Chapter 1

 

 

   Emma’s spending her first night in this world howling inconsolably. I’m not mad at her for keeping me awake all night, I wouldn’t sleep anyway. Not with Mama’s lifeless body lying in the next room. I pace endlessly in the pitch-black living room, blood still trickling from my knee. I gently rock Emma in my arms. My thoughts bound so fast that my head can’t keep up. It’s losing ground the same way I do when I try racing the shuttle.

My head cramps and hurts as it tries to organize and contain my thoughts. I’m reminded of the post, the way the supplies are all labeled and stacked. So structured and clean. I wish I could contain my thoughts, I wish I could organize and store them away somewhere. Anywhere so I don’t have to feel them beating inside my head. I keep thinking there’s no way the sun will ever rise again, positive that light and goodness will never reach us now that Mama’s gone.

   My eyes flutter briefly then snap open as night is fractured by hues of orange and pink. Bright bold colors that are meant to symbolize a new beginning, a beginning to another day here in the Inner. Oranges and pinks, colors that are good and pure, nothing like the darkness I feel inside. I stare through the fogged window, amazed that somehow earth continues forward and life continues without her.

The sun just breaks the tree line as the hovercraft from Central arrives. My chest squeezes as the ramp drops from the bottom of the craft, time freezes. The reflecting sun blinds me but I can’t turn away.

   These are the last moments I’ve got, after this everything will change. I know it all changed yesterday, but somehow having Mama’s body here makes it seem so indefinite. I know she’s gone, that her body is empty and cold. I don’t feel her spirit in the air like I did yesterday but even still, I know it will only be harder once they’ve taken her.

The Central representative is an indifferent woman, neither impolite nor inviting. To her this is purely business, nothing personal. She paces around the sitting room, her steps are hollow and echo straight to my chest. I involuntarily sink with each step, I feel like a wounded animal that’s too scared to trust.

   Her job is twofold today: she has to initiate Emma into society and usher Mama out. Her steps fall silent and I slowly straighten my knees trying to regain my strength. Why am I so weak? Is it fear or maybe the grief? It might be because she’s from Central, she’s in a league higher than me. Higher than anyone here in the Inner. My arms shiver, it’s not because I’m cold, they shake in anticipation I suppose. She brings her head around, staring from wall to ceiling then landing on me. Her smile, one of indifference squeezes between her lips as she dislodges the bag carried under her arm. It’s the paperwork validating Emma’s Inner sector citizenship and the first in a series of grey clothes that all children under the age of six are required to wear. I brush my grey sleeve off, I hadn’t noticed the blood on it until now.

   She opens her arms directing me to hand Emma over. I hesitate, it just feels wrong. It should be Mama that hands Emma over, not me. I place Emma in her arms and step back as the representative opens her briefcase. Cradling Emma in one hand, she deftly uses the other to plunge a syringe into Emma’s shoulder. My hand instinctively grasps my own shoulder, my immunization scar feels more prominent now than ever. Emma’s shrilling scream reaches its peak just as she pulls the needle from her shoulder. Something inside me crawls and squirms hearing her cries, they turn my insides around like the washing machine does to our clothes. Her crying breaks just as fast as it started and my gut relaxes itself.

   She hands Emma back to me, “You can go store the documents and then we’ll begin the next order of business.” I nod, turning toward the back of the room. 

   The representative waits patiently for me to return from storing Emma’s papers. I’m taking extra time locking the safe Central provides for documents, delaying the inescapable moment of letting my mother go. Avoiding that final moment when this will all become reality, the point of no return. I stare ahead hoping I’ll hear Mama call to me. It’s silly I know but I can’t help hoping I’ll hear her voice again. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe she’ll come back to life and hold me.

   The hollow sounds of the representative’s boots echo from the sitting room again, I can tell she’s becoming anxious to leave and I can’t delay any longer. I know what I need to do, I just don’t want to.

   Hesitantly, I lead the representative back to Mama’s room. My eyes are fixed to the brown floor, I’m terrified they’ll reflexively travel to the red sheets covering her lifeless body. I let my eyes travel there last night, I let my evil mind play tricks on me. If I stared just right it looked like her stomach was moving. Like maybe there was still breath in her trying to push its way out. Countless times I went to her, grabbed her hand and shook it but Mama was gone. No breathing, no life, just gone. I keep my eyes cast down now. I’m afraid I’ll see the breathing again and be left crushed as I learn it was all just a trick.

   “Any last words for her?” The representative asks as Mama’s body wheels by. All I can do is shake my head ‘No.’ I’m ashamed, like I’ve let her down. Mama was always so good with words. I never met a person she couldn’t converse with for hours. She would have wanted something said, I should’ve had words prepared.

   I shrink again as the representative takes her scan card and work articles. I wish things were like it was before the divide when they buried their dead and had funerals to honor them. If they had funerals I could have prepared something to say. I wouldn’t have let her down. Now Central disposes of the bodies and mourning is private and short-lived. There’s always work quotas for the living to meet.

The echoing steps intermingle with the grinding wheels as Mama’s body rolls towards the craft. It’s a horrible noise, insulting to the ears. The last noises of my Mama’s life, nothing like she would have wanted. The representative loads Mama’s body into the craft and takes-off like nothing happened.

   I sit outside for hours, waiting to hear Mama’s forgiving voice echo from the sitting room. Maybe to hear her soft footsteps against the floor. Her steps wouldn’t have echoed like the representatives did. I never want to go inside again. It’s over now, its done for me. Mama is gone and while I’m not alone in this world, it sure feels that way.

   Soon gusts of arctic wind whip my face, biting hard into my bare skin, pushing me inside. Into the house that’s no longer a home. I walk through the doorway, I don’t want to go to bed. It reminds me of her. I lie on the ground next to Emma’s crib. Loss consumes my heart. I could tolerate little pieces of my heart being taken away bit by bit but this is too much. It was torn apart with such haste and fury that it feels like the fragments have been tenderized to oblivion. It’s too much pain for a child to endure and I’m not sure I can.

   Papa’s gone to work, he left this morning just before first light. His body looked weakened, like he was shattered from the inside out. My eyes met his as he bent forward to kiss Emma. I saw the raw pain inside and I saw it melt for just a second as his eyes met mine. I know he would have stayed if he could but work called, it’s a duty Central requires.

