“Dude, we were just oiling the joints.”
“We could have been killed,” he said solemnly.
I stared at him, exasperated. “You’re fifteen!”
He shrugged, nonchalant. “I’ll be sixteen in a handful of weeks. What’s an age difference of three or four years in the face of a lifetime? I’m a patient man.”
“Listen, kid,” I said, imbuing a sense of finality in my tone as I clamped my hand over his shoulder. “I’m not trying to be mean, but you’re better off with someone your own size. Okay?”
If there was one thing I wasnotthankful for about my community—and our neighboring colonies in general—it was the pressure youth felt to find a partner. It wasn’t imposed on us by our parents, it was just there. Evolved over the centuries, likely seeded by the knowledge that there wasn’t an unlimited number of us. Nobody wanted to be left on the shelf, and boys like Ryland—if I were to be brutally honest—would not be most girls’ first pick. It made me feel sorry for him, and my mood softened as I took in the disappointed expression on his face. I sighed, opening my mouth to try to ease the blow, but he stepped away before I could, mumbling a “sorry” and ambling back to his group of friends.
I breathed in, taking a moment to digest the stab of guilt, and then turned toward Jessie—only to realize that in the short time I’d been talking with Ryland, she’d been successful in her mission.
For, lo and behold, standing almost right in the center of the dance floor, Robert and Rosalie swayed in each other’s arms, probably in the closest physical proximity they’d ever been to each other.
A smile tugged at my lips.Goal.
I then spotted Jessie, standing by her mother and her three youngest siblings. Her baby brother had just puked, and Jessie was helping to clean him up. She came over to me once she had finished and dropped wearily into a chair, wiping the last fleck of vomit from the hem of her dress.
She exhaled, leaning back. “Not sure I ever want kids.”
I sat next to her. I wasn’t sure I wanted them, either. I wasn’t even sure I wanted a partner. My days were more thanconsumed by mastering the diverse skills needed to keep our community surviving.
“Always be self-reliant, Tani,”my grandmother used to say, while her dressmaker hands weaved together strands of fabric.“Birds fly together, but storms can separate even the strongest of flocks.”
So far, our community was lucky enough to have never experienced anytruedisasters, but we could never become complacent.
Jessie had gone out with a twenty-year-old guy called Noble last year, who had come over from a neighboring commune to visit family. They’d spent a handful of balmy evenings together—picnicking on lookout platforms, racing each other along the zip lines, even daring a moonlit swim in a river pool. But when Noble suddenly got serious and proposed, Jessie panicked and cut things off. Apparently, we both had commitment issues.
I looked at Robert, who was still staring at Rosalie like she held the secrets of the universe—or at least amazing hair. Mrs. Farr still remained ignorant, over by the recycling bins, but his older sisters had noticed by now and side-eyed the couple from the periphery with not-so-discreet smiles.
“Do you think he’ll still want to come with us to see Zina tomorrow?” I wondered, remembering Jessie was also supposed to be part of the scout team.
She frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he?”
"Well, now that he’s united with the love of his life…” I shrugged, letting the pause hang. “Maybe he wants to keep the fire going. Ride the high. You know. Build on the momentum.”
Jessie smirked. “Nah, he’ll show. He wouldn’t dare snub Zina.” She leaned in slightly. “Though if he stays up too late, he’ll be unbearable tomorrow. Unless someone gives him a reason to be in averygood mood.”
Her gaze flicked up to the large, solar-powered clock above the main entrance. She gave a low whistle. “Already nine-thirty.”
I nodded. We’d need to move out at first light, pushing hard to cover ground before the heat turned the jungle into a furnace.
And we’d need to stay sharp. Trouble or not at Zina’s camp, the journey would ask its own price.
THREE
I stayedin the hall until ten-thirty before calling it quits and heading home. The winds were becoming dangerously strong, whistling through every small crack in the structure and causing the wooden ceiling to creak ominously, and I didn’t feel like joining in a mass sleepover in the hall. Zip lining in worse conditions was asking for trouble.
But even though I made it an early night, I barely slept. Not with the wind screaming bloody murder outside my window and the thunder overhead. We’d done everything we could to secure our tree house, but I tossed and turned, breaking out into nervous sweats. It didn’t help that Bea clung to me like a sloth.
By morning, I’d probably only slept three solid hours. But at least we were unscathed. Our home was mostly in one piece, with some minor damage to our roof. It looked like our neighbors had also been lucky. The winds hadn’t been as bad as the last storm, thank the stars.
Come 6 a.m., the sun began to peer above the horizon. The storm had swept past us as I’d hoped, leaving behind the richscent of damp soil. Patches of dark clouds still clung to the sky, but it looked like we’d have a mostly dry journey.
My father and I said goodbye to my mother, then slipped out of the house while Bea slept, harnesses tightly strapped, backpacks slung over our shoulders, extra high boots fastened. We headed to the meeting place we had agreed on: the platform beneath the lookout. It was the most direct route to the zip lines that would lead us away from our colony and deep into the jungle.
Everyone was already gathered when we arrived: my uncle and aunt, Jessie, and a rather bleary-eyed Robert.
