Six-inch Dad scratched his nose. “You’re making me nervous, Pepper.”
“Unbelievable.” Sinking back on her heels, she took a moment to absorb what she’d seen but didn’t believe. “Inter-galactic video conferencing.” She extended her palm toward Six-inch Mom, who did the same, giving the illusion of their mismatched hands joining in midair. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”
Mom tried to respond, but her voice hitched, and she tucked her forehead against Dad’s shoulder. Cara’s heart sank as she realized how much pain she’d caused her parents. Now both their children were gone. Aelyx knelt by her side, interlacing their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze.
He smiled at her parents. “I hope you’re not tired of me yet, because I’m coming back to Earth while Cara takes my place on L’eihr.”
“And it looks like the alliance will go through,” Cara said, “so I can come home to visit when the program’s over.”
Mom took a few moments to let that sink in. “But it’s so sudden—you didn’t even get to pack. Can’t you come home first?”
Cara shook her head but tried to stay upbeat for Mom’s sake. “Lucky for me I’m good at traveling light.” Before she forgot, she added, “Will you tell Tori I said good-bye?”
“She called yesterday,” Mom said, “to let us know Eric’s okay and to see if you’d really left, because she didn’t believe it. When I told her, she did a lot of cursing in Spanish.”
That made Cara smile. “Tell her about the sphere, Mom. She’ll keep it a secret.” Cara wanted to hear her best friend call her a pendeja so badly her chest ached. She wanted to see Tori’s miniature form stamp her high-heeled foot and grip her hips like Wonder Woman. Maybe flip her the bird, too.
Mom promised to invite Tori over for a “conference call,” but because the name Sweeney was still synonymous with traitor, she didn’t know how long it would take for them to arrange it. Tori didn’t want to give the Patriots any reason to doubt her loyalty, and Cara didn’t blame her.
When they finally said good-bye and disconnected, Troy begrudgingly left her alone with Aelyx, but only because it was time for supper—Vina, his favorite. Nothing came between Troy and a good meal, not even the possibility of his kid sister getting lucky during his absence. But before shutting the door, he pointed at the top bunk and announced, “I won’t be gone long. And I’m crashing here tonight, so don’t get your hopes up, Alex.”
Cara grabbed the lump of fabric she’d been using as a makeshift pillow and hurtled it at her brother, but he easily slapped it aside and danced into the hall. Right before disappearing from view, he laughed and called her a dorkus. Maybe he hadn’t matured so much after all.
When she turned to rejoin Aelyx, she noticed a distant glimmer of light winking through the glass porthole behind him, a twinkle that wasn’t there before. The ship must have rotated since they’d returned to the room. She moved closer to identify the source of the light.
Aelyx followed and wrapped both arms around her waist, resting his chin atop her head. He pulled her close, and she felt the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder.
“It’s a planetary nebula,” he said. “A dying star.”
“Wow.” Stars really knew how to go out in style. It was stunning—illuminated wisps of orange and pink clouds forming an oval around a center of cornflower blue, like the eye of God staring back at her. “And me with no camera.”
She wished she could enjoy the moment, but a circuit of worries and what-ifs played inside her head like credits at the end of a film. Was she really ready for this—to pack up and move to another galaxy? Unlike Aelyx, she hadn’t researched her new home, and she didn’t know an edible root from a parasitic seedling or how to behave in polite society. Of course, Troy had managed not to single-handedly end alliance negotiations between their planets, so maybe L’eihr standards for manners weren’t as high as Aelyx had led her to believe. But either way, she’d have to navigate this new life without him, and the prospect left her tingling with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“There’s one visible from L’eihr, too,” Aelyx said. “Bigger and twice as spectacular.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He tightened his hold around her waist. “Every time you see it, I want you to think of me. I’m going to mend that alliance in record time, and soon we’ll stand together, just like this, and we’ll watch the L’eihr sky from our colony.”
It’ll go by fast, Cara repeated to herself. Then we’ll have all the time in the world.
Decades from now, this brief separation would seem like a hiccup. Now wasn’t the time to sulk, not with so much at stake. Once L’eihr and Earth sealed the alliance, she and Aelyx would be together again.
They’d survived so much already—a few measly light-years couldn’t keep them apart.
Acknowledgments
I have many people to thank for helping Alienated make it into your hands, so kick back and get comfy. This might take a while.
To my editor, Laura Schreiber, thank you for being my very first L’annabe. You fell in love with my characters and took a chance on their creator, for which I am infinitely grateful. Working with you has made this book stronger than I ever imagined possible, and I’ve felt your enthusiasm during every step of the process. It’s truly a privilege to be your author.
A thousand thanks to my agent, Nicole Resciniti, who cheered me on through one more rewrite, then went on to sell this book to Disney. You found the perfect home for the book of my heart, and that makes you my hero.
Big hugs to my critique partners, Carey Corp and Lorie Langdon, who have also become incredible friends. I don’t know what I’d do without your companionship and support. I’m grateful to have you in my life. Next time we schedule a writing retreat, I’ll bring the peaches. Additional thanks to my sisters at the OVRWA. You ladies rock.
A giant shout-out to the NaNoWriMo community for helping me see that I had the power to finish a novel—even if it was a hot, ungodly mess at the end of those thirty days. Alienated exists because of you. Write on, friends!
Many thanks to my early readers: Heather, Shannon, Olca, Jamie, Zoe, and of course, my mom. I’m mortified that I sent you guys the second draft of a book I wrote in thirty days, but your encouragement helped me push through five rewrites. Well, that and my own obsession. But let’s give you the credit, because that sounds better.
To the NBC writers, thank you for helping me with everything from brainstorming to query advice. Nesties rule! A special thanks to YA writer Shana Silver, whose detailed critique of my first six chapters taught me more about fiction writing than any instructional text I’ve read.
Thank you to Carol M. Stephenson, Ph. D., for patiently explaining to me the dangers of nanotechnology . . . and for being an excellent neighbor.
Much love to my friends and family. You continue to amaze me with all you do to help spread the word about my books. Thank you! To my children: Ashley, Troy, and Blake, thanks for your patience. I know it’s hard when Mom is chained to her laptop every day, but, hey—you’re in my book! I hope that makes up for all the nights we’ve eaten grilled cheese sandwiches.
Finally, to my husband, Steve, thank you for being the finest human I know. The L’eihrs might not elect to clone you, but I totally would. Love you, babe!