I growled. The elevator doors opened.
The lobby was filled with automated scrubbers and cleaners repairing the damage from the fire-retardant foam, making a soft, annoying hum. In their midst, a pair of uniformed security officers stood talking to Stanton, who appeared utterly calm and serene with her gray uniform and superior gaze. She should have been surprised to see us all marching out of the elevator, but she wasn’t. Narrowing her gaze at us, she considered. Charles must have guessed that I was about to open my mouth and start yelling, because he grabbed my wrist and squeezed.
Before anyone could say anything, George came in the front door. He looked flushed, sweaty, exhausted, his shirt untucked, a spatter of mud on the hem of his trousers and shoes. He looked around, blinking like he’d left an air lock to emerge in bright sunlight.
“George!” Elzabeth called and ran forward. George’s expression softened with relief and he opened his arms, catching her and hugging tight. They stood there for a long time, clinging to each other. Might have been the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. Even if it was George and Elzabeth.
They pulled apart only when Stanton said, “Mr. Montes. What a relief. You’re not hurt, I assume?”
George and Elzabeth stared at her. The security guys moved in and asked a few questions—to make it all seem real. George went with the security guys to a corner of the lobby. Elzabeth refused to leave his side and no one argued. Stanton came to face down the rest of us.
Like Charles said—it was all theater.
I waited to see whom Stanton was going to yell at first, and what exactly she was going to yell about. But she didn’t. She just stood there, her expression still, and said, “Well. Thank goodness it all turned out well. Everyone, go back to your rooms. We’ll return to Galileo in the morning. Everyone needs to be packed and in the lobby by eight A.M.”
“That’s it?” I said, because I couldn’t help it. Charles elbowed my arm.
“That’s it, Ms. Newton,” Stanton said. She acted like she’d won something. But what? This was some kind of foot race, but where was the finish line?
“Come on, Polly,” Charles said, taking hold of my arm. “You must be very tired and should get some sleep.”
How was I supposed to fight back if no one would let me, and if there wasn’t even anything to fight against? Didn’t change that I felt like I ought to be fighting something.
Maybe it was me. I was just going crazy. Again, I blamed the gravity. I could live with that.
20
And that was the trip to the Manhattan Cultural Preserve. I wanted to say I had a good time. The place could convince anyone that maybe Earth wasn’t so bad after all, if it had horses. But I couldn’t think about anything without thinking about Stanton and what was going to happen next. Something was going to happen next. My stomach hurt thinking about it.
Galileo Academy and its grounds were supposed to be beautiful and awe inspiring, but it felt more and more like a prison. The cameras felt like eyes, and every instructor seemed to be paying extra-close attention to me, making notes on every little thing I did wrong. Because everything I did was wrong, I was sure. Except in Ms. Lee’s astrophysics class. She still smiled when I raised my hand.
George was fine. Acted like nothing had happened, even. He didn’t treat me any different than he had before, which was fine. If it had happened to me, I’d have pretended nothing was different, too. You didn’t want to draw too much attention to yourself, after all.
After a week, the routine had stayed routine, which was why I didn’t expect George to corner me at PE. We’d been running, and I’d been in the back with the rest of the offworld kids. We didn’t wheeze and straggle like we used to, but we still lagged behind the others. We got back to the locker rooms about twenty minutes after everyone else, and George was waiting by the outside door, slouching with his arms crossed, until he caught my gaze.
He waited until everyone else was inside before calling out, “Polly.”
I shouldn’t have stopped, but I did, letting him pull me aside.
“What do you want?” I said flatly, too tired to be offended.
“I just wanted to say…” He looked at his feet, then up again. Scuffed a toe on the ground. Was he actually nervous? “I know we haven’t really gotten along, and I probably could have been a little nicer and all…”
All I could do was stare. What was he doing? I braced to run, just in case.
He must have talked for a full minute, explaining: “… and whatever was really up with those guys and the kidnapping, I don’t even know. But Elzabeth told me everything that happened, and you and Charles stuck your necks out for me. And, well. Thanks. I really appreciate it. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know. All right?” He was blushing a little, and his smile was tight and nervous, waiting for me to respond.
I didn’t know what to say. This didn’t seem like a trick. He was being genuinely … nice. I could tell because he’d never sounded like that before, at least not to me.
“I didn’t do it to get any favors from you,” I said finally. “I did it because it was the right thing to do.”
“I can still be grateful. Just keep it in mind.” He turned and walked into the building.
I would have gone through all that for anyone, if I thought he was being hurt. Did he even understand that? Maybe he did. Maybe this was the only way he knew how to say thank you. Because it was all about who could do what for you—Tenzig knew this, and proved it when he took me aside as we were walking back to the residence hall from class.
“You’ve figured out the system, I see,” Tenzig said.
“What are you talking about?” I shot back.