Page 29 of Bound By Stars
I drop my sketchbook onto the soft turf, hop up, and pull her back through the trees. We squat down out of sight as ILSA reverses toward the darker shadows.
Two more porters run past, too quick to notice us. Not Gianna.
By the time my dad was likely having post-dinner coffee with the stragglers in the dining room and my mom had long since gone to sleep, leaving Gianna to track me down, I wandered into the empty arboretum. The gigantic room was quiet aside from the artificial breeze rustling the leaves—and full of hiding places.
I don’t realize I’m still holding onto her arm until Weslie pulls it away, hard enough that she falls on the turf.
She scoots back an extra foot and wraps her arms around her knees. Our eyes meet, but she looks away as fast as she can to find ILSA. “We’ll wait a few minutes to make sure they aren’t coming back this way.”
“Are they after you?” I ask.
“I don’t think so, but as you like to remind people, I’m an Earther. They’ll keep a closer watch on me than anyone else in first class.”
“I didn’t mean to announce it like that. I’m really sorry.”
Raising an eyebrow, she glares at me, but I don’t try to convince her. I would have a hard time trusting my apology, too, given the circumstances.
Something softens in her eyes, and she shakes her head. “They would have figured it out one way or another. It was only a matter of time beforesomeonetried to drown me.”
“That was way out of line, even for Hale. Are you okay aft—”
“Speaking of assholes, aren’t you supposed to be at dinner with all the other fancy important people?” She averts her eyes, watching a holographic bluebird soundlessly dart over the treetops.
I get it. She doesn’t want to talk about what happened at the pool. Fair enough.
“I’m playing an extended game of hide-and-seek with my mom’s henchwoman. Also, this is the best place to pretend you’re on Earth.” Circulated air makes the trees sway, and their shadows shift over the path. If I ignore the faint plastic scent underneath, it almost feels like we’re back on Earth.
“I thought Earth was for dust mites.” Her jaw is tight as she watches a humming cleaning-bot pass in the full light of the pathway, sucking up a fallen leaf.
“That’s Hale’s opinion, not mine.” I try to make eye contact again, so she knows I’m serious.
She shifts away a fraction more, mouth tight like she still doesn’t believe me.
“I hate the formal meals on these ships. Why can’t dinner just be dinner? Like those old television shows, where people just ate. No order to it. No dressing up. No sitting with the right people.”
“We don’t even have a dinner table at my house anymore.” She picks at the turf. “I usually eat in bed.”
“Now, that’s the life.”
She laughs. “Until you consider I have to grow, pick, clean, and cook the food before I can eat anything.”
Nice move, Jupe. Privilege on full display. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
“My dad overplanted one spring and, for two months, we lived on beets. My teeth were purple for almost a year.” A hint of a smile shimmers in her eyes like it’s a sweet memory.
I have it so easy in comparison. Here I am sulking over my cushy, pre-planned life when it’s never even crossed my mind to worry whether my next meal would come.
She laughs. “Don’t break your brain trying to wrap your mind around it. That’s just Earth.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“I’ll take a pass on the sympathy, Big Six.” She leans back, propping herself up with her palms in the grass. She sucks on her teeth, scanning the swaying branches above, then clicks her tongue like she’s running out of patience. Her eyes lock on the sketchbook between us. “What are you working on there anyway?”
I push it toward her, sitting up to watch her flip through it.
The first pages are drawings of Elysium. Levels of housing, walkways lined with edible gardens, and the ridges of the Phlegra Montes range I can see from my bedroom window. Then star maps. Galaxy maps. The route from Mars to Earth. In the middle of the book is a portrait of Andi backed by a spiral galaxy. Her eyes look like mine. Her short hair is made up of minimal linework to show its pale color. At the bottom of the page in uppercase letters is writtenANDROMEDA.
She runs her finger over the name. “Who’s this?”
