accented. “I am sorry for—I did not want. C’était un cauchemar . . . trés difficile pour moi. ” When she looks up, she squints painfully at the light behind me. Her pupils are enormous. Big and wide and black within dark irises that might swallow a person whole. She fumbles for her pocket and digs out a pair of oversized wraparound sunglasses, putting them on with a relieved sigh.
“Water?” Cy asks again. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows dryly.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I run back to the char to dig up some food and water containers. I don’t know how I manage, because I’m so distracted. I’ve imagined a million versions of how I’d be reunited with Cy. This was never one of them.
When I hand the biscuits and water to Cy and Blink, they cram the food into their mouths, chugging water so fast that they cough and sputter. Soon after, they take turns groaning in pain as their empty stomachs react to the shock of real food.
Before long, I hear how they made it here. Walking on foot since the attack two weeks ago. Stealing food and water when they could. Hiding in abandoned houses and fighting off the malformed opossums, rats, and raccoons every night.
“We would have gone straight to Carus, but Élodie was convinced we’d put you in danger, so we came to the border instead.”
“I followed your voice here,” I say, wishing Blink weren’t so near. I’m sure I’m blushing. “I didn’t know you knew that poem ‘Luna .’ ”
“If anyone could recognize it, it’d be you,” he says quietly. He seems shy about the subject, so I take the opportunity to urge him to eat and drink some more. I realize why he feels so far away, even though he’s right here, in touchable distance. His voice has stopped reciting the poem to me. I miss it.
I miss him, and he’s right here.
“I didn’t know anyone could have more than one trait,” I say. “How could that be?”
“I don’t know. Ana doesn’t seem to have my trait.”
I remember Ana’s cut hand when she squeezed the glass sea urchin. “Wait. Maybe she does.” I tell them about the accident, and Cy rubs his arms with a shiver. A waft of garbage-scented wind flows by, rank and overwhelming, when I need to concentrate. I pinch my nose, irritated by the intrusion.
“Could there be others like us? Have you noticed anything in Vera, or Hex?” he asks.
“No.” An opossum slinks by the other end of the alley, its hindquarters raw and oozing from an infection. Ugh, it’s putrid. I pinch my nose again.
“Why do you keep doing that?” He taps his nose.
“Too many smells. So distracting.”
“Holy hell.” Cy leans forward, his eyes roving over me like I’m a new lab specimen. “How long has this been going on?”
“Ever since I took Marka’s pills last year. My dad said that some medications can have lingering side effects, so . . . I thought it would go away, but it’s gotten worse.”
“Zel. Marka’s pills only have a twenty-four-hour half-life. I helped her make them. Tested them too.”
“Wait. You think I have Marka’s trait? For real?” I whisper. I can’t hide the goofy grin expanding my cheeks, and Blink stares at me like I’m crazy. Why didn’t I realize the obvious? “God, I wish I could tell her! She needs to teach me everything!” I’m giddy with excitement.
“Wait, whoa. But why? Why would some of us have more than one trait? Ones that didn’t show up until we were nearly adults?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp. Blink can barely hide the disgust on her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s not a good thing, Zel,” Cy says.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s complicated.” He waves away the topic, and anger simmers inside me. Cy never blew off the importance of our traits. I don’t understand his dismissiveness. I steel myself to challenge him again, when he asks, “Where’s Ana? How is Marka?”
My face must look awful, because worry suffuses his face. “What
“Water?” Cy asks again. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows dryly.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I run back to the char to dig up some food and water containers. I don’t know how I manage, because I’m so distracted. I’ve imagined a million versions of how I’d be reunited with Cy. This was never one of them.
When I hand the biscuits and water to Cy and Blink, they cram the food into their mouths, chugging water so fast that they cough and sputter. Soon after, they take turns groaning in pain as their empty stomachs react to the shock of real food.
Before long, I hear how they made it here. Walking on foot since the attack two weeks ago. Stealing food and water when they could. Hiding in abandoned houses and fighting off the malformed opossums, rats, and raccoons every night.
“We would have gone straight to Carus, but Élodie was convinced we’d put you in danger, so we came to the border instead.”
“I followed your voice here,” I say, wishing Blink weren’t so near. I’m sure I’m blushing. “I didn’t know you knew that poem ‘Luna .’ ”
“If anyone could recognize it, it’d be you,” he says quietly. He seems shy about the subject, so I take the opportunity to urge him to eat and drink some more. I realize why he feels so far away, even though he’s right here, in touchable distance. His voice has stopped reciting the poem to me. I miss it.
I miss him, and he’s right here.
“I didn’t know anyone could have more than one trait,” I say. “How could that be?”
“I don’t know. Ana doesn’t seem to have my trait.”
I remember Ana’s cut hand when she squeezed the glass sea urchin. “Wait. Maybe she does.” I tell them about the accident, and Cy rubs his arms with a shiver. A waft of garbage-scented wind flows by, rank and overwhelming, when I need to concentrate. I pinch my nose, irritated by the intrusion.
“Could there be others like us? Have you noticed anything in Vera, or Hex?” he asks.
“No.” An opossum slinks by the other end of the alley, its hindquarters raw and oozing from an infection. Ugh, it’s putrid. I pinch my nose again.
“Why do you keep doing that?” He taps his nose.
“Too many smells. So distracting.”
“Holy hell.” Cy leans forward, his eyes roving over me like I’m a new lab specimen. “How long has this been going on?”
“Ever since I took Marka’s pills last year. My dad said that some medications can have lingering side effects, so . . . I thought it would go away, but it’s gotten worse.”
“Zel. Marka’s pills only have a twenty-four-hour half-life. I helped her make them. Tested them too.”
“Wait. You think I have Marka’s trait? For real?” I whisper. I can’t hide the goofy grin expanding my cheeks, and Blink stares at me like I’m crazy. Why didn’t I realize the obvious? “God, I wish I could tell her! She needs to teach me everything!” I’m giddy with excitement.
“Wait, whoa. But why? Why would some of us have more than one trait? Ones that didn’t show up until we were nearly adults?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp. Blink can barely hide the disgust on her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s not a good thing, Zel,” Cy says.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s complicated.” He waves away the topic, and anger simmers inside me. Cy never blew off the importance of our traits. I don’t understand his dismissiveness. I steel myself to challenge him again, when he asks, “Where’s Ana? How is Marka?”
My face must look awful, because worry suffuses his face. “What
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