by Lisa Jade
When I pull back, I’m stunned to find the beginnings of tears in my eyes.
Cherise watches me closely, her gaze flitting from my eyes to my hands.
“I take it that’s a good sign?”
I open my mouth to reply, then think better of it and usher her closer.
“What?”
“Just… look.”
She does as I ask. I half expect her to pull back with a bored expression on her face, or to fire a puzzled look my way. But instead, she moves closer. Her body tenses. I glance up, following her gaze, I can see why.
There’s a shooting star in the distance, softly fading in and out. It casts an eerie glow around itself, adding a hint of movement to the already-shimmering night sky. Instantly, all the unease in my stomach vanishes. People can think what they like. I don’t care. This feeling is all I’ve ever wanted.
“Wow. That’s actually pretty cool.”
Cherise pulls away, a wistful look on her face. It makes me happy. Nobody else has ever given it a chance. Even now, she doesn’t really get it. There’s no twinkle of understand in her eyes, no shared passion between us. But as she meets my eyes, I get the distinct feeling she doesn’t think I’m quite so lost.
“What do I owe you?” I ask, “for the lens, I mean.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What? But I need to give you something.”
“Anything I want?”
“Anything I can give.”
She watches me for a long moment, then smirks.
“Bring me back something cool.”
“Huh?”
“When you go to space. I bet there’s all kinds of incredible stuff on Orithyia. They’re supposed to be more advanced than us, especially medically. So if you want to pay me back, then bring me something awesome.”
I bite my lip.
“I haven’t been accepted yet, you know. And even if I am, I’ll be gone for at least two years…”
“Then I’ll wait. I’m in no hurry.”
With that she stands, stretching one arm high overhead.
“I’ll leave you in peace then, shall I?”
“You don’t have to. You can map the stars with me if you like.”
“Thanks, but it’s not my thing. Pretty, though, I’ll give you that.”
She turns to walk away, but I clear my throat.
“Hey. One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
I bite my lip. Cherise seems much more accepting than everyone else around here, but I still can’t risk it. I pull the telescope a little closer to my chest.
“Don’t tell my Dad I was out here again,” I plead, “he doesn’t understand.”
She scoffs.
“Who does? Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word. He probably knows, though.”
“If he knew, he’d be furious. He doesn’t think I should go.”
She hesitates at that.
“It’s not up to anyone else. You think my parents want me living a life of crime?”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Same reason you’re out here,” she says, “because I have to. And neither of us are going to stop just because people tell us no.”
I stare.
“Hold up… do you actually think I can do this?”
She shrugs, stuffing her hands into her pockets.
“I don’t know, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
I don’t reply; there’s nothing to say.
Three
Dad’s waiting for me when I return.
He’s sitting in the shadowed living room, eyes fixed on the door, when I walk in. My breath catches in my throat, and I briefly consider coming back in the morning. But I’ve nowhere else to go, and the worried lines on his face are enough to alarm me.
“Hey,” I say weakly.
For a brief moment, anger fills his face. It’s strange – normally we get along famously, but when his face contorts like that, I feel almost frightened of him.
“Quinn.”
I shudder.
“Yes?”
“How old are you?”
I gulp hard, fighting to ignore his gaze.
“Twenty.”
“Is a twenty-year-old an adult?”
I hesitate. While I’d like to say yes, I know that’s not what he’s asking. In Pyre we reach adulthood at twenty-one; and until that age, our parents are responsible for us.
“No. It’s not.”
He stands, walking towards me with conflict burning in his eyes. He doesn’t want to scold me. He never does.
“I woke up in the night. And guess what I found?”
“What?”
“A little flashing light on the door’s computer, telling me that someone wasn’t home.”
I wince. That damn computer has caught me out more times than I can count; but there’s no way around it. It won’t open without my ID.
“Oh.”
“So, where have you been?”
It’s a trap. He knows exactly where I’ve been; he always knows. He wants me to confess. Something rebellious stirs in my gut. Fine. If he wants a confession, he’ll get one.
So I meet his gaze with a stern look.
“I’ve been at the Drop-off. But you already knew that.”
“Yes, I figured that’s where you were. Do you mind explaining to me what you were doing out there?”
For the briefest of moments, I hesitate. He wants me to apologise, to tell him that I made a stupid decision. He wants me to concede in this argument that’s been going on between us for months. I set my jaw.
“Stargazing. I even took this with me.”
I tug the telescope out of my rucksack and brandish it. I know this isn’t okay. That I’m being rude and terribly disrespectful. But something about the building anger in his eyes makes me want to fight back.
Even after all this time, he doesn’t understand.
Fury flashes in Dad’s eyes and he rounds on me, snatching the object from my hands and throwing it aside.
“Hey!” I cry, “that’s delicate equipment!”
“I told you not to go out there any more, Quinn! What if something happened?”
“Nothing happened, Dad! Nothing ever happens. Nobody has fallen off Pyre in years.”
“You’re tempting fate every time!”
