Think about what you want. And when the time comes, you’ll know what decision to make.
My mother’s words streak across my consciousness like the shooting stars we saw not a moment ago. What’d she mean? How can I possibly have what I want? I don’t have a decision. I want Circ, but I can’t have him. The Law says I can’t.
Warm arms wrap ’round me from behind, startling me. Circ laughs.
“Did I frighten you out of your daydream?” he says.
I was so caught up in my thoughts, in the puzzles with no answers, that I’d almost forgotten he was there. Almost. “It’s night,” I say, draping my arms over his, pulling them close. How is this happening? He said it himself: We’re just friends. Not his exact words, but close enough. Do friends hold each other like this?
“What?” he murmurs, nestling his lips into my hair. Warmth spreads down my spine.
“You said daydream. But it’s night.”
“Okay. Nightdreams,” he says. Keeping one of his hands tight against my stomach, his other drops to my waist, settles on my hip. “What were you nightdreaming about?”
“How this is impossible,” I say, at the same time wondering what this is.
Circ sighs. “Siena, when will you see the truth?” His question startles me. The truth? I don’t even know what the truth is, or where to find it, so how can I see it? So many people are telling me so many different things and none of it makes any searin’ sense. “Sometimes I just wish you’d see yourself the way I see you. How strong, how graceful, how pretty. How funny…”
Funny? At least he got that part right, I think. I been known to crack a joke from time to time. But strong? No. Try skinny, barely thicker’n a tent pole. Graceful? More like clutzy. Pretty? I think you just shot your pointer into the durt.
“Circ, no,” I say. “Don’t kid.”
Unexpectedly, he spins me ’round, pulls me in close, leans in—his lips are so close, like they’ve been so many times before, so close, but different this time, so different, like they’re on fire, like they won’t stop until they’re against mine—
They stop, hovering inches from me. His words come out in hot bursts of breath. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Siena, and I have to before…before you’re Called away and I never have another chance.”
—and then his lips are against mine, warm and moving and right. Everything I’ve ever wanted. What I want. Not my father, or the Law, or anyone else. Me. My wants. My decisions.
It doesn’t have to be like this.
It does.
It doesn’t.
I’ve forgotten to breathe and suddenly I’m gasping for air, pulling away from him, laughing and choking—he’s laughing too. A first kiss: inexperienced and somewhat embarrassing, but perfect in every way.
On my tiptoes, I hug him tight. He leans down and I crane my chin over his shoulder, nuzzling my head next to his, my eyes closed. Everything warm. Everything right.
My decision. My wants.
I open my eyes.
My father stands across the yard, fists clenched at his sides, glaring. Always glaring.
Chapter Seventeen
“I knew it!” he screams. “You’re a little shilt!” Another pot rattles across the floor, ringing out when it stops against the base of the table.
I’ve seen my father angry a hundred times, but never like this. So angry, so violent. “Father, I didn’t plan—”
“I. Don’t. Care!” he spouts. “I saw what I saw. I told you to stay away from that—that—that corrupting Youngling, but you didn’t listen. You disobeyed a direct order from ME! Not only your father but the Head Greynote. How do you think that will look to the rest of the people?”
My mouth opens to answer, but evidently he’s not expecting one, ’cause he continues his rant. “I’ll tell you how it’ll look. It’ll look like I can’t even keep my own daughter in line. It’ll look like I’m weak. They won’t trust me.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Trying?” He takes two giant steps, backing me into a corner in our hut. His veins are popping out of his red forehead. Like snakes they twist and curl across his head, from ear to ear. My head swivels, looking for help, even though I know there’s none. Despite it being the middle of the night, when we got home Father woke everyone up, told them to go for a walk. Sari, Fauna, and Rafi scurried out like little ants, without even looking at me. But my mother, she moved slower despite my father’s black mood. It was another small act of rebellion on her part. And as she passed me I could swear she smiled and gave a slight nod of her head, like she knew exactly what I did, that I was following what she said, thinking about what I want and acting on it. It felt a scorch of a lot like a nod of approval.
But now it’s just my father and me.
I think he might kill me this time.
Even though he’s dropped his voice to a whisper, he’s so close that it thunders in my ears. “Enlighten me, Youngling. What were you trying to do with your face mashed against his?”
I hafta say something, to explain, to make him understand what I’m feeling, what I want. My mind is blank, emptier’n a prickler shell drunk dry. And my throat is dryer’n fire country in summer. My mouth opens but I have no words, and if I did, they couldn’t come out anyway.
“’Zard got your tongue?” Father sneers.
A fire roars up my throat and out my mouth. “I wanna be with him, Father!”
Wrong answer.
He grabs me by the throat, hoists me up on the wall, holds me there, choking me. ’Cause I’ve just spoken the impassioned words I been feeling for so long, I didn’t have a chance to take a breath ’fore he grabbed me, so I’m already running out of oxygen, desperately gulping at the air. My airways are closed. Nothing coming in, nothing going out.
“Be with him?” my father spits. “That’s against the Law, Youngling, not that I should have to remind you.”
My vision blurs, my arms go numb, then my legs. This is it. I made my decision and now I’ll face the ultimate consequence. My plan failed.
He drops me and I’m too exhausted and confused to brace myself, so I crumple to the ground, banging my broken arm on the wall. Pain rips through me but I barely feel it, ’cause I’m choking, gasping, sucking down throat-burning gulps of life-giving air.
There’s a shadow over me but I don’t open my eyes.
“Know that I don’t do this easily, Youngling. I’m trying to save you from yourself. One quarter full moon in Confinement,” my father growls. “This is your last warning.”
~~~
As it turns out, my plan worked, but I’m hardly feeling happy about it. I was s’posed to sneak out, meet Circ, get caught, get thrown in Confinement for another day or two. But then everything happened so fast—what in the scorch happened anyway?—with Circ, my muddled thoughts, the kiss, my father.
Everything’s all confused now, out of line, with little hope of ever getting back into line. There’s not much left to do, ’cept continue on with my plan.
“Hi, Perry,” I say to my prickler neighbor when I crawl into my cage, feeling sandblasted from the windy trek across the desert. It wasn’t Luger who escorted me this time, but a silent-type named Tod, who I didn’t mind much.
“What’d you say?” Raja says from the cage next door.
She wasn’t talking to you, Perry says. Welcome back, Sie.
“Hi, Raja,” I say, crawling over to the side of the cage, too tired to walk upright.
“What’re you doin’ back here?” Raja looks even skinnier’n the last time I was here, as if everything’s been sucked right on out of him, leaving just skin’n bones.