by Wendy Mass
Gareth’s hand immediately went out to grab his ponytail. He may have emitted a little whimper.
It’s now six minutes later, and I’m standing in a spaceport. I’ve heard of them, of course, but never thought about what it might be like to go to one. In my head, I’d pictured them looking like our buildings on Earth, or like the building-shaped airship that brought us here. But it’s nothing like that at all. It’s round, for starters, and made of materials that I’ve never seen before. And the clothes! They are simple and utilitarian, and they are all green!
The crowd smiles at us as we enter, and a few of the younger kids wave their arms in greeting. It’s obvious from their wide, expectant expressions that they’re as curious about us as we are about them. How strange it must be to live up here.
My eyes land on a boy around my age, maybe a little older. He has nearly black hair and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. They seem to be boring a hole straight through mine. The color reminds me of the jewel in the headpiece Grandmother gave me. I’m now very glad she made me take it. It’s a little piece of her so very far away from home.
I can’t pull my gaze away from his for what feels like a really long time. Long enough for Sarena to make a little “ahem” sound and nudge me. I force myself to turn my attention toward the man in uniform striding toward us. Seeing how the crowd parts for him, he’s clearly the captain of the station.
“Welcome, visitors, to Spaceport Delta Z.” He spreads his arms wide. “She isn’t much to look at, but we’re mighty proud of her. I’m Commander Harlon. Please make yourselves at home while your ship is being repaired. We have the finest mechanics this side of the Milky Way. And don’t worry about your teacher — he’s in good hands with our nurse. She’ll fix him right up.”
“Let me guess,” Asher says. “She’s the finest nurse this side of the Milky Way?”
The residents laugh, and the commander grins. “As a matter of fact, she is.” From anyone else, Asher’s comment would have come out sounding obnoxious. I steal a glance at the black-haired boy in time to see him roll his eyes. Guess Asher’s charm doesn’t work on other teenage boys. Or at least, not this one. I stifle a laugh.
The commander gestures for one of the older boys to join him. “This is my son, Finley. He’ll take you all to the arcade to relax with some old-timey video games. Collecting them is a hobby of mine.”
He beams, clearly proud of this. I’m not entirely sure what a hobby is, or what an old-timey video game would even look like, but I feel a stir of curiosity. It’s different than the awe I feel at being here in this foreign place, as the stars stream around us. The curiosity comes from that part of my brain that is hungry all the time, and I don’t mean for vita-squares.
“Let’s go,” Finley says, waving for us to follow him. His voice is not yet as commanding as his father’s, but it will be soon.
The green-eyed boy suddenly rushes toward me and lunges for my big suitcase! I instinctively pull back, stepping on Sarena’s toes in the process.
“So sorry!” I gasp as she lets out a small yelp.
“You look like you could use some help,” the boy tells me, reaching for the handle again.
I jerk back farther the second time, knocking into Sarena again and apologizing as she rubs her upper arm this time. I’m not entirely sure why I’m reacting this way. The suitcase really is big, thanks to that abandoner Ivy, who insisted I should be prepared for any situation. Bet she hadn’t been programmed to consider this one! And it’s true that I have little experience (okay, none) lugging heavy objects, but Grandmother’s headpiece is packed in there, and I will never forgive myself if it went missing. Gareth offering to carry it to my room on the airship was different. I simply cannot entrust this treasure to a stranger. And he is definitely strange, with his green clothes and eyes like emeralds and black hair so deep it almost looks purple.
“I’m fine,” I snap.
The boy doesn’t reply, only tilts his head up at me. Then he seems to find his voice. “The arcade is on the other end of the spaceport, and I’m stronger than I look. Stronger than you, certainly.” He grins a bright, wide smile that’s lost on me.
“How do you know how strong or weak I am?” I tighten my hold on the suitcase. A boy a little younger than him is trying to get his attention by pulling on his shirt, but he’s ignoring him. In my ear, Sarena hisses, “Let him take it! He’s flirting with you.”
My eyes widen at that. Insulting me is his way of saying he likes me? Maybe that’s how it works and I’m simply clueless. I have no experience meeting a new boy my own age. I’ve known all the others on my rung of society’s ladder my whole life. I’m certain this boy would not be a suitable match, so why bother?
Sarena hisses at me again. “For goodness sake, Marian, you don’t need to marry him, just give him your suitcase so we can all move on!”
“Cousin, you’ve got no game!” Will says, shaking his head at me as we join the large group now headed toward the arcade. I fold my arms over my chest and scowl. Both my arms are free to fold because I’m not the one carrying the pretty girl’s suitcase, Will is. Apparently she deemed him the safer bet just because he didn’t lunge at her like her suitcase was the last vita-square in the galaxy.
“I’ve got plenty of game,” I argue. Although admittedly today’s events are making me question my skills. I can usually charm anyone into anything. A compliment about the lunch lady’s hairstyle always ensures an extra square is tossed my way. At dinner Uncle Kent no longer asks me to clean the dishes, not after I “accidentally” dropped them so many times. Even the commander doesn’t yell at me for riding my hoverboard in restricted travel lanes because I can always tell him what playing card he’s holding and he loves magic tricks.
