photoreceptor in the crystal. Each time its started humming, someone first held it up to a light!” He began to rummage through his equipment. “Let’s see... lasers, frequency adjusters, amplifiers, oh yes.” He tossed armfuls of metal boxes and wires on his workshop counter. “If you two young ones will excuse me, I have some work to do.” He hummed to himself, arranging equipment and plugging in boxes to the solar chargers.

  I slipped out of Dr. DeWitt’s office. When a thought gripped him, Dr. DeWitt wouldn’t have heard a pack of hyenas at the door. I could stand next to him for the next hour and he probably wouldn’t notice. I decided to head back to Mrs. Nagi’s, but Baruj was walking a half-step behind me. I whirled around.

  “Are you following me?”

  “No. Well, sort of. I wanted to talk to you again.” He looked eager, earnest, his eyes wide and hopeful. But I wasn’t fooled.

  “You mean insult me again, right?”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you, Sadira.”

  “But you did.”

  “I’m sorry.” I studied his face again for a moment. Without the Central khakis and beret, Baruj looked much younger than I had guessed yesterday. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and as I stared at him now, I could see he was as scared and worried as I was. Maybe he was sincere. God, give me the strength to forgive, I prayed.

  “If I talk to you for a minute, will you leave me alone?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Talk away.”

  “You heard the distress signal. That wasn’t the prerecorded version.”

  “But that was made before they hit the ground. They may not have survived the crash.”

  “They did survive the crash.” Baruj jutted his chin defiantly. “I saw them.”

  “I didn’t.”

  He swallowed. “Well, what about the noise the crystal made? Didn’t you hear something else besides the hum?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You jumped a bit back there, and your face turned white as a sheet. I thought I heard it say something again.”

  “What did you hear?” I pressed.

  “I thought it said your name.”

  I gulped. “I thought so, too.” I had nearly written off hearing my name. I might have imagined it. But if Baruj had heard it, too? Maybe someone was trying to call me.

  “Why would it do that?”

  “I wish I knew. Are we done here? I have to get back home.” I began walking, this time taking the direct route to Mrs. Nagi’s house. Baruj jogged to keep up with me.

  “Wait, wait. I have another question for you.” He grabbed my shoulder to slow me down, but I brushed off his hand.

  “Why should I talk to you? You think my papa has a personal radio. You say he’s a criminal.” Baruj pulled the earpiece from my ear and threw it as far as he could.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “I already told you. Central tracks those things.”

  “You can’t honestly believe every earpiece is tracked.”

  “I know they’re tracked. And I don’t think your Papa is a bad person.”

  “Oh really?”

  Baruj frowned. “I don’t think it should be criminal to own a radio.”

  I forced a laugh. “Central says they’re bad.”

  “Did you ever hear why Central thought they were bad? Hmm?” He raised one eyebrow, challenging me. “Just because Central issues an official statement doesn’t make it true.” I never had heard an explanation for outlawing radios. It was a rule, and I always followed rules. I’d never thought to question it before.

  Baruj reached for my shoulder again, and this time I stopped walking. “I thought that maybe you could help me find Naeem. Look, I’m not going to tell anyone if there is a radio at your house. I don’t care what you do. I came to you first because I thought you might understand and want to help, and that you wouldn’t tell anyone I was looking for my brother.” He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder. “You haven’t told anyone about this, have you?”

  “I told Timothy,” I whispered.

  Baruj began laughing. “That skinny boy that follows you around?” I could feel the heat rising in my face.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Sorry,” he said, gasping. “I didn’t mean it to be rude. I think it’s sweet. You can trust him, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good.” He leaned in closer, his usually smirking face now intense. “Don’t tell anyone else, though. Not even Mrs. Nagi. I have the feeling that if someone else found out we’d be in a lot of trouble.”

  “What about Dr. DeWitt?”

  Baruj smiled. “I’m not worried about him saying anything. He’s not the type to pry, you know? I think he might even help us.”

  I nodded in agreement. “He and Papa were very close. Dr. DeWitt is my godfather, you know.”

&n
bsp; “That would explain a lot. It seems like you go over there pretty often.”

  “I do. He helps me with my homework.”

