Once We Were

around.

We broke curfew to spend late nights secreted in a garage downtown, surrounded by power tools Jackson admitted we didn’t technically have permission to use, so hurry up and get it done. I woke once in the semidarkness of the garage, hearing Ryan working in the background. Jackson was laughing. I —Addie—was laughing, too. She quieted a little once she felt my presence, but didn’t lose her smile.

Twice, we were almost caught leaving the garage. But both times, we got away, safe and triumphant and filled with a breathless sort of glee.

Then came the morning I walked up the attic stairs, still yawning, and Ryan turned to me.

He said, before I could speak: “I think it’s finished.”

It had been a while since the atmosphere in the attic was like this. Tense. Stretched. Vince lounged on the green couch, Sabine next to him. Christoph and Cordelia took up the other sofa. Ryan stood; he’d just finished explaining the workings of the contraption sitting in the middle of the rug. Addie and I leaned against the wall.

“It’ll do the job,” Ryan said into the silence.

“Not doubting it,” Vince said. The two shared a tense but genuine smile.

“We’ll test it next week,” Sabine said. “We’ll drive way out to Frandmill. There’s a lot of deserted land around there. We’ll get the liquid oxygen tomorrow night, after dark but before curfew. Not all of us.”

“I’ll go with you,” Vince said, and she nodded.

“I’ll go, too.” I wasn’t sure whether to be gratified or insulted by the startled silence that followed my words.

<Eva> Addie said quietly. <I don’t think that’s a good idea. If we get caught—>

<We won’t get caught> I said. I was being stubborn, but I couldn’t help it. Not after the look that had followed my volunteering. I needed to help out in some way. That was why Sabine had invited me to join her group in the first place, wasn’t it? To help?

“If we’re going to go before midnight, Emalia might not be asleep yet,” Sabine said.

I shrugged. “We’ll just say we’re going up to Henri’s for a bit. We got out fine to work in the garage. She never checks.”

It was yet another risk, but to be honest, I was no longer particularly worried about Emalia or Sophie finding out about our trips outdoors. They seemed happily oblivious that we’d even think about sneaking out.

Ryan glanced at me. “If four isn’t too many . . .”

“Three is enough,” Sabine said. “We only need two to carry the tank, and then one more to stand guard.”

“But two standing guard is better than one,” Ryan said.

Sabine’s lips pressed into a smile that quickly faded. She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It’ll be worst for you if we’re caught.”

He shrugged. “It’ll be night. I won’t attract more attention than any of you.”

Which was only true as long as we weren’t seen. But Sabine didn’t argue further, just nodded. “Tomorrow night, then. If that turns out badly, we’ll try again Friday.”

And just like that, another chunk of the plan fell into place.

TWENTY-THREE

A birthday cake on a polka-dotted tablecloth

With white frosting

And sliced strawberries

And five candles weeping wax, burning

Five candles

And two breaths

Before they all went out.

Addie’s old black sketchbook

Spine cracked

Pages lolling out

Bloated with paint and wrinkled

Sketches of our stuffed animals

Of Lyle. Of Nathaniel.

Of Mom napping on the sofa

Hair in her face

Exhaustion, Addie says when her art teacher asks:

What will you name it?

Laughter.

Beach, sun, waves

The feeling like a seesaw

Like a rope swing

Like rising and falling and rising again—

Like falling against Ryan in the hallway

In that morning

With the curtains pulled tight

In the darkness

And suddenly, his mouth—

And—

I woke to the taste of someone else’s mouth.

I woke to an arm curled around my waist. Fingers I didn’t recognize tangled in my hair. The warmth of some stranger’s body.

I tore away. I stumbled in the semidarkness.

<Eva, don’t scream—>

I clamped my—our—mouth shut. A strangled cry ground through our teeth.

“Addie?” the stranger said. But it wasn’t a stranger. It was Jackson. Jackson with his hair mussed. Jackson with his hands, and his mouth, that had been touching mine—

<Eva. Eva, calm down—>

I struggled for breath, and Jackson—Jackson laughed. He tugged at his shirt, setting it straight on his shoulders. It was too dark to read the expression on his face—I was too muddled—

“Eva?” he said. He reached for me. I shoved his hand away.

“Where—where am I?”

He laughed again, but I’d recovered enough to hear how forced it sounded. “Welcome to my room. Just got in. Haven’t, you know, gotten the chance to turn on the light and stuff.” He’d been against the wall, but he circled around me—us—as he spoke, until he reached the opposite wall and the light switch. The brightness slashed across our retinas, made us squint.

Jackson’s room was small. Messy. Decorated in shades of dark green and brown. That was all I could take in. My focus was limited to the boy. The boy who shifted on his feet, eyes never leaving ours. He kept a careful distance.

<Give it back!> Addie said. <Eva, give me control back. Now.>