Summer Ruins (45 page)
Outside on the porch, autumn sunshine mixes with a crisp breeze, forming the promise of winter. It’s not so bothersome now that I can keep myself warm.
“You’re going to make us late, and I happen to know it doesn’t take any time at all for you to look so beautiful.” Lucas smiles at me from bottom of the steps, sunlight ringing a bright wash of gold around his head. The circles under his eyes betray his own trouble getting over the past several months. Everything we lost. Everything we saw.
I snort at his cheesy statement, then open my arms and fall against him, letting him pick me up and kiss me on the mouth, even though Mr. Morgan doesn’t like it. For that reason, we usually keep our greetings brief and save the real kissing for stolen hours at the park, but this morning I press deeper into him. His quickening heartbeat under my palm matches my own, and when we ease away a few minutes later, it takes a moment to remember where we are.
“I love you, Lucas Belgarde.”
“I love you, Althea Davies.”
It’s weird having last names that are ours. Pax, Deshi, and Lucas all decided to use their human mother’s last names, while I took my dad’s. Deshi went back to Portland, choosing to live with his family there for his repeated last year. Pax decided not to return to the Sanctioned Cities at all. He went with a small group of settlers who wanted to return to South America, where his mother lived, and said maybe he’ll come back after a few months.
As hard as it is for all of us to be apart, being together reminds him too much of Leah, I think.
We’ll see him this summer, when we do our first stint for the Round Table. That’s what the adults are calling their reestablishment board. They all think it’s hilariously clever, though I don’t understand why. I like the concept, though, that no one is in charge and everyone can be seen.
Anyway, they won’t let Pax stay gone. We’ve been approving every plan, as far as setting up the boundaries and leadership in this fledgling society, but things are rolling now and the Table agreed to let us finish our education. Over the summer we’re traveling to the Sanctioned Cities and taking the children in Primer and Intermediate Cell out into the Wilds. We’re supposed to tell them our story, and teach them about plants and animals and surviving.
Thinking about it makes me tired, but Lucas thinks it might be fun.
“So, ready for our second shot at last year?” Lucas asks, setting me away from him and taking my hand.
“
Senior
year.”
“Right, senior year,” he tries again, although some words are foreign to us still.
“Are you two coming, or what? You’re always dawdling, I swear,” Brittany hollers from the end of the block, hands on her hips.
We walk faster to appease her, because that’s what everyone does, and in a few minutes we reach the front door of Cell—school. Loud chatter and banging lockers fill the hallways, and when Lucas drops my hand and goes one way to his world history class, Brittany and I are alone.
She’s crabby this morning, frowning for no reason. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, nothing. Had a fight with my mom about whether or not I can go visit Sophie this summer.”
“Would she let you go if I’m going?” I ask, grinning.
“You’re going somewhere this summer?” She frowns harder, obviously annoyed that her plans aren’t living up to mine.
“Yeah. Lucas, Deshi, Pax, and I start our jobs this summer. Modern History Council.” I poke her arm, mostly to bug her. We’re also included on the Environmental Council.
“I’ll tell her you’re going. She likes you, for some reason.” Brittany gives up being snotty and gives me a real smile, then tugs me down the hall.
Greer appears out of nowhere, stepping straight out of a wall.
Brittany stumbles backward, then tries to cover her surprise by snapping, “Would you
please
just use the front door like everyone else?”
“I prefer reminding people that I’m better than them.” She grins at me. “How are you, Althea?”
“Good. Are you really going to school?” She said she’d see me the first day, but I hadn’t believed her. Warm excitement pours through me at the possibility.
“My mom taught me lots of stuff, but I’ve never been to school. It might be fun.” She shrugs and opens the door to English literature, and Brittany and I follow her inside.
We’re reading
A Separate Peace
, which both amuses me and makes me sad, because it reminds me of Pax.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the title, about how for the boys in the book being at their school had given them a peace separate from the troubled world. It didn’t work out for them, I think, because we’re all threads in the same piece of fabric. Those moments on the beach with my mom taught me that no part of the planet can be steady on its own—you can’t yank on one thread and not expect to unravel something else. There must always be balance, a counteraction, from the opposite side. Their school could never be peaceful while the world was at war; that imbalance crept into all the corners and upset everyone’s ability to thrive.
Instead of working toward a separate peace in each of our cities, or our schools, or families, we’re trying to maintain a balance while humanity figures out how to reestablish itself on Earth. The adults talk excitedly about having a second chance, about all of the mistakes that were made before—mainly that it’s not okay for some people to be happy while others suffer. It tips the balance.
I don’t understand most of the references or the intricate details of past disagreements, but I like that everyone’s talking. We’re going to have a
together
peace. It’s the only way.
***
Lucas meets me after school. We walk to the park and settle near the boundary where we first met Cadi. He shakes out a blanket we keep hidden in a tree and the two of us lie back on the soft down, staring up at the sky. My hand fits inside his as though it belongs there, and even though there’s no nervousness between us the way there was when we first met, touching him still excites me.
