“I know.” And suddenly, in his presence, the rage turns to a weight that I’m desperate to shake off. That my lightness can never fix. My fingers play at the back of his neck.
“What are we going to do?” He raises his eyebrows, and his mouth turns down at the corners.
For a split second, all I can think of is his mouth, and how we haven’t really kissed since we’ve seen each other again. But there’s only thing I want to do more than kiss him: Get the hell out of here.
“How do you feel?” I whisper.
“This was what I needed,” he responds. “You. You’re like a battery charger.”
This makes perfect sense to me. I never realized the power of the buzz until Elias left and I didn’t feel it anymore.
“Yeah. Yeah, me, too.” I look him straight in the eye. “Time to go?”
“Time to go.”
I crane my neck from the direction we came, toward the flat field covering the Hub, looking for signs of smoke or flame. Nothing. No shouts, not a smell. The Hub is as quiet and dignified as ever, even when its very center has just exploded. Only the occasional chirp of a songbird pierces the silence.
The whole world has changed, and not even the sparrows have noticed.
THIRTY
The cold has injected a shock of vibrancy into the broad, brush-stroked colors that paint the horizon. Indigo layered with gold highlighted by burning ochre, playing against the deep brooding gray-blue of snow clouds rolling in.
The spindly skeleton of a windmill traces a hard framework against the masterpiece, jolting me back to reality.
My heart jumps. We have to get far away. Find someone who can help us figure out what these formulas all do. The Social Justice Hub to the West? Warfare to the South? Neither seems good. Seeking help at one feels inevitable. I shudder.
Elias must think it’s because I’m cold because he rubs my arms, trying to warm them.
“That’s how they used to get electricity from the wind, before the turbines,” Elias says, his voice having taken on a soothing cadence. It’s comforting that I can’t hear the anger there even though I know it’s just beneath the surface. For now, I need that.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, and a choke strangles my throat. Still, this is the one thing I need him to know — need him to be absolutely certain of, without a second thought. “I didn’t know, Elias, or I would have… We could have… I would have listened to you. I’m…” The tears come, slow, creeping down my cheek one at a time. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he says simply.
“You should have told me,” I say, my voice a bit stronger.
I feel more solid in myself, my whole self, my One self, than I ever have in my whole life, even though I just apologized — something that used to feel like losing myself. For the first time, I know for sure that I will not float away. I am in control of this moment. I am in control of myself. I push my shoulders back.
“I know,” he says, looking down at me, straight into my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t say anything. Can’t make any words come out of my mouth. I’m sorry, and he’s sorry, but neither of us is. Not that the whole thing happened. Not really. This has cemented what we always thought. We don’t belong at the Hub, and we don’t belong at Nelson. The only place we really belong is with each other.
Our breaths are quiet, shallow and waiting. The white cloud of steam coming from my lips brushes Elias’s arm. We are standing too close to be comfortable not saying anything, not doing anything.
“I heard what you said to your Mom about me,” he murmurs. “At the Hub. When I was waking up.”
“How I wasn’t leaving without you?”
“Yeah. That, too.” A smirk spreads across his face, growing bigger with each breath he catches.
I half-turn and snake my arms around his waist, falling into him, burying my face in his chest. I savor the feel of my heart swelling with it. Love. His and mine.
“It…uh…it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Hmmm?” Elias hums into my hair, breathing deeply. He’s smelling it again, and for the first time, I don’t care. I’m amazed he can still find the shampoo’s perfume — whatever it is — with all the smokiness, dirt, woods and cold that must be laced through it now.
“Well. The only reason it worked with Michael and Max, and Nora and Lia — the transference, I mean — is because of how close they were. Are.”
“It’s not true transference for them.” He rubs the tops of my arms protectively. “They’re not Ones. They already have those Supers. They just get stronger when they’re together.”
“Right. Yes. We’re different. But the only reason we can actually transfer our powers to each other is because of how close we are. Because I — I mean, we — I mean I — feel this way. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. Never felt this way about anyone, Elias.”