   A relief worker’s scheduled to come provide assistance with Emma. I think of their uniforms, black, the color Central issues to all retired citizens, with a single grey arm sash signifying their role assisting children.

   I hear the sound of feet traveling our walkway. I imagine the relief workers boots making their way along our drive, unknowing of all the horrors that happened only yesterday. Then a knock sounds. I slowly rise from the floor reaching my hands in front of my small body. I try navigating by memory and touch. With every step towards the door my swirling head fogs like mist creeping and rolling inward. The mist parts as I see myself opening the door, welcoming Mama home. Every fiber that holds me together wants to believe that she will be on the other side.

   Deep down I know that the mist will never part, that Mama will never come home, but I need to open the door, just to be sure. My puffy eyes don’t allow much clarity of vision but I reach the door, pulling it open. The mist rolls back, it’s not Mama. Through the fog and broken hope I realize it’s not the relief worker either. This person’s far too small, my size just bigger. I blink, the cloudy tears escape and I see a golden haired boy my age.

   I wipe my eyes and see his acorn-brown eyes looking into mine, his face twists with pain. He fists flowers in his small hands. They’re blooming in yellows, purples, and blues. Once I spot them I can’t take my eyes away, I follow them all the way to the ground as he places them at my feet. I’ve seen those colors in my mind before, laid out in front of me, all of them beautiful and bright.

   “I wish I could’ve helped more” he says.

   It wasn’t his Mama, he doesn’t even know me. I want to ask him why he cares and I actually feel the words tickle my throat as I try to get them out. He turns his eyes down just before he runs away.

   I lift the flowers and take them to my room. Over the next three months I care for Emma with the help of the relief worker. I don’t know what’ll happen to us when I turn six and start education. Papa said other families cope and we will too. His words are somewhat comforting but even they can’t ward off my lonesomeness.

   It’s mostly during the nights when I get crushingly isolated thinking about Mama. I lie questioning if I’d made her die. I wish she could sing to me as I hold the withered and fading bouquet of flowers that crumble under my touch. I just stare at them through the darkness until they turn into endless brown eyes staring back at me.

   The thought of any respite from the pain gives me hope. Hope, it’s a four letter word that holds more weight than the longest word in any vocabulary. With hope all things are possible. I can hope for a better life, I can hope for my chance to leap to Central. With or without Mama, no matter the isolation or despair, I can always hope.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

   Seasons have come and gone since then but fall will always be my favorite. It’s like nature purges itself of all the needless weight that pulls it down. The hot blanket of heat shatters and cool crisp air settles in its place, the lush green forest explodes into color just long enough for me to appreciate the change.

   My blue boots crunch through the leaves that have just started to fall. I let myself trace back to childhood and kick a rock as I pick my way along the twisting road. Today was the last day of education. It still hasn’t hit me yet that it’s all over. I’ve spent half my life consumed by this one thing, then ‘poof’ it’s gone. Gone like the leaves that corkscrew in the breeze.

   “No more education…” I let myself say it, if I speak the words maybe they’ll sink in. It’s no surprise I’m lost, it’s one of the most fundamental things we’re required to master in life. Education will lead to the leap, which in turn decides my entire life.

I’ve still got the three months of prep time before the leap, three months to absorb all the changes. I square my shoulders and keep walking headfirst. I line my foot up to kick the rock again but at the last moment I step to the side, leaving the rock whirling. I can’t linger on juvenile things anymore, no more education, no more leisure, this is life…

   “Nessa!” I hear Gwen’s raspy voice well before I perceive her bounding steps.

   I turn, stunned to see her on the abandoned road.

   “G! What are you doing out here?” She wraps her arms around me.

   “Umm…same question?” She cocks her head asking her question before we break apart.

   “Good point.” I say. She links her arm in mine as we walk forward, her black hair bouncing as we go.

   She clears her throat, “Wait, I know why you’re out here, you’ve just finished education.” I nod confirming it. “Say no more.” She smiles hugging our arms closer together. “I remember my last day of education. I felt so lost. I just plopped down in the first snow bank I could find and stared into space for hours.”

   “Gwen, that sounds terrible.”

   “Yea, wasn’t one of my best moments.”

   “Probably not even your top ten.” I smile at her. “It’s good to know I’m not alone.”

   “Well at least you don’t have to deal with this limbo crap. Every week since the leap finished I’ve shadowed a different job. Every week it’s a new face, place, new everything.”

   “It’s that bad?” She nods pitifully, making me appreciate her suffering, “I guess I’m lucky. Being born in December does have its advantages. I don’t have to deal with limbo, plus I don’t have to wait long for the banquet.”

   “And why else would being born in December be good for you…” Her eyes narrow into that mischievous look that drew me to her in the first place.

   “What are you talking about?” I ask teasingly. She shoves me off course but I stumble back. “Oh you mean because Garrett’s a December baby too?”

   “You think? Like you haven’t thanked your lucky stars nightly that he was born in December too.”

   “It will be a nice advantage.” I shrug my shoulders.

   “Have you two hooked up yet or what?”

   “Gwen! We’re just friends. It’s not like that.” I flush as my heart skips thinking about hooking up with him. She drags me to a fallen log, tapping the cold bark next to her until I sit.

   “You mean to tell me you don’t like him even a little?”

   “I didn’t say that…” I roll my blue eyes. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him, in a superficial sort of a way.”

   “Uh huh, details.”

   “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She shakes her head until I continue, “I don’t think of him that way, we’re too good of friends.” She rolls her eyes.

   “Well you two have been inseparable since infancy but there comes a day when childhood is over and something called hormones kick in.”

   “Not infancy, but a long time, a very long time.” I temporarily trance out, thinking of him at five with flowers in hand. “We’ve been good for each other. We’ve helped each other through education and other stuff. Life stuff.”

   She shoots a sidelong glance. “Helped you through education? The way I remember it there was one day your whole life that you didn’t know the answer to the educator’s questions and that was like your third day.” 

   “Second day” I cut her off.

   “Right, second day of education. Since then you’ve been one of the top in the class, and don’t get me started on skills, you dominate.”

   “I can’t take all the credit, he’s helped me.” Gwen’s eyebrows drift north as she fires me that pressing look coercing me to continue, “And yes, I’ve helped him too.”

   “Now that we’ve cleared that up, get back to the good stuff, ya know about liking him.”

   “I really thought I’d sidetracked you.”

   “Nope, feed me, I’m bored to death. Only child syndrome.”

