What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “Wow, congratulations.” He gives me a wide grin. This has been his hope—to get stationed here so that he can help me succeed from the inside.

  “Well, I have to be getting back,” Ted tells me. “I’m so glad you and Ms. Donovan are enjoying your stay. I think you’ll really enjoy working alongside the Second Chancers. Give my best to Ms. Donovan and I’ll keep in touch.”

  I wave goodbye and sink back into the bubbles for a few minutes. Future of Thera? There’s something I’m missing, but it’s eluding me. All that focus on Kira has really messed up my concentration.

  As I’m about to get up, another guy joins me in the hot tub. He looks a couple years older than me. Dark hair. Blue eyes. The kind of guy that girls would kill their best friend to get near, and the kind of guy I want nowhere near Kira. Unless he’s a total oaf, he could get a girl to Cleave him just by smiling her way. His only flaw is a shimmery scar on his chest, but I’m sure the war story to go with it would just endear him to the ladies even more. I wonder what he’s doing here and why he went under the knife.

  “I didn’t know there were any other Recruits right now,” I say to him. “I’m Blake Sundry.” I offer my hand, which he shakes.

  “My name’s Ethan. And, technically, I’m not a Recruit. I’m an Intern,” he responds.

  “What’s the difference between a Recruit and an Intern?”

  “Probably not much.” He laughs. “Except, I don’t work with the Second Chancers. Instead, I’m bogged down in tabletwork hundreds of files long. Consider yourself lucky.”

  “Are you from here?” I ask, interested to know whether he’s an Earthling or Theran.

  “That’s a long and complicated story. Let’s just say that my parents live in the city, and I spend my summers here,” he says with a tone that leads me to believe he doesn’t love the arrangement. He takes a couple deep breaths and adds, “How are you enjoying the program? Being treated well? Did you get a decent partner?”

  “So far, so good,” I reply. “It’s a lot to take in. And I got a fabulous partner—Kira. She’s amazing. Smart, organized, fun—and beautiful.” Have to keep up the illusion that Kira and I are an item for anyone who might be listening in. I blush, and I stop myself from bragging too much. He looks unhappy, seems to be clenching his teeth. Maybe he got a not-so-perfect partner.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that a guy has fallen in love with his female counterpart.” In a hushed tone, he adds, “Just be careful. If you Cleave her, your placement here becomes permanent.”

  “I know that, and I never said I was in love with her,” I object, grimacing at the “L” word that I decided never to use again after my Bailey ordeal. Gads. Why would he assume that? So I occasionally have unclean thoughts about her—who wouldn’t? The girl’s gorgeous. Her strawberry blond hair falls into curls without electronic help, although she’s equally pretty when she straightens her hair. Her green and gold eyes are large and widespread. She has lush, full lips. Distinct cheekbones with a sprinkling of freckles give her a touch of the “all-American girl” image. Her body is fabulous with plenty of curve and muscle but zero fat. She’s neither too short nor too tall. And that’s just her looks. Her personality’s even better with an incredible combination of smart, flirty, fun, and nice. Almost too nice, in fact. She gets more upset at her tablet than any person. With people, she seems to have an automatic filter that keeps her from saying an unkind word, except where Ted Rosenberg is concerned.

  “There are some girls that just have that effect on guys,” he says. “I should know. I fell for a girl like that myself. I met her at a party and knew she was the perfect girl for me. Now I’m ruined for life. I don’t even want to ever look at another girl.” I hear the men of Thera collectively rejoicing, myself included.

  I size him up. The men of Thera, Earth, and every other planet in the universe would feel even safer if this boy was Cleaved and off-limits for the eternities. “Shouldn’t you already be Cleaved? You sure look older than eighteen.”

  “I fall under a different jurisdiction, although, my parents would love to have me Cleave anyway.” He gets a little fidgety and starts to run his fingers across his thumbs in a nervous manner.

  “So why not Cleave this girl you are so madly in love with?” I ask. Maybe he just needs a little push in the right direction. “Does she feel the same way?”