  Baruj stood silently for a moment and then sighed. “Look, I don’t want to offend you, but I think there is a real chance that your Papa did have a radio.” I pursed my lips. He was back to this already. No way had Papa hid something like that from me. A radio could get you excluded, and you’d never be allowed back into an outpost again. “I can help you look. I’m not going to judge you, and I’m not going to turn it in to Central. If we find anything, I promise I’ll take it straight over to Dr. DeWitt.”

  “Do you swear?”

  “I swear.”

  Maybe if Baruj saw my house, saw how empty it was and that there couldn’t possibly be a radio, he’d let it go. But if there was a radio... impossible. I was sure of it. Papa would never break the law.

  “Let me grab my earpiece,” I said. “I need to check in with Mrs. Nagi or she’ll worry.” I walked over to where Baruj had thrown my earpiece, wiped the sand off on my dress, and flicked it on.

  “How can I direct your message?” chimed the earpiece.

  “Cora Nagi.”

  Mrs. Nagi’s voice came up on the other end. “This is Mrs. Nagi.”

  “It’s Sadira. I’m at Dr. DeWitt’s shop still, and I think I’ll be here for a while longer.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. I have lunch here, if you’re hungry later. Be good!”

  “Yes, Mrs. Nagi.” I flicked the earpiece off. “That buys us at least an hour to look around.”

  “Thanks.” He held out his hand. “Earpiece.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  I yanked the earpiece out and put it in his hand. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, swaddled the earpiece, and shoved it into his pocket. “You can’t be too careful.”

  You could be too paranoid, though. A quick look through my house would prove that to him.

  We trudged back to the housing sector. My pale skin was beginning to turn pink from the sun. I pulled my hat brim lower on my face, but I could already tell I would have sunburn tonight.

  I led Baruj to the street behind my house. It would be hard to explain to Mrs. Nagi why I was wandering around on the street instead of at Dr. DeWitt’s like I had told her, so I tried to be discreet. I had left the rear door unlocked last night, and now I nudged it gently open so it wouldn’t squeak. I thanked God that Papa had never installed one of the new biotech locks on the doors. A $3,000 door doesn’t work any better than a $300 door, Papa told me.

  “The Nagi’s house is right next door,” I whispered. “She’ll be able to hear us if we’re too loud.”

  “Understood,” Baruj whispered back. “Where should we start looking?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t think there was anything to find. “I guess Papa’s bedroom. He used to hide my birthday presents up there.” I led him upstairs to Papa’s room, directly across the hall from mine. Baruj gently opened all of the dressers and boxes. I crept over to the closet and pushed aside the clothes. Papa’s smell—sim-tobacco, wool, and burnt coffee—washed over me.

  “Do you see anything?” asked Baruj.

  “No.”

  “Where else should we try?”

  “I don’t know. I use every other room, so I think I would have noticed something already.”

  Baruj thought for a moment, and then his face broke out into a wide grin. “What if he hid something right under your nose? If I was trying to keep something from a smart, inquisitive girl like you, I’d put it in the last place you’d expect.”

  “My room.” I gasped. I hated to admit it, but that was exactly the sort of thing Papa would do. He used to set up elaborate scavenger hunts for me as a child, and they inevitably led to a gift hidden in plain sight.

  We walked across the hallway to my bedroom. Once again, we dug through the closet and the dresser drawers. I had already moved most of my clothes over to the Nagis’, so my room was positively barren. All that was left was my bed, a nightstand, and a small dresser. I opened the last drawer and sighed.

  “I don’t see anything,” I said.

  “Are you a betting kind of person? I’m feeling lucky.” He got down on his hands and knees and crawled under my bed. He motioned for me to look.

  “What is it?”

  He pointed to my mattress. “What’s that lump in your bed?”

  Now that Baruj pointed it out, there was an obvious bulge in the mattress near the head of the bed. I was shocked I hadn’t noticed it before. No wonder my neck has been sore. I pushed on the bulge, and a small box fell to the ground. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “Right under your nose. I’ll bet this is what we’re looking for.” We slid back out from under the bed, and he handed the box to me.