But the truth of it is, I’ve never spoken to a girl my own age who I felt this way about, let alone one with flowing hair the color of the corn in our birthday meals. And her eyes! Blue like the sky in the image of my ancestor in the photo that has now disappeared without a trace. And she’s smart! It shone through when she looked at me. I know that sounds sappy, but it’s the truth.
But the coolest thing about the girl is her voice. She’s said only twelve words to me, but they came out like notes of a song. An angry song, sure, but one I can still hear playing in my head. When I first heard her talk it rendered me unable to speak and I probably looked like a dork, just staring at her mutely.
Okay, clearly I’m in trouble.
“Maybe you’re right,” I grumble to Will out of the corner of my mouth. The last thing I need is for the girl to hear me. She’s sticking very close to her suitcase, only turning away briefly to gawk at the observation deck as we pass by it. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do,” I whisper. “How do I get her to like me?”
He glances over at me. “How many days since you’ve changed into fresh clothes?”
I follow his gaze. My shirt is stained, a hole has popped up over one knee, and a string dangles from the hem of my sleeve. I don’t reply.
“Go to our home unit and change your clothes. Maybe wash your face and comb your hair, too. Girls like a boy who looks put together.”
I stare at him. “Where do you get this stuff?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s common sense.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll meet you at the arcade.”
It only takes me five minutes to get to our home unit, which is one of the closest ones to the Central Plaza. One of the perks of being here so long.
I scramble through my drawers, pulling out, then discarding, shirt after shirt until I find one that only has a slight stain. If I wear it backward, she shouldn’t even notice it. The pants are more difficult. I never considered how shabby my wardrobe had become.
I wind up taking a pair of Will’s pants instead. He’s a little shorter than me, so I push down the waistband a few inches and tighten my belt so my ankles won’t peek out. I run the risk of them falling down on me, but at least they’re clean and in one piece.
I need one last thing to complete the look.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Will says when I show up at the arcade a few minutes later. I hop off my hoverboard, swing it under my arm, and beam at him.
“How great do I look?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Then he sighs. “Actually, you look pretty great. No one but you could carry that off.”
I’m suddenly flanked by all four of the kids from the airship. “Is that … is that a real feather in your hat?” the boy with the long, dark hair asks. “From a real … animal?”
I nod proudly. “It’s from a bird. A macaw, we think.”
“Can I touch it?” he asks.
“Sure, have at it.” I tilt my head toward him, and he reaches up and runs his hand over the feather.
“So soft!” he exclaims.
The others reach out now, all except the girl with the yellow hair who I’m trying to impress. She’s hanging back, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes. Will nudges me from behind and I step closer to the girl. Only a little, though. No pouncing this time. I may not be the sharpest tack in the toolbox when it comes to romance, but I’m a quick learner.
I reach up and pull the feather out of my hat. “Would you like to see it?”
She hesitates, then nods. She takes it reverently, like she’s afraid it will break. For something that looks so fragile, it’s held up perfectly so far. “Where did you get a real feather?” she asks in that lyrical voice of hers. It takes a few seconds to recover from hearing it again.
“It’s a very long story,” I tell her. “Maybe we can take a walk and I could tell you?”
The girl shakes her head and thrusts the feather back at me. “I couldn’t. I don’t know you.”
“Too forward,” Will hisses in my ear. He’s right, of course.
“I understand,” I tell her in my most polite and respectful voice. I don’t have much practice using it, though, so my words come out sounding more sarcastic than I intended. I clear my throat and wave my hand around the room. “We can get to know each other while we play a game, then. Any one you’d like.”
Her eyes scan the large room and land on BullsEye. “That one,” she says, and heads toward it.
Perfect. I’m fairly certain impressing a girl with your mad archery skills is a step in the right direction. I leave Will guarding her two suitcases and hurry after. She’s already standing in position, her arm pulled back to release a virtual arrow. All my classmates and her three travel mates have gathered to watch.
“Good luck,” I tell her as I drop a token into the machine.
Her first three shots land an inch away from the bull’s-eye. The last one makes it to within half an inch. Everyone around us cheers. Her score is good enough to put her on the high score board — far below mine and Will’s, of course.
That is how I learn her name is Marian.
“Your turn,” Marian says, stepping aside. My classmates (well, most of them) begin chanting my name. “Robin! Robin!” They know how good I am at this game.
Just as I’m about to let loose my first arrow, I glance over my shoulder and catch Will’s eye. He shakes his head at me. I frown. What’s he trying to tell me? He gives another small shake and mimics letting an arrow fly into the corner of the room. He wants me to throw the game and let her win! It goes against all my instincts, but I guess his coaching has gotten me this far. I send my first arrow far off the mark.
“It’s okay,” Marian says encouragingly. “Just hold your elbow a little higher.”