  He chokes out the words. “I thought she did…feel the same way, but my parents have forbidden me from seeing her—for now at least—so it’s not like I can even ask her.”

  “Why would they do that?” Perhaps I should have a little chit-chat with his parental units—after I barricade the guy in the locker room so that he doesn’t have a chance to come out and meet Kira. I realize I’m being ridiculously territorial over a girl I’ll never have a future with, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  “My parents think she has had too much going on and that I would be a distraction,” he explains. “Plus, they’re not sure I’m worthy of her.” Let me get this straight. He’s plenty old enough to make his own decisions but is letting his parents keep him from his one true love? Seriously, dude, grow a backbone.

  “Not worthy? That sounds like a bunch of crap.”

  “I was born with a heart defect, and the doctors didn’t think I would make it. It took a bunch of surgeries to fix the problem. Now my parents have a bunch of people trying to convince them that I’ll saddle my future mate with bad genes and that all our babies will be born defective like me.” I think back to what Ted said about Assisted Pregnancies being all about making sure only healthy babies get born. Was Ethan the impetus for this rule or an exception to it, I wonder.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I respond. “Why do you listen to them?”

  “The punishments my parents dish out aren’t worth the rebellion.” He shudders as if he’s picturing being water boarded or having toes chopped off. He’s an adult, and his parents still punish him? Uh, he really needs to get a life. Of course, I’m only two months away from being eighteen, and I’m doing my father’s bidding, so who am I to judge?

  “Your parents know her? The girl?”

  “My dad does,” he says. “She, uh, kind of works for him. So he thinks he knows what’s best for both of us.” Well, there was your first mistake—falling for one of daddy’s employees.

  “I hear you on the father front. My dad is super controlling too.” I try to make him feel like less of a wimp than he clearly is. “Aren’t you worried that the girl might fall for someone else while your parents have their moratorium going on?”

  “That’s exactly what keeps me up at day.” He stares off into the distance. “It would kill me if I lost her to another guy.”

  I nod at him. Poor guy. I feel for him…kind of. He definitely got himself into a crappy situation. “So you’re ready for the whole deal—commitment, kids, the works?”

  He pauses before answering. “Before I met her—no way. But now? Yes, I think I am. If I hadn’t felt that mind-blowing, world-altering connection with her, I wouldn’t even consider it. If I’m going to be with someone forever, she has got to be the one and only, you know. And I’m pretty sure this girl is it for me. She’s all I can think about.” What a sap. But he’s right, if you’re going to be forced to be with someone for freaking decades, that person would have to be pretty perfect.

  “Wow. I’m so not there yet. Just the thought scares the crap out of me.” Now it’s my turn to shudder.

  “All the more reason to keep your impulses in check, then.” He gives me a half-cocked grin. “All it takes is one slip-up here, and there are no do-overs.”

  “Well, hey. I’ve got to go meet back up with Kira. We get to go walk the canyons, and it’s my favorite time of the night,” I tell him.

  “I bet. You take care of her—your partner. She sounds pretty incredible.” I give him a slightly evil glare. I don’t want this guy to even be thinking of Kira at all, much less thinking she’s incredible.

  “Sure” I g
et out and shake off the water before grabbing a towel. “Good luck with your girl. I hope it works out between the two of you.”

  “Me too. I’ve just got to be patient and trust that it will.” His head and shoulders are slumped, and his body language screams defeat.

  Man, I hope I’m never in a situation like his. What if I did fall for Kira? What if I couldn’t be with her, and she fell for another guy? I wince at the thought of being so smitten that I lose sight of the important things in life. Like winning freedom for the Exilers.

  “The grave is but a covered bridge leading from light to light, through a brief darkness.”

  —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kira

  I am so frustrated. This whole fake relationship with Blake is getting to me. Right now, I don’t know what to think.

  Blake makes me breakfast every night. I make dinner. He flirts constantly. I pretend to pretend to love it, since I actually do relish the idea of someone liking me. And he’s very interesting—well versed in many topics so that we never run out of things to talk about. We walk every night in the canyon, starting well before dawn. All the hand holding, brushing of my cheek with his fingers, kisses on the cheek, and longing looks into my eyes while discussing our conspiracy theories is making me a little psycho.