  A small paper note was attached to the cube. A little pea for my princess, it said. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It was a little joke between me and Papa.” I pulled off the note and studied the handwriting, Papa’s neat, orderly script—letters perfectly aligned, not a single smudge in sight. A horrible thought occurred to me. Papa knew something was going to happen. Why else leave a note tucked in my bed? It couldn’t have been there very long. What had Papa done? I stuffed the note into the pocket of my dress and tried to contain myself. Crying doesn’t solve problems.

  I turned my attention back to the box. It was a dark green metal cube, about five centimeters long on each side, and it felt cool to the touch. It fit easily in the palm of my hand and appeared to be seamless. I had seen Papa use something like this before. Papa would stroke the side of the box, so I imitated the motion. The sudden lights appearing on the box made Baruj drop it.

  “What was that?” he asked. A pink three-by-three grid lit up on the sides of the box, and the squares in each grid were filled in with different colors.

  “A clue. It’s a puzzle box. Papa used to hide gifts in these for me. You can reset the puzzle each time you put something else in the box. ”

  “So what’s the clue?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I bit the sore spot in my cheek, studying the box.

  “You’ll figure it out.” I focused on the gleaming squares.

  Baruj put his hand on my shoulder, and laid my earpiece on the ground by my feet. “I have to go check in at the barracks. I’ll be at Dr. DeWitt’s in the morning,” he said. “If you can, bring some more of that bread.”

  I didn’t hear when Baruj left. I was still staring at the box.

  What’s the clue, Papa? What’s inside?

  I tapped on the puzzle box for a few minutes, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The colors shifted and danced, teasing me with their secret.

  “I give up!” I sighed. I didn’t really give up—Papa always said that Pascals never gave up—but no solution was coming forward. I tucked the puzzle into my dress pocket and ran my fingers through my hair.

  Papa on a flight, even though he was usually in the lab with the other engineers. A crash. A disappearance. A puzzle hidden in my mattress.

  It was too much to take in all at once.

  My earpiece, still laying on the floor where Baruj had left it, began to buzz. I shoved it into my ear and flicked it on.

  “This is Sadira.”

  Amina’s voice bubbled though. “Sadira! Timothy and I are going to grab some ice cream and study. I’m buying.”

  They’re out of school already? I must have been working on the puzzle box for hours.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost sixteen hundred.”

  I sighed. I had lost track of time, and hoped Mrs. Nagi hadn’t noticed. “What’s the catch?”

  “What catch?” scoffed Amina.

  “To getting free ice cream?”

  “I need your help with the math.”

  That sounded about right. Amina excelled in our languages class, but she couldn’t tell a nume
rator from a denominator.

  “Timothy and I will get you through the history, too. We covered a few more sections today.”

  Bleh. I was already behind on my reading. I had been so caught up with everything else I hadn’t even bothered to look at the notes Amina had given me the night before.

  “Sounds fine,” I said. “Let me check in with Mrs. Nagi first.”

  “OK! We’ll see you there in fifteen minutes, then.”

  I flicked my earpiece back off and sighed. History was at the very bottom of my list of priorities, but if I was ever planning to finish school, I would have to put in a little bit of effort.

  I raised myself up off the floor and put the puzzle box in my dress pocket. I strode down the stairs, and slipped out the back door, taking the long way around behind the row of townhouses to Mrs. Nagi’s. If she saw me coming straight from my house, I was sure there would be questions.

  I walked up the stoop of the Nagis’ house and opened the door. Mrs. Nagi sat on the sofa, reading. Probably one of her wild mystery novels. She lifted her eyes from her tablet.

  “Back finally?”

  “Yeah. Amina called and said she wanted to study.”

  “Good, good.” Mrs. Nagi nodded approvingly. “Are you headed to her house?”

  “No. We’re going to grab ice cream downtown.”

  “Ah, and then study.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  She laughed a moment. “What better way to learn? Is your token card charged?”

  I was already racing up the stairs. “Yes, Mrs. Nagi.”

  I walked upstairs to the guest bedroom—my bedroom—and searched for a place to hide the puzzle box. Under the mattress? Too cliché. Then again, the puzzle box had been hidden in my mattress before. In the dresser? Too easy for someone to accidentally find. I settled on stuffing the puzzle box inside of the toe of an old pair of boots in the closet.