“That’s not what you’re angry about,” I snap, “it never is. You just don’t trust me to go. Just like you don’t trust me to go on the Neptune.”
“Because it’s dangerous!”
“No! You just don’t want me to go because you think…”
I trail off, unable to say the words.
Because you think I’ll leave you like she did.
I can’t say it. Despite my anger, I know it would hurt him to mention her. Dad was broken when she left. Mentioning her might destroy him all over again.
His anger hasn’t subsided, though. He rounds on me again.
“What? I think what?”
“You… you don’t think I should go to Orithyia.”
He pauses.
“What?”
“You don’t, do you? You haven’t said it, but it’s true. You don’t want me to go.”
He steps back, his face falling. We’ve had this argument so many times now, and every time we throw the same empty words at one another until we can’t stand to be around each other for a moment longer. A few days will pass in awkward silence after this, and then we’ll carry on like nothing ever happened.
“W-what I want doesn’t matter,” he stammers, “this is about you being irresponsible and…”
“If you really wanted me to be happy, you’d support me in this. But instead, you get angry and irritable every time I mention the Companion Scheme. Maybe I wouldn’t have to sneak around if you were on my side from the start.”
His expression falters. I can almost see his fury dissipating, replaced by guilt.
“You’re my daughter. I’m always on your side.”
“
I don’t believe you.”
I try to bite back on the anger that’s been building in me over the past few months, but it’s too late. It rushes to the surface again, just like it does every time.
“I know people think I’m weird, and I’m used to that,” I hiss, “I can deal with everyone else thinking I’m bound to fail. But not you. You’re the only person in the world who’s actually supposed to support me, and you don’t.”
“Nobody ever comes back from Orithyia, you know that.”
Yes. I know. I’ve heard the stories from those left behind. The messages from Orithyia tell of an incredible world, more advanced than anything we know on Earth. They describe a heavenly planet where nothing seems to go wrong, where this kind of genetic segregation is unheard of. Personally, I have no intention of staying once I arrive; but nobody seems to believe me.
“It’s always the same issue, Dad. You don’t trust me, and you don’t think I can make the right decision for myself.”
“That’s not true. I’m just concerned for you. How do you plan to continue after your journey is over? I worry about you making these choices so young.”
“Didn’t you choose to move from the Mainland at nineteen?”
He hesitates.
“That was different.”
“No, it wasn’t. You were younger than I am now. Why could you make that choice?”
He opens his mouth to reply, then seems to think better of it and allows his jaw to close. He tears his gaze from mine, and my eyes are drawn to the uncontrolled shaking in his fingers. This is hard for him. I might be far from the model child he wishes I could be, but I’m all he has left of her. He doesn’t want to keep me around for some loving, fatherly, over-protective reason. It’s because of those last few shreds of her DNA in my bones, the scraps of genetic material that remind him of her. If he can keep me around, even by force, then he doesn’t have to ever let her go.
Suddenly, all the fight is gone from my body. I’m fed up of this argument. I’m fed up of the two of us snapping at one another, and the horrible stints of silence that follow. Until recently we never argued. Now it feels constant.
I need to go on the Neptune – and I’ll do anything to make it happen. Even if it means Dad feels alienated, or even abandoned. I won’t let anyone take this away from me.
“I know what happens next,” I mutter, slumping on the nearest step, “you’ll remind me that I’m only twenty. I know I need your permission to leave the planet, and that you won’t sign anything until you’re certain I can take care of myself. There’s no point even going over it, is there? We’re never going to resolve this.”
Dad sits down too, folding his hands together in an attempt to stop the shaking. He looks as fed up as I feel. Bored with the whole thing.
“Maybe it’s time we settle this, once and for all,” he breathes.
“Perhaps. So, let’s be honest. Are you going to let me go?”
“I am. If you’re certain this is what you want.”
“It is. Are you still scared I won’t come back?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be. This is my home. I’ll always come back. Don’t you trust me?”
He meets my eyes for a moment, then sighs. I can tell he doesn’t want to admit it. But he has to – because aside from breaking the occasional rule, I’ve never given him a reason to mistrust me before.
Eventually, he nods.
“Of course I trust you. So let’s make a deal.”
“A deal?”
He leans down, scooping the telescope from the floor and pushing it into my hands.
“If you can wait until the launch without going out there, I’ll let you go. I’ll sign whatever paperwork you need, and I’ll see you off with a smile.”
I take the telescope hesitantly, a little unnerved by his sudden change of heart.
“And all I have to do is not sneak out?”
“Yes. That, and stay out of trouble. I don’t want to hear about you getting into any fights with the Operators, or making any scenes on Main Street. The moment I hear about any trouble, I’ll withdraw the offer. I need to know that you can do this, Quinn. You need to prove it to me.”
I swallow hard. The Neptune launches in six months’ time. Can I really keep my eyes on the ground for that long? Some small part of me worries I might lose my passion for the night sky if I can’t look at it – but a stronger voice speaks over it.
If this is the only way to get what I want, and have Dad’s support, then I’ll do it.