   What do I even say here? Finally I tell myself to stop overthinking, it’s a habit of mine that I’d like to break.

   “I don’t know what to tell you. He’s handsome, funny, and actually pretty sweet but I still don’t think we’re right for each other.”

   “Handsome is an understatement.” She grins ear to ear.

   It’s true, he is gorgeous. He’s average height but after that there’s nothing average about him. His eyes are a warm acorn-brown that make me melt when I look into them. The sheer size of his physique is intimidating, he barely fits into our uniforms, his muscles press to the fabric. And then his tanned skin is perfectly flawless, the hue reminds me of autumn. I picture his strong hands smoothing down his hair, a nervous habit of his that only makes him look sexier than ever. The way his blonde and brown flecked hair looks after he works his hand through it always makes my stomach turn. The only thing that’s not perfect is his smile, the one that lifts the right side of his mouth, exposing dimples on that one side. I can’t picture him smiling any other way, in fact, I think his smile is imperfectly perfect. Gwen interrupts my trance.

   “So you’re telling me you don’t want to get with him because you’re both brilliant and attractive people that happen to get along bizarrely well? Yeah sounds like a rotten match.”

   “Horrendous,” I smile. “No, I have my reasons. For starters he’s from a different sub than me. Our families aren’t from the same lineage sectors. Plus we’re just different.” I answer robotically, like it’s something I’ve rehearsed a million times before. In reality it is, I’ve told myself those things for years now as a way to protect myself from falling for him.

  “Put the lineage scores aside because you’re gonna test high enough to marry into his sub. What do you mean by ‘different’?” She asks but I hesitate, deciding if I’ll answer.

   “Ugh Gwen.” Do I tell her?

   I haven’t told anyone my secret before, I’ve never been strong enough to bear the consequences. Maybe it’s time to let it out, to see what ill comes of it. Or perhaps I should hold it in a little longer, protect it close to my heart where nobody can get to it. I don’t know why but I resolve to tell her. Probably because I want to talk about it, and it’ll never be with Garrett.

   I swallow hard and continue, “I have visions. Like ‘I’m a freak’ visions.” I say it knowing she won’t understand but I can’t bring myself to describe it all right away. She shifts in her seat then leans back to me.

   “Nessa you’re gonna have to elaborate.” I exhale, thinking of what to say next.

   “When I was five I had a vision one night. It was bizarre, like multiple blurred images flashing all at once but the eventual picture was my mother’s death.” I swallow, “I saw the entire thing play out a week before she died.”

   “Wow,” she shifts uncomfortably, “Just that once?” She asks.

   Somewhere in my brain, in the part that stores memories, tragic memories that I try to press down hoping that with enough weight they’ll sink forever into oblivion. Somewhere in that part of my brain I’ve got memories from the visions I’ve seen. I shake my head no.

   “There’s been more. I saw the attack on our sector too.” Gwen’s eyes engorge. “I didn’t know when it would happen, it was blurred but I saw the foreigners’ hovercraft and the bombs. I saw all those people murdered.” I blurt it out, trying to defend my innocence.

   “Geez Nessa, did you tell anyone?” I snap my head around to hers.

   “No, never! Nobody knows, just us.” I sit, burrowing the heel of my boot into the brown mud that’s molded around the base of the log. “The worst part is I didn’t do anything about it.” Her eyes meet mine, they’re kind telling me to go ahead. “I can almost forgive myself for the vision with my mom. How was I supposed to know what it meant? It was my first one. I thought it was a bad dream or something.” My heel sinks further into the lax ground. “But I can’t forgive myself for the attack. I saw the pavilion and the bombs. If I’d told someone, maybe a regulator or an educator, they could’ve done something. I had a full five days to tell someone and I didn’t.”

   “It’s okay Nessa, it’s not your fault.” I let her words wash over me, attempting to cleanse my guilt.

   “You’re right. I didn’t fly the craft over that pavilion and bomb innocent people, the foreigners did that. But I didn’t try to stop them either. I was selfish. I didn’t want anyone to know about my visions. I was too afraid they’d call me a freak or exile me.”

   “You were just a kid Nessa, we were fourteen. You’re allowed to be young and naïve and selfish when you’re a kid. I woulda done the same thing.” She sits, her eyes gaping absently ahead, “I’m sorry Nessa. That had to be awful.”

   “Yeah,” I lower my chin momentarily.

   Awful doesn’t come close to capturing it. There is no word to describe seeing your loved ones taken from you, to have a warning and yet do nothing about it.

   “It’s something I don’t think Garrett would understand, that’s why we’re different.”

   “I think he’d make an exception for you” she smiles taking my hand. “Let’s head back, dinner’s soon.” I take her hand as we head toward the pavilion.

   I believe in the leap, I believe in Central and my family. There is a lot in this world that I believe in. I wish I could believe Garrett would understand but I know he wouldn’t.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

   I walk home from third line, my fingers tingle in the cold. I’d gotten there earlier than usual and somehow beat Papa and Emma. I ate alone thinking about a million things at once. Gwen stirred up questions in my head. My prattled brain beat itself trying to justify why I won’t give into Garrett’s attempts. It’s obvious he’s been trying to win me over for years now, but I won’t give-in. Why? I keep asking myself. He’s my best friend, someone I can count on. I’m pretty sure that’s what you should want in your partner but still I resist. He’s gorgeous by anyone’s standards and his personality calls to me. I guess it’s because there’s still so much unknown.

   The leap-test is three months away and all the uncertainty that surrounds it grips me too tightly. Three months and I’ll take a test that’s so protected, that once we’ve taken it we’re never allowed to talk about it again. Nobody knows what exactly will be on the leap since it’s against the law to discuss it. We don’t break the law, if we were caught we’d get a mark. It takes three marks to ruin your chances. All I know is I’ve spent the last ten years in education, learning and practicing the skills Central says I’ll need to take it. Top in my class or not, there’s still the unknown. What if I fail something, even if it’s just one little thing, it could ruin my life.

   At seventeen I’ll take this one test that’ll decide my fate. It will tell me who I’m eligible to marry, it’ll determine my profession, the sub I’ll live in, and for one boy and girl from my year it will take us away from our sector forever. Two of us get to cross the concrete walls that divide us from Central and start a new life over there, a better life.