He draws back, still holding on to the tops of my arms, and beams. “Well, you might as well just say it now.”
“Yeah. Might as well.” I smile at him with my lips still closed and try to make my eyes tell him everything I’m thinking. He smiles back the same way and draws me to him again.
After our teeth have stopped chattering, he stops holding me so tightly, and the telltale vibration takes the place of the shiver. The warmth. The buzz. So intense now, I can barely stand it. Suddenly, faith surges through me so hard and fast that it almost knocks me off my feet. I let one of my arms drop, and we stand there, side-to-side, fingers interlaced, gazing into the crisp, gray-white Nebraska sky.
“Ready?” Elias asks.
I squeeze his hand, hard. I nod, and my heart jumps. With all the things I’ve had to say in the last couple of hours, somehow, this is the hardest.
“That’s not why I love you, you know. I don’t love you because you make me fly. You make me fly because I love you.”
“Wait a minute,” Elias teases. “I didn’t hear that last part.”
My heart pounds as hard as it did that first night we walked beside a cornfield together. “I said,” I murmur, my eyes still trained on the horizon. “I love you.”
“You talking to me or the sky?”
“Both.” A grin cracks across my face. I still don’t look at him. He laughs once, the sound of release. My heart calms a little.
Then he swallows hard, bends down, cups his hand around my jaw, and kisses me, moving his lips hungrily against mine. I draw back and kiss him once more, light as a whisper of wind.
I take a deep breath, then stand tall at his side again. He bends down and kisses the top of my head.
“I love you,” he says into my hair, then pushes a shuddering breath outward. I nod, close my eyes, surprised by how happy it makes me to hear him say it, no matter how long I’ve known it. Since Homecoming. Since the first time we flew, maybe.
Something warm and heavy and exhilarating floods my whole body. I look up at him. He nods, then we both look up at the sky again. I drop his hand.
I take off first. The buzz from those three words propels me forward faster than ever before.
It takes me two seconds to memorize the feeling of flying on my own, its power and strength, the wind biting at every surface of my body.
It takes Elias a good 10 seconds more to catch up with me. I am the lighter one, after all.
It takes me no time at all to decide that even though I can fly without Elias, I don’t think I’ll ever want him to leave my side.
We join hands again, grinning like we did after the first time we kissed. When I remember that, my smile grows even wider. For a moment, we both forget what we’re leaving behind, what we must face ahead, because at least, at the very least, we have each other.
A shooting pain bursts through my body, under my skin. I don’t mind, though, because I know what it means we can now do. We grip hands tighter. Then we go so fast that a great ripple of air shakes the ground beneath us, and the world is nothing but a blur of color and light. I close my eyes, savoring
it.
I think we just went supersonic.
Elias and Merrin’s story continues in TWO, coming October, 2013...
Acknowledgements
Publishing a book is a labor of love for so many more people than just the author.
Jamie Grey, thank you for being the greatest editor, best friend, plan-hatcher, and constant support I could ever dream of. From publishing decision day to the release, you kept my chin up and my head in the game. I love you.
Thanks forever and ever to Trisha Leigh, my mentor and hand-holder. You and your books were the single greatest thing that made me believe that One could be a real, beautiful book. I love them and I love you.
Becca Weston, my incredible copyeditor, thank you so much for your eagle-eye, unparalleled patience, and willingness to work with me again despite my crazy. Jaclyn Hirsch, you were the most exacting proofreader I could have asked for – thanks for that, and for accepting payment in the form of Jeni’s ice cream.
Nathalia Suellen is the genius behind the cover of One and its sequel, Two. Nathalia, I can’t thank you enough for giving my debut a more beautiful face than I ever thought possible. You make dreams come true.
KP Simmon, my publicist – thank you so much for believing in One so fiercely, and for working tirelessly to get the word out. You, my friend, are a force of nature and a miracle worker.
Andrea Hannah and Megan Whitmer, you were my “Who cares how it’s published?” cheerleaders without fail. You two made my heart lighter when it was heavy. Thank you.