  I grabbed my token card and my tablet. On second thought, I grabbed my Papa’s tablet. Maybe I would be able to take a look through his notes. I linked his tablet to mine and quickly downloaded his most recent files.

  I shoved the tablet and the token card into a small beaded purse and headed back downstairs.

  “I’ve got everything.”

  “Don’t let me keep you waiting, darling. You go and have fun, now. Shoo!” She waved me toward the door. “Call me if you’re running late for dinner!”

  I headed toward downtown. The sun, which had been directly overhead a few short hours ago, was now completing its graceful arch toward the horizon. The light no longer stung my pale skin, but the bright afternoon sun glared in my eyes. I squinted, and long shadows danced behind me with each step.

  The constant buzz of hovercabs soon replaced the relative quiet of the housing district. I could see the shops up ahead, people bustling in and out of stores to get their groceries, soldiers walking in and out of the monolithic red Central office. It was nearly seventeen hundred, time for shifts to change.

  I pushed through the crowded sidewalks and made a beeline for Mrs. Kilone’s sweets shop. The rich window display was as enticing as ever. Cakes, pastries, and chocolates lined the trays just inside the shop. I stepped inside, and the smell of a dozen desserts greeted my nose. It was like a little slice of heaven. Even if everything else in the world went wrong, there would always be chocolates.

  A crowd stood around the long white counter, waiting to get their treats. Amina and Timothy already stood in line, ready to place their orders.

  “Hey!” Timothy waved, a few pieces of his hair falling into his face.

  Amina’s faced broke into a grin. “Sorry! I could hardly wait for you to get here, so I was about to order myself an appetizer.”

  “An appetizer for dessert?” Amina was so strange sometimes. I couldn’t help but giggle.

  She laughed. “What do you want? My treat.”

  I studied the ice cream counter. Everything looked amazing—the smooth yellow-orange mango, rich brown chocolate, a tub of pale green mint ice cream.

  “I’ll take a scoop of coconut,” I said at last.

  “Only one scoop?” teased Timothy.

  “Yeah.” I had a hard time eating more sweets than that. Papa usually made me eat very healthy.

  We found an open table outside and sat down with our ice creams, slurping away.

  Timothy’s eyes fixed firmly on me. “How are you doing?”

  I shrugged. What could I say? A million things had gone through my mind over the last two days, and I wasn’t sure I could share it with them. “I’m OK. How about you? How’s Abigail?” Timothy’s baby sister was a handful.

  “Abi? I don’t believe she eats food because all she does is try to eat my fingers. She bit me three times this morning!” He tried to sound annoyed, but from the way he grinned, it was clear he adored her. He turned back to his ice cream, shoveling down a few more bites.

  “Are we actually going to do homework, or was this an excuse to eat?” I asked.

  Amina snorted, getting some of her berry ice cream on her nose. She wiped it on her shirtsleeve without a thought. “Don’t sound so excited about grabbing a treat, Sadira.”

  Timothy pulled his tablet out of his pack. “We can study while Amina finishes smearing food on her face.”

  “Sure, let’s do that.” I pulled out my tablet as well. “History or math?”

  “Let’s do the math first. We were covering conic sections today.” Timothy tapped until he pulled up his notes. “I’m still not understanding how we’re supposed to tell these shapes apart.”

  I began scribbling on his tablet with my finger, explaining the best way to identify and graph each section. Amina stopped licking her ice cream for a moment and leaned over, checking out the notes.

  “Why doesn’t Ms. Ahmad ever explain things that way?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “She didn’t have Dr. DeWitt explain it to her first.”

  “I’ll send these notes to you, Amina.” Timothy reached over to grab his tablet, his hand lightly brushing against mine. I looked up, and his brown-green eyes met mine.

  I turned quickly, breaking his stare. “Let’s take a look at the history assignment now,” I stammered.

  He pulled up the assignment. “We started learning about the current Central Cabinet.”

  “Did I miss a chapter?”

  He shook his head. “No. That’s all we’ve covered since you’ve been out.”

  “Last time I was in class we were talking about the 2240 Cabinet election.”