   I suppose there’s just too much pressure mounting lately to bother giving into Garrett’s attempts. Too many worries drive me away, worries that we won’t test into the same sub, won’t get to work together, or worse, only one of us will make the leap.

   I stumble up our walkway into our modest home. Papa and Emma already left for third line. I must’ve just missed them. I unzip my blue jacket and lay it across the table. My hands work out the knots in my long chestnut brown hair. It’s unruly but it’s still one of my best features. I shed my clothes as I walk toward the sleeping quarters. It’s a simple room Emma and I share. One bed, one dresser, and a single closet. We don’t need much. Emma has a single spiraling shell she’s kept since childhood, it sits on the dresser. Margaret, the relief-worker that cared for Emma since she was a baby had given it to her. She told Emma that if she held it to her ear she’d hear the ocean.

   I always liked listening to Margaret’s stories. She was in her late seventies when she came to care for Emma. She’d lived a full life, with more experiences than I’ll probably ever have. Margaret was born in the Outer sector. She used to tell us stories about the ocean that bordered her home. Emma and I would sit in awe as we’d strain to picture endless blue water. We’re landlocked here in the Inner, chances are I’ll never see an ocean. Margaret told us stories of her fishing with her father, pulling nets out of the water that swelled with glistening fish.

   The shell was the only thing Margaret had from her former life. As is customary in the Outer sector, they take their leap when they turn fifteen. All those years ago Margaret had been top girl. She’d made the leap from the Outer into our Inner sector. She got herself a step closer to Central. Sometimes when she’d talk about the Outer I’d sense she was sad, I could almost feel the sadness inside her. Life over there was harder, it was different than ours here. I think the adjustment was a challenge for her even after living here for sixty years. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Margaret, it had to be hard never seeing her parents or sisters again.

   I pick-up the shell and hold it next to my ear, I let the whooshing sound take me away as I close my eyes, picturing the ocean that lays across the concrete walls separating us from the Outer. It calms me as I imagine sitting on the grains of sand Margaret said bordered the ocean. I can almost feel the sand creeping between my toes as I sink into the tan grains. I open my eyes again, setting the shell back on our brown dresser. I make my way over to the bed, sitting down on top of the grey covers. I lower myself back to my elbows. Out of the corner of my eye I see a folded piece of paper sitting on my pillow.

   I grin, snatching it up. Another one of Garrett’s creations. This one’s a swan. He spends days turning sheets of paper into these little animals. He knows they make me smile which is why he gives them to me when he’s done. I turn it over in my hands, its wings stick out from the sides as it sits in my palm. I carefully pull it open stretching the paper to see his messy writing centered on the sheet.

 

   ‘Nessa, congrats on ending education today. It’s a big deal and I’m proud of you. Don’t spend your night like a ball of nerves (I know how you are). Just breathe. Tomorrow we start preparing. Before you know it we’ll be at the banquet accepting the leap together. See you tomorrow at our spot.’

 

   I grin as I fold the paper back into the swan. I swing my long pale legs off the bed and walk to the dresser. My fingers wrap around the worn knob as I open the top drawer and set it next to the other folded notes he’s made for me. I listen to the shell one last time before I crawl into bed for the night.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

   My family called me Tyler in the Outer. I always liked Ty better but my mom wouldn’t let me shorten it. It didn’t take me long to change it though, I was on the hover for all of ten minutes before I decided to leave Tyler behind and go by Ty. I set my mind to it and when that happens there’s no turning back. I was going to be a new me, I had to change and grow up.

   The move from the Outer seems like a blink ago, mind blowing to think it’s almost been two years. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. At fifteen I had to leave my parents and brothers behind. My mother bawled when I made the leap, it wasn’t happy tears either. I know she was proud and all but that wasn’t it, she was broken. I could hear it between her sobs, sort of like an empty straining noise.

   The day my uncle Dan died in a mining accident my aunt Ginny cried like that. She just sat in the corner, cradling his work-jacket, wailing like an animal. That was the last day I ever saw her. Central took Dan’s things the next day and she went ballistic, I mean crazy.

They said she’d lost touch with reality. Central said she was unfit to be a citizen so they sent her away, beyond the walls. Sometimes I wonder how she’s doing, wonder if she’s still alive. I think about Ginny and my family a lot, more than a lot, almost all the time.

My youngest brother Sammy will take the leap next year. Michael didn’t make it otherwise he’d have been transferred to the Inner last year. The day the newbs were coming in last year I sat at the hover pad waiting, hoping Michael would walk off the hover, but he didn’t. I’d hoped but I didn’t really expect he’d make it. I doubt Sammy will either. They don’t have ‘sight’ like me. Not like I know what that means, it’s just what my mom called it. All I know is it gives me a leg up during the leap.

   It was my ‘sight’ that got me out of the Outer in the first place. Doubt I would’ve accepted the offer without it, probably not even scored high enough to worry about being offered the leap anyway. Back then I couldn’t imagine leaving home. I didn’t care about going to the Inner, average was fine with me. That’s not how we’re programmed to think but I couldn’t force myself to want to leap, not till I saw her. 

I had six months ticking away before my birthday. Three months of classes and skills training before I’d finally be left alone to prepare for the leap. My other classmates were brainwashed with the leap. Not me, all I had to do was make it through those three months and then I was going to basically do whatever I wanted. I was going to ‘passively learn’ as I call it. I could sleep late every day, go swimming and fishing, or do nothing at all, it was going to be awesome.

   Then bam, just like that it all changed. I was diving off the cliffs that June. I leapt straight into the water and I’d taken four or five pulls down when I felt the pins and needles. I knew I was going to have sight so I booked it in the opposite direction, pulling my way to the surface but I was too late. I was paralyzed, dropping like a stone.

   That’s when I first saw her, it wasn’t clear but my sight never really is. It comes in patches and it’s my job to put it together. I saw her lips, full and pink. Cold air was pushing between them. Her brown hair was dancing in the wind. It fell past her shoulders, curling at the ends. Her deep blue eyes stood out against her pale skin. She was gorgeous. It wasn’t so much seeing her that got me hooked, it was feeling her energy. I could feel the history between us, even though I’d never met her. I fell in love with her on the spot.

More patches flashed and I saw her on stage with me, gorgeous and proud. More patches flashed and then we were in the woods, she was walking away from me. Flash after flash filled me and I knew she was what I needed to find and protect. My sight became more ballistic as images flashed in a fast string and then she was on fire. Screaming and shrieking.