Thanks for reading the first page of One before I gave you permission, Chessie Zappia, and being its first fan. You don’t like that many books, so either you’re lying to me or this one is really good. I appreciate it, either way.
Alexa Hirsch, you are my number one fangirl and very first reader for everything I write. To have both those things in one person is quite a rarity. Thank you.
John Hansen, thank you for volunteering to be my assistant and throwing all your enthusiasm into this little project even before you knew whether you liked it. It was a brave thing, and I didn’t take it for granted.
Cat Scully, how did you know exactly the sort of book trailer One needed? It was brilliant and perfect, and I won’t forget your kindness and enthusiasm while creating it. Thank you.
To my first readers, Gina Ciocca, Maggie Hall, Jenny Kaczorowski, Marieke Nijkamp, Jessica Silva, A.K. Fontinos-Hoyer, Elizabeth Light, Amber Tuscan-Clites, and later readers Erica Chapman, Kat Ellis, Jani Grey, Abby Robertson, Cait Greer, Darci Cole, Sarah Blair, Angi Black, Naseoul Lee, Amanda Olivieri, Rachael Harrie, Deanna Romito, Emma Pass, and Valerie Cole, thank you for your incredible powers of critique, brainstorming, and encouragement. You all are rock stars.
Brittany Howard, you gave One a chance when no one else in publishing was willing to. I’ll never forget it. Thank you.
My street team is the best on the planet. All fifty-four of you came ready and willing to work, and work you did! From blog interviews to carting ARCs of One to local book shops to hijacking storefronts on Madison Avenue to tweeting and reviewing your butts off – you all were the groundswell that made One impossible to ignore. So, Rachel Simon, Stephanie Diaz, Michelle Smith, Olivia, Elyse G, Alex Brown, Nikki Diehm, Madison Louise, Rachel Solomon, Elizabeth Briggs, Tara Allen, Clare Davidson, Mark O’Brien, Jamie Krakover, Aimee Arnold, Morgan Hyde, Suzanne van Rooyen, Jolene Haley, Louise Gornall, Heidi Schulz, Leigh Caroline, Amber Mauldin, Samantha Sessoms, Raven, Ellie, Liz Lincoln, KK Hendin, Cassidy Monger, Sam Hager, Rachel O’Laughlin, Kaye M., J.C. Lillis, Caitlin O’Connell, Virginia Boecker, Tawney Bland, Helen Boswell, Jessica Ward, Paul Adams, Veronica Bartles, Louisse Ang, Catherine, Sarah Hudson, Carla Cullen, Becky Mahoney, Jessi Shakarian, Ashley Hufford, Hero London, Brianna Shrum, Lindsay Leggett, Sarah Wedgbrow, Dianne, Christine, Kelsey Macke, Chyna Ngie, Katalina Lee, Sarah Guillory, Joy Hensley, and Amy Zhang, thank you, thank you, thank you.
To my husband, David – Thank you for never treating my writing like a silly little hobby. From day one, you’ve supported me, and it’s just one reason I love you.
I love and appreciate you all so much more than the end pages of a book can express. So, one last time for good measure – thank you, thank you, thank you.
About the Author
Raised on comic books and classic novels, Leigh Ann developed an early love of science fiction and literature. As an adult, she rediscovered her love for not only reading, but also writing the types of fiction that enchanted her as a teen.
Leigh Ann, her husband, and four children live in Columbus, Ohio. When she’s not immersed in the world of fiction, you can find her obsessing over the latest superhero movie or using her kids as an excuse to go out for ice cream (again).
*~*
Read on for a sneak peek at two incredible upcoming Young Adult novels - Ultraviolet Catastrophe by Jamie Grey, and Wavecrossed by Andrea Lynn Colt....
Ultraviolet Catastrophe
by Jamie Grey
Available Fall 2013
Chapter One
You know your life is never going to be the same when your mom pulls a gun at the shopping mall. It started out as just another boring Saturday in August. Mom was tired of me moping around the house, so she dragged me out to spend the day shopping in the air-conditioned mall. About half of Columbus, Ohio, had the same idea.
