Free Rise by J. A. Souders Page B

fathom a way. But she let it be. We both knew, have known for a while, that I haven’t been telling her something. But she never asks. Never pushes. Just quietly accepts that I won’t or can’t tell her.
    She’d just changed the subject, telling me about her day. Normally she’d have inquired about my day and my parents, but she must have known—or at least thought—I’d just have to lie to her about it, so she didn’t. Instead she’d chattered on and on about her flowers, what her maids were gossiping about, anything and everything she could think of. Practically babbling to fill the silence my guilt had turned from serene to a straining tenseness. Anyone overhearing her side of the conversation would have thought exactly what Mother wanted everyone to think about Evie: that she was a daft, ignorant child.
    Normally I could—and would—have done nothing but hold her hand and listen to her talk about anything. Once I listened for almost two hours while she’d talked on about a Surface artifact I’d brought her. It was the first time I’d really realized that she wasn’t what everyone, including my parents, thought of her. She was intelligent, and witty. And had a way about her that made you want to listen to what she was saying, especially when she was excited about something. And she was definitely excited about this piece.
    She explained everything there was to know about it. What it was. What it meant. Where people used it. I think I must’ve gotten an entire history lesson of the Surface and its trinkets, just from that one object. Some kind of gold cup with pictures engraved along the side. The crews from Sector Three are forever finding stuff and I’d learned early on that she adored anything to do with the Surface, from the tiniest metal objects to vases she placed all over her rooms.
    Even though they were contraband and anyone caught with stuff like that would be punished harshly, Mother didn’t seem to care that she collected any of it. In fact, she seemed glad of it. Evie had even told me that she had Surface studies that involved more than just the dire warnings we got. She’d confided in me that she thought maybe Mother was wrong and that the Surface wasn’t entirely the abhorrent place Mother had made it out to be.
    My mom had prattled on for days wondering why Evie would be allowed to study the Surface and demanded I find out what Evie knew. But almost a week later Evie came to me in our place and hadn’t remembered a word of the conversation we’d had about it. She’d merely laughed it off and told me that of course Mother was right about the Surface. Mother was always right.
    When I’d asked her why she hadn’t come to see me in more than a week, she’d looked puzzled, then mumbled something about forgetting and changed the subject. The first of her secrets. The first time I’d actually seen what my mom and dad—and Eli—had only hinted at in murmured conversations.
    Today, however, Evie’s voice hadn’t been soothing. It had been frenzied, and made my already taught nerves vibrate like the strings on her violin when she ran her bow over them. So I’d done the only thing I could think of to stop myself from spilling every secret I had.
    I’d kissed her.
    It may not have been our first kiss, but it felt like the first time, every time. Especially when she couldn’t remember that we’d kissed before. And even though I hated what that meant—her forgetting—I did like how she responded to the “first kiss” every single time.
    Unfortunately, it had done nothing to soothe my nerves. It had only made me feel even guiltier. So I’d made up some flimsy excuse about my mom needing me and taken off, leaving her behind in the darkened hallway. Like a coward.
    And now I find myself in my parents’ living room, leaning against the door, a headache pounding its way through my brain.
    My mom is in the kitchen. The clinking of utensils against porcelain and the sound of gushing water