  Timothy scanned through his notes. “That’s right. You didn’t miss anything else.”

  “But it’s 2260 now.”

  “What’s your point?” Amina asked, slurping down the last of her ice cream.

  “Did nothing happen in the last twenty years?”

  Amina shrugged. “It was probably so boring even Ms. Ahmad didn’t want to teach it.” Timothy roared with laughter.

  I decided to let it go. If we skipped a chapter of history, who was I to argue? I skimmed through the notes Timothy had already uploaded to my tablet. He leaned over my shoulder, reading off the text.

  “Ms. Ahmad said to pay special attention to the Orbital Outpost Treaty.” An entire paragraph of the text was highlighted in bright yellow. I would have had to be blind to miss it.

  “Thanks.” I could feel Timothy’s breath on the side of my neck. He was uncomfortably close, but so comfortably close. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.

  I skimmed through the highlighted section quickly, trying to get an idea of the last lecture.

  The Orbital Outpost Treaty, put into effect in 2255, decommissioned all orbital colonies made before 2160, most notably the ‘Galileo’, ‘Copernicus’, and ‘Kepler’. In exchange, all modern colonies were guaranteed three supply drops a year, and all colonists were guaranteed Central citizenship.

  The passage was dry, but I read a bit more so I could get caught up. It was hard to picture the orbital colonies in
my mind, whirling metal cities in the sky. We had seen holos in class, but I couldn’t imagine living in a world without dirt, or without a sky. When I got to the end of the chapter, I checked the time and gasped.

  “It’s after eighteen hundred already,” Timothy said. “We should probably start heading back before curfew.”

  Now that Timothy pointed out the time, I noticed the heat had drawn from the air, and the sun was settling in the western sky. The crowds of soldiers streaming in and out of the Central office had thinned. Only a few uniformed personnel, here and there, headed into the building now.

  My ice cream, only half-eaten, was a sticky puddle in the bottom of the cup. I yawned, stretching. “Yeah, I guess we should get moving. Thanks for the history notes.”

  Amina fluffed her wild, curly hair. “No problem. Thank you for the math help.”

  We gathered our bags and started back toward the housing sector. A pair of older women—clearly researchers, from their dark gray uniforms—walked past, arguing.

  “You saw the rat. It just stopped. Just stopped.” The woman frowned in disgust, her face a bit greenish at the thought. “Awful, simply awful.”

  “I didn’t think it was supposed to be airborne.”

  “Me neither. None of the previous strains were.”

  “We have to do something—” the researcher paused, noticing us staring at her. “Yes? Aren’t you three a bit young to be out so late? Go home before I report you all. Or do you kids feel like doing community service next week?”

  “We were just leaving, ma’am,” Amina said, her voice unnaturally formal. “Let’s go, guys.” She grabbed Timothy and me and dragged us farther away from downtown.

  Amina kept peering over her shoulder, checking to see if the women were reporting anything. When the two researchers were finally out of sight, she let out a big sigh of relief.

  “My mom will kill me if I break curfew again. You should have seen her the last time. I got dropped off at the front door in one of the hovercabs. I thought she was going to burst a blood vessel.” She let go of our arms and sprinted toward her house. “See you later!”

  Timothy and I kept walking through the rows of townhouses. Night was quickly sweeping over the edges of the sky. I could barely see a few glimmers of red peeking over the Wall.

  Timothy reached for my hand, and I let me fingers tangle around his. We walked quickly, silently, comfortable together. He cleared his throat.

  “Those women back there? That’s what my parents had been talking about. Something’s happening here. I’m not sure what it is yet.”

  I nodded. “That was kind of weird, right?” I remembered the woman’s words. The rat just stopped. Stopped what? The way the woman had said it, and her expression afterward, made me think it wasn’t good.

  We turned down my street, and I could see the Nagis’ home a few doors down. “I guess I’ll see you later,” I said lamely.

  “I guess so.” Timothy let go of my hand and brushed a stray hair behind my ear. “Goodnight, Sadira.” He leaned in closer for a moment and paused. Was he going to try to kiss me again? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, feel the heat rising in my face. I shrank back, suddenly timid.

  “Goodnight.”

