by Amanda Thome
“It was actually right after we met.” I instinctively lower my eyes, our first meeting carries so many emotions, most too painful to think about. “That afternoon after I found the healer I went to pick you flowers.” I smile remembering him holding them, the way the colors captured my eyes was like water capturing the sun. “I’d seen my dad bring my mom flowers before, it made her happy.” He laughs. “I’d gotten the bunch and was on my way back when I saw a den.” He pauses to remember. “I heard whimpering, so I went to it. There was this starving kit, it had been abandoned.”
My heart unexpectedly aches for the abandoned fox, like a part of me could relate to it. The isolation and fear, the loss that comes with being alone without your mother. I really could relate.
“I couldn’t just leave it there to starve so I went back every day to feed it. It ate just about everything I put down. Eventually it got stronger and walked and then it played and ran.” I picture him at five-years-old playing with the little animal. “It would come when I whistled, all sorts of dumb stuff, but to me it was awesome. I had a friend and something that needed me.” He pauses briefly, “I’d been going there for months, and my best guess is that one of the retirees told a regulator I’d been pocketing food during second line, because one day a regulator followed me. He was real sneaky, I never knew he was there until I was already at the den.” His eyes soften and his voice cracks, “I whistled and the fox came out, I fed him like always and then everything was a blur. I heard a twig snap and I saw the red hairs on the fox stand straight up, but it was too late. It tried to run but the bullet was too fast.”
“Garrett that’s terrible.”
“The regulator took me home and explained the situation to my parents. He said he was being ‘lenient,’ since technically I could’ve gotten two marks, one for lifting food from the pavilion, the other for interacting with animals outside of hunting.”
“How come you never told me?”
“Don’t know. It’s one of the only times I’ve really been mad at Central. I don’t like thinking about it. Reminds me that the place I’m supposed to idealize may have flaws.”
I can’t find the words he probably wants to hear, something along the lines of agreeing with him. I don’t have the anger he has, I idealize Central. It’s one of the few things I truly believe in. When you believe and trust something so totally, it’s hard to find faults in it.
“So why all the studying and preparing? Would you even accept the leap?”
“Of course, it would be stupid to turn it down. I figure everything’s better over there. Who knows, maybe they’re allowed to keep animals.” He laughs. “Plus someone has to keep an eye on you when you’re over there.”
“Right! Cause I’m so pitiful that I need constant supervision.” I roll onto my back and think about Garrett with his fox. I wonder what it would have been like to have someone care for me during the time my heart was healing. Papa did his best but he couldn’t take the pain away. Either way, I made it through that darkness. I gathered my shattered heart and piece by piece put it back together. Part of it was through hope, part of it was believing in something better.
The sun strikes its highest peak when Garrett breaks the silence.
“Why won’t you go out with me?”
I snap my head to look at him. “Not this again.” I smile.
“It’s been a couple weeks since I asked. Figured it was worth another try. I’m patient, I’ll keep waiting for a moment of weakness.” He grins, nervously combing his hands through his hair. Man does he look good when he does that.
My eyes trace a path across our bodies to my pale arm. I look down seeing my skin turning red. I should cover my arms I think. The last time I let them get this red my skin blistered and peeled like a snake shedding its skin. My absent thoughts get interrupted by his breathing. “You sound like the shuttle when it hits a loose rock” I joke. Garrett turns to me, shrugging his shoulders.
He grins and I find myself staring at his lips. “I bet I can swim to the northern embankment and back before you even get wet” he says. I barely have time to question that possibility as I briefly envision him running for the water. Suddenly there’s a rush of air and his strong hand taps my shoulder.
“Tag,” he yells.
I sit up, supporting my weight on my elbows in time to see him lift his blue shirt up and over his head. My eyes narrow as I stare at his muscular back. Garrett hits the water, tossing his blue shirt to the side, emerging wet and dashing for the northern embankment.
Water splashes across his waistline and awakens me from my dream state. This was a challenge I realize pushing to my feet. I peddle my bare feet through the warm grass sprinting towards the water. Should I go in with my dress on? It will weigh me down and take hours to dry. The thought of being without it embarrasses me. I’ll jump straight into the water, he won’t see me, I decide as I lift my blue dress over my head. My brown hair sweeps side-to-side, dancing across my shoulder blades. By the time I hit the water he’s already halfway back. I instantly freeze as the arctic water strikes my thighs. I hadn’t expected it to be this cold. He notices my weakness and attacks. Fountains of water splash towards me, soaking every inch of my bare skin.
“Stop it!” I squeal.
The wintry water feels like a whip striking my body but he doesn’t end his assault. I pivot on my foot, turning toward the warm hillside. He scoops the water, spraying it at me. My legs splash water along my ribs as I try to retreat. I’m closing-in on the muddy embankment when Garrett wraps his arms around my stomach, dragging me back into the frigid water. My legs kick in all directions as he carries me backwards.
“Put me down!”
