The syrup on her fork dripped lower and Jeremiah jerked a hand out to catch the dribble before it touched the map. He lifted a brow at the drop on his palm, as she pulled her fork back. “Careful,” he said, sliding the map a bit further from the plates.
“Sorry.” Olive ducked her head and set her fork down.
“Like I was saying,” Jeremiah dipped a cloth napkin in his water and used it to wipe the syrup off his hand. “This map is the best I have, but it’s outdated.” He pointed to the large continent that covered the majority of the map. “When we flew over, they told me almost half of this is now underwater.”
The bombs were said to have reshaped the world, but Evalene had always found that hard to imagine. She stared at the roads, valleys, mountains, and deserts depicted on the map, wondering what the country looked like now.
Jeremiah pointed to the same spot the syrup had almost landed and nodded to Olive as he said, “You’re right. Hofyn is somewhere in this area. And it wasn’t the only island created during the war.”
“I thought that was just a myth?” Sol spoke up for the first time, reaching out to catch Olive’s drink right as she bumped it with her plate and it began to tip toward the map. Evalene held her breath, until he set the glass safely aside.
With a brotherly look, Jeremiah wagged a finger at Olive and began rolling up the map to put it away. “That’s what the Number One wanted us to think,” he said, pausing to point to the far side of the continent before he finished rolling it up. “But those I’ve spoken to in the Divided States confirmed that the geography on this side heavily expanded. There are entire new mountain ranges. Cliffs that cover the shoreline for miles.” He stood to tuck the long tube into a cubby against the wall with others like it. “I’ve drawn a basic sketch of the changes I know so far,” he said, tapping a smaller tube of paper next to the map he’d put away. “But we’ll wait until we’re done eating to look at that.” He gave Olive an exaggerated nod as he sat back down, and she smiled back at him as eggs fell off her fork, landing half on her plate and half on the table. Evalene bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
They sat in a moment of comfortable silence. Evalene stared at her food, lost in thought. She swallowed hard at the sudden emotions. “With your help, we might actually have a chance at finding my mother.”
But Jeremiah pursed his lips. “Every time I’ve traveled to the Divided States, I’ve only gone to one territory,” he said, “The same one the refugees sent your mother to, Old York. It stretches almost the entire length of the east coast.” He looked at Olive, “They’re like Hofyn, with advanced technology and BioGrading. And they’re very open to trade.” He paused, leaning forward on the table. “But they also have a massive wall built along their interior border. From what I understand, it’s for protection from the other territories.”
Evalene blinked in surprise at that. “But,” she hesitated, “does it even matter what’s on the other side? If we fly into Old York and my mother is there, we’ll never need to go outside the wall.”
Jeremiah frowned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck the way he did when he was unsure. “It’s hard to say until we get there. But we have to consider the possibility she might’ve gone to another territory. And even if she’s still in Old York, I expect it’ll take at least a week or two to find her. In fact, depending on where Pearl is, I’d guess this trip could take as many as two or three months.”
A heavy feeling of disappointment came over Evalene. It was too long. She peeked at Sol and Olive. While Sol sat as still as a statue, Olive’s forehead wrinkled as her brows rose. “Oh wow...”
“It’s okay,” Evalene told them. “I understand. You have lives here.”
But Olive shook her head. “You’re my family,” she declared, “I’m coming with you! Besides, I’ve always wanted to travel. I only have six more months before mom, dad, and Grandma Mae want me to come home, remember? There’s no way I’m going to miss this!”
Evalene smiled, feeling a huge weight lift off her shoulders at Olive’s enthusiasm. She was still adjusting to friends who truly cared and wouldn’t stab her in the back. “Good,” she admitted, “because I don’t think I could do this without you.”
Both Olive and Evalene glanced over at Sol, who sat between them. He lifted his eyes from his plate where he was about to scoop up another bite. Gesturing with the scoop of food to his other hand, which rested on the table, still in the brace, he shrugged. “If I go back to Delmare right now, someone will just try to break my other arm. Or worse.” He shrugged again, uncomfortable with the attention. “Nothing’s changed for me. I still want to go.”