  He blinked and took a step back, a smile still plastered across his face. I rushed off, scared to stand there with him. What if he changed tomorrow? What if he avoids me instead? I glanced back as I headed toward the Nagis’. Timothy was still standing there, in the middle of the road, watching me. I felt my face grow hot and stared at the ground.

  He likes me.

  Why?

  I wasn’t sure what the reason was, why suddenly being friends seemed like far too little, why every time he looked at me I felt my stomach jump for my throat.

  I climbed the stairs up the Nagis’ front stoop, pausing for a moment to look back at Timothy. He grinned, the smile lighting up his slender face, then jogged off toward his house. I shook my head, willing the blush to leave my cheeks and opened the door.

  “Hello, Sadira,” Mrs. Nagi called from the kitchen. She walked to the living room and greeted me with a hug. “How was ice cream?”

  “Fine. Timothy gave me his history notes, and I helped him and Amina with math.”

  She nodded. “Good, good. And Dr. DeWitt’s earlier? How is he? What did he want?”

  I figured if I kept the topic technical, she wouldn’t pry. “Oh, he wanted to see how I was getting along in my schoolwork. He also showed me one of the picochips he had to modify. We had to redirect some of the signals to bypass a short on the chip and then reintegrate that back to the main board.”

  “That’s nice, dear.” The fake techno-babble had made her eyes glaze over. “Why don’t you wash up and help me put together dinner?”

  I raced upstairs to the washroom. My day of walking around the outpost had left me with a thin coat of dust on my skin. I splashed my face with water, which ran down my cheeks in small rivers of brown. The water felt cool, fresh on my face, calming the blush that burned there a few minutes before. After a few more splashes, the water ran clear. I could now see the beginnings of sunburn on my nose and cheeks. I dried my face on one of the fluffy towels, then twisted my hair back tightly and went to the kitchen to join Mrs. Nagi.

  “I was in a fish sort of mood today,” she announced, chopping the head off of a large halibut. She threw the head in a pot to boil and deftly filleted the fish. “You can chop the vegetables, Sadira. I know how the fish heads can make you squeamish.”

  No kidding. The boiling water in the pot kept pushing the fish’s head to the surface, as if it was trying to greet me. I turned to avoid its dead stare and chopped the carrots.

  Soon the scent of fish and lemon had moved beyond the confines of the tiny kitchen and permeated the whole house. I breathed in the smell of a warm dinner and tried to relax. Between the distress signal and finding that box, I was torn and confused. What if Papa had been holding contraband? I couldn’t believe it. He would never hide something from Central. What if he was still alive? I wasn’t sure if I believed that, either.

  The front door swung open, and Mr. Nagi walked in, his bulky figure lumbering with fatigue. “Cora? Sadira? Come to the living room, please.”

  Mrs. Nagi nudged me out of the kitchen and toward the sofa. I froze. Behind Mr. Nagi was Colonel Marwasi. He glared at me, his stony face locked in contempt. The living room didn’t seem large enough to hold the Colonel. He was tall, taller even than me, and though his hair was graying and wrinkles sprouted from the corners of his eyes, his shoulder were thick and muscular. He stood straight, his chin held high. All of the light in the room seemed to glisten on the brass medals and insignia on his uniform.

  “Sadira, sit,” Mr. Nagi said. I fell limply to the couch.

  Mrs. Nagi lowered herself beside me. Mr. Nagi remained by the Colonel’s side, his huge frame somehow dwarfed by the Colonel’s presence.

  The Colonel pulled off his burgundy beret and cleared his throat. “Miss Pascal, it has come to my attention that one of the Central soldiers has been feeding you misinformation about your father’s fate.”

  “What?” My voice came out a squeak, shocked at his words.

  Colonel Marwasi peered at me down his large, pointy nose. “Someone told you your father is alive.”

  I felt my heart cinch tighter and tighter in my chest, until it could no longer beat freely. The air stuck in my lungs. Maybe Baruj was right. Maybe Central did monitor us. I shook his name from my mind, afraid that the Colonel might somehow be able to see those thoughts forming in my head.

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  The Colonel clasped his hands behind his back and leaned closer. “I think it’s in your best interest to tell me who is spreading these lies. A soldier told you your father is alive. Who was it?”