I’m about to find my voice again and scream louder but I feel the heat from his body radiating to mine. His skin is so soft but his body feels strong. How can someone be so soft and strong at the same time I wonder? My legs stop kicking. I feel his solid chest pressed against my back and streams of electricity course between us. Where does this come from? Is he making it or am I? Electric sparks prick my skin, it isn’t unpleasant, it actually feels good. I want to feel more of this electricity, more warmth, more of him. He dunks me under the icy water, letting me refocus my thoughts as I’m submerged.
I stand up brushing my hair from my face. “I made it to the water before you got back, so technically I won.”
“I wanted to see you freeze when you hit the water.” He smiles. “I know what a baby you are when you’re cold.”
He smoothes his hair back from his face. I can’t stand him right now, I can’t stand how good he looks, how he bet me at my expense, and mostly I can’t stand him for taking the sparks away. I launch at him, dragging him underwater. Our bodies twist and turn rolling under water. I get pinned beneath him and just like that, the fiery sensations return. I reach my hands linking them around him as he lifts to his feet. I let him wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me to my feet.
I stand thigh deep as the water breaks around my legs. I strain to catch my breath. He strokes my back with his sure hand. My body involuntarily tenses. It shouldn’t, it feels unnatural to be tensed. Instead I wish I would relax into his touch and melt into his hands. Sensing my awkwardness, he stops. He closes his strong hand around mine, walking with me back to the hill.
Garrett recovers my dress from the wilting bushes it landed in, flashing a smile as he throws it back to me. I spread it across my lap as our bodies splay close to each other. We don’t touch as the sun dries our shivering skin. When the sun reaches the top of the trees to our west I know our day has ended. We head for our separate subs before curfew hits. I crawl into bed that night and fall asleep thinking about him. Thinking about the years we’ve spent together and the countless hours and minutes that have led us to where we are today.
Chapter 6
Seconds tick at a steady rhythm, sixty seconds to a minute yet each minute seems faster than the last. The weeks whittle away, shaving what little time we have before the leap. Garrett
and I meet at our hideaway daily. Each day there’s more excitement and nerves wound into our meetings. Wound tight like the sewing thread the relief workers unravel before they begin patching our torn uniforms. Excitement that maybe I’ll feel the sparks again, nerves that I’ll feel them and won’t be strong enough to stop them.
I sit on my half of the hill writing then desperately erasing. Today we’re creating a dry run of what we think the leap-test could be. We‘ll design a test that incorporates all the areas the leap-coordinators could be looking for.
That would be too easy for him, I think. He’s never been great with a spear and I know I have to find a way to work it into my test. I think about our skills lesson years ago, the one in the open green field. The crisp spring air still fills my nostrils and I can almost feel the warmth across my back. The sun hung low that day. I remember staying late watching Garrett heave his spear over and over, always missing his mark. It was the first time I’d seen him fail at something, I think it surprised us both. I stayed and watched him sweating and exhausted, either too proud or in too much denial to admit defeat. The skills instructor waited in the background, too tired to give direction. Just as Garrett’s legs buckled from exhaustion he hit his mark.
I keep working on my test. From time to time I glance over to see him either feverishly writing without once erasing or sprawled on his back with his arms crossed under his head. When the sun begins extending its blinding fingers toward the highest peak it’s time to collect our things and head for the shuttle. If we’re going to make it to the post and home before curfew we have to leave our refuge now.
“Thirty minutes.” Garrett says as we ride the shuttle.
“Thirty minutes, what?”
“That’s how long it’ll take me to beat your test.” He smiles.
“Is that so?” I shoot him the evil eye. “I guarantee I’ll beat your time.”
“Nessa, if only you could see how darn cute you look when you’re wrong. It’s adorable.”
I stick my tongue out as my free hand winds up to swat him. I’m propelled forward as the shuttle comes to a standstill at the post. His eyes narrow to mine just as a smirk pulls at his face. I can almost feel my pupils constricting as I size him up. There’s no need for words, we’ve been together long enough to know what’s next. We exit, battling to be the first to the attendant. We’re tied neck and neck but at the last second I kick my foot out making contact with his ankle. He yelps as he hits the ground and I victoriously strut to the post attendant.
“Scan card” the attendant demands. I hand it over quickly; they don’t like their time wasted. “Needs?” He barks, his sunken eyes have defined lines streaking from the junctions like a spiders legs. He looks irritated and slightly frightening.
“Vanessa Hollins here to check out leap-training weapons. Bow with quiver, three arrows, and one spear.”
Garrett lets out all the air held in his barrel-sized chest.
I stare at the bins stacked behind the attendant. It’s like rectangular puzzle pieces, none are the same size yet somehow they all fit perfectly together, stacking side by side and on top of each other. Everything is labeled, contained, and clean. The attendant hands the weapons under the glass window that divides us. The routine’s repeated with Garrett selecting a hatchet and a spool of string. My brow furls, what does a hatchet and string have to do with a challenge?
He collects his materials, tapping me on my shoulder. “Race you!” He shouts, bolting off. I don’t delay, my feet pound the ground as my supplies smack hard against my back with every step. I fall behind and watch him reach the platform with ease.
“I let you win. It would be embarrassing if I beat you twice” I shout. “Especially since I have twice as many supplies!” He victoriously pumps his fists in the air.