Evalene realized that just left Jeremiah. Her heart squeezed anxiously. She felt suddenly convinced this was his way of backing out of the job. “I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, “It was rude of me to ask you to give up that much time. I’m sure you have other things you’d rather be doing…”
But Jeremiah just finished chewing and echoed the others. “Don’t worry, I knew this would be the likely scenario when I agreed to help.” He smiled as he picked up his glass for a drink. “I’m still in.”
Evalene breathed a sigh of relief, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. “When can we leave?” She leaned forward, ignoring the rest of her breakfast. “I would like to go as soon as possible.” What if they could leave today?
Jeremiah finished his juice and set the cup down. “I understand,” he said, “but I need to know what we’re dealing with before we start. I think we need at least three or four days to prepare. Maybe five. Beryl is happy to host all of you here while we form a plan and gather supplies.”
Sighing in disappointment, Evalene nodded. They spent the rest of breakfast discussing finances, what to bring, and what they could buy when they landed. Evie and Sol begged not to fly, but Jeremiah was adamant. A boat would take too long. Evalene’s stomach twisted in knots at the idea of taking a plane. A flying death trap. She shook her head at the thought.
***
By late afternoon, Olive needed a break and Sol followed her out, which left Evalene and Jeremiah alone.
“Would you teach me to fight?” she blurted after a few moments of silence.
He looked up, eyebrows raised.
She hurried to explain herself. “Remember on Hofyn, how you had all those different training rings? And the soldiers learned different ways to fight?” At his nod, she faltered. “It’s just—I was just thinking… it would be really good to know. Since this trip might be dangerous… I’d really like to learn how to defend myself.” She thought of how she and Olive had been captured six months ago. All the things she might’ve done to escape if she’d known how.
Jeremiah nodded thoughtfully. “Actually, yes. We should try to fit that in; it’d be good for everyone to know how to protect themselves.” Evalene’s spirits lifted hopefully. “Sol and Olive can train with us too.” She deflated. Olive and Sol chose that exact moment to return, drawing Jeremiah’s attention away from Evalene’s face, which she was sure revealed her disappointment. It was foolish to think that if he spent time with her one on one, training her, that it would change anything. If he no longer had feelings for her, she needed to accept it and move on.
“What do you two think of spending some time learning to spar?” Jeremiah was asking them even as Evalene summoned up her best poker face. “Evie was saying it might be wise to know how to fight. I bet Sol could teach us all a few things from his Regulator training too.”
“Yes,” Evalene agreed, after a half beat of silence. She cleared her throat. “I just thought it’d be good if we all knew how to protect ourselves.”
She held back a sigh as Sol and Olive agreed easily. It was better than nothing. She forced a smile to her face. “When should we start?”
7
Jeremiah
“SAY THEY GRAB YOU by the throat,” Sol said, reaching toward Olive’s neck with his good hand. They stood on a large training mat in an open room with dozens of wi
ndows. Jeremiah stood just a few feet from Evie, both of them with arms crossed, watching Sol’s first sparring exercise.
As Sol’s fingers brushed Olive’s neck, she ducked back with a nervous giggle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—it tickles!” Olive danced back within reach, shaking her hands out. She’d been acting strange around Sol all day. “Okay, I’m ready now.” But as soon as Sol’s fingers wrapped around Olive’s throat, she jerked back again. “Sorry! Ah!”
“That’s not exactly the technique,” Sol said, raising a brow, and Jeremiah snorted a laugh at his tone. He didn’t know the man well, but their training was bringing out a new, sarcastic side that Jeremiah liked.
“It’s effective,” Jeremiah offered, wiping a hand across his face to cover his grin. He glanced over at Evie to find her smiling too. Their eyes met briefly before she turned back to watch.