  I bit my cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

  The Colonel clenched his jaw, and the veins on his neck and face began to expand. Mr.
Nagi stepped forward and rested his heavy hand on my shoulder.

  “Sadira,” Mr. Nagi said. “Give the Colonel any information you have.”

  I couldn’t say anything. Baruj said he’d get in trouble. I didn’t want that. So what could I do? Lie. I had to lie. I turned my face to Mr. Nagi and opened my eyes wide in confusion and innocence. “I don’t have any information for the Colonel. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  The Colonel’s veins bulged against his ashen skin. “I’ll be watching you, Miss Pascal. Closely.” He slung his beret back onto his head and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.

  Mr. Nagi stared at me for a long moment, before turning his attention to the kitchen and sniffing the air. “Smells good. I’m ready to eat.”

  My stomach rumbled, but it was not from hunger. “I’m going lie down. I don’t feel well.” I pushed myself off the couch and walked upstairs to the guest bedroom. I locked the door behind me, and flopped on the bed.

  Mrs. Nagi knocked on the door.

  “Sadira, come have some dinner.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Sadira...”

  “I’m not hungry.” She sighed and headed back down to the kitchen.

  Even though the food smelled delicious, I didn’t want to eat, not even a little bit. Every piece of me felt too tight, like I had been twisted and balled up into a giant knot. I tried to think of who I had talked to about Baruj. Of course, Dr. DeWitt knew, but he would never say anything to the Colonel. I hadn’t told the Nagis, or even Amina. Timothy. I told Timothy. Had I told Timothy Baruj’s name? I didn’t think so, but I began to worry. I knew Timothy wouldn’t have repeated what I told him, but the Colonel must have overheard somehow. Maybe Baruj was right. Maybe the earpieces were bugged. I took out my earpiece and threw it into a pile of my old laundry.

  I grabbed the boot from the closet and turned it over, shaking the puzzle box into my hand. There must have been a reason why Papa had left it in my bedroom. I curled back up in bed and began to play with the puzzle box. A three-by-three grid appeared on each face of it. From what I could tell, there were six different colored squares. Each time I tapped on one of the squares, that square and the ones tangent changed colors. It was hypnotizing. I sat and tapped on the box, trying to form some patterns.

  I sighed. The puzzle wasn’t going anywhere. I tucked it back into the boot. Hunger was starting to get the best of me. I could sneak downstairs, grab a bite, and not have to talk to anyone. If I had to talk, I feared my face or my voice might betray me. I started to open the door of the guest bedroom when I heard Mr. Nagi’s voice.

  “I have to report her, Cora. She’s hiding something, I’m sure she is. You said she was at Dr. DeWitt’s all day, for God’s sake!

  “You don’t honestly think—”

  “Central does. They haven’t gotten a single transmission from his shop’s com in a month.” Dr. DeWitt’s shop was wired? Why would Central need to hear him?

  “DeWitt’s her godfather! Why wouldn’t she go to him? It’s only natural. Is your job more important?” hissed Mrs. Nagi. “We’re talking about sending a girl to interrogation! Didn’t the Colonel do enough tonight?”

  He sighed. “It’s more than my job. Central sent out a blip with orders to report any suspicious activity related to the Bright Star. Sadira is keeping something from us. We could be excluded if we don’t comply.”

  Excluded? I froze. What was so important about the Bright Star that Central would exclude a citizen?

  “Let’s talk to her,” Mrs. Nagi pleaded. “She’s upset. Anyone could see that. Why would we punish her for being sad?”

  “One day,” said Mr. Nagi, sternly. “One day, and if you don’t make any headway, I have to report it. For our sake.”

  I heard the wooden chair scrape against the floor as Mr. Nagi rose from the table. His heavy footsteps resonated through the house, beating against the floor as he marched up the stairs and into his bedroom.

  Interrogate? Why would they want to interrogate me? Why would Central wire Dr. DeWitt’s office? Why would Mr. Nagi care if I visited the hovertech shop? Why would Central care about a kid like me?

  Baruj must be telling the truth. It was the only way this made any sense.

  And if Baruj was telling the truth, then maybe, just maybe, Papa was still alive.