Dove Arising

by Karen Bao

  The probability that Umbriel will do something stupid is approximately 80 percent. He’ll throw everything away to find me. Dovetail and Sol Eta will contact him, if they haven’t already, and drag him into all this.

  To get back at me, the Committee might use Nash, Orion, and my other friends in sadistic ways I can’t fathom. For their own good, I hope their allegiance to the Bases is stronger than their attachment to me.

  As I sort through the horrible thoughts, as the names echo in my head—Vinasa, Leo, Belinda, Mom, Anka, Cygnus—I realize something that nearly makes me jump over the side of the boat.

  People would be better off if they’d never met me.

  “Phaet?” Wes peers at me, concern stamped on his every feature.

  “Yes?”

  He gingerly scratches his nose, right over the freckles. “I wanted to hear you speak. You were being extremely quiet.”

  I continue being extremely quiet. I wish he’d stop interrogating me and scoop me up like a baby, but he’s the wrong person for the job. He’s not Umbriel, and he’s not Mom.

  After a time, Wes tries again. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m—I’m lost.”

  “I don’t know where we are either.” He chuckles darkly.

  Wes turns to the side and contemplates the gentle, glinting waves. The copper wires of his hair have strayed from their strict parallel formation; tickled by the breeze, they liquefy, moving fluidly across his head. Though he doesn’t make eye contact again, he slips his pinky finger over mine and squeezes for a moment. It’s a singular gesture, but it’s what I need.

  I lean my head over the side of the boat. The water is opaque, bedrock nowhere in sight. I know Earth’s oceans are kilometers deep—the thought makes me fidgety. So I stop trying to find the sea floor and bring my attention back to the rippling surface.

  In the water, the reflection blurred by the waves’ motion, is someone neither old nor young, her expression neither sanguine nor agitated. If anything, this person looks tired, frayed. Strands of oily hair have fallen out of her droopy, weeping-willow bun.

  I haven’t examined myself in a mirror for a long time. With painful curiosity I unwind my bun and undo my braid, finger-combing the long, dirty hair. Nets of black come away in my fingers, and I cast them sacrificially into the ocean. Most of what’s left is coarse and gray.

  A tickle on my ear distracts me from the old-young girl in the water. I reach my hand up and find a feather, soft and light, as pure white as undiluted sun.

  Far above me are wings of that same color, riding currents of wind across the earthen sky before blending into a cumulus cloud.

  Land must be close. The thought turns the predominantly blue scene around me rosy with hope. When Wes clasps the feather between his fingers, twirling it before my eyes, I let myself laugh in disbelief.

  A dove has welcomed us to Earth.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Without the following people, this book wouldn’t have left my computer’s hard drive. Thanks to:

  Kendra Levin, my editor, for her unwavering efforts to shape the manuscript into something we both could be proud of. Ken Wright, who created a cozy niche at Viking for the series. Alex Ulyett, for lending a hand in the whole process and for some really insightful comments.

  Simon Lipskar, my agent, for believing in me, and Genevieve Gagne-Hawes, for a rocking year of edits. Every time I start to think writing isn’t so hard, the two of you set me straight. Cecilia de la Campa, Phaet’s champion abroad. Joe Volpe, for read-throughs, logistics, and picture books.

  Christopher Paolini: storyteller, role model, friend.

  My teachers, who have inspired me more than they know.

  Friends in Baltimore, New York, Princeton, and beyond, for pulling me through these past few years. Here’s to shenanigans forever.

  Mom, Dad, and Larry, who have shared my life from the beginning.

  And thanks to you, reader. I’m glad you came along.

  KAREN BAO is a writer, musician, and aspiring scientist. She has a brother three years younger than her and a violin sixty years older than her. Born in California and raised in New Jersey, she currently studies environmental biology at college in New York City. Karen began writing Dove Arising at the age of seventeen. Visit her at karenbaobooks.com.

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