Talen

“Most of them never make it that far.”

“No, they don’t. They die along the way, or they disappear after they arrive.”

“How long have you lived among them?” Aerin asks.

“I guess it’s been five or six years.” I glance over at her. “When was I reported dead?”

“2110 or 2111. Not sure exactly.”

“I was still in Washington then.” I laugh humorlessly.

“What happened to you?” she asks quietly.

“My mouth got too big for my father’s tastes.”

I don’t say any more on the subject, and she doesn’t press for information. I’m grateful for that, but I need a quick change of topic before she starts thinking about it too much. I’m trying to come up with a new subject, but Aerin speaks first.

“So, uh, what’s with the tattoos?”

“Oh!” I look down at my own chest as if I’d forgotten they were there. Other than Ava, very few people ever see me without a shirt in the cool climate, and I’m not used to anyone noticing my tats. “Rebellious teen years, I guess.”

“I like the music notes,” Aerin says. “Do they mean anything special?”

I pause for a long moment, trying to choose the right words.

“Each note represents someone in my early life,” I finally say. “The music scale is an infinity symbol because I always thought music and family were forever. I’ve always loved music. I thought when I first got here that I’d become a minstrel or something like that, you know? Music lifts the soul and all, and the Naughts could use a little soul lifting.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because the body has to eat,” I tell her, “and there were other, more important things they needed. Finding items and food became more important than stealing a guitar to play them a tune.”

“Six notes,” Aerin says as she looks a little closer. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“One older sister, yes.” I point to each of the notes in turn. “Me, my mother, father, and sister. The connected notes are for my grandparents”

“And the roses?”

“The roses are for my mom.” I shrug as I offer her a half smile. “She had a garden when I was a kid and loved to grow roses. When they were in bloom, she always brought one in the house to put on the table, but she was afraid I’d get hurt by the thorns, so she’d cut them off before she brought a rose inside. That’s why the roses don’t have any thorns.”

“Where are your mom and sister now?”

“The virus killed my sister when I was five.” I take in a slow breath, centering myself. “That was before Dad was president.”

“So, he couldn’t get her help.”

“No, he couldn’t. I’m sure he blamed himself for her death, which is why he became so obsessed with the general order of the capital. He was always into politics, but he went a little off the deep end after that. Then my mother died from the virus just two years later.”

I clench my teeth and close my eyes for a moment. If I say anything else, it will open up the floodgates, and who knows what I might end up saying to her. If I talk about how it all started, I’ll eventually get to how it ended, and I don’t want to go there.

“I’m sorry”—Aerin touches my arm briefly, electrifying my skin—“about your mom, I mean.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” I look over at her and wait to see if she will offer any information about her father, but she says nothing of the sort.

“We really should get some sleep.” She turns away and slides down, covering herself up with the blanket. “I want to make as much progress tomorrow as possible.”

“Yeah, sure.” I lie down as well and try to ignore the warmth radiating from her body. Without the sound of our talking, my other senses are heightened. The smell of her hair engulfs me, and I decide it’s best to roll over with my back to her.

Instead of helping, rolling over untucks the blanket from around me and makes her warmth far more noticeable. I close my eyes and try to clear my mind, but I still see images of her in her tank top and shorts, lying so close to me and looking all soft and warm and utterly desirable.