When she broke away finally, she was laughing. "You'd think we'd never done this. You'd think we'd been waiting to do it all our lives."
She was small and dark, her skin a light chocolate in color, her hair raven black and close–cropped in a silky helmet that glistened even in the darkness. Her eyes were large and wide with surprise, as if everything she was seeing was new and incredibly exciting. She exuded energy and life in a way that no one else could. She made him smile, but it was more than the way he felt about her. She had an enthusiasm that was infectious; she could make you feel good about life even in the bleakest of times and places.
"Look at you," she whispered. "All ragged and dirty and mussed up, like
Owl hasn't made you take a bath in a month! Such a boy!" She grinned, and then whispered, "You look wonderful."
He didn't, of course, especially compared with her in her soft leather boots and coat and bright, clean blouse. Compound kids always had better clothes. His jeans and sweatshirt were worn and his sneakers falling apart. But she would never tell him that. She would only tell him what would make him feel good about himself. That was the way she was. She made him ache inside and want to tell her all the good things he had ever thought about her all at once, even the things that he didn't think he could ever tell.
"How is everyone?" She steered him over to the concrete bench set against the far wall and sat him down.
"Good. All safe and sound. Owl sends her love. She misses you. Almost as much as me."
Tessa bit her lip. "I wish she could come back. I wish things weren't so difficult."
He nodded. "You could make things easier. You could come live with us. We don't have a compound, but we don't have a compound's stupid rules, either." He seized her hands. "Do it, Tessa! Come tonight! Become a Ghost! You belong out here with me, not inside those walls!"
She gave him a quick, uneasy grin. "You know the answer, Hawk. Why do you keep asking?"
"Because I don't think your parents should dictate what you do with your life."
"They don't dictate what I do with my life. The choice to stay with them is mine." Her lips compressed in a tight line of frustration. "I can't leave until… My father would survive it, but my mother … well, you know. She isn't
the same since the fall. If she could walk again …"
She was stumbling all over herself, trying to get the words out. Her mother had suffered a fall more than a year ago, a hard tumble off stairs onto concrete. She hadn't walked since. It was an event that had changed everything for Tessa, who could barely bring herself to talk about it.
Hawk dropped his gaze. "If she could walk again," he repeated.
Tessa shook her head. "It's more than that. She's crippled on the inside, too. She's broken emotionally. Daddy and I are all she has. It would kill her if she lost either one of us." She reached up and touched his cheek. "You know all this. Why are we talking about it? Why don't you change your mind, instead? Why don't you come live with me? If you did, they might let Owl and the others come inside, too."
His hiss of frustration betrayed his impatience. "You know they won't let anyone come in from the streets. Especially kids."
She gripped his hands. "They would if you married me. They would have to.
It's compound law."
She held him spellbound for a moment with the force of her grip and the intensity of her gaze, but then he shook his head. "Maybe they would allow me in, but not the others. A family sticks together. Besides, marriage is a convention that belongs in the past. It doesn't mean anything anymore."
"It means something to me." She refused to look away. "It means everything." She bent forward and kissed his lips. "What are we supposed to do, Hawk? Are we supposed to keep meeting like this for the rest of our lives? Is this what you want? One hour a week in a concrete windbreak?"
He shook his head slowly, eyes closed, feeling the press of her lips on his. It wasn't even close to what he really wanted, but what you wanted wasn't always what you got. Hardly ever, in fact. They'd had this discussion before–had it almost every time they met. She had begun talking about marriage only recently, however. It was a mark of how desperate she was to find a way to bring them together that she was willing to suggest it openly when she knew how he felt.
"Marriage won't change anything, Tessa. I am already as married to you as I'll ever be. Having an adult stand in front of us and say we're married won't make us any more so. Anyway, I can't live inside a compound. You know that. I have to live on the streets where I can breathe. Someday you'll want that, too. You'll want it enough to come live with me, parents or not."
She nodded more as if to placate than to agree, a sad smile escaping her tightly compressed lips. "Someday."
He wanted to tell her that someday would never come. They had waited on it too long already. Until lately, their hopes and dreams had been enough. Time had slowed and all things had seemed possible. But now he was growing anxious. Tessa seemed no closer to him, no nearer than before. He saw their chances beginning to slip away and the weight of an uncertain world bearing down.
He exhaled in frustration. "Let's talk about something else. I need your help. Tiger's little sister, Persia, has red spot. She needs pleneten. I promised Tiger I would see if I could get her some."
She looked down to where their hands were joined, and then up again. "I get to see you again tomorrow night if I can find some. I guess that's reason enough to try." "Tessa …"
"No, don't say anything else, Hawk. Words only get in the way. Just put your arms around me for a while. Just be with me."
They held each other wordlessly, neither of them speaking, the darkness around deepening with the closing in of night. Hawk listened to the blanketing silence, picking out the faint sounds of small creatures scurrying in the debris and of voices drifting out from behind the walls of the compound. He could feel Tessa's heart beating; he could hear her soft breathing. Now and then she would shift against him, seeking a different closeness. Now and again she would kiss him, and he would kiss her back. He thought of how much he wanted her with him, wanted her to come away and live in the underground. He didn't care about her parents. She belonged with him. They were meant to be together. He tried to communicate this to her simply by thinking it. He tried to make her feel it through the sheer intensity of his determination.
And for the little while that Tessa had asked him for, everything else faded away. Time stretched and slowed and finally stopped entirely.
But then she whispered, "I have to go."
She released him abruptly, as if deciding all at once that they had transgressed. The absence of her warmth left him instantly chilled.
He stood up with her, trying not to show the disappointment he was feeling.
"It hasn't been that long," he protested.
"Longer than you think." She hugged herself, watching his face. "But never long enough, is it?"
"Tomorrow night?"
She nodded. "Tomorrow night."
"Do the best you can for Persia. I know it's asking a lot."
"To help a little girl?" She shook her head. "Not so much."
He hesitated. "Listen, there's one more thing. There might be something new on the streets. The Weatherman found a nest of dead Croaks down by the waterfront, by the cranes. He doesn't know what did it. You haven't heard anything about this, have you?"
She shook her head, her short black hair rippling. "No, nothing. The compound sends foragers out almost every day. No one has reported anything unusual."
"They might not tell you. They don't always tell kids everything."
"Daddy does."
Hawk nodded, not all that convinced that her confidence in her father was well placed. Adults protected their children in strange ways. He took her hands in his own and held them. "Just be careful if you have to go out. Better yet, why don't you stay inside for a while until I know something more."