There was no big, dramatic confrontation. No one got betrayed. Nothing came to a head. There’s no one moment Clarke can point to and say,That. That’s when it changed.And that’s so much harder to explain, so when people ask what happened between Clarke and Julian, she saysConnorbecause that makes them stop asking questions and the timing was mostly right, and she pretends she can’t sense Connor’s ghost flicking her off for using him as an excuse.
Imogen hums. “And what do you plan on doing about it?”
“We’re not kids anymore, Mom. You don’t need to mediate like we’re still living upstairs.”
Julian lived here for three years, from age sixteen until he got called up by Chronicle. He came back to visit regularly until things started falling apart. Clarke’s family has held space for Julian, too, with some of his clothes still tucked safely into a drawer. He haunts this place just as much as Connor.
Imogen and Ihaka care about Julian. Not like he’s their child, and that’s not what Julian ever needed from them—his own parents are loving, kind people—but he’s important to them, and Imogen’s as displeased about the rift as anyone. “Someone needs to mediate, clearly, because it’s not getting any better.”
“It might not get better.”
“That,” Imogen says, taking a serene sip of her drink and waving to a neighbor who’s leaving for work, “is some bullshit.”
It startles a laugh out of Clarke. “Yeah?”
“Yes. The Council of Moms has discussed it.”
The Council of Moms: Imogen; Julian’s mom, Luana; and Connor’s moms, Elise and Ndira. The four of them used to stay up late on youth circuit race weekends, crammed into the kitchen of the Bennetts’ cruiser, wheezing with suppressed laughter so they wouldn’t wake up their kids—except Clarke, Julian, and Connor would inevitably still be awake, poring over track maps and debating tomorrow’s conditions.
Clarke is hit with a wave of wistfulness so strong that she has to consciously breathe around it. “How are they? The moms?”
“They’re good. Worried about you and Julian.”
Clarke groans. “You are not going to let up, are you?”
“My darling, darling girl,” Imogen says. She kisses her fingersand smacks them against the brim of Clarke’s hat. “Where do you think your stubbornness comes from?”
—
Clarke doesn’t stopmoving for the next two weeks. She goes bug-hunting with Kuari, spending hours crouched in damp caverns waiting for the hand-size, crystal-encrusted beetles he’s currently obsessed with to hatch. She cooks with Ihaka, marveling at how the same activity with one father figure feels impossibly different from doing it with the other. She follows her mother to work one day, visiting Mars’s northern lowlands to see how the terraforming operation’s going. She catches up with the couple nonracing friends she hasn’t fallen out of touch with. At Naomi’s instruction, she spends an afternoon with Anders at a nearby youth racing exhibition that thankfully features very little actual interaction with Anders but a lot of press-pleasing fan photos. She cleans out the closet in her childhood bedroom, passing over the drawer of Julian’s clothes like it’s sacred or cursed or both. If she keeps herself occupied, she won’t have to think about the second half of the season.
But the second half of the season is coming up fast.
On the day Elemental’s shutdown officially ends, Clarke hugs her family and boards an interplanetary shuttle. It’s almost a full-day trip, orbital alignment between Earth and Mars being what it is at this time of year, so Clarke pays for a private cabin. She watches a movie. She reads part of a book. She takes a nap.
When she’s put it off as long as she can, she calls her manager.
“Clarke!” Rhynn picks up immediately, although they appear to be on an actively sinking boat. A small one. In water. “Hang on, just one sec.”
“I can call back later,” Clarke offers, as she always does.Rhynn despises scheduling meetings, and also despises sitting at a desk, so calls often catch them mid-activity.
“Don’t be silly, it’s fine.” Rhynn deliberately tips their canoe over. They splutter up out of the water, sling their arms across the overturned hull, and adjust the camera angle. “There we go, that’s much better. How’s your break going?”
“Good. I’m on my way back to Luna now. That design meeting is the day after tomorrow.”
“The one about next year’s ship.” Rhynn kicks along in the water, calling out to whoever else is in their canoeing party that they’re perfectly fine, just taking care of a bit of work. “I agree that it’s a good sign, but I still think it’d be in your best interest to start letting other teams know you’re open to discussion.”
It bounces around in Clarke’s brain. She lets it, hoping it will settle somewhere clear and unsurprised when it doesn’t.
When Clarke first set her sights on F0, she promised herself that she’d fly for any teambutElemental, because Elemental was where Anders spent the bulk of his career. She didn’t want to follow in Anders’s footsteps any more than she already would be by racing at all.
Connor didn’t push her on it. That’s how Connor was. Amiable, agreeable, willing to take what you told him at face value. Julian, on the other hand, told her in no uncertain terms that she was being an idiot.
You don’t want to follow in Anders’s footsteps? Don’t,he’d said.Eclipse them. Anders never won the pilot bracket. If Elemental makes you an offer, take it, and then drag them to the top of both championships. Make them rememberyourname, not his.
Clarke can’t do that if she’s not with Elemental anymore. She isn’t ready to give up yet, and she definitely isn’t ready for everyone to know how close Elemental is to giving up on her.
She wishes she could talk to Julian about this. She’s almost called him a dozen times since break started, going so far as to pull up his contact and stare at their last message exchange. A year and a half ago, when Elemental announced they’d signed Clarke to a rookie contract.Julian:Congratulations. Connor’d be proud.Clarke:Thanks. See you out there.