   Just as fast as it came, it was gone. I pulled myself to the surface, coughing and choking for air. I dragged myself to the rocks and I cried like my aunt Ginny had. I was just a kid, only fourteen but in a blink I’d found the love of my life and lost her. Love and pain bashed through me. I had to find her and save her. Maybe my sight wasn’t a curse. I decided if I could use it to keep her alive then maybe it was a blessing.

   So that’s what I did. I made it through the three months of education and instead of passively learning I studied and prepared. I had motivation; I had to get to the Inner and save her. Leap came and went and before I knew it I was at the banquet accepting the offer. I don’t know what I thought would happen when I transferred to the Inner. I guess I’d assumed she’d be here waiting for me.

   It was dumb, I’ll admit, but I was just barely fifteen and naïve. I was housed with the other Outer-transfers in a separate subdivision than the native Inner citizens; I couldn’t meet her at education either since we were separated too. That gave me two years to cover all the skills and education they’d taken a decade to learn. I don’t mind the challenge; I know I have to get on stage with her at the banquet just like I’d seen in my sight.

   Last year I hardly slept. When I wasn’t in education I was studying or practicing skills. During the first winter I snuck out every night, wandering the streets looking for her. It was the first thing I’d seen in my sight. She’d been bundled in her blue uniform, winter air between her lips. I looked for her every night that winter and every night I came home empty, but I knew I had to keep trying.

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

   Garrett and I have been capitalizing on our three months before we turn seventeen, the time when Central absolves us of all obligations other than preparing for the leap-test. The closer we get to the test, the faster the time goes. Days that once seemed lengthy and endless now come and go in a blink of the eye.

   His voice startles me, “You must be kidding. You call that a concealed snare?” He laughs as he heaves a stick, triggering my hunting snare. I’d painstakingly veiled it amongst the thick trees and grass, certain he wouldn’t find this one.

   “Ok, no more snares today. What else do you want to practice?” I ask.

   “Nessa, I don’t need to practice, I need to perfect. Get it right!” He’s kidding, but it’s true.

   “Fine, let’s perfect healing.” I’ve always ‘dominated skills’ as Gwen says but healing is my shakiest area and he knows it too.

   “Okay.” He pauses momentarily. “It’s the night of the banquet and you’re looking pretty amazing, by the way.” He flashes his crooked smile, making me blush. “Naturally I’m top boy. I’m standing on stage ready to accept my offer.” I roll my eyes; he can be so narcissistic. He crosses his arms behind his head, “I look at the crowd, everyone’s envious of my superb self and then I see your face. You botched your test because of your awful healing skills.” I shove his arm but he carries on. “I’m seriously distraught by this point, thinking of never looking into those eyes again, hearing you, or having you around, so I decide to eat churn berries in a shot to snuff myself.” He looks raptly at me. “What would you do?” He asks.

   “Boil root of bine and force you to drink two cups,” I say with a smug look on my face. “Then kick your butt for being so dumb.” Who’s he kidding? There’s no way he’d eat churn berries. He flashes a smile and I temporarily forget his penetrating eyes. He thuds down in the grass and I position myself next to him.

   “Tell me something I don’t know about you” I ask.

   “You pretty much know it all Nessa, except for my hygiene routines which I’ll keep to myself, thank you very much.”

   “Tell me something I don’t know. Seriously.”

   “Using dangerous words like ‘seriously’ could get you in trouble little lady.” I shoot him a sideways glance before I push harder.

   “Come on, I really want to hear something new, anything to take my mind off the leap.” I turn-on a flirtatious smile to soften him.

   “Okay...” He finally breaks. I roll on my side to cradle my head. “Our family has a mark.” He says.

   “Don’t most?” I interrupt

   “Yeah. Except I got the mark.”

   “When?” I can’t believe he’s never told me. 

   “It was actually right after we met.” I instinctively lower my eyes, our first meeting carries so many emotions, most too painful to think about. “That afternoon after I found the healer I went to pick you flowers.” I smile remembering him holding them, the way the colors captured my eyes was like water capturing the sun. “I’d seen my dad bring my mom flowers before, it made her happy.” He laughs. “I’d gotten the bunch and was on my way back when I saw a den.” He pauses to remember. “I heard whimpering, so I went to it. There was this starving kit, it had been abandoned.”

   My heart unexpectedly aches for the abandoned fox, like a part of me could relate to it. The isolation and fear, the loss that comes with being alone without your mother. I really could relate.

   “I couldn’t just leave it there to starve so I went back every day to feed it. It ate just about everything I put down. Eventually it got stronger and walked and then it played and ran.” I picture him at five-years-old playing with the little animal. “It would come when I whistled, all sorts of dumb stuff, but to me it was awesome. I had a friend and something that needed me.” He pauses briefly, “I’d been going there for months, and my best guess is that one of the retirees told a regulator I’d been pocketing food during second line, because one day a regulator followed me. He was real sneaky, I never knew he was there until I was already at the den.” His eyes soften and his voice cracks, “I whistled and the fox came out, I fed him like always and then everything was a blur. I heard a twig snap and I saw the red hairs on the fox stand straight up, but it was too late. It tried to run but the bullet was too fast.”

   “Garrett that’s terrible.”

   “The regulator took me home and explained the situation to my parents. He said he was being ‘lenient,’ since technically I could’ve gotten two marks, one for lifting food from the pavilion, the other for interacting with animals outside of hunting.”

   “How come you never told me?”

   “Don’t know. It’s one of the only times I’ve really been mad at Central. I don’t like thinking about it. Reminds me that the place I’m supposed to idealize may have flaws.”

   I can’t find the words he probably wants to hear, something along the lines of agreeing with him. I don’t have the anger he has, I idealize Central. It’s one of the few things I truly believe in. When you believe and trust something so totally, it’s hard to find faults in it.   

   “So why all the studying and preparing? Would you even accept the leap?”

   “Of course, it would be stupid to turn it down. I figure everything’s better over there. Who knows, maybe they’re allowed to keep animals.” He laughs. “Plus someone has to keep an eye on you when you’re over there.”

   “Right! Cause I’m so pitiful that I need constant supervision.” I roll onto my back and think about Garrett with his fox. I wonder what it would have been like to have someone care for me during the time my heart was healing. Papa did his best but he couldn’t take the pain away. Either way, I made it through that darkness. I gathered my shattered heart and piece by piece put it back together. Part of it was through hope, part of it was believing in something better.