  Is it all for show or does he have feelings for me? I get the strong impression he hasn’t made up his mind either way. Attraction-wise, he falls short of Ethan, but he has grown on me. Personality-wise, I’m less sold. He’s volatile—sweet one minute and snippy the next. This makes me wary. I’m not sure I can trust him.

  We take a walk in the canyons at sunrise the morning before our evening transfer to student housing. Things seem particularly awkward between us. Tonight we’ll be meeting the infamous Second Chancers. We have no idea who we’ll be rooming with or what classes we’ll be taking. Despite a full week’s training, I have little idea of what working with the Second Chancers entails. Blake’s super tense, and I’m uber-hormonal and a little too attracted to him after watching him run and lift weights The yoga and meditation didn’t work for me tonight.

  We stop near the bottom of the canyon, and to breach the awkward silence, I pipe up with “I’m dying to know who the Second Chancers are.” My thoughts turn to my conversation with Brad Darcton and potential sighting of Ethan. Could he really be one of them? “I mean, do you really think we’ll know some of them.”

  “How would I know?” Blake says in a nasty tone, and then, as usual, catches himself and adds, “Sorry. I…uh…am just a little stressed out. I wish I could answer all your questions and put your mind at ease, but I think we just need to let it play out.” He turns his head and looks like he’s in physical pain. I lean in to whisper that it’s okay, I don’t expect him to answer all my questions, when his head snaps back and our lips meet.

  What’s worse than a kiss with someone you aren’t quite sure if you like? An accidental where both parties are unsure of their feelings. As soon as the sensation registers in his brain, he takes a full step back and buries his head in his hands. I step back the other way leaving an uncomfortable four foot distance between us. What can I say that will ease the tension? Not much. That unplanned first kiss rates a one on a scale of one to ten.

  Before I can get a word in Blake chimes a “Crap, crap, crap. That should not have happened.”

  I fold my arms defensively and spit out my response. “Crap? That’s what you have to say about accidentally kissing me? I thought that was next step for our fake relationship. Won’t the watchers be expecting it?”

  “Sure, Kira, yeah I’m sure they’re expecting it, wanting it, but I am just pretty worried that you’re going to regret doing it.”

  “I already do,” I snap. “But wait a sec. Me? You think I kissed you? Hardly. But whatever. You can pretend like you don’t like me. I’ll pretend like I don’t like you—which will be easy given that I don’t a big chunk of the time. Forget that it ever happened. I already have. It was completely, freaking forgettable.”

  He ignores my poor review of the non-kiss. “Yeah, Kira, you like me in the ‘we’ve been thrown together and I’m the only one you can really talk to’ sense. But you love Tristan, not me, and well, I just don’t know if the whole thing is kosher. I can’t compete with your perfect dead boyfriend.” This upsets me, and I raise my voice to respond. He’s going to blame it on my dead boyfriend now? And when did we go from fake relationship to implying it could be real? I swear this guy’s brain damaged.

  “Tristan is dead! How I feel or felt about him doesn’t really matter does it? And he was far…no, miles away from perfect. I’ve only met one guy I thought was perfect—ironically the night of the Goodington party. He was some college guy. We instantly clicked, but I stupidly blew him off because of Tristan—who was busy kissing my best friend, Bri, at the time.”

  Blake grimaces at my mention of Tristan’s indiscretion. He says, “That sucks. But it doesn’t mean that we’re right for each other or should even contemplate making this whole deal anything other than a cover. I don’t hear you calling me perfect.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned Ethan, even if I didn’t do so by name. He adds, “Why are people always meeting the perfect people at parties, anyway? Gads. That’s the second time tonight I heard that.”

  I cock my head and give him a puzzled look, guessing which of the few people we’ve run across would be the type to be at a party. Not seeing it. “Well, with any luck you’ll be rid of me come tonight and will only have to see me at school.” I snarl.