We board the shuttle, quietly riding the twenty-minutes to my sub. I think about the post. I wonder if I could organize my life into neat compartments. Label and stack my feelings. Maybe I could store them away and keep them from growing for Garrett. Protect them in a rectangular box in the corner until I’m ready. I step off the platform and race home to finish preparation for tomorrow’s test.
Chapter 7
Morning finds me stepping out of the bathroom straight into Emma’s frantic pleas, “Nessa, braid my hair. I need to look extra pretty today and my hair looks so awful right now. Pleeeeease, Nessa!” She whines.
I debate saying no just to hear her whine some more but I don’t have the heart. I guide Emma to our sitting room, directing her into the chair. She hums and lazily swings her legs as I make a winding braid that weaves around her whole head. I finish before first light. Curfew’s lifted at first light and I’m free to join Garrett. I tuck the last pin into her hair just before the first rays fall. I lean over, wrapping Emma in my arms. She giggles when I kiss her cheek, she’s always been ticklish. She hugs me back before I leave for our hideaway. I run and I run, carrying the provisions I’ll need for his test. I think about his challenge, wondering if I’m about to push him too far. The air’s cool as I cross the log onto our hillside. The culmination of Garret’s test will be the moment he spears the last clue, which is partially made from my grey play-clothes I saved from childhood.
I break onto the hill just as Garrett slips past the southern embankment, swallowed up by dying trees. I’ll meet him back here later, after I set-up his challenge. It takes practically two hours to set-up the challenges and when we meet back at the hill we’re both sweating. I’m doubled over with my hands pressed onto my knees as I try catching my breath. He stands to my left laughing.
“Shall I go first while you gather yourself?” He taunts. While I want to say no, he’s right; I need time to recover. I hand him his first clue.
‘Find the bed that neither animal nor man lays in, where water once stood but has since gone dry, yet animals still travel to wet their lips and find there, the way to cross.’
He freezes briefly before he’s off running toward the overflow bed I was hinting at; it’s about a half-mile through the brush. It’s a dried-up streambed that’s always the first to flood when the rains are heavy and the first to dry when they’ve stopped. Over the hundreds of years of wetting and evaporation, chemical sediments have developed into salted formations that draw the deer and other animals to it. I follow closely behind him, sure he knows of my presence but he doesn’t say a word, he’s on a mission.
He reaches the bed and instantly spots his next clue attached to a large sediment rock. I painted it bright red and marked it with a piece of tattered grey cloth. The entire streambed is smattered with red and brown rocks positioned at a seemingly random fashion but it’s anything but accidental, it’s a puzzle.
‘To cross this bed you must dance above rocks that are red. Many paths you may make, but rest assured there’s only one you should take. Use these two boards of different lengths to navigate from bank to bank. The boards are all that can touch down, and must be moved from red to red and never touch brown.’
Garrett works the puzzle in his mind. His handsome face scrunches in deep thought. I shift side to side, enjoying minutes of watching him agonize over his plan. I’ve seen him look this way before, confused yet unrelenting. I love watching him plan and struggle, it brings him to everyone else’s level, even if it’s momentary. Finally he springs into action and I watch him lifting and swiftly moving board to board. At first he chooses the right path, forcefully placing the small board forward, long board left, small board backward and then he moves off course by setting the long board left not forward.
He’s a board-length away from the clue when he grasps he’s out of moves and has squandered at least fifteen minutes. The frustration’s obvious and I relish in watching the ultra-cool Garrett sweating, exasperated, and lost. Right when I’m starting to enjoy my fine work he figures it out.
He’s tearing up and placing board after board so fast that he must have it. He places the long board forward, short board right and continues meticulously assign
ing the boards until he crosses over the bank. His face cracks wide open with his stunning smile.
He turns his head looking over his broad shoulder and smiles, shaking his head as if saying, “Well played.” He swings back into action. Positioned next to the final rock are the bow, arrows, and quiver. Picking them up he scans the ground, systematically skimming higher and higher until he sees the braided rope high above the ground where the next clue’s secured.
I nearly died setting this clue up, my foot slid once down the ridged bark. I almost fell a full twenty feet, sending my stomach into a twisting flip that lodged itself in my throat. As my gut untwisted I made my way back up the winding tree. I’d purposefully attached the clue to a branch that could support my weight for placement but would snap under his physique. He has no choice but to make all three shots. He strides to the highest ground and strings the first arrow. He pulls it back and releases as he exhales, just like we’ve been taught.
That lesson feels like a lifetime ago. The targets were all spread in front of us just begging to be hit. My arms shook as I drew the string back, mounting tension built as my muscles felt ready to snap. I wanted to stop and rest like the others in my year but I wouldn’t quit. I needed to build strength, not so much in the muscles that run from bone to bone, but strength of mind and character. I drew the string back over and over again until I’d found my inner strength. My character, my drive.
His arrow skims through the air contacting the middle braid. He doesn’t hesitate as he draws the second arrow back and releases it into the left braid, the clue sways from the assault. He lines up his final shot. Light breaks the trees hitting his sweat-specked skin. His arms and back pull taunt with his muscles tensed, his golden brown hair shines the way it did the first time I saw him. He discharges the arrow and me from my trance.