“There may be a way to beat it,” Astrid said cautiously.
He looked at her hopefully, like maybe she had an answer. She shook her head, so he said, “No one’s even looking for a way out of the FAYZ. There may be a way to escape. For all we know, there’s a big, wide-open gate in the barrier. Maybe out to sea. Maybe out in the desert or up in the national park. No one has even looked.”
Astrid resisted the urge to label that sentiment as “grasping at straws.”
Instead, she said, “If there was a way out there would be a way in. And the whole world must know what’s happened. Perdido Beach, the power plant, the highway suddenly blocked—it’s not like the world hasn’t noticed. And they have more people and more resources than we do. They must have half the scientists in the world working on it. But here we are still.”
“I know. I know all that.” He was calmer now and sat on one of the barstools that lined the kitchen counter. He ran one hand over the smooth granite surface as if appreciating the
coolness of the stone. “I’ve been thinking, Astrid. What about an egg?”
“Um. I’m out of eggs.”
“No, I mean, think about an egg. The baby chicken pokes his way out of the egg, right? But if you try to break into the egg, it all comes apart.” He did a crumbling thing with his fingertips to illustrate. When she didn’t respond, he slumped and said, “It made perfect sense when I was thinking about it.”
“Actually, it does make a certain amount of sense,” she said.
He was clearly taken aback. His eyes twinkled in a way she liked, and he smiled lopsidedly. “You sound surprised,” he said.
“I am, a little. It may turn out to be an apt analogy.”
“You’re only saying ‘apt analogy’ to remind me you’re smarter than I am,” he teased.
Their eyes locked. Then both looked away, both smiling with embarrassment.
“I’m not sorry, you know,” he said. “I mean, wrong time, wrong place, and all, but I’m still not sorry.”
“You mean…”
“Yeah.”
“No, me neither,” Astrid said. “Um, it was my first time. You know, if you don’t count when I kissed Alfredo Slavin in first grade.”
“First time?”
“Well. Yeah. You?”
He shook his head and winced regretfully. Then he said, “But it was the first time I meant it.”
A comfortable silence fell between them.
Then Astrid said, “Sam, the eggshell thing: what you’re saying is that if people outside try to penetrate the barrier wall, it might be dangerous to us. And the people outside might have figured that out. It may be that only we can safely break the barrier and emerge. Maybe the whole world is waiting, watching, hoping we’ll figure out how to hatch.” She opened the cabinet above her and produced a half-empty bag of cookies. She put them on the counter and took one for herself. “It’s a good theory, but you realize it’s still not likely.”
“I know. But I don’t want to just sit here and wait for the clock to tick down if there’s a way out of the FAYZ.”
“What is it you want to do?”
He shrugged. He had a way of doing that in a way that didn’t express doubt or uncertainty but was more like a person sloughing off a heavy burden, freeing himself up to act. “I want to start by following the barrier and seeing if there just happens to be some big gate. Maybe you walk through that gate and everyone’s there, you know? My mom, your parents. Anna and Emma.”
“Teachers,” Astrid supplied.
“Don’t ruin a happy picture,” Sam said.
“What happens if you do find a gate, Sam? You go through it? What happens to all the kids still in the FAYZ?”
“They get out, too.”
“You won’t know for sure it’s a gate unless you go through it. And once you do, there may not be a way back in.”