I slept poorly that night.
The next morning at breakfast, I slipped Winslow the letter I had written to Lizzie so he could have it sent. Then I hurried in line to wait for a tray. When I sat down the rest of the format had already gathered, each wet-haired from their showers and eager for answers.
Mar, always the first to speak, began the inquisition the moment I took a seat. “Rumor around camp is you’ve made yourself a friend.”
“I hear she’s a looker,” Stew added.
“Wish I could have seen her,” Dutton said around a mouthful of potato salad. We all stopped to goggle at him, surprised at the show of interest.
“Not me,” said Jackson. “I’ve got a girl waiting back home.”
“That’s what you think,” Pumphrey sneered, always aiming to wound. “I bet you find her married and pregnant when you get back.”
“How much will you bet?” Ram mocked, smiling faintly.
“So who is she?” Roth asked from beside me, ignoring the banter.
“Her name is Samona,” I replied. “She’s visiting family.” I didn’t watch Winslow outright, but I kept him in my periphery. I could tell he was listening by his stillness, how he carefully kept his eyes trained straight ahead.
“Why were you with her?” Mar asked.
“She thought I could use a little female company,” I said, knowing they would laugh. They did.
“And did you two have fun gossiping together?” Stew asked.
Winslow had stopped breathing. Soon he would pass out. I did nothing to relieve him, shrugging indifferently to the question.
“Did you gossip about us?” Swan wanted to know.
“She was curious,” I said honestly. “But when I told her I wasn’t here to flirt, she lost interest.” I saw Winslow’s frame relax ever so slightly. I wanted to kick him for it.
“You’re the only girl alive who could make a claim like that and mean it,” Mar said. I did my best to keep from blushing. He didn’t know the half of it.
* * *
I had no desire to see Samona again. But after wearing the same clothes two days in a row, I couldn’t avoid the convene any longer. I needed my laundry. I fervently wished that she was already gone, that a Scarlet had whisked her away, making her nothing more than a distant memory. But I was a realist, and I thought it was likely she was still lurking about. I planned to slip in and out, collecting my things and hurrying off before she could attach herself to me again. I was not so lucky.
I heard her voice. It echoed off the bare adobe walls, raised in agitation. I had no desire to eavesdrop, but I refused to continue on, not wanting to be seen. I retreated a step, preparing to go back up the stairs and leave, but then I heard another voice I recognized, pitched low and measured. Abandoning my ideals altogether, I crept closer, turning my head this way and that, trying to discern the words from the stringy mumbles.
It sounded like they might be arguing. Winslow, I was sure it was Winslow, and he was saying something, it sounded like an admonishment.
Her voice, higher, and easier to depict came back in waves, each word lapping down the empty corridor. “Did you miss me at all?”
How I wanted to hear his reply! But all I got was the wisp of his voice, muffled even. He’d hugged her! I knew it because her voice became muffled too as she spoke into his chest. The thought made me sick. I turned to leave, running down the hall, up the stairs, and out the door, laundry be damned.
The thing about eavesdropping—you always learn something, but rarely was it good.
Chapter 27
A third day went by, and still I wore the same clothes. I knew I smelled, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. The idea of returning to get my laundry was repugnant, but logically I knew nothing worse could possibly happen. Winslow had seen the error of his ways, forgetting me to reunite with Samona. What could be worse than that?
It wasn’t long until I found out.
Slogging back to the convene that evening, I was feeling pretty dismal. Who knew my laundry could wreak so much havoc. It was because of my laundry that I’d met Samona in the first place, and then heard her and Winslow together. And it was because of my laundry that First Gridleigh found another reason to loathe me, another reason for revenge.
I heard her again. Heard her before I saw her even, and him, though at the time I assumed it was Winslow’s voice echoing off the cool red walls. But this time I didn’t stop walking. I was angry and bitter, and I thought, Let them see me. Let Winslow see me, that’ll sure dampen his ardor. But when I rounded the corner it wasn’t his muscular, wide-set shoulders looming over Samona, but Gridleigh’s narrow pair. She was pressed against the wall, and he was leaning close, his posture somewhat threatening as he’d braced his hand along the wall just beside her neck.