So now she’s coaching me like this is my first time. I grit my teeth. Will better be right! My second arrow is a little closer, but still really far. When the next two don’t even land on the screen, the boys in my class shake their heads in disgust. The girls are looking at me with something bordering on respect. I only care about the opinion of one girl right now, though. And she’s holding her hand over her mouth like she’s about to be sick! Oh, wait. She’s trying to keep herself from laughing at me.
“It’s not nice to make fun of people, you know,” I tease her. “Not all of us are as good as you.”
She lowers her hand and does her best to maintain a straight face. “Beginner’s luck,” she claims.
I doubt that, but I let it go. I couldn’t be more surprised when she boldly steps over to me, links her arm through mine, and says, “Okay, we can go for a walk now. Anyone willing to lose that spectacularly must be a good guy.” Her three friends quickly surround us.
My cheeks redden. I’ve been called many things (most of them not complimentary), but no one has called me a good guy before. I’ll need to reveal another magic trick to that savvy cousin of mine.
“You can show me the observation deck that we passed before,” she says. Then to her friends she adds, “I’ll be fine. Don’t look so worried.”
“I’ll take your belongings to your room,” the long-haired boy says.
“Thank you, Gareth.”
The other girl gives Marian’s arm a squeeze, and we’re off. I point out different parts of the station as we pass, aware that I’m babbling a little, but I’m afraid if an awkward silence descends on us that I’ll say something much more stupid. I get quite a few raised eyebrows as we cross the station (and a thumbs-up from Shane when I point out the garage), but no one stops us.
I lead her onto the same bench I’d sat on with Uncle Kent and Will just a few days ago. “So how’d you know that I threw the game?”
“I saw the name Robin at the top of the high score board,” she admits. “When your friends started chanting that name I put it together.”
“Ah, clever. Hadn’t thought of that.”
She looks out at the stars, then back into the station, then shakes her head.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s just so strange that people live here on this round ball, floating in space in the middle of nowhere.”
I laugh. “Doesn’t that describe where you live, too?”
Her lips turn up. I get the impression she doesn’t smile nearly often enough. “You’re right,” she says. “I never thought of it that way.”
We talk for a long time about her life on Earth and what her family is like. I can tell by the way she winces that she was hurt by how quickly they sent her away. I tell her about my hobbies, and she seems genuinely surprised and says she has no time to pursue any of her own interests. “I wouldn’t even know what they were,” she admits.
Some of life on Earth is similar to Delta Z — the lack of colors and no real food source — but most things are not. Life down there sounds both incredible (hovercars! skyscrapers! sunshine! medi-bots!) and awful (nano-trackers, the blackened wastelands, the fact that they only have five hundred more years until their oxygen runs out).
“I had never seen the stars before this morning,” she says, waving her hand around at the scene surrounding us. “Now I never want to stop seeing them.”
Honestly, the swirling stars still just make me dizzy, but I don’t mention that. “Tell me about the sun.”
She pauses for a few seconds, then says, “Well, it makes you hot and sweaty if it’s summertime. Provides light when it’s daytime. It used to make things grow, but that was before. Now the sunsets are the best part. That’s when the sky fills with colors that you could swim in, not that I have ever been swimming in anything. I used to watch them with m
y grandmother whenever I didn’t have something scheduled.” She clasps her hands in her lap. “I guess that doesn’t tell you much.”
“It does,” I tell her. “It tells me a lot.”
She looks up and smiles at me then, a real one. She’s getting better at it. My heart speeds up.
“How’d you get to be so good at the archery game?” I ask. “I’m not buying the beginner’s luck thing.”
She looks out into space again, but I don’t think she sees the stars this time. “My father and I used to play it together for hours when I was younger. I guess I got pretty good at it.” Her voice hardens when she talks about her father. I’ll have to remember that. Speaking of fathers … I reach down and feel around under the bench.
“Phew,” I say out loud as I slide out the box I’d stashed earlier. “It’s still here.” Apparently meeting a girl can make one forget even the most important things!
Marian leans forward. “What is that?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You seem to have a lot of those.”
I balance the box on my lap and rest my hands on top. “My parents sent it to me. At least, I think they did. They’re gone now. They’ve been gone a long time, really.” It feels strange saying those words out loud, but not strange saying them to her.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says. “What’s inside?”
“No idea.” I show her the locks. “I don’t have the code.” I don’t mention that I’m not supposed to open it until I’m seventeen.
“How about using your digi-pen?” she asks. “You have those up here, right?”
“Yes, but how would the digi-pen do something like that? They’re only for storing data. And writing, I mean.”
Her eyes widen. “You can write with yours?”
I nod. “Not that there’s much to write on — no paper or anything, of course. You can’t?”
She shakes her head. “All communications have to go through the interwebs. Nothing is private.” She’s lost in thought for a minute, but then perks up. “Mine can do other things, though.” She reaches into a pocket on the side of her dress and pulls out a digi-pen that looks almost exactly like mine.