THE AIR in the hills of Cedar was different. It bubbled like sugared soda in Gabi’s lungs, so rich and pure she felt light-headed with each inhale as the effervescence scoured her clean. Earlier she’d been too engrossed in her interactions with her fellows to notice much, but now her awareness expanded to take in the uniqueness of this place. The lodge was located in a copse of trees bigger than Gabi had ever seen. The only trees that still existed in Alder were feeble saplings painstakingly raised at the arboretum in soil that required constant monitoring. Some of the trees encircling the lodge towered three or more stories high, and the sound of their creaking branches was like the groan of arthritic giants. The fingernail clipping of moon was visible overhead, and the patches of snow at Gabi’s feet lay scattered across the ground in milky puddles. Though she shivered as the breeze sent drafts of air up the legs of her thin pajamas, she found herself wishing that she could stay in this place forever. There was a rightness here.
A lisp of swishing nylon diverted Gabi’s attention from the night sky, and a shadow moved in the corner of her vision. Gabi took a step back, drawing her coat more tightly around her and cursing herself for her foolish impulse to leave the dorm. If she were lucky enough to escape a mauling by forest beasts, the counselors would catch her when they heard her scream. Hardly Witness team material. The form stepped into the moonlight, and Gabi exhaled as the massive head resolved itself into a hood, pushed back just enough to reveal a familiar nose and chin.
“Sorry,” Jordan muttered, hunching his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was trying to head back inside and give you some privacy. You’ve got good ears.”
Gabi moved toward him so they could whisper. “Jordan, what are you doing out here?”
“Too stuffy in there. I’m not used to being around so many people. In Spruce, folks live spread out because no one wants to risk getting their rations stolen. We really only see other people when we go to the distribution center.”
“Is that why you didn’t eat in front of everyone today? Because you were worried someone would steal your food?” The sight of anyone forgoing the banquet was too bizarre not to mention. Jordan went rigid under his layers of down and wool. “I’m not making fun of you or anything,” she rushed to reassure him. “It was just strange, with all of that amazing food to choose from. As much as we wanted!” Jordan stayed mute. “I saw you putting some things in your pockets but not even any of the good stuff….” Gabi trailed off lamely. “It seemed weird.”
“Weird because I’m fat.”
“No! That’s not even, I mean, I didn’t… it’s not like you’re even really—”
Jordan held up a mittened hand, putting Gabi out of her misery. “Relax. You’re not the type to make fun of someone for how they look.” Gabi didn’t know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.
“I mean, it’s no big deal. I don’t even care,” Gabi said. “That food was seriously good, though.”
“Why are you out here?” Jordan asked. “Guard duty?”
Gabi chortled, the sound floating up into the feathery boughs of the evergreens. Her, a guard? “Nope, same as you. I’m not used to being around so many people. And I’m not a secret recruiter or anything, trust me. I’d be terrible at it.”
“No worse than me, though I guess that would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? The last person anyone would want for a Witness acting as a secret recruiter? Not that I am. Seriously, I’m not,” Jordan said in a rush. Gabi knew he was telling the truth. She was getting very good at spotting a liar. “I would think Sam Lowell’s daughter would be used to lots of people,” Jordan continued. “He’s, like, a serious big shot. Aren’t there always people around wanting to talk to him and stuff?”
“Him, not me, thank goodness. Anyway, that all happens at the temple complex. People don’t really come around the house. Gram made sure of that.”
“Your grandmother lives with you? You’re lucky you still have an elder. We only have a couple in Spruce. It’s too rough up there.”
“She died.” Gabi didn’t mean for it to come out that way, so flat and hard, but she couldn’t help it. If Unitas wasn’t so broken, Gram never would have seen what she saw and had a heart attack. She’d still be alive.
Jordan cleared his throat and pulled his hood farther forward over his face. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“My little brother died. Not like I’m comparing or anything. I’m just saying I know what it’s like to lose someone in your family.”
“Okay,” Gabi whispered. “Thanks.” For a while after that, the only sound was the groaning of the trees and the delicate scritch of a squirrel’s paws as it raced up one of the weathered trunks. Jordan sighed and pushed his hood back all the way. The moonlight burnished his pale curls silver, and Gabi was struck by how handsome he looked with the planes of his round face highlighted by patterns of shadow. Like a different person, almost.
“I stashed the food to take back to my family,” Jordan said slowly. “The bag I brought as luggage is basically empty, and I’m going to fill it with anything clean I can get my