“Mmhmm,” Sol nodded, but waved Olive to come back toward him. “Let’s just pretend it didn’t work, though, hmm?” He held out his hands and stopped right before they touched Olive, as she started leaning away once more. “How about I let you put them in place?”
With another nervous laugh, Olive nodded, taking Sol’s hands in hers and slowly moving them around her neck with effort, obviously uncomfortable. She kept her hands over his wrists, and cleared her throat. “How’s that?”
“Good.” Sol didn’t move an inch, letting her adjust to his hands around her neck, while she continued to grip them tightly. “Now, you’re going to swing one arm over mine, got it?”
She nodded, but didn’t move.
“Okay, go ahead,” he prompted.
Slowly Olive let go of one hand, bringing her arm up and over his arms between them.
“Good,” Sol repeated. “Now clasp your hands together,” this forced Olive to loosen her remaining hand, which she did slowly, “and you’re going to keep them together, using the extra force from your other hand to jab me in the face with your elbow, got—”
Olive obeyed a little too quickly, and Sol ducked, letting go of her neck to protect his face, but he didn’t get out of the way in time and her elbow caught him in the side of the head.
“I’m sorry!” Olive cried out, immediately dropping her stance at the impact.
“No, that was good,” Sol said, rubbing his cheek where her elbow had connected. “That is, technically, how it works.” He met Jeremiah’s eyes as he deadpanned, “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Jeremiah chuckled, as Olive turned bright red. He spoke up, encouraging Olive, “That’s exactly what you should do if you’re in trouble. But,” he teased, “with Sol, you could probably give him a little warning.”
Olive nodded, avoiding Sol’s gaze.
“Why don’t you two try?” Sol said, and Jeremiah could tell he was trying to take the attention off Olive. Swallowing, Jeremiah’s mouth felt dry as he turned to face Evie on the mat.
“Should you attack or should I?” he asked her, dropping his arms to his sides.
“I’ll go first,” she answered, stepping forward, and he wasn’t sure which she meant until she wrapped her hands around his neck. This was by far the most intimate touch they’d ever had. She was close, her arms pressing against his chest, blue eyes gazing up into his own, expectant.
“One arm goes over and the other under,” Sol coached, from a few feet away. The room came back into focus.
“Right.” Now it was Jeremiah’s turn to clear his throat. He swung his arm over Evie’s in one fluid motion, twisting to bring his elbow up toward her face, stopping just before it connected with her cheek.
She flinched, reacting a split second after he had already stopped, pulling her hands back instinctively. He felt them leave his throat and found himself missing their warmth.
“Very nice,” Sol’s voice sounded impressed, but Jeremiah didn’t take his eyes off Evie.
“You okay,” he asked, one hand reaching out halfway between them. Evie’s flinch had felt too real, as if she’d been hit before.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she brushed off his concern, not quite meeting his eye, and Jeremiah dropped his hand back to his side.
“Now switch roles,” Sol instructed. “Jeremiah will be the attacker, and Evie can learn how to fight back.”
This time Jeremiah tried to pay attention to the task as he touched Evie’s neck, feeling her soft skin under his fingers, but ignoring it. He watched her eyes as she squinted in focus. As she repeated the moves, Jeremiah dutifully let go when her elbow came toward his face, the correct response.
“Very good,” Sol’s teaching voice intoned. “Now we practice the move until it becomes instinct.”
Olive giggled. “You both look so serious. Are we really going to need this stuff?”
Tearing his eyes from Evie’s face, Jeremiah turned to Olive. “It’s hard to say.” He wasn’t used to feeling uncertain, but he had to admit the truth. “I’ve only been to the one part of the Divided States. If Pearl is anywhere else, your guess is as good as mine.”
Olive smiled. “Well, my guess is we won’t need it.”
“You just want to get out of practicing,” Sol teased. And it had the exact effect he wanted.
Olive swung around to face him, hands up. “I can take you,” she declared, “Let’s go.”
They laughed at her fierce expression. “Let’s learn a few more moves first,” Jeremiah said, “And then we can try sparring.”
