Page 10 of Bound By Stars
“Item twenty-four. Airlock safety— Do we really need to go over this again?”
“Some might need the review or may not be familiar with the protocol.” Calypso’s eyes flick to Weslie and away just as fast. They don’t want to single anyone out, but this does feel like a waste of time. On Mars, airlock safety is practically a nursery rhyme.
“Nitro-purge, gear check, lock, decompression, tether. Got it, newbie?” Hale stares at Weslie, who looks like she’s about to crawl under the table.
I can feel the tension between my cousin and this new girl like heat from the sun. She tries to hide it under her hard expression, but she’s out of place and alone, adrift in unfamiliar territory.
“They basically guide you through it. Follow the buttons that light up and you’re golden,” I add, throwing her a lifeline.
“And if the automated system goes down, do you die waiting for the pretty lights, or did you learn how to manually initiate a nitrogen purge or override decompression along with your cute little checklist?” She glares back at me.
I lift my eyebrows and lean back, crossing my arms and fighting the grin tugging at the edge of my lips. I was wrong. This girl doesn’t need my help.
“You never introduced the new girl, Calypso,” Hale says louder, eyeing Weslie, but not addressing her directly.
“Not everyone enjoys being the center of attention, Mr. Dalloway. I’m sure you can introduce yourself during your free time.”
The screen wall behind Calypso goes blank before the whole room flashes twice with blue light accompanied by two high-pitched hums. Everyone stands, the new girl following suit and hurrying toward the door.
“No assigned activity this afternoon, but please read the rest of the safety manual on your own,” Calypso shouts as we all file out of the room.
Hale bumps into my side in the hall, nodding toward Weslie. “Know anything about her?”
“No.” Colliding with someone doesn’t give you as much insight as verbal sparring. “Only what you just heard. She’s smarter than all of us.”
A gentle, dark brown hand drapes over my forearm. Skye sighs, and I know what she’s going to say before the first word. “It’s officially happening. Overheard your mom talking to my parents last night. They’re announcing it before we arrive on Mars.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
She squeezes my bicep before releasing me, my own dread reflected in her black eyes. We’ve had an unspoken rule about avoiding the topic, but this betrothal has been looming over us since I became my family’s heir. We’ve been friends our whole lives. I love hanging out with her. But I don’t want to marry her any more than she wants to marry me.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say through a breath. No matter how hard I’ve tried to picture it, I can’t see her as my future wife. No doubt she’s gorgeous. She always wears a relaxed smile that makes you feel a little better about life. Her coiled black hair is cut short, usually gelled in waves to her head, to show off her long neck. I’ve elbowed Hale more than once for his comments about her curves. I’ve noticed. I’m not dead inside.
I shouldn’t even have to think about marriage. I’m only seventeen. It feels like I should have a lifetime before I’m bound to anyone. But when you’re a Big Six heir, life happens to you. The family-headed corporations control everything in two worlds. Legacy is inescapable. Relationships are business agreements. Love is incidental.
The hall feels too small. I push through the students swarmed around the new girl, hurling questions at her too fast for her to answer.
“How long were you on Earth?”
Someone from the back of the crowd calls, “Are you from one of the other Mars habitats?”
“Which one?” asks another untethered voice.
As I pass, a girl from the Paradis habitat with a shaved head and a French accent croons, “So mysterious.”
Weslie is trapped in the center, struggling for answers. Her eyes flick toward the ceiling like she’s sifting through choices. When no one expects a thing from you, you’re free to be anything.
Bitter words slip past my lips before I can stop them. “She’s not a mystery. She’s an Earther.”
Chapter Five
Weslie
Thirty-five days to Mars
Halfway down the long hall, he glances over his shoulder again. I hope he can feel my eyes on the back of his neck like a white-hot plasma beam.
“Doesn’t look like an Earther,” someone in the quickly receding crowd mumbles.
