Page 7 of Bound By Stars
My mother’s full daytime volume shatters the morning quiet. “Don’t disappear this evening, Jupiter. It’s important you’re at dinner with us.”
One of the largest suites on the ship, and still, it’s impossible to avoid her. I turn to her and nod, fully aware that not looking her in the eye will lead to a lecture. “Noted.”
My mother glides across the sitting room with her eyes locked on me, sweeping around wing chairs and a side table like she’s lived here for years. “I mean it, Jupiter. If you wander off like last night, I will have Gianna escort you around the ship for the next five weeks.”
I can’t stop my eyes from rolling, so I shut them.
“Don’t make that face. You’re not a child anymore.”
“You would think that I wouldn’t need a babysitter, then.” The words slip treacherously through my teeth.
She locks me in her unrelenting stare and folds her slender arms across her body.
Strange we can look so alike and have so little in common. I’m a few inches taller with a slightly blunter set to my jaw, and the same pale blond hair, dark eyes, and thick lashes. But our similarities are only surface level. She can’t wait to get back home to an enclosed habitat. And I would have willingly stayed on Earth forever.
“Have you completed your Earth Experience project yet?”
Shit. Lie. Just lie. “Um…no. Not quite.”
I can’t be confined to these quarters for the entire trip. Not after spending the majority of the past month locked away in a penthouse while my classmates toured Earth without me. I’m still not entirely convinced my parents accompanied me because they care about being on the inaugural voyage of the fastest ship in the galaxy. But after my sister…I think they just didn’t want to let me go alone.
“I will be sure Calypso knows to release you as soon as it’s finished. It’s imperative we get you in with the tutor full time as soon as your basic level requirements are met.”
I swallow a sigh before it escapes my lips. I’ll have to get to Calypso before they tell her it’s already turned in. My credit is complete. Maybe I can get them to assign me something else to keep my mom at bay for at least the length of the crossing. I nod and step toward the door.
She catches my arm with her cold, bony fingers, pressing hard enough that her nails are like blades threatening my skin, before she grips the strap of my bag. “Leave that hideous sack here.”
“It’s just a bag, and I—”
“Now.”
I bite my lips, lift the strap over my head, pull out my sketchbook and pencil kit, and toss the bag on the small table in the center of the foyer.
My mother snatches it off the polished wood, holding it away from her body. The bag dangles between her pinched fingers. It’s a miracle I got it on the ship. Her eyes lock on the sketchbook under my arm. The deep gray graphite smudge on the side of my left hand is almost as insulting to her as cheap fabric. “Gianna!”
The giant woman, at least half a foot taller than me with forearms wider than my neck, appears from the hall like she’d been waiting to be called. “Ms. Dalloway.”
“Dispose of this, please.” Her manners fall flat. Punctuation on her demand, not gratitude.
Gianna does as she’s asked.
My mother’s focus on me remains unbroken. She’s not finished yet. “You are Jupiter Dalloway, not some scrappy little Earther. Instead of tarnishing that legacy with your adolescent petulance, it’s time you took your future seriously.”
My jaw tightens. I wish she wouldn’t talk like that. Like Earthers are somehow lesser because of where they were born. Especially in front of Gianna. But we’ve had that argument too many times.
Mashing the door control, I rush out of our quarters. At the end of the hallway, I’m cutting around the corner by the time she peers out the door and calls after me. She’s probably noticed that my shirt isn’t tucked in at the back or that my hair is damp and wild. I ruffle it with my fingers again. The tiniest rebellion. Watching over my shoulder, I listen for a sign that Gianna is already on my tail.
I slam to a stop, head clunking into another skull. My sketchbook slaps the polished floor as my case explodes, clattering graphite and wood bounce across the floor. The pencils settle and roll in every direction in a gentle chorus of quiet purrs. With my palm to my temple, I squint and reach out to steady the person I collided with.
“Are you okay?” I check behind me again. No one is following me. Yet. “I’m sorry, I wasn—”
“My readings indicate you have experienced a minor head contusion. Please vocalize any of the following symptoms: nausea, dizziness, double vision—”
“I’m fine, ILSA.” The girl groans, holding her head with one hand and raising the other to the bot behind her. The Earther girl from the transport station. She’s traded her clay-orange sweater for a more delicate fabric, soft green and untattered.
“You again?” Thanks to her, half of my drawings are wrinkled and smudged with copper dust. I squat down, collecting the strewn pencils. “Going to run off and leave a wake of destruction behind like last time?” I stretch past her for a runaway pencil.
Her foot blocks its path just out of my reach. She drops down to pick it up and offers it to me, narrowing her eyes. “Clearly, you made it on the ship just fine.”