But all the moves Sol and Jeremiah taught them involved touching their sparring partners, and Jeremiah began to feel frustrated. He was so easily distracted by Evie. He had to keep reminding himself she was here to find her mother.
After only thirty minutes, he made his decision. “Time for you to practice with Olive,” he told Evie, backing toward the door, “I’ve got to get to work on preparations. Sol can take it from here.” And he ducked out before they could protest.
He told himself the sooner he took care of supplies and travel, the sooner they could leave. Pouring all his energy into it, he spent the next few days away from the house whenever possible, driving all the way to Delmare the following day to talk with Luc and the Council. With some finagling, they managed to get a flight for the group in just a few days.
Though he could have easily purchased supplies and gathered info on the Divided States anywhere, Jeremiah sent word back to the manor that he needed to stay in Delmare a few more days, but would be back before the flight.
As he gathered information, he took the opportunity to have the dreaded conversation with the Council as well, apologizing for his absence to those who’d held seats prior to the revolution, and getting to know new members. “You have a permanent place on the Council,” they told him many times, “whenever you’d like to come back.”
Jeremiah thanked them but brushed it off. “I’m looking into other things at the moment,” he told them. “Maybe someday.”
“Why did you leave?” Luc asked on the third day. No beating around the bush. Jeremiah had been avoiding him, but now they sat in the Council room after everyone else left. The Council had allowed him to sit in on their meetings the last few days as a figurehead, giving his advice on how to handle former high-Numbers, how to deal with the small groups that were fighting back, how to create new trade relationships with other countries, and so on. He’d missed this. But Jeremiah knew he stayed longer than he’d needed to because he was hiding from Evie like a coward instead of facing her.
“You know I had to go,” he finally answered, having a hard time meeting his best friend’s eye. “You were talking about making me the next Number One. Can you imagine where we’d be today if I’d gone through with that?”
Luc scowled, flinging his hands up in frustration, “Well, you didn’t have to do it then. You’re my best friend,” Luc’s voice cracked slightly with emotion, and he coughed to disguise it, snapping, “You could’ve at least told me where you were going.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” They’d had this conversation before. Jeremiah rubbed his forehead in
exhaustion. “I know you say you didn’t mean it now, but you should’ve seen your face. I didn’t want to let there even be the smallest chance.” As much as Luc denied it, Jeremiah was still convinced his friend would’ve pushed him into the Number One’s role.
But Luc disagreed vehemently, “Never. I never would’ve forced it, man. You gotta know that.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, “You’re always running from your problems.”
He said it casually, standing to leave, but Jeremiah found himself pausing to consider this. He hesitated. Not usually in the habit of questioning his decisions, he found himself wondering if Luc was right… if he’d made a mistake.
Running had seemed necessary at the time. Easier. But Luc was right, it wasn’t the first time. In the orphanage, after his parents died, he’d run away multiple times. He’d known he could take care of himself better than Mr. Meyers ever could. Less rules too. And then with Beryl… if she hadn’t stopped him, convinced him to give her a chance… well, who knows where he might have ended up. And now here he was in the Council chambers with Luc instead of with Evie, instead of telling her how he felt. Running, yet again.
“You know what, you’re right,” he told Luc, shoving his chair back from the table to stand too. He held out his hand to shake goodbye, and Luc took it, surprised. “I need to go back and talk to someone.”
“A girl someone?” Luc smirked. Jeremiah hadn’t told him about Evie. It took him a second to realize who had sent Evie his way in the first place.
He just shook his head, letting out a short laugh. “That obvious?” Luc walked him out to his car, and Jeremiah left in a hurry, anxious to get back. Why had he put this off for so long?
He pulled into the driveway late that night, after dinner was long over, jumping out of the car to race inside. Now that he was here, he regretted leaving. He should have just bought tickets here and called Luc and the Council with his questions, instead of wasting time. Now their flight left in the morning before the sun came up.
Pearl's Number: The Number Series Page 5