Brightly Burning(6)
“You can die on another ship as easily as this one, Stel.”
“You and I both know that’s not true,” I scoffed. “The death rate on the Stalwart is triple what it is on the Empire. And we’re six times more likely to have to attempt reentry within the next two years. And you remember what it was like with the Kebbler outbreak. Not all ships, or the people on them, are created equal.”
It was a low blow, reminding him. The Kebbler virus had raged through the fleet six years earlier, disproportionately killing the poorest citizens. There were never enough vaccines to go around, it seemed, and their distribution was notably skewed. From the working-class section of the Empire, both of George’s parents had died, while my well-to-do relatives—?and I, too, luckily—?had escaped unharmed. All the rich people on the Empire had.
“So your solution is to leave? To leave me behind?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like?” George snapped. “I’m not as smart as you are, Stella. I’m good at two things. Farming, and being halfway decent at teaching kids numbers. Neither of those is in particularly high demand outside the Stalwart. I’m stuck here.”
“You’ll be fine. You have Becca, Cassidy, Eartha, Faith, Joy, Destiny. . . .”
“They’re not you. They’re . . .”
“Pretty? Prospective wives?”
“That’s not fair,” George said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Listen,” I said, backtracking, “it’s not about leaving you. I promise. I’ll miss you something awful. I just can’t stay, not if I have the chance to leave. Which is looking distinctly unlikely now, anyway.”
The tears threatened to come, with a vengeance. Two jobs down, just one to go. Odds were I was facing another rejection, and it wasn’t often that teaching jobs popped up on the fleet. I’d be turning eighteen soon, which was when I’d be locked into my full-time position as engineer. I was running out of time.
“Hey,” George said, reaching past the tab screen to gently nudge my chin up. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re great. And if they couldn’t see that, they’re stupid.”
“What happened to being glad they rejected me?” I sniffed.
“I can be both. Happy you’re staying, and mad at them for being stupid enough to reject you.” He leaned back in his chair, rolling into a stretch. I tried my best not to stare at the way the muscles of his stomach went taut under his thin shirt. It should be illegal not to wear your day coat on board. “Where else did you apply?” he asked.
“To the Shanghai. They said no weeks ago. And then I applied to this funny little private ship I’ve never heard of. The Rochester?”
George shook his head. “Never heard of it either. Must be on the other side of the orbit order.”
“Yeah. So that’s my last hope. And of course, it’s the one I wanted the least.”
“Come back to the mess with me.” George hopped up, pulling me toward the door. “They’re showing a movie. Apparently there are witches and crazy Earth weather.”
I pictured myself sitting in a dark room for two hours with George, watching as the other girls tried to play footsie and sneak hands where they shouldn’t go. All while nursing a bruised ego over my failed prospects. I just couldn’t muster up the emotional fortitude it would require. “No, that’s okay. I’m going to head back to my room. Draw myself into a better mood.”
George did not appear convinced this was a good idea, but he let me go without any further chastisement. Ward Z was as dark as I’d left it that afternoon, and my quarters were cramped as always but blissfully quiet. I pulled out my tablet from where I’d stowed it earlier, clicking it on to find the warm glow of the screen and the half-finished landscape I’d been toying with for days. Using the watercolor setting, I’d dashed an orange smudge against the sky to represent what I thought a sunset looked like, purple-and-white mountains rising in the background, a blue-green lake in the foreground—?purple because I’d heard them described as “purple mountain majesties” in an old American anthem once. Orange because books told me that was the color of the sun dipping in the sky. And water was blue?-green, the colors of life so rarely found in space.
I sighed, abandoning the fool’s errand of trying to capture an imaginary, long-forgotten place, opening a new file, switching to the charcoal setting, and starting a portrait. I always began with the eyes—?they were bright, laughing, and kind. Then the line of his nose—?strong but fine—?then those lips. How many times had I wondered what it would be like to kiss him? To kiss anybody, for that matter?
This wasn’t making me feel better. My life was nearly half over, and I was stuck. So many of my peers retreated into romance, companionship, finding solace in the familiar rhythms of family life. But I couldn’t ignore our position, and I didn’t want to be married off to some boy, like a prize cow. Not that we had any of those on board. Old Earth expressions had a funny way of persisting.
I gave up on representing charcoal George, just like I knew I should give up on flesh-and-blood George. But I’d tackle that challenge tomorrow.
Chapter Three
A tendril of hair loosed itself from the bun coiled tight atop my head. It teased against my ear and caught Jatinder’s disapproving eye.