Once We Were

Henri hesitated. “They have more pressing concerns. The Americas are large, but you are . . . what’s the word? You keep to yourselves. And you are not as advanced with technology. You are not a threat. The world has already seen too much war these past decades. There is little to gain from provoking the Americas when so far they have been peaceful.”

“They haven’t been peaceful to us,” I snapped. I took a deep breath through our nose. “They trade, though. Dr. Lyanne told us. There are countries out there trading with the Americas, helping them hurt us.”

When Henri spoke again, his voice was even quieter. Contained. “Almost everyone was hurt by the wars. Some countries more than others. Some are very desperate now. Some would try to trade with the Americas in hope they might receive aid from them, if war came again.” His expression showed how unlikely he imagined that help would be. “Others trade because the Americas can provide supplies they are unable to produce themselves and cannot manage to obtain elsewhere.”

In the end, though, whatever their reasoning, the important thing was easy to understand.

<They won’t be helping us> I said.

<No, they won’t.>

We’d have to help ourselves.

NINETEEN

Ryan woke up soon after, saving me from more of Henri’s questions.

“Eva?” His voice was rough with sleep. I perched on the edge of the couch, smiling automatically as his eyes met mine. If I bent down, just a little, I could kiss away the last of his dreams, my hair curtaining us from the rest of the world. “You’re here early.”

I shrugged, conscious of Henri at the dining table behind me. “I wanted to talk.”

Ryan nodded and pushed himself upright. He knew what I’d come to talk about. I guess it wasn’t hard to figure out. “I’ll get dressed.”

I sat awkwardly in the living room while Ryan went to get ready. We couldn’t really talk, of course, with Henri listening in, so as soon as Ryan reemerged, I mumbled something about not wanting to leave Kitty alone and pulled him out of the apartment.

But when we reached Emalia’s door, I hesitated. “Let’s keep going.” I took a step back toward the stairwell. “Let’s go outside. We do it all the time to go to the photography shop, and nothing’s ever happened. Nothing’s ever even come close to happening.”

<Eva . . . > Addie said.

But Ryan smiled. “Where do you want to go?”

To the last place we’d felt, just for a moment, happy, unburdened, and full of hope.

“The beach,” I said.

I’d sought out Ryan so we could talk about Sabine’s plan, but as the two of us wandered through the congested city streets, I didn’t bring it up. The warm, sunny morning filled me with a happiness I was in no hurry to destroy.

We had no money for the bus, let alone a taxi, so we ducked into a tiny grocery store to look at a map and write down directions, then set out on foot. Emalia didn’t usually get home until evening; we had plenty of time.

It was miles before we finally reached the boardwalk. But the sight of it—all vibrant colors and chaotic noise—made us forget how far we’d walked. Boats rocked in the distance, just visible between the brightly colored buildings. School hadn’t started up yet in Anchoit, and children ran around, screaming laughter. Their parents trailed after them.

A burst of wind made me wrap our jacket tighter around our body, made our hair fly around our face. But it also brought us the rich, salty smell of the ocean mixed with a whiff of greasy food.

Ryan and I didn’t bother with the little stores or the restaurants or the arcade games with their flashing lights. We headed straight for the beach, where I took off our shoes and socks and Ryan left his on. It was almost noon, the pale sand warm beneath our feet.

Far out in the water, a small boat cut through the waves. I squinted at it, hand up to shield our eyes from the sun. During the early years of the Great Wars, refugees from the rest of the world came to the Americas in ships, seeking shelter and safety. At first they’d been allowed in, but then the invasions happened, anti-hybrid sentiment spiked, and the ships were turned away. Many of the hybrids already in the country were rounded up and placed into camps. Some say they were murdered—or executed, anyway—for suspected treason. The institutions were supposed to be a kindness, after that. A place of containment and safety, not murder.

This cure Jenson talked about. It must sound like a kindness, too.

“I thought we’d have the whole summer,” I said over our shoulder to Ryan. I could almost taste the salt water on our lips, feel the slick of the sea on our skin. Everything smelled heady and rough and untamed. “Last time we were here, I mean. I thought we’d have the whole summer to come here and swim and be outside.”

Ryan led us farther down the beach, away from the crowded boardwalk. Here, we were all but alone. I twisted our hair off our neck, wanting to feel the sun heat our skin. I imagined it could warm us all the way through, chase away the shadows I felt lodged in our chest.

“It’s not supposed to get that cold here, even in the fall,” Ryan said. “Maybe soon, they’ll let us out of lockdown.”

It was mid-August, but no one had said anything about enrolling us in school. I didn’t know whether or not to be relieved. School might be hell—having to keep up a front at all times, trying to make friends we knew would abandon us if they got a hint of who we really were. But if Peter and the others weren’t planning on enrolling us here, in Anchoit, it might mean they didn’t expect us to stay long enough for it to be worth it.

I was silent a moment, our shoes hanging from our fingertips. I’d kept so many secrets these past few weeks. From Emalia and Sophie, mostly. But I realized now that I’d kept one particular secret from Ryan and Hally, too.

“Peter’s planning on sending us someplace else.”

Ryan spun around to face me. “What? When did he say that?”

“A little while back.” I looked away. “It’s not just Addie and me. He wants all of us out of Anchoit—you, Hally, and Kitty, too. He doesn’t think it’s safe.”

“Peter doesn’t think anything’s safe,” Ryan said. The sudden bitterness in his voice made the day a little less warm.

Then, with a sigh, he sat on the sand and tugged us down with him. He rested his head against ours, and I tried to relax, because this should have been so easy, so simple. But it wasn’t. Addie’s rigidity bled into our muscles, injected tension into our limbs. She said nothing, but she didn’t need to. I should have moved away. But I didn’t want to. Instead, I took Ryan’s arm and pulled him close as I lay down, snug in the heat of the sun and the sand and his skin.

The sky was almost cloudless. So blue it hurt to look at.

“What do you think of their plan?” Ryan’s voice was low, right next to our ear.

After so much quiet contemplation, it felt strange to hear the question aloud. It felt even stranger to realize we’d only heard of Sabine’s plan less than twenty-four hours before.

“I want to do it,” I said to the sky, the sand, the sea.

<Eva> Addie said. It wasn’t an argument. She hadn’t argued against the plan since last night. But she said my name like a warning. Or, not a warning. A plea, maybe. A plea to wait just one more moment, to think this through just a little more.

But I didn’t want to think it through anymore. I’d woken up this morning wanting to talk with Ryan so I could figure out my thoughts, but as it turned out, I didn’t need to. My thoughts were straight enough as it was.

“I want to do it,” I repeated. “I think . . . I think—”

“It’s right?” Ryan said.