“How was your day?” he asks, turning onto his side and scooting against me.
I twist my head his direction and smile. “Good. It was nice to see Greer. What about you?”
“Same. I mean, on one hand, it’s good to be back here and to kind of have normal days. But it’s also strange. We’re not normal. Sometimes it feels like we’re pretending.” His lips twist as though he isn’t sure he’s saying it right.
“We’re not pretending. This is only part of our lives, but I like it. It’s nice being able to be here with you, to focus on mundane life for a while without people expecting things from us all the time.” We’ve spent the past two months surrounded by adults, all wanting something from us. The decision to be involved is still the right one, but it makes me feel caged.
“You like being here with me?” he asks, a sly smile turning up his full lips.
“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?” I reply, mimicking his playfulness and feeling really, really happy.
When his cold mouth covers mine, playfulness recedes, replaced by heat. The scents of summer and winter tangle on the autumn breeze as Lucas makes me forget that we’re in the park, that we’ll never be done being responsible, that our lives will never be only our own.
My fingers curl in his shirt, drawing him closer so I can wrap my arms around him. He slides a hand to the back of my neck, lifting my face to his, and I tilt it back, as hungry for his touch as he is for mine. We stay that way for a while—there’s no curfew, and even though we’re technically under the roof of adults, they don’t police our comings and goings.
It’s kind of hard to tell the kids who saved the world that they have to be home at a certain time. That’s one side effect I don’t mind at all.
Lucas pulls back but leaves his hands wrapped around me. In his arms, the temperature is perfect—a pleasant warmth that tickles and comforts—and I snuggle even closer. His eyes darken when we lose track of time like this, and in them I see love and desire, and a seriousness that belongs to him as surely as his scent.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“That we never made promises before because we didn’t know what would happen. And maybe we still don’t, in the sense that the future can change. But I promise I’ll always love you, Althea. That will never, ever change.” He swallows, a blush pinking his cheeks. “You’re amazing. All of this, everything we’ve been through, and your heart, it’s still sweet. Not angry. Not hard. Good.”
His words spill happiness through my blood like sunshine, and I lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When I pull back, his eyes are wet.
Lucas leans his forehead against mine. “I’m so stupid lucky.”
That makes me laugh, and I kiss him again, slower this time. “
I’m
lucky, Lucas. To have you love me. If I’m not ruined, it’s because you kept my heart alive.”
He lays me back on the blanket and we get lost for a while longer as the sun sinks toward the horizon, leaving an autumn chill in the air outside our strange pocket of warmth. Later, as we say good night between the Morgans’ and the Crawfords’ picture-perfect houses, I think about us being symbols for the humans.
Sometimes when I don’t feel worthy, I think of the men whose faces adorn Mount Rushmore. They weren’t better than everyone. They made mistakes, fought with their families in private, and probably often felt as though they weren’t fit to lead.
But that doesn’t matter. What matters is what they stand for, what people remember.
It will be the same with us. We are only
us
. We will grow up, live our lives, and die. We’ll make plenty of mistakes along the way, but people will remember what we did when we were seventeen years old. How we saved the planet. And that’s okay.
What I’ll remember are lazy afternoons in the park with Lucas, and how every time he says he loves me, my heart feels happy.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Creating a book takes a village, and mine is filled with wonderful editors, friends, family, and readers. My developmental editor, Danielle Poiesz, keeps my books in order and on track, and manages to be the sweetest person alive in the process. I can’t wait to continue working with her on future projects. Thanks to my copy editor, Lauren Hougen, whose comments make me laugh when I want to cry. I can’t give enough credit to my brilliant, adorable cover designer, Nathalia Suellen, whose beautiful covers have been priceless advocates for my stories.
I have some of the best beta readers and critique partners in the world, and each of them make me laugh, are there when I’m having a meltdown, and know just how to tell me what stinks about my manuscript without make me want to chuck the entire thing out the window. So Denise, Leigh Ann, and Diana—I couldn’t have done this without you. Julia, your text messages and energy continue to make my life.
I’m a lucky girl, one who is embraced by a wonderful family, and nothing I do would be possible without them. Especially to my parents and sister, who are patient and good-humored—a rare combination.
And to my readers—we made it. Thank you for sticking around.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Raised by a family of ex-farmers and/or almost rocks stars from Southeastern Iowa, Trisha Leigh has a film degree from Texas Christian University. She currently lives in Kansas City, MO, where she’s hard at work on the first book of a new series, which will be out in late July, 2013. Her spare time is spent reviewing television and movies, relaxing with her loud, loving family, reading, and being dragged into the fresh air by her dogs Yoda and Jilly. To learn more about Trisha Leigh, please visit her at trishaleigh.com.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at a fantastic upcoming Young Adult science fiction novel –
One
(by Leigh Ann Kopans) will be available June 11, 2013.
ONE
Leigh Ann Kopans
Most nights, and some mornings before sunrise, I sneak to the back of the shed and I practice. I push myself off the ground, telling my body to go weightless, and hover. An inch, two, six, a foot. I stay there for seconds, then minutes.