Page 28 of Bound By Stars
“Are you sure you don’t need anything, Ms. Fleet?”
Without a word, I walk in the opposite direction. When I get to my hall, my heart is still pounding. I clench my fists. The way she emphasized “appropriate level” repeats in my head. Appropriate level. What bullshit. My blood boils, rushing to my face.
ILSA comes to life, greeting me as I enter my unit, cross the room, and throw myself face down on the bed. “The ship is entering the communication dead zone in…nine hours and forty-seven minutes. Would you like to send any messages now?”
“No,” I say into my pillow.
“You appear to be distressed. Meditation is a good way of relieving stressful emotions.”
My responding groan turns to a scream muffled by the pillowy mattress. When I’ve pushed all the air out of my lungs, I lift my face. “You’re right, ILSA. That was very cathartic.”
“I do not believe you understand meditation, Weslie.”
I push off the bed and pace across the room. There’s no difference between who I am here and who I was on Earth aside from where my room is located. The other first-class passengers know it. They wouldn’t all stare and whisper if I were one of them. Reve is the only person on this ship who gets it and, what, we aren’t allowed to hang out because of my ticket?
The pair of white dots on ILSA’s face screen track me back and forth. “Walking is also good for stress relief.”
I stop mid-turn. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.” I need more space, more floor to cover. I wish I could run through the orchards between Reve’s house and mine, feel the dust burning my lungs and the sun warm against my skin.
After commanding ILSA into silent mode, I take the long way, winding through the back of the ship and avoiding the dining hall at all costs. When we make it to the tall arched entryway to the arboretum, my shoulders relax. It’s not home, but it’s as close as I can get in space.
“They went this way!” A voice cuts through the trees, and ILSA and I slip off the walkway between slender, white-barked trunks as two porters cut through the center of the room and jog past without noticing us.
Are they looking for me and ILSA? I don’t remember dinner being a requirement, but I wouldn’t put it past these people. Better to stay off the path than risk getting escorted to my room again.
I slip between trees.
Tap, tap, tap.
Behind me, ILSA is pivoting, shifting, trying to find an angle to fit through. Running into the birch trunks over and over.
“Come this way,” I whisper, leading her toward a small clearing just off the main walkway, hidden just enough to give me a few minutes of peace.
Backing through the opening, I guide ILSA, making certain it’s wide enough for her to pass when my heel catches on something.
“Ouch!” a familiar voice quietly cries out.
ILSA’s tong-like hand clamps onto the front of my shirt, keeping me upright.
Behind me, Jupiter Dalloway is splayed in the grass like he owns it. Hell, he probably does.
Chapter Twelve
Jupiter
Thirty-one days to Mars
“You again,” Weslie huffs.
“You know, you can talk to mewithoutrunning me over.” I sit up and draw my leg to my chest, rubbing my newly bruised shin.
She purses her lips, scanning the trees at the edges of the grassy patch. “It’s kind of our thing now. Why change what works?” Angling her body between the trees onto the main path, she turns back.
Behind her, ILSA bumps into the tree trunks. The opening is too slim for the bot. Her round “eyes” narrow into two slanted dashes as they move along the row, searching for a bigger gap.
“You don’t have to go.” Did that sound too eager?
Weslie glares at me through slits, then whips her head to the right at the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone running.