“Come on,” he wheedled. “He’s going to Concord, you’d have to wait years, is that what you really want? To wait years? I’d take my training nearby for you, you know I would. You know how I feel,” Gridleigh said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Don’t,” Samona said. “You know how I feel. I can’t.”
“Why him?” he snapped, falling back into anger. “Why him!”
Samona noticed me then, and Gridleigh, watching her face, turned to look too. He straightened the moment he saw me, his face black as a storm cloud ready to thunder. I didn’t move as he stalked closer, my eyes dinging between him and Samona. I knew I couldn’t leave her to him.
He shoved me roughly against the wall, but I was expecting it. I looked down to keep my head from hitting. He fisted my vest in both hands. I’m not sure what he planned, but the next moment Samona was stopping him. She put a hand on his arm, saying, “Don’t!”
And he didn’t. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t acknowledge her in any way, but he listened. His fingers went slack, though his eyes remained hot. They told me everything. Samona may have thwarted him, but he would finish later. I would pay for seeing Gridleigh vulnerable, and for so many other things. He hated me with his eyes, but later it would be his fists. As he walked away, I knew it for sure. His posture was a promise.
We stared after him together, Samona blinking. Perhaps she was trying to wink him away. If only it was that easy. “I’ve never seen him like that,” she finally admitted.
“Count yourself lucky. I’ve never seen him like anything else.”
“He can be very nice,” she assured.
My eyebrows shot up by their own accord. I thought it best not to reply.
She smiled slowly. “Did you come for a visit?”
“I came for my laundry,” I replied evenly.
“Oh,” she said, a little disappointed. “I’ll help you find it. I’ve spent a few hours volunteering down here, so I know my way around.”
She searched the bundles of cloth. I found mine straight away, pointing to it. “That one.”
She was surprised by my familiarity with both the laundry rooms and the women who worked in them, but I shrugged it off. Simply saying, “I did some volunteering too,” though it was really punishment, and there’d been nothing voluntary about it.
“So I’m leaving soon,” she said, trailing after me as I carried my clean clothes out.
“I guess you got what you came for,” I replied, trying not to sound too bitter.
She looked puzzled, but then shrugged. “I guess so.”
I didn’t want to, but I forced myself to part with her pleasantly, pausing before the steps that led outside. “Have a safe trip home.”
She nodded. “Good luck with everything, Frost.”
I’m sure she meant it. Having won back Winslow, she could afford to be gracious. Though I did hope that she would never find out about our kiss, kisses actually, there had been more than one. But all that was over now, truthfully, it had been over before she’d ever arrived.
At least I had my laundry. I couldn’t keep from being
miserable, but that didn’t mean I had to stink.
* * *
I was sitting on the steps in front of my shed later that week, staring at the dunes. Edwards rounded the corner. I could tell instantly that he was upset.
“Got some bad news,” he said.
I set my book aside, standing to meet him. “Tell me inside.”
He shook his head. “Winslow—”
“Rot Winslow,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s too hot out here.” And it was. How long had I been daydreaming under the sun? My tunic was stuck to the small of my back, sweaty and stifling, and I could feel the early sting of a burnt nose. “What’s happened?” I asked, sitting on the bed. The coils protested, grinding together beneath my weight.
“There was another hostile attack,” Edwards said while slumping against the wall. “The ship was bound for Shether, some Earthen diplomat aboard, though the grindts didn’t spare a single soul.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-nine. A few had relatives here at camp. They’ve already been sent home to spend some time with their families.” We said nothing for a few minutes, but finally Edwards seemed to explode. “I’m glad women aren’t allowed to join the military! Thinking of you on a Scarlet—” His voice broke in half as he shook his head at the thought.
“Edwards, you don’t have to be in the military to die. Everyone dies,” I said as gently as I could.
