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Two lives.
Ever since the day of the mistake with my Match, I’ve never known which life is my true one. Even with the reassurances of the Official that day in the greenspace, I think a part of me hasn’t felt at peace. It was as though I saw for the first time that life could branch into different paths, take different directions.
Back inside the house, I tip my compact out of the envelope and take Ky’s artifact from its hiding place deep in the pocket of one of my extra sets of plainclothes. When I place them side by side, it’s easy to tel the difference between the two golden circles. The surface of Ky’s artifact is plain, scratched. The compact shines brighter, and its engraved letters catch my eye.
On a whim, I pick up my artifact, twist the base, look inside. I know Ky saw me reading the poems in the forest. Did he also see me open the compact?
What if Ky left a message for me?
Nothing.
I put the compact away on its shelf.
I decide to keep the envelope, to put Ky’s artifact inside before I put it back in the pocket of my extra plainclothes for safekeeping. But before I do, I open the case and watch the spinning arrow. It settles on a point, but I stil spin, wondering where to go.
CHAPTER 17
The climb is almost too easy.
I slap branches out of the way, leap over rocks and push through bushes. My feet have worn a path on this hil and I know where to go and how to get there. I wish for a bigger chal enge and for something harder to scale. I wish for the Hil with its fal en trees and ungroomed forest. Right now, I think, if they put me on the Hil I could run straight up it. And when I reached the top there would be a new view and maybe, if he came with me and we stood there together, I would learn even more about Ky.
I can’t wait to see him and ask him about his story. Wil he have more for me?
I burst through t
he trees and grin at the Officer.
“Got some competition for your spot today,” he says as he records my climbing time on the datapod.
What does he mean? I turn to see Ky. A girl sits next to him, bright golden hair streaming down her back. Livy.
Ky laughs at something she says. He makes no move, no gesture to indicate that he wants me to come sit by him. He doesn’t even look at me.
Livy’s taken my place. I take a step forward to get it back.
Livy holds out a stick to Ky. He doesn’t even hesitate. He takes hold of it right above her hand, and I see him helping her make swirling motions in the dirt.
Is he teaching her to write?
My one step forward becomes many steps back as I turn and walk away from it al . From the glint of sunlight on her hair; from their hands, almost-touching, writing letters in the dirt; from Ky’s eyes looking away from me; from the spot in the sun with wind and whispered words that are supposed to be mine.
How can I talk to Ky with her sitting right there? How can I learn how to write? How can I get more of his words?
The answer is simple: I can’t.
Back down at the bottom of the hil the Officer gives us a speech. “Tomorrow wil be different,” he tel s us. “Stay at the Arboretum air-train stop when you arrive and wait for me so I can lead you to the new site. We’re finished with this hil . ”
“Final y,” Ky says behind me in a voice so quiet only I can hear. “I was beginning to feel like Sisyphus. ” I don’t know who Sisyphus is. I want to turn around and ask Ky, but I don’t. He taught Livy to write. Is he tel ing her his story, too? Did I trick myself into thinking I was special to him? Perhaps many girls know Ky’s story and have fal en for the gift of writing their names.
Even as I think these things I know they are wrong, but I can’t clear my mind of the sight of his hand guiding hers.
The Officer blows his whistle to dismiss us. I walk away, staying slightly separate from everyone else. I’ve walked a few steps when I hear Ky behind me.
“Anything you want to tel me?” he asks softly. I know what he’s asking. He wants to hear more of the poem.
I shake my head no, turn my face away. He didn’t have any words for me. Why should I give him any of mine?
I wish my mother weren’t gone. The timing of this trip is strange—summer is the busiest season at the Arboretum, so many plants to tend—and I miss her for selfish reasons, too. How am I supposed to get ready for my first official outing with Xander without her?
I put on a clean pair of plainclothes, wishing that I stil had the green dress. If I did, I would wear it again to remind both Xander and me of what everything was like just over a month ago.
When I come out into the foyer, my father and my brother wait for me. “You look beautiful,” my father says.
“You look al right,” Bram says.
“Thanks,” I tel him, rol ing my eyes. Bram says this every time I go somewhere. Even on the night of the Match Banquet, he said the same thing. I like to think he said it with more sincerity, though.
“Your mother’s going to try to cal tonight. She wants to hear al about the evening,” my father says.
