Page 32 of Bound By Stars
Meridian stands, slapping her hands on the table like she’s ready to fight me.
Bring it.
“Okay, okay. We’re getting off track.” Calypso steps between us, arms waving, and looks over their class. “The purpose of education is not only to prepare you for future employment, but to expand your perspectives, teach you to critically evaluate news and narratives, and form your own opinions on the world. I encourage each of you to take that to heart, even—no, especially—when you disagree with what you hear.” A pointed de-escalation that, I can only assume, went straight over Meridian’s head.
“She’s right, though.” Jupiter completely ignores Calypso’s attempt at civility, meeting Meridian’s gaze with an angelic smile, which she of course returns as she sinks back into her seat.
So much for not being as horrible as the rest of these entitled snobs. Traitor.
“Jupiter…” Calypso draws out his name like a warning.
“Hear me out! Elysium rewards every citizenandEarther who contributes to society. Take Weslie, for example. She won an interplanetary competition, beat out hundreds of other entries, and created groundbreaking tech. Impressive enough. And, for all her efforts, she was awarded one single ticket to Mars.” He turns back to Meridian, beaming at her again, even brighter. “More than generous considering she didn’t have the good sense to be born in Elysium like you and me.”
Meridian’s eyes narrow, her lips pressed into a hard line.
Not bad, Dalloway.
“All right!” Calypso interjects. “Everyone, pull up your trigonometry book app and find page eighty-seven.”
They turn back to the wall at the front of the class and bring up the page, circling an exercise with their finger as the overhead light dims. The area is clipped, enlarged, and pushed to the side of the wall, leaving room for them to demonstrate solving the equation step by step.
Meridian leans over to whisper to Hale. If my existence hadn’t pissed them off, that exchange certainly did. Her eyes stay glued to me until the bell sounds and lights flash, signaling the end of class.
Asha cuts off the view of my nemeses, checking over her shoulder more than once before we’re out of the room and she launches into all the details I didn’t ask for about Meridian.
As we pass the grand staircase, instead of the wonderful scent of food that usually wafts out of the dining room, my nose burns with the thick smell of varnish. I remember the odor from a million years ago when Dad enlisted my help to fix our scratched-up, wobbly kitchen table for Mom. I wonder if he would have bothered if he knew what it’d look like by now, buried under her work.
I gingerly touch my finger to the wall. The finish still a bit tacky. New. The paint-splattered elevator flashes across my mind again.
Asha pulls me into the busy dining room, and immediately, my nerve slips. The stares, real or imagined, brush against me like gusts of wind. I keep my eyes low, trying to appear unassuming and nonthreatening. How many of them know about the vandalism? How many think I did it?
“…and when Jupe broke up with her, she…did not take it well. She stole his sketchbook and burned it…on the ship to Earth. They almost evacuated before some of the crew found her and got it under control. It was chaos. She was definitely eyeing ILSA back there; I would keep an eye on her if I were you.”
By the time I’ve cleared one and a half plates and we’ve walked across half the width of the ship to the class lab, Asha is still going on about Meridian.
Ahead, a door bursts open and a dozen balls the size of dinner rolls tumble out, unfurl, and scurry around the hallway.
“Tarak!” Asha runs toward them, grabs one by its long ears, and scoops up two others.
Not balls, some kind of animals.
A boy with short black hair, a magnifying lens strapped over one eye, and Asha’s delicate face, minus today’s silver eyeliner, runs out the doorway collecting the little creature bots. I think I’ve seen him in class.
He points behind me. “That one’s a runner!”
Chapter Fourteen
Weslie
Thirty days to Mars
I sprint after the little bot before it can make it to the end of the hall. Scooping up the creature, I hold it close to my face and it stares back with glassy black eyes.
“What is it?” The skin looks like metal, but it feels like silk. Its tiny nose wiggles like it’s sniffing me. Possibly registering my biological information with what I assume to be artificial olfactory sensors. Or at least, that’s howIwould build it.
A wide smile stretches across Tarak’s face as he grabs the last one off the hall floor. “Pet bot. Bunny bot. Rabbidillo. What would you call it? I haven’t got that far.”
“Ra-bot?” ILSA offers.