   The sun strikes its highest peak when Garrett breaks the silence. “Why won’t you go out with me?”

   I snap my head to look at him. “Not this again.” I smile.

   “It’s been a couple weeks since I asked. Figured it was worth another try. I’m patient, I’ll keep waiting for a moment of weakness.” He grins, nervously combing his hands through his hair. Man does he look good when he does that.

   My eyes trace a path across our bodies to my pale arm. I look down seeing my skin turning red. I should cover my arms I think. The last time I let them get this red my skin blistered and peeled like a snake shedding its skin. My absent thoughts get interrupted by his breathing. “You sound like the shuttle when it hits a loose rock” I joke. Garrett turns to me, shrugging his shoulders.

   He grins and I find myself staring at his lips. “I bet I can swim to the northern embankment and back before you even get wet” he says. I barely have time to question that possibility as I briefly envision him running for the water. Suddenly there’s a rush of air and his strong hand taps my shoulder.

   “Tag,” he yells.

   I sit up, supporting my weight on my elbows in time to see him lift his blue shirt up and over his head. My eyes narrow as I stare at his muscular back. Garrett hits the water, tossing his blue shirt to the side, emerging wet and dashing for the northern embankment.

Water splashes across his waistline and awakens me from my dream state. This was a challenge I realize pushing to my feet. I peddle my bare feet through the warm grass sprinting towards the water. Should I go in with my dress on? It will weigh me down and take hours to dry. The thought of being without it embarrasses me. I’ll jump straight into the water, he won’t see me, I decide as I lift my blue dress over my head. My brown hair sweeps side-to-side, dancing across my shoulder blades. By the time I hit the water he’s already halfway back. I instantly freeze as the arctic water strikes my thighs. I hadn’t expected it to be this cold. He notices my weakness and attacks. Fountains of water splash towards me, soaking every inch of my bare skin.

   “Stop it!” I squeal.

   The wintry water feels like a whip striking my body but he doesn’t end his assault. I pivot on my foot, turning toward the warm hillside. He scoops the water, spraying it at me. My legs splash water along my ribs as I try to retreat. I’m closing-in on the muddy embankment when Garrett wraps his arms around my stomach, dragging me back into the frigid water. My legs kick in all directions as he carries me backwards.

   “Put me down!”

   I’m about to find my voice again and scream louder but I feel the heat from his body radiating to mine. His skin is so soft but his body feels strong. How can someone be so soft and strong at the same time I wonder? My legs stop kicking. I feel his solid chest pressed against my back and streams of electricity course between us. Where does this come from? Is he making it or am I? Electric sparks prick my skin, it isn’t unpleasant, it actually feels good. I want to feel more of this electricity, more warmth, more of him. He dunks me under the icy water, letting me refocus my thoughts as I’m submerged.

   I stand up brushing my hair from my face. “I made it to the water before you got back, so technically I won.”

   “I wanted to see you freeze when you hit the water.” He smiles. “I know what a baby you are when you’re cold.”

He smoothes his hair back from his face. I can’t stand him right now, I can’t stand how good he looks, how he bet me at my expense, and mostly I can’t stand him for taking the sparks away. I launch at him, dragging him underwater. Our bodies twist and turn rolling under water. I get pinned beneath him and just like that, the fiery sensations return. I reach my hands linking them around him as he lifts to his feet. I let him wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me to my feet.

   I stand thigh deep as the water breaks around my legs. I strain to catch my breath. He strokes my back with his sure hand. My body involuntarily tenses. It shouldn’t, it feels unnatural to be tensed. Instead I wish I would relax into his touch and melt into his hands. Sensing my awkwardness, he stops. He closes his strong hand around mine, walking with me back to the hill.

   Garrett recovers my dress from the wilting bushes it landed in, flashing a smile as he throws it back to me. I spread it across my lap as our bodies splay close to each other. We don’t touch as the sun dries our shivering skin. When the sun reaches the top of the trees to our west I know our day has ended. We head for our separate subs before curfew hits. I crawl into bed that night and fall asleep thinking about him. Thinking about the years we’ve spent together and the countless hours and minutes that have led us to where we are today.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

   Seconds tick at a steady rhythm, sixty seconds to a minute yet each minute seems faster than the last. The weeks whittle away, shaving what little time we have before the leap. Garrett and I meet at our hideaway daily. Each day there’s more excitement and nerves wound into our meetings. Wound tight like the sewing thread the relief workers unravel before they begin patching our torn uniforms. Excitement that maybe I’ll feel the sparks again, nerves that I’ll feel them and won’t be strong enough to stop them.

   I sit on my half of the hill writing then desperately erasing. Today we’re creating a dry run of what we think the leap-test could be. We‘ll design a test that incorporates all the areas the leap-coordinators could be looking for.

   That would be too easy for him, I think. He’s never been great with a spear and I know I have to find a way to work it into my test. I think about our skills lesson years ago, the one in the open green field. The crisp spring air still fills my nostrils and I can almost feel the warmth across my back. The sun hung low that day. I remember staying late watching Garrett heave his spear over and over, always missing his mark. It was the first time I’d seen him fail at something, I think it surprised us both. I stayed and watched him sweating and exhausted, either too proud or in too much denial to admit defeat. The skills instructor waited in the background, too tired to give direction. Just as Garrett’s legs buckled from exhaustion he hit his mark.

   I keep working on my test. From time to time I glance over to see him either feverishly writing without once erasing or sprawled on his back with his arms crossed under his head. When the sun begins extending its blinding fingers toward the highest peak it’s time to collect our things and head for the shuttle. If we’re going to make it to the post and home before curfew we have to leave our refuge now.

   “Thirty minutes.” Garrett says as we ride the shuttle.

   “Thirty minutes, what?”

   “That’s how long it’ll take me to beat your test.” He smiles.

   “Is that so?” I shoot him the evil eye. “I guarantee I’ll beat your time.”

   “Nessa, if only you could see how darn cute you look when you’re wrong. It’s adorable.”

   I stick my tongue out as my free hand winds up to swat him. I’m propelled forward as the shuttle comes to a standstill at the post. His eyes narrow to mine just as a smirk pulls at his face. I can almost feel my pupils constricting as I size him up. There’s no need for words, we’ve been together long enough to know what’s next. We exit, battling to be the first to the attendant. We’re tied neck and neck but at the last second I kick my foot out making contact with his ankle. He yelps as he hits the ground and I victoriously strut to the post attendant.