“But you don’t plan to continue in the military, Frost, do you?” he asked, straightening upright as he stared at me.
“I don’t know what will happen to me. Unless they tell me otherwise, I’m assuming I’ll be sent home when the year is up. I doubt I have much say in the matter.”
“I’ve been thinking, and I know you must have realized by now, but I care about you. And—”
I cut in, needing to stop him. “Edwards, don’t. Don’t say it.”
But he didn’t listen. “I know what you think,” he said, plowing forward. “You think that the only reason you get any attention from the soldiers here at camp is because you’re the only girl.” He was right, I did think that. “But you’re wrong. You fascinate everyone because you’re unique. There isn’t another girl on Providence that could thrive here at camp like you do, you’re so smart, smarter than me, but I admire that about you. I admire that you push yourself and always make the best of things. I can’t think of a single time when I heard you complain either, you just walk around so damn calm, and I think... I think that’s amazing. I think you are amazing.”
“Stop!” I cried, a little surprised at both his intensity and mine.
He dropped his head, light hair falling to cover his eyes as he stared down. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you feel the same way,” he said, his slight frame seeming to fold in on itself.
I took a steadying breath, trying to think of the most honest and straightforward answer that I could give him. “Edwards,” I said after a time. “If I’d known you back home, if you had said those things to me, I would have... well, I think I would have fallen in love with you. I was lonely and out of place there, and I thought I’d never get married. But I’m not like that now. I’m not the same person. And while I am very, very flattered, I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.”
“I knew that,” he said as he walked to the door. Without turning around, he called over his shoulder, “I just wanted you to know how special I think you are.”
He stepped off the stairs and disappeared from sight. He’d arrived feeling terrible, and I’d sent him off feeling worse. No one, not even Winslow, had ever paid me such compliments, not in my entire life. Suddenly I felt like I had to speak with him again, though I didn’t have the foggiest idea of what to say. Maybe ‘I’m sorry’ a few more times.
Jumping down the stairs, I jogged around the corner and straight into Edwards’ back. He’d stopped dead in his tracks. When I plowed into him from behind, he turned quickly. I caught a glimpse of three approaching soldiers before I was shoved around the corner and out of sight.
“Who was that?” I asked.
Edwards dragged me to the open door. “Gridleigh, that’s who.”
Chapter 28
“Go into the shed, Frost,” Edwards said, sounding more sure and capable than I’d ever heard him.
“I’m not leaving you three to one!” I protested while grabbing his vest to stop his progress.
He pivoted sharply, his face serious and strained. “I don’t plan on fighting,” he assured me. “I’ll say I came to fetch you, but you weren’t here. Hide just in case though.”
His idea was good. While I stood there thinking about it, he took the opportunity to leave unhindered. I spluttered, watching his back disappear from sight. I considered peeking out after him, but didn’t. I remembered my father’s advice. More importantly, I remembered Gridleigh’s face from earlier that week. He had wanted to hurt me. He was coming to find me. I needed to hide.
As I ran inside, I kept thinking how stupid I was being. Edwards would convince them I wasn’t here and they would leave. But somehow that didn’t stop me, not in the least. I looked around my dark, dusty shed, seeing the empty space around my bunk bed, and then the cluttered mess of frames and mattresses that filled the rest of the space. I began to climb, stepping on a pile of rails, over a heap of musty mattresses, going all the way to the back of the wall. I slid under a metal headboard and crawled to the corner furthest from the door, concealing myself under a disgusting stained mattress. I was being ridiculous, hiding there under a wasteland of bed parts when nothing would happen. Nothing would happen. I repeated that over and over in my mind, and at some point during the mantra, I realized I was afraid.
I couldn’t say how long I waited, but eventually I heard the flimsy wooden door as it ghosted gently across the floor. I couldn’t recall closing it in my haste, but it was being opened now. Scuffing boots came next, and then I heard voices.
“Where is she?” someone I didn’t recognize asked.
“Doesn’t look like she’s here,” replied another soldier I didn’t know.