I wake to the unmistakeable scent of bacon.
Must be Alice. The kitchen’s never stocked and though I think Dad knows how to cook, he never actually does it. Our meals have been jarred and freeze-dried for years now.
I kick off the blanket and roll over in bed, last night’s conversation still ringing in my head. I’d promised Dad that I would stay out of trouble and prove myself to him. Already that longing is building in my chest, the desire to go out to the Drop-off and map the stars; but I silence it. There will be plenty of time for stargazing when I’m on the Neptune, floating amongst them.
There are sounds coming from the kitchen. The scraping of knives on plates, the tinkling of glasses, the sound of light, hearty laughter. They both seem happy today. That’s good. I like it when they’re happy. I lift one arm and rest it across my head, trying to fall back into the perfect dream I was just having.
I can’t get back to it, though. I shift a little and feel a heavy lock of hair fall over my eyes. Gravity. I breathe in deeply. Oxygen. It’s all too real, too rough. The weightless feeling from my dream has gone now. Even so, I force my eyes closed and bury my face in the pillow. I know they’ll be wondering where I am, questioning why I didn’t come down for breakfast. But I’m tired. Perhaps it’s the effect of weeks of stress, or the relief that comes with finally having established some kind of middle ground with Dad, but I barely have the energy to lift my head.
It’s several hours later when a knock comes at my door.
“Quinn? Are you still asleep?”
I simply grunt in response. The blinding midday sun is forcing its way through the closed curtains. If it were up to me, I would roll over and fall back to sleep; but I probably shouldn’t. I’ve already slept half the day.
So when the door finally opens and Alice’s face appears around it, I sit up.
“I’m awake, I’m awake.”
“Finally. Took you long enough. Although I suppose you’re still tired from last night’s little excursion, am I right?”
Heat rushes to my face. I half expect another scolding; but to my surprise, there’s no anger in her face. If anything, she seems somewhat amused.
“Y-you’re not mad?”
She shrugs.
“I was at first. But then I heard about your little deal and I have to say, I think it’s great.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely,” she smiles, “this way you’ll stay out of trouble, and he’ll be satisfied that you’re serious about this.”
“I’ve always been serious.”
“I know that. But on the Neptune, you’ll be taking care of someone a lot more demanding than Dad. It doesn’t hurt to practice following the rules.”
She makes a good point. If I have to obey to some snob for two years, I may as well get into the habit of obedience now.
But then she smiles a little brighter, and I find myself returning the gesture.
“Is Dad still mad at me?” I ask.
She shuffles uncomfortably, swinging on my bedroom door.
“He’s not mad, per se. I think he’s just a little sulky now he’s realised you’ll actually be leaving. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. But right now…”
“So he is.”
“He’ll get over it. I think he’s just a little sad to think you’re going.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, nearly hitting the low-hanging bulb with my head.
“Should I just leave now, before
he spots me?”
It’s intended to be a joke, nothing more – but the hesitation in her eyes gives me pause.
“Wait, seriously?”
“No. You should definitely say good morning. Just… maybe tell him you’re going out for the day. Somewhere harmless, like the park.”
“Good idea. I can’t possibly get in trouble there.”
“That’s the idea,” she smirks, “just make sure you behave, okay? Don’t get into any fights.”
I’m already yanking on a pair of jeans and scraping my hair back into something half-way presentable.
“Honestly, you both think the worst of me. I’ve never actually been in a real fight, you know. I might have a short fuse, but I’m not about to go looking for trouble.”
“Be sure you don’t. This is important, Quinn. I want to see you happy, too. Dad won’t sign your release papers unless you behave, so please take this seriously. Just don’t screw it up, okay?”
I flash her a toothy grin.
“Trust me.”
Dad doesn’t speak much. Even when I stand beside him in the living room, he fights to avoid my gaze. I don’t get it; any trace of anger I had from yesterday is gone now, faded away into nothing. But I can still feel his frustration, simmering just beneath the surface. It seems out of place on his normally-serene face.
It’s only when I announce that I’m leaving that he finally looks at me.
“Where are you going?”
It’s a loaded question, a trap ready to be sprung. There are plenty of places I could be going. A lot of ways I could be getting into trouble.
“For a walk,” I say simply. His eyebrows raise.
“Just a walk?”
“Yeah. I’ve been running every day lately and frankly, I’m exhausted. I’m going to take it easy today and just take a walk around town.”
He glances out of the nearest window, a glum expression on his face.
“Looks like rain. You should take a coat.”
“I don’t mind a little rain,” I object, “I’ll be around Main Street, if you need me. See you later, alright?”
He opens his mouth to object, but I’m already gone.
Dad was right. About the rain, that is. I hold one hand in front of me as I walk, watching the tiny, delicate droplets stream from my fingertips. The middle of town doesn’t get much in the way of weather. It’s too sheltered. So we have sprinklers that sometimes get switched on overhead to water gardens and clear streets - and make us forget that we’re on a floating tin can.