   “Scan card” the attendant demands. I hand it over quickly; they don’t like their time wasted. “Needs?” He barks, his sunken eyes have defined lines streaking from the junctions like a spiders legs. He looks irritated and slightly frightening.

   “Vanessa Hollins here to check out leap-training weapons. Bow with quiver, three arrows, and one spear.” Garrett lets out all the air held in his barrel-sized chest.

   I stare at the bins stacked behind the attendant. It’s like rectangular puzzle pieces, none are the same size yet somehow they all fit perfectly together, stacking side by side and on top of each other. Everything is labeled, contained, and clean. The attendant hands the weapons under the glass window that divides us. The routine’s repeated with Garrett selecting a hatchet and a spool of string. My brow furls, what does a hatchet and string have to do with a challenge?

   He collects his materials, tapping me on my shoulder. “Race you!” He shouts, bolting off. I don’t delay, my feet pound the ground as my supplies smack hard against my back with every step. I fall behind and watch him reach the platform with ease.

   “I let you win. It would be embarrassing if I beat you twice” I shout. “Especially since I have twice as many supplies!” He victoriously pumps his fists in the air.

   We board the shuttle, quietly riding the twenty-minutes to my sub. I think about the post. I wonder if I could organize my life into neat compartments. Label and stack my feelings. Maybe I could store them away and keep them from growing for Garrett. Protect them in a rectangular box in the corner until I’m ready. I step off the platform and race home to finish preparation for tomorrow’s test.

 

 

Chapter 7

 

 

   Morning finds me stepping out of the bathroom straight into Emma’s frantic pleas, “Nessa, braid my hair. I need to look extra pretty today and my hair looks so awful right now. Pleeeeease, Nessa!” She whines.

   I debate saying no just to hear her whine some more but I don’t have the heart. I guide Emma to our sitting room, directing her into the chair. She hums and lazily swings her legs as I make a winding braid that weaves around her whole head. I finish before first light. Curfew’s lifted at first light and I’m free to join Garrett. I tuck the last pin into her hair just before the first rays fall. I lean over, wrapping Emma in my arms. She giggles when I kiss her cheek, she’s always been ticklish. She hugs me back before I leave for our hideaway. I run and I run, carrying the provisions I’ll need for his test. I think about his challenge, wondering if I’m about to push him too far. The air’s cool as I cross the log onto our hillside. The culmination of Garret’s test will be the moment he spears the last clue, which is partially made from my grey play-clothes I saved from childhood.

   I break onto the hill just as Garrett slips past the southern embankment, swallowed up by dying trees. I’ll meet him back here later, after I set-up his challenge. It takes practically two hours to set-up the challenges and when we meet back at the hill we’re both sweating. I’m doubled over with my hands pressed onto my knees as I try catching my breath. He stands to my left laughing. 

   “Shall I go first while you gather yourself?” He taunts. While I want to say no, he’s right; I need time to recover. I hand him his first clue. 

 

‘Find the bed that neither animal nor man lays in, where water once stood but has since gone dry, yet animals still travel to wet their lips and find there, the way to cross.’

 

   He freezes briefly before he’s off running toward the overflow bed I was hinting at; it’s about a half-mile through the brush. It’s a dried-up streambed that’s always the first to flood when the rains are heavy and the first to dry when they’ve stopped. Over the hundreds of years of wetting and evaporation, chemical sediments have developed into salted formations that draw the deer and other animals to it. I follow closely behind him, sure he knows of my presence but he doesn’t say a word, he’s on a mission.

   He reaches the bed and instantly spots his next clue attached to a large sediment rock. I painted it bright red and marked it with a piece of tattered grey cloth. The entire streambed is smattered with red and brown rocks positioned at a seemingly random fashion but it’s anything but accidental, it’s a puzzle.

 

 ‘To cross this bed you must dance above rocks that are red. Many paths you may make, but rest assured there’s only one you should take. Use these two boards of different lengths to navigate from bank to bank. The boards are all that can touch down, and must be moved from red to red and never touch brown.’

 

   Garrett works the puzzle in his mind. His handsome face scrunches in deep thought. I shift side to side, enjoying minutes of watching him agonize over his plan. I’ve seen him look this way before, confused yet unrelenting. I love watching him plan and struggle, it brings him to everyone else’s level, even if it’s momentary. Finally he springs into action and I watch him lifting and swiftly moving board to board. At first he chooses the right path, forcefully placing the small board forward, long board left, small board backward and then he moves off course by setting the long board left not forward. 

   He’s a board-length away from the clue when he grasps he’s out of moves and has squandered at least fifteen minutes. The frustration’s obvious and I relish in watching the ultra-cool Garrett sweating, exasperated, and lost. Right when I’m starting to enjoy my fine work he figures it out.

   He’s tearing up and placing board after board so fast that he must have it. He places the long board forward, short board right and continues meticulously assigning the boards until he crosses over the bank. His face cracks wide open with his stunning smile.

   He turns his head looking over his broad shoulder and smiles, shaking his head as if saying, “Well played.” He swings back into action. Positioned next to the final rock are the bow, arrows, and quiver. Picking them up he scans the ground, systematically skimming higher and higher until he sees the braided rope high above the ground where the next clue’s secured.

   I nearly died setting this clue up, my foot slid once down the ridged bark. I almost fell a full twenty feet, sending my stomach into a twisting flip that lodged itself in my throat. As my gut untwisted I made my way back up the winding tree. I’d purposefully attached the clue to a branch that could support my weight for placement but would snap under his physique. He has no choice but to make all three shots. He strides to the highest ground and strings the first arrow. He pulls it back and releases as he exhales, just like we’ve been taught.

   That lesson feels like a lifetime ago. The targets were all spread in front of us just begging to be hit. My arms shook as I drew the string back, mounting tension built as my muscles felt ready to snap. I wanted to stop and rest like the others in my year but I wouldn’t quit. I needed to build strength, not so much in the muscles that run from bone to bone, but strength of mind and character. I drew the string back over and over again until I’d found my inner strength. My character, my drive.

   His arrow skims through the air contacting the middle braid. He doesn’t hesitate as he draws the second arrow back and releases it into the left braid, the clue sways from the assault. He lines up his final shot. Light breaks the trees hitting his sweat-specked skin. His arms and back pull taunt with his muscles tensed, his golden brown hair shines the way it did the first time I saw him. He discharges the arrow and me from my trance.

