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Authors: Jennifer Bardsley
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could never fall for a Virus like him. Hopefully I’ve captured Seth’s interest enough that I can keep my promise to Cal. But right now I could use some air to cool down my tingling nervous system.
The trouble with being somebody who doesn’t go anywhere is that when I do try to leave, I have no idea where I’m going. I’m not familiar with this wing of the manor, and I can’t remember how to get out. All the potted houseplants look the same to me. One tapestry on the wall blends into the next. The red carpet is thick and unending. I run into dead ends with doors that I don’t want to open.
Finally I find a small staircase. It goes up, but I follow it anyway. I hear footsteps behind me, but I keep climbing.
It’s strange because I must have come to the only part of the mansion that’s not scrupulously clean and heated. The staircase is claustrophobic. The coldness grows stronger with each step. When I get to the landing, there’s a wooden door, cracked open.
This must be the attic Cal told me about a while ago. The one they had to dig around to find his chip-watch. It’s almost as big as the whole wing below me. There’s old furniture everywhere, covered with white cloths, and a bunch of boarded-up crates. Filtered light shines through the windows.
It’s like walking through the buried memories of the house.
Under one sheet, I see a cello case; underneath another is the outline of a harp. There’s an old dresser by a window with a rocking chair next to it. It’s the perfect place to sit and gain some clarity. So I sit down to rest. I rock back and forth until I can no longer feel Seth. Until the memory of what almost happened is gone.
All this would be easier if Seth were ugly. If my body didn’t betray me every time we touched.
I know better than to let Seth get under my skin even for one minute. I have a job to do. That’s all. And I definitely don’t care about anything. If Seth wants to be a tech addict, then fine. That’s not my problem. It’s not like I’m choosing any of this.
I concentrate hard on letting my mind go blank. I stare out the window, at the unfamiliar outside. I’ve never seen as much of the estate as I do now. The view from my cloister is the walled-in courtyard. But the grounds I see from the attic are green and flowering. There are orange trees and benches. Winding paths circle around the gardens. I also see the security cameras, which I know are still on.
In the far, far distance, I can barely see the billboards marking the entry to Silicon Valley. Somewhere out there my friends smile down at me, showing me what normal Vestals look like. Fatima … Beau … Ethan … Do they ever think of me?
Here, I am alone with my mission. I don’t have anyone who understands what it’s like to be me. I don’t have anybody to witness my moments or experience them with me. Without the Brethren, I’m in solitary confinement.
“Sophia?” I hear somebody say from way behind.
I turn my head and look. Cal is standing next to the cello, and his face blanches like he’s seen a ghost.
“Oh, forgive me, Blanca. I thought, I thought I—” But Cal can’t finish his sentence. He sits down on a couch partially covered in a sheet and puts his head in his hands.
I go over and sit a few inches away.
“It never gets better,” Cal mumbles. “It gets easier to deal with, but it never gets better.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m unsure if my words help. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a family member.
“I’m not the same person without Sophia. I’m different. I’m diminished,” Cal whispers.
I nod like I understand what Cal means, though I don’t.
Cal lifts his head. “Part of my life is going on fine, like nothing ever happened. And that makes me feel horrible! But the other parts of my life are total chaos. Like with Seth. And I haven’t known what to do. I haven’t known how to fix things.”
“You’re not alone anymore,” I say. “You’ve got me. I’m on
The trouble with being somebody who doesn’t go anywhere is that when I do try to leave, I have no idea where I’m going. I’m not familiar with this wing of the manor, and I can’t remember how to get out. All the potted houseplants look the same to me. One tapestry on the wall blends into the next. The red carpet is thick and unending. I run into dead ends with doors that I don’t want to open.
Finally I find a small staircase. It goes up, but I follow it anyway. I hear footsteps behind me, but I keep climbing.
It’s strange because I must have come to the only part of the mansion that’s not scrupulously clean and heated. The staircase is claustrophobic. The coldness grows stronger with each step. When I get to the landing, there’s a wooden door, cracked open.
This must be the attic Cal told me about a while ago. The one they had to dig around to find his chip-watch. It’s almost as big as the whole wing below me. There’s old furniture everywhere, covered with white cloths, and a bunch of boarded-up crates. Filtered light shines through the windows.
It’s like walking through the buried memories of the house.
Under one sheet, I see a cello case; underneath another is the outline of a harp. There’s an old dresser by a window with a rocking chair next to it. It’s the perfect place to sit and gain some clarity. So I sit down to rest. I rock back and forth until I can no longer feel Seth. Until the memory of what almost happened is gone.
All this would be easier if Seth were ugly. If my body didn’t betray me every time we touched.
I know better than to let Seth get under my skin even for one minute. I have a job to do. That’s all. And I definitely don’t care about anything. If Seth wants to be a tech addict, then fine. That’s not my problem. It’s not like I’m choosing any of this.
I concentrate hard on letting my mind go blank. I stare out the window, at the unfamiliar outside. I’ve never seen as much of the estate as I do now. The view from my cloister is the walled-in courtyard. But the grounds I see from the attic are green and flowering. There are orange trees and benches. Winding paths circle around the gardens. I also see the security cameras, which I know are still on.
In the far, far distance, I can barely see the billboards marking the entry to Silicon Valley. Somewhere out there my friends smile down at me, showing me what normal Vestals look like. Fatima … Beau … Ethan … Do they ever think of me?
Here, I am alone with my mission. I don’t have anyone who understands what it’s like to be me. I don’t have anybody to witness my moments or experience them with me. Without the Brethren, I’m in solitary confinement.
“Sophia?” I hear somebody say from way behind.
I turn my head and look. Cal is standing next to the cello, and his face blanches like he’s seen a ghost.
“Oh, forgive me, Blanca. I thought, I thought I—” But Cal can’t finish his sentence. He sits down on a couch partially covered in a sheet and puts his head in his hands.
I go over and sit a few inches away.
“It never gets better,” Cal mumbles. “It gets easier to deal with, but it never gets better.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m unsure if my words help. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a family member.
“I’m not the same person without Sophia. I’m different. I’m diminished,” Cal whispers.
I nod like I understand what Cal means, though I don’t.
Cal lifts his head. “Part of my life is going on fine, like nothing ever happened. And that makes me feel horrible! But the other parts of my life are total chaos. Like with Seth. And I haven’t known what to do. I haven’t known how to fix things.”
“You’re not alone anymore,” I say. “You’ve got me. I’m on
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