“That idiot was lying. She’s here. She probably just saw us coming and hid,” Gridleigh told them. “Check under this junk.” There was a sharp crash. I imagined him kicking over the nearest frame to punctuate his command. The noise picked up, continuing as his mates moved things around. I tried not to jump at the ruckus they made. The rusty screech of a bed’s dragged legs. The padded thumps of shifting mattresses. Each sound was closer than the last.
“Hurry up!” Gridleigh ordered, sounding aggravated. “It won’t be long until that pretty boy drags himself back to camp.”
I began to shake, afraid for myself, but horrified for Edwards. What had happened to him? Maybe if we’d stayed together they wouldn’t have given us trouble. I doubted it, but either way I shouldn’t have let Edwards face them alone.
The sound of movement came from right outside the shelter of my mattress, and I watched in horror as it was folded over and slowly peeled away.
“Leave it,” Gridleigh barked. “She couldn’t have gotten all the way back there. I guess her mate was telling the truth. She isn’t here.”
“A lot of good it did him,” one of the faceless soldiers said. His mate laughed.
Gridleigh ignored them, issuing a sound of frustration. I heard a scuffle and the sound of small objects landing harshly. I figured he’d probably just dumped my things from the top bunk.
“She’s got more stuff than a regular soldier, and did you see that book—Braacktdese? Maybe one of the rumors is true,” Gridleigh’s lackey observed. “She could be from Earth. They like to check up on us.”
“I hope she’s not the commander’s daughter. We’ll be in deep shit then,” replied the other.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You heard that soldier she grew up with. She’s just a girl from the farming sector, and a weird one at that. I??
?m not going to let her get the edge over us at trials though, there’s got to be something here that’ll explain her high marks.” There was a pause. “See,” he continued, and I heard the sound of turning pages. “She doesn’t even know why she’s here. She speculates the reason on nearly every page,” Gridleigh said sounding highly amused.
“What’s that you got?” one of his mates asked.
I cringed as the pages kept turning. I knew.
“Her journal, more of a diary, really,” Gridleigh answered, pausing on what he must’ve considered an interesting passage. Just wait, I thought, soon you’ll know exactly what I think of you. Some of my fear had ebbed now that I was no longer in danger of being found, and knowing he was leafing his way through my most personal thoughts made me simmer. I’d been discreet concerning Winslow, but if he read long enough, he’d figure it out and we would be ruined. What would happen to Winslow if Bardzecki found out? Would he be stripped of his rank, no longer a first? Ruined for sure.
“Have you asked your uncle why she’s here?”
“He either doesn’t know or isn’t saying,” Gridleigh replied slowly, his voice drifting as his thoughts were currently occupied. I was getting really worried, he could not, could never, learn about my feelings for Winslow. I’d rather jump out from behind my mattress and yell boo. And I actually readied for it, my legs tensing as I prepared to spring.
But then Gridleigh muttered, “That bitch!”
Both of his companions stepped closer, drifting further from me as they pressed in to see what had angered their first. “What is it?” one asked.
“Nothing!” snapped Gridleigh. I heard the fluttering just before my journal hit the mattress I was hiding under. That sound was followed by a clap as it slid down and hit the floor.
“You should bring it,” objected one of his mates.
The other agreed. “Yeah, think of how entertaining the rest of camp would find it.”
“No,” Gridleigh said, his voice a whiplash. “I said leave it.”
I heard the sound of their boots, three pairs fading away, followed by the swish and clatter of the shoddy door as it swung shut. I sat, listening to them crunch over rock, dust, and sand as they departed, their noise growing faint and finally disappearing altogether. They hadn’t said a word, just left, and I couldn’t believe it. Really, I didn’t believe it. I stayed motionless, listening for their return. I imagined it was a trick, that they had only pretended to leave while secretly waiting to see if I would surface. So I didn’t move. I focused on breathing slowly. One deep, calming sip of air at a time. I didn’t allow myself to feel relieved. I just continued to wait, scared, angry, and admittedly paranoid.