  “I’m not trying to avoid you, Kira. We won’t stop being partners just because we’re relocating. Just promise me that no matter what happens you aren’t going to hate me…that you’ll still have my back?”

  He’s right. Given he’s the only person I know from home, I’m stuck with him. “Sure. I still have your back.”

  I arise before my wakeup call for the first time, reeling from Blake’s psychotic reaction to our happenstance kiss, and longing for Bri who listened to me overanalyze every aspect of my relationship with Tristan for more than a year without complaint. She would have some useful advice or witty thing to say about my situation that would calm my nerves and make me think that there’s still hope. My attempts to imagine what she’d say fall flat and even her image in my memory is faded, ever so slightly. I sob for the remainder of my shower as I realize I’ve let my training and confused feelings about Blake crowd out my memories of Tristan and Bri. And even though I came here to do just that, I hate myself for allowing it to happen so fast.

  Today, or I guess tonight—I’m still working on the terminology shift—I get back some sense of normalcy with the return to school. Even though the format will be different and the kids will be strangers, I’ll still be surrounded by teens and have a routine of homework and activities to keep me grounded. It won’t just be Blake and me, and that alone will help me figure out if my “crush” is just situational or something real.

  Blake must not have slept well either because he’s already making breakfast when I leave my room. I’m fidgety since I feel like I should be packing, given we are moving, but there’s nothing to take. Our notes from our training sessions have already been transferred to our new tablets, and everything will be provided at our new residences. We both pick at our food and keep conversation to a minimum as we wait to be fetched by our escort. Any light-hearted, joking atmosphere Blake and I had disappeared post accidental kiss. I figure I’m in for a whole lot of awkward.

  Our escort arrives promptly at 1900 hours. I am hoping to avoid an evening pit stop at the clinic, but have no such luck. In fact, they do a longer workup than usual, including another full abdominal ultrasound. The technician looks a little worried as he scans my belly and calls in the doctor to confer, who informs me I have a small lesion that will need surgical correction. I freak at the mention of surgery, but the doctor assures me that it’s a very minor procedure done with a local anesthetic, and that I�
��ll be in and out in an hour. He schedules the procedure to be done at the school clinic a couple evenings from now and sends me on my way. Thank goodness I didn’t eat a big breakfast, or I would’ve lost it all over him.

  Our escort takes us on an amusement park-ride style train, traveling eight or nine stops before exiting through a set of tall glass doors at the GARDEN CITY HIGH stop. Two rights and three lefts later, we’re through a set of double doors and at an outdoor walkway similar to the one at the training center, though this one has periodic ramps and staircases up to another level above. I lean over the rail and note that this canyon looks the same as the last one. We walk the equivalent of three city blocks and are motioned up a ramp to our right onto a lovely porch overlooking the canyon below which at this hour is a sea of dazzling lights.

  “This is your new home,” our escort informs us.

  “Wait a second.” I’m confused. “Mine or Blake’s?”

  “You are partners, so, of course, you will be sharing housing.”

  “Who are our roommates? A couple other students?” I ask hopefully.

  “Just the two of you, as you are the only two Recruits serving at Garden City High right now, and we never mix Recruits with Second Chancers,” he explains. “But you are surrounded by other students who you’ll meet shortly.” I shove a finger in my mouth and start chewing my nail as I contemplate a year of unsupervised cohabitation. Now I’m positive they want us to Cleave and be stuck here forever.

  “Sweet.” Blake tries to diffuse the tension and maintain our cover. “Let’s take a look.” He grabs my hand and pulls me inside, and then whispers in my ear. “Chill. It’ll be fine.” I nod at him, and we proceed to walk through the rooms of our new home. No way it will be fine. A whole year of awkward? You’ve got to be kidding me.

  The house is identical to the Cleaved housing residence we’d toured and in immaculate condition. Elaborate tromp l’oeil three-dimensional garden paintings cover every wall and, like the other paintings we’d seen, do not resemble the landscape of Garden City. Where on Thera do they get their inspiration?