We pushed through the crowds gathered around the Cinnabon and I paused to inhale, but Mom tugged me away from the sweet, cinnamony goodness. “Let’s get some school shopping done,” she suggested, pointing at one of the anchor stores. “I know we have a few more weeks, but you need some new clothes.”
I smoothed the front of my faded t-shirt and frowned. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
Mom shook her head, grabbed my sleeve. “Lexie, you look like you’re homeless. Look at the fraying at the hem. I’m going to get picked up for neglect.”
“Moooom.” I brushed my bangs out of my eyes and gave her my puppy dog expression. Not a typical girl thing to admit, but I hated shopping with a fiery passion.
She slung an arm around my shoulder. “Fine,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But when they haul me away, it’s on your head.”
“Ha ha. You’re so funny.” I let her lead me to the store anyway. If I was going to have to shop, at least Mom had pretty good taste. Even better, she usually paid for everything.
She headed for a table full of pastel-colored polo shirts and I wrinkled my nose. “Nothing yellow. I hate yellow.”
“I know. How about this purple one? It would look so pretty with your dark hair.”
I sighed and let her hold it against my chest. She chewed her lip and studied me for a moment before her gaze slid past me deeper into the store.
She stiffened, her hands turning to claws and digging into my shoulders.
“What?” I whipped around to look behind me.
Mom dropped the shirt on the table and shook her head. She’d gone pale, but pasted a smile to her face. “Nothing. I just don’t think purple is your color.” She peered past me again and clutched her purse closer to her side. “You know what? I’m not feeling so well. I think we should head home.”
I frowned at her. “Home? Seriously? You dragged me all the way to the mall just to turn around and go home? I should at least get a smoothie out of it or something.”
Her right hand slid into her purse and stayed there, like she was searching for something, but she kept her eyes trained on the back of the store. “I’m not dealing with your smart mouth right now, Lexie. Let’s go.”
She moved to grab my hand, but I jerked out of her grasp. “What is going on? Why are you being so weird?”
Her eyes darted around the store one last time before she turned to me. “Nothing. We just need to move.” Slowly she slid her hand out of her purse.
And I froze in place, gasping at the shiny black gun in her grip. Blood roared in my ears. “What the hell is that? Is that real?”
“I’m su
re you’ve seen a gun before. It’s for protection.” Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me from the store.
“Protection from what?” My voice threatened to erupt in a shriek and I swallowed back my fear. Oh my god. Had she gone crazy?
Something that felt like an electric shock zapped inside my brain, and the world spun. I clutched Mom’s arm as my mind lurched and sputtered. It felt like a computer had switched on inside my head, whirring and buzzing until it was all I could hear. My gaze focused in on the small details of the gun she tried to hide behind her purse - the curve of the handle, the faint etching on the barrel. Thoughts reeled through my head until they clicked in place. Instantly I recognized the gun was a .38 caliber, snub nose revolver by Smith and Wesson.
Even though I knew absolutely nothing about guns. Even though I’d only ever seen a gun on TV.
“What’s wrong, Lexie? Are you all right?” Mom tucked her hand, the gun still in it, into the pocket of her sweater before inspecting me with a worried gaze.
“Do you think I’m all right? You have a gun.” And my brain might be broken. It was enough to totally freak a girl out.
“Yes, I do. Now come on.” She tugged my arm and I let her speed walk me through the rest of the mall. I was still in too much shock to resist.
Mom and I burst through the glass doors, and as soon as the slap of the humid Ohio summer hit me, I found my voice. “Mom. Stop. What’s going on?”
She kept moving across the parking lot, despite the heat turning the pavement into a shimmering river. “Get in the car. We’ve got to go.”
I dug my heels in until she stopped. Crossed my arms. “How long have you had that thing? Do you even know how to use it?”
She threw a worried glance back at the mall doors, tucking a strand of her honey-colored hair behind her ears before turning to me. “We’re two single women living alone. It’s for our protection.”
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