   He runs for the clue before he bothers to see if his arrow made contact. It buzzes through the air and strikes the last tether just as he strides under the clue catching the next challenge.

 

‘You may want to run to the next and final stop for you have to travel north 440 feet once then twelve times more before you have reached the cure. Now take these berries and be on your way, pace your run or else there may be no more days.’

 

   He shoots me a sideways glace and I half expect he won’t accept my dare. Putting it together yesterday I thought it would be something we could laugh at. I’d make him see how foolish he was for even suggesting eating churn berries that day. But really what’s so funny about this? I’ve seen death before, had it dig it’s long and jagged claws into my heart. Maybe death has a plan, or maybe it strikes at random, all I know is I shouldn’t be mocking it. I shouldn’t be toying with something so harsh.

   The blood red berries look striking against his tanned palm and I realize what a stupid idea this is. If I didn’t prepare enough of the cure last night, or if the container spilled into the river he’ll die. He only has thirty minutes to drink the bine root.

   I scream, “Garret NO!” But it’s too late. I watch horrified as he tips his head back throwing the blood red fruit down. He swallows and my stomach turns. He wipes his forearm across his red lips. A dark and heavy blanket coats my heart, like deaths preparing to tear it to pieces yet again.

   “Are you coming or did you wanna just stumble across my body later?” He hollers over his shoulder as he bounds rock to rock down the river bed heading one mile due north.

   I break into a cold sweat realizing that in thirty minutes he could be gone. Images cross my mind of his blond hair bounding down my walkway when he was no more than the acorn-eyed boy. My chest lurches as my heart slowly crumbles like the dried flowers that sit under my bed. I run to catch-up with him, counting my steps. Two hundred and one, two hundred and two, two hundred and three. It’s a nervous quirk of mine.

The branches along the riverbed reach across my path and whip my face, striking me so hard I look like I’ve been seared with a whip, but I keep running. My feet and heart pound in unison. If the cure isn’t right he’ll die, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. What would I do then? I need to think of words to say when Central comes for his body. I won’t let him down like I did Mama. My throat clamps down, squeezing its way towards my chest. I can’t think of words to say. How could I? He feels as much a part of me as my own breathing does, as my own heartbeat, which I’m sure pumps in the same rhythm as his. My being is too intertwined with his, without him a half of me would die too. How do you say words for a death you’re bound so closely to? I’m frantic to keep him safe. He’s ahead of me, closing in on the final clue.

   The mile run over the rocks and through the trees only leaves fifteen minutes to release the cure. Without it his stomach will heave and he’ll be doubled-over in pure agony as his insides work from his stomach into the world outside, and then he’ll die.

He reaches the clue and with shivering hands unfolds it…

 

‘The Outer wear blue when the Inner wear grey, when Inner wear blue Outer wear green, when Inner dress in green Outer take this color. With this color comes their jobs. The missing color tied to the final letter in the second most coveted job of those that wear blue when the Outer wear green is where the spear must strike.’

 

   Dozens of submerged river rocks lay in front of him. I painted them blue, green, and grey with the letters ‘R’, ‘T’, and ‘P’ for healer, attendant, and develop. Just some of the jobs assigned to us in the Inner. He needs to find the grey rock with the letter ‘R’ and spear it to complete the riddle and release the cure.

   Garrett struggles with the puzzle as sweat collects on his brow. I hear a loud scream escape his mouth. I turn seeing him doubled in pain; the churn berries are taking effect. Water hits my thighs before I realize I’m running. Out of the corner of my eye the spear buzzes past my head falling a full twenty feet short of the grey rock. 

   Garrett’s never been great with a spear but he generally wouldn’t miss a shot this easy. He’s failed and is dying. My legs spring into action as I lift my knees trying to break the water’s surface. I run for the spear as Garrett falls on all fours coughing and gasping. I reach the spear as the coughing stops. A loud thud sounds from behind me. Death’s blanket rips my insides down, pulling my chest like it’s playing a game of slow torture.   

   The spear’s mired in the mud, I tug and twist and still it won’t come loose. Sweat pours out of me as I throw my full weight behind my final pull, just then the suctioning mud releases. The force knocks me on my back and I lay disoriented. Water rushes over my face; there’s a dull buzzing inside my head. I blink, water blinds my eyes. I latch onto my inner drive, that character I’ve built to be strong and fight. The end of Garrett will mean the end of me, and I won’t end yet. The buzzing stops and I push to my feet with seconds to pinpoint the target. I cock my arm back and pitch the spear watching it pierce the target exactly where it needs to.

   “Drink! Garrett drink” I coax as I try tipping the cure to his lips. I cradle his head in my palm looking into the same glassy eyes my mother had just before she died. Bile rises into my mouth. 

   “Nessa,” he whispers. He’s barely alive but there’s hope.

   “Drink Garrett. Drink.” I tilt the cup, hoping he’ll sip.

   His strong body that looked so oversized earlier now looks frail as I cradle him. I sing to him the way my mother used to do for me. I can’t let him go, not like this.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

   I wish I’d stop wasting my time wondering what she’s doing. I can’t count how many times I’ve played my sight over and over in my head. I’ve got to have faith. That’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve got to believe that whatever she’s doing, it’s something to get her to me.

No matter how I order the flashes I saw during my sight, I know that our time is coming. I take my leap soon. In just a few weeks I’ll test again. I’ve got no choice but to test at the top again. I’ve got to get on stage like I saw. I bet the banquet in the Inner is even more outrageous than the one we had in the Outer. It has to be, everything in the Inner is better.

   I bet they feel more pressure to make the leap here too. Of course the people in the Outer wanted to leap to the Inner. Getting here puts you one step closer to the perfect life Central offers. But it wasn’t Central that we were leaping to. It was still leaping into a less than perfect sector. We could never leap directly to Central, not without coming here first. Here in the Inner they get to hope and know that if they leap, they go straight to Central. That had to be intense growing up with that pressure.

   Sometimes I imagine her studying, dealing alone with the pressure she must have felt her whole life. I picture her next to me as I practice my skills. I pretend she’s with me, helping me learn. I’ve got to find her. One of these nights I’ll see her and then I’ll know that I’m not crazy. I’ll know what I need to do and that it’s right.