The Forgetting
Page 33
I pin up the last of my braids, fasten Sergei’s bracelet around my ankle, and pick up my pack, a new one, large and heavy. Genivee’s side of the room is nearly empty, not only of herself, but of her things, most of which are at Anson’s. I look at it one more time before I steal out the door, shutting it quietly and moving down the hall so as not to wake Liliya and Mother.
Which was foolish, because Mother and Genivee are at the sitting room table, waiting for me, and Liliya is just coming in the front door. “Where have you been?” I ask, when what I really mean is, What are you all doing here?
Genivee rolls her eyes at me. “She’s been with Jonathan, of course, and did you really think you were just going to walk out and we wouldn’t say good-bye? You are so naive, Nadia.” The “so” gets most of her emphasis. Then she sounds like a little girl again when she says, “Why do you have to go?”
“You know I’d have a house for you soon,” says Liliya. Liliya is in charge of housing now, so I don’t doubt it. Mother just frowns at her hands. Rose has been giving her some special teas, for calmness, but they only go so far. I’m careful with my words when I answer Liliya.
“I think when we come back we’ll be going to Jin’s, actually. He’s fine for now, but … he will need someone with him soon. Will you check on him?”
Liliya nods, and Genivee says again, “Why do you have to go?”
I try to think of how to answer my little sister. Because the city is too small. Because there should be something else to strive for. Because I dare? I settle for, “Because I hate not knowing.”
“Oh, that is so very Nadia,” says Genivee, annoyed.
I kiss them all, and before I shut the door Mother looks out at Hawking Street, and the normal bustle of a day. “You’re not like the first one,” she says.
“No, Mother. I will come back.”
Gray is waiting for me at the opening in the wall, his pack looking heavier than mine. He smiles, holds out his hand, and we walk out of the city, this time not up my mountain, but around and beyond it. The sun is only a few days risen, low at our backs in the violet sky, ferns and grasses opening to new-foliage yellow. The suncrickets sing, the exposed rock glittering blue and silver with what Earth would have considered so valuable. It’s prettier where it is.
We leave the city far behind, walking through a fern forest so ancient the trunks are like smooth, rounded walls, the new growth stunted beneath the vault of fronds. We’ve been climbing a gentle slope upward for a long time. Gray reaches the top first, turns back to look for me, motions me forward.
I join him and gaze down. A flat plain spreads out below us, a river twisting through it, and in the center of it is something … unnatural. We climb down, hike across the grassland, setting dustmoths rushing to the air in lacy white clouds. It’s not until we get close that Gray recognizes what we’re seeing.
“It’s a ship,” he says, incredulous, and I realize he’s right. Just like what we saw in the white room. Only the planet seems to have claimed this ship, slowly making it a part of itself. Vines have grown over the metal, making it hard to see from far away, little plants growing in the dimples where soil has collected, and one whole side has sunk downward, submerged in the soft soil, leaving the ship at an angle that resembles a mountain slope. It’s vast, so much bigger than I thought. We pull, tug, and push on anything that looks like a window or door, but we can’t find a way inside, though Gray does wipe away the grime and we see the word Centauri painted on the side.
“Let’s leave it to lie,” I say. “This is where it belongs now.”
We cross the plain, up the next set of rolling hills, through deep moss and quiet trunks, and when I stand on the top, back in the hot air and wind, I just breathe, unbelieving. I never imagined the unknown could be so beautiful. I want to write it down. Gray turns and grins at me.
“Let’s run,” he says.
And we do.
This book was written because I am blessed with an army of encouragers: Genetta Adair, Susan Eaddy, Amy Eytchison, Rae Ann Parker, Ruta Sepetys, Howard Shirley, Angelika Stegmann, Courtney Stevens, Kristin Tubb, Jessica Young, and more. Every one of you said, “Yes, you can,” and you’re all so smart, I had to believe you. Thank you for knowing I could.
All my love and thanks to:
My critique group. We have spent a decade together. What an adventure we began.
Margaret Peterson Haddix, who waltzed into town and gave me the perfect advice at the perfect time. Thank you, my friend.
SCBWI Midsouth, my tribe.
Lisa Sandell, the most patient and insightful of editors and the most supportive of friends. You love me and my words, and I’m not sure I deserve it. Thank you for stretching me.
Kelly Sonnack, you are literally the most excellent agent a writer could have. I am so, so lucky.
The beautiful people of Scholastic: Ellie Berger, David Levithan, Rebekah Wallin, Elizabeth Parisi, Bess Braswell, Lauren Festa, Caitlin Friedman, Saraciea Fennell, Tracy van Straaten, Lizette Serrano, Emily Heddleson, Antonio Gonzalez, Michelle Campbell, Christine Reedy, Leslie Garych, Lori Benton, Olivia Valcarce, and all the other faces in sales, Book Fairs, Book Clubs, and foreign rights who are such incredible cheerleaders for my work.
Christopher, Stephen, and Elizabeth. I love you.
And Philip. You didn’t write the words, but you made this happen. Every day. Page by page. You are, simply, the best.
Sharon Cameron’s debut novel, The Dark Unwinding, was awarded the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators’ Sue Alexander Award for Most Promising New Work and the SCBWI Crystal Kite Award, and was named a YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults selection. Sharon is also the author of its sequel, A Spark Unseen, and Rook, which was named an IndieBound Indie Next “Top Ten” selection, a YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults selection, and a Parents’ Choice Gold medalist. She lives with her family in Nashville, Tennessee, and you can visit her online at sharoncameronbooks.com.
ALSO BY SHARON CAMERON
The Dark Unwinding
A Spark Unseen
Rook
Copyright © 2016 Sharon Cameron
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Cameron, Sharon, 1970– author.
Title: The Forgetting / Sharon Cameron.
Description: First edition. | New York : Scholastic Press, 2016. | ©2016 | Summary: Canaan is a quiet city on an idyllic world, hemmed in by high walls, but every twelve years the town breaks out in a chaos of bloody violence, after which all the people undergo the Forgetting, in which they are left without any trace of memory of themselves, their families, or their lives—but somehow seventeen-year-old Nadia has never forgotten, and she is determined to find out what causes it and how to put a stop to the Forgetting forever.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016007978 | ISBN 9780545945219
Subjects: LCSH: Memory—Juvenile fiction. | Amnesia—Juvenile fiction. | Conspiracy—Juvenile fiction. | Friendship—Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Science fiction. | Memory—Fiction. | Amnesia—Fiction. | Conspiracies—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | LCGFT: Science fiction. | Psychological fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.C1438 Fo 2016 | DDC 813.6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016007978
First edition, September 2016
Jacket art © 2016 by Michael Heath
&n
bsp; Jacket design by Elizabeth B. Parisi
e-ISBN 978-0-545-94522-6
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