The Cartographers(78)

“Yeah,” he agreed, but he was still examining the machine. “Too bad there isn’t paper,” he sighed.

“Why do you want paper?” I asked.

“Because then we could have a speakeasy here, in Agloe,” he joked. “One Daily News, hot off the presses!” He cried out the undercover drink name like the bartender-disguised-as-a-draftsman had, pulling a lever. His impression was so spot on, we both burst out laughing. I don’t know why it was so funny, but we couldn’t stop.

“I can’t believe I almost—” I started to say as I wiped my eyes, and then choked the sentence off, horrified.

Francis and I stared at each other, both of us frozen in the silence.

“Kissed me?” he asked.

He did remember.

“No,” I said. I took a step back. “Let’s forget it. Let’s just go.”

He was looking down now, at his hands. They clenched nervously, his fingers twisted into knots.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said, so softly. The openness of it stopped me cold. “Nothing happened, but I feel so bad about it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” I said, coming back over to him. He looked so upset, like he might start ripping his hair out, or burst into sobs. I just wanted to stop him from spiraling. The shame wasn’t his, but mine. I wanted to take it from him. “You had nothing to do with it—it was my fault. I was so drunk. We all were so drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Then why can’t I stop thinking about it?” he asked. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

We were standing too close, I realized. Much too close. He was so near I could feel the warmth of his breath on my forehead. See the flecks of amber in his dark brown eyes.

The kiss was so hard and sudden, our teeth bumped, but I hardly noticed. Everything was on fire—my face, my skin, my insides. I was gasping, about to either faint or explode. We were against a wall, and then I was on the floor, Francis against me. We almost tore his shirt, we moved so desperately. I pulled him to me.

The town was big, but I still clamped my hand over my mouth, and he put his over mine, to hide my cries at the end.



I wish I could say that was the only time. But it wasn’t.

We betrayed Romi again, and again, for the entire summer. Every spare moment we could find together, we drove the blade of our secret deeper.

I became sick with the guilt. I had trouble eating, lost weight. Even Daniel, who wouldn’t notice a new hairstyle if a person had cut their whole head off, asked me if I was all right. And even still, I kept begging Francis to meet me, in darkened corners of that town. I had spent so long denying what I felt for him, and kept doing it still, in the world out there, every time we all went back. Agloe was the only place it was real.

We were so caught up in our secret, we didn’t see what was happening to everyone else around us. Not until it was too late.





XVIII




Somewhere outside the room, in the Map Division, the shouts of a police officer running by reached them, and Nell jumped, startled out of the story.

“Don’t worry,” Ramona assured her. “They won’t find us. Without a map, it’s just a wall to them. There’s no way in.”

Eve seemed to shrink even further at the sound of Ramona’s voice, unable to look at her.

“What’s past is past. We all lost something,” Ramona said, but she didn’t look at Eve or Francis either. “Besides, we all were at fault. I have just as much to regret as you.”

“Felix!” Swann said then, his memory sparked by Ramona’s words, and he patted his pockets frantically. “I’ve been sitting here watching over you with such terror that I didn’t even think to call him! Does my phone even work here, where we are?” His bony hand yanked his phone from his blazer at last. “I can’t believe I forgot—”

“No, don’t,” Nell interrupted sharply, and grimaced at the throb of pain across her forehead that doing so caused.

“You don’t . . . want me to call him?” Swann asked, surprised. “You don’t want him to know?”

“I don’t want to see him,” she answered. And he certainly didn’t want to see her either, she thought bitterly.

He studied her, puzzled. “But you were hurt, Nell. Attacked!”

“No, Swann,” she repeated, as firmly as she could manage with her pounding head. “Please, just don’t.”

Swann watched her for a long moment. “That’s why you were upset. Something happened,” he said at last. “Again.”

“Again,” Nell agreed, sighing.

He looked down. “I’m very sorry about that.”

Nell winced as another wave of pain rolled through. The waves were fainter each time, but they still sent her reeling—almost as much as thinking about how badly she’d ruined things with Felix did. “We don’t have time for that now.”

Swann finally nodded, agreeing to let the conversation go. He took a small envelope from his jacket pocket. “Well, there’s something I need to give you. That gift I mentioned.”

She took it from him. “It’s from my father,” Nell murmured when she saw Swann’s name in his handwriting. The others leaned in as well, surprised. “But how?”