“Why not? I hate it here.”
“Because if they send you home, I’ll be here by myself. At least with each
other, neither one of us is the only kid from Mars.”
There was that, I supposed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll try to fit in from now on.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Just … try to be more subtle.”
“Subtle as a Martian dust storm, that’s me,” I said.
He might have actually twitched a smile at that.
* * *
Life under restrictions was about the same as before, only even more annoying. No one to talk to at study hall. Having to sit through class without saying a word. Extra PE. The good side of all the extra work was I slept very well at night.
The worst part, though, was my mother sending a message full of dire warnings and disappointment. Stanton must have reported on me about the stunt, and now Mom was convinced I was going to flunk out and destroy my chances for any kind of successful future. It freaked me out a little, when I kept thinking getting kicked out meant going back to Mars and my old life.
My old life. Right.
I was two weeks into restrictions when I got a video from Beau. Not an e-mail, a whole video, which I was excited about at first because I’d get to see him and hear his voice on the screen of my handheld. But right away I knew something was wrong because he couldn’t look straight at the camera. His gaze sort of drifted all the way around it, to the ceiling, then the floor, then over his shoulder as if something were following him, even though he was only sitting at the desk in his room. His hair was rumpled. I knew exactly what it would feel like if I touched it—rough, warm, a little greasy.
“Um. Hi, Polly. How’s it going?” He’d never sounded so nervous before. So reluctant. Maybe someone was standing to the side, holding a gun to his head. “So, yeah. Things are okay here, I guess.” He glanced offscreen and pressed his lips together before continuing, and the knot in my stomach tightened.
“Oh, just spit it out, why don’t you!” I shouted at the screen, because I knew what was coming.
He mumbled some more. “There’s … we really need to talk. Or I need tell you something, I guess. We can’t really talk.” His nervous chuckle sounded stupid. “Yeah. Um.”
Then a voice hissed at him from out of sight. “Just tell her!”
That sounded just like Victory Mason. Prettiest girl in class back on Mars. And she’d stolen my boyfriend. Because I was two hundred million kilometers away and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Beau finally said, “I’m really sorry, but … I think we should both be open to seeing other people. I mean, we knew it probably wasn’t going to work out, with you being so far away and everything.”
No, we hadn’t known that. We’d sworn undying loyalty. Or rather, I had.
“You’re a really good person, Polly. It’s not you—”
“Oh, don’t say it,” I muttered.
“—it’s me. And we’ll still be friends, I know it. But, yeah. It’s just not fair to you, you being on Earth and probably meeting all these great guys. You should enjoy yourself. Yeah, that’s it. Um—I’m really sorry.”
And the picture cut out. The screen went to black, and I spent a long time staring at it, not knowing what to think. I thought about playing the vid again, studying every nuance—every time his gaze had swung to the left, offscreen, he must have been looking at Victory, who’d been egging him on the whole time. He could have just not broken up with me and I’d never have known, and I wouldn’t feel like such dirt now. Ignorance would have been better.
Really, I should have been happy that Victory made him tell me. He could have just gone out with her and I’d never know. In the end, I’d rather know.
I thought about playing the message again, but instead I deleted it. I would never talk to Beau again.
I was glad of the restricted study hall then, being in my own cubicle where no one could see me. Where I didn’t have to talk to anyone, tell anyone why I was staring at my handheld like I wanted to kill it. I really could have smashed it to pieces at the moment, except for being numb. I couldn’t move, I realized. The more I thought of it, the more I thought it wasn’t even Beau I missed. Would miss. He said, “It’s not you, it’s me,” but really it was me, wasn’t it?
Because I wasn’t worth waiting for.
I had to sit for another fifteen minutes before I could go back to the dorm for lights-out. I wanted to do anything other than sit here. I wanted to run, scream, fly, anything. But none of it would help. So I went numb.
Then, finally, it was time to go, all of us filing back to our dorm rooms.