Page 87 of Bound By Stars
“You can’t make me into her. I can’t be her!”
She composes herself, rolls her shoulders, and looks me dead in the eye. Her icy expression and cold tone cut through me. “I know.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Weslie
Seven days to Mars
The helmet ILSA forms around my head to supply oxygen is fogging up, blurring my view of the watching class. As I finish my presentation, I pinch my eyes shut. My heart is racing and a jittering panic pulses through more muscles, urging me to fight my way out. Save myself. It’s so much worse when she’s got me fully cocooned. You’d think this would get easier. Like exposure therapy.
I close my eyes, trying to imagine I’m somewhere else.
Cool darkness, warm hands sliding up my… No. Not that.
I picture my backyard at home. Hot, oxygen-rich wind carrying the scent of fruit blossoms.
“Conclude demo mode, ILSA.” My voice sounds hollow inside the plastic encasement, but it parts and she releases me, setting me on my feet. I scan the silent room, turning to Calypso before I get to Jupiter’s table. “Thank you.”
“Well done, Weslie. ILSA is truly impressive.” Calypso stands, claps, and nods to the class to join. Covered by the noise, they lean in, so only I can hear, “You could put a tad more energy into it. You sounded a little defeated. Be proud of your accomplishment.”
I nod and lead ILSA back to my seat.
A little defeated? The whole competition is a lie. I was never going to sell my design. Jupiter’s family already stole it, and there was nothing I could ever do to stop them. His mom would have watched me present on Mars, shook my hand, and sent me back to Earth. She already has my design. I’m just a loose end to be tied up. And I should have seen it coming.
I slip onto my stool without acknowledging Skye, who swapped seats during my presentation with some redheaded guy who never talks and smells like he bathes in cologne.
She touches my arm. “Great job, Wes.”
“Thanks.” I brush her off and spin away, keeping my eyes glued to the front of the room.
She whispers over my shoulder, “Can we talk after class?”
“Nope.”
Calypso goes through the rest of the schedule of presenters. The Earther Experience presentations are about what I expected from a bunch of privileged Elysians. A lot of fake sympathy and misconceptions. The French girl with the shaved head spends half her presentation outlining an idea for an outreach program that would match up Earthers with Elysians on their Basic Levels Earth Mission to widen every student’s view of the universe. It doesn’t become purely offensive until she suggests Earthers would likely gain more, but it would be a charitable sacrifice. Classic elitist bullshit.
“Thank you, Céline.” Calypso doesn’t muster their usual enthusiasm, possibly as annoyed as I am with the girl’s narrow-minded point of view. “We have a few more minutes left. Those of you who haven’t presented can take this time to look over your notes for tomorrow.”
Murmurs of conversation fill the room.
I stare down at my computer, bringing up the first document I can pretend to read.
“Did you see them at the Gala the other night? I would be mortified.” Meridian’s voice is performatively loud and right behind me.
“She’s kind of pretty, I guess. If you don’t consider the fleas,” Céline says.
“So, Skye.” Meridian’s voice is full of smugness. “Howdoesit feel to be tossed aside for a dirty Earther?”
Rage pulses through my body and my cheeks burn, but I stay completely still. She wants me to react. Shout or throw a punch. Prove I’m the lowly wild creature they all think I am.
“Shut the hell up, Meridian,” Skye says through her teeth. “You’re the only person in this room Jupiter’s ever tossed aside.”
Meridian goes silent, but I can practically feel her seething behind me.
“So rude,” Céline mutters in her phlegmy French accent.
I keep my eyes glued to the blurring lines across my screen. It can’t be much longer before class ends.
