But even if you didn’t love me the way that you do, without any sort of worry or restraint, I’d still be incredibly proud of you. You’re coming into your own as a musician, and the sounds of you playing your violin or just singing around the house are the loveliest, most soothing sounds in all the world. I wish I could give you a better stage, America. You deserve so much more than standing in the shadows at stuffy parties. I keep hoping you’ll be one of the lucky ones, the breakouts. I think Kota has a chance at it, too. He’s gifted at what he does. But I feel like Kota would fight for it, and I’m not sure you have that instinct in you. You were never a cutthroat kind of girl, the way some of the other lowers can be. And that’s part of why I love you, too.
You’re good, America. You’d be surprised at how rare that is in this world. I’m not saying you’re perfect; having dealt with some of your temper tantrums, I know that’s far from the truth! But you’re kind, and you ache for things to be fair. You’re good, and I suspect you see things in this world that no one else sees, not even me.
And I wish I could tell you how much I see.
As I’ve been writing these letters to your brothers and sisters, I’ve felt the need to pass on wisdom. I see in them, even in little Gerad, the things in their personalities that could make every year more difficult if they don’t make the effort to fight against the hardness in life. I don’t quite feel that urge with you.
I sense that you won’t let the world push you into a life you don’t want. Maybe I’m wrong, so let me at least say this: fight, America. You might not want to fight for the things that most others would fight for, like money or notoriety, but fight all the same. Whatever it is that you want, America, go after it with all that you have in you.
If you can do that, if you can keep from letting fear make you settle for second best, then I can’t ask for anything more from you as a parent. Live your life. Be as happy as you can be, let go of the things that don’t matter, and fight.
I love you, kitten. So much that I can’t find the words to say it. I could paint it maybe, but I can’t fit a canvas in this envelope. Even then it would never do you justice. I love you beyond paint, beyond melodies, beyond words. And I hope you will always feel that, even when I’m not around to tell you so.
Love, Dad
I wasn’t sure at what point I had started crying, but it was hard to make out the last of the letter. I wished so badly I’d had a chance to tell him I loved him the same way. And for a minute there, I could feel it, that warmth of absolute acceptance.
I looked up and saw that Kenna was crying, too, still trying to make her way through the letter. Kota looked confused as he flipped past the pages, seeming to go over them again.
Turning away, I pulled out the little note, hoping it wasn’t nearly as touching as his letter. I wasn’t sure I could take any more of that today.
America,
I’m sorry. When we visited, I went to your room and found Illéa’s diary. You didn’t tell me it was there; I just figured it out. If there’s any trouble from this, the blame is mine. And I’m sure there will be repercussions because of who I am and because of who I told. I hate to betray you that way, but trust that I did it hoping that your future and everyone else’s could be better.
Look unto the North Star,
Your everlasting guide.
Let truth, honor, all that’s right,
Be always by your side.
Love you,
Shalom
I stood there for several minutes, trying to riddle this out. Repercussions? Who he was and who he had told? And what was with that poem?
Slowly, August’s words came back to me, that my display on the Report wasn’t how they knew the diaries existed and how they knew more of what was inside than I’d exposed. . . .
Who I am . . . who I told . . . look unto the North Star . . .
I stared at Dad’s signature and remembered the way he signed the letters he’d sent me at the palace. I always thought the way he wrote his o’s looked funny. They were eight-point stars: North Stars.
The scribble over the i in my name. Did he want it to mean something to me, too? Did it already mean something because we’d talked to August and Georgia?
August and Georgia! His compass: eight points. The designs on her jacket weren’t flowers at all. Both different but absolutely stars. The boy Kriss got at the Convicting. That wasn’t a cross on his neck.
This was how they identified their own.
My father was a Northern rebel.
I felt as if I’d seen the star in other places. Maybe walking in the market or even in the palace. Had this been staring me in the face for years?
Stricken, I looked up; Aspen was waiting there, his eyes holding questions he couldn’t ask aloud.
My dad was a rebel. A half-destroyed history book hidden in his room, friends at his funeral I knew nothing about . . . a daughter named America. If I’d paid attention at all, I would have seen it years ago.
“That’s it?” Kota asked, sounding offended. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
I turned away from Aspen, focusing on Kota.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, coming back into the room with some tea.
“Dad’s letter. He left me this house. What am I supposed to do with this dump?” He stood up, gripping the pages in his hand.
“Kota, Dad wrote that before you moved out,” Kenna explained, still emotional. “He was trying to provide for you.”
“Well, he failed then, didn’t he? When have we ever not been hungry? This house sure as hell wouldn’t have changed things. I did that for myself.” Kota threw the papers across the room, and they flitted to the floor haphazardly.
Running his fingers through his hair, he huffed out a sigh. “Do we have any liquor in this place? Aspen, go get me a drink,” he demanded, not even looking in Aspen’s direction.
I turned and saw Aspen’s face as a thousand emotions flickered across it: irritation, sympathy, pride, acceptance. He started toward the kitchen.
“Stop!” I commanded. Aspen paused.
Kota looked up, frustrated. “That’s what he does, America.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I spat. “You might have forgotten, but Aspen’s a Two now. It would do you better to get him something to drink. Not just for his status, but for everything he’s been doing for all of us.”
A sly smirk fell across Kota’s face. “Huh. Does Maxon know? Does he know this is still going on?” he asked, waving a lazy finger between the two of us.
My heart stopped beating.
“What would he do, you think? The caning thing’s been done, and lots of people say that girl didn’t get it bad enough for what she did.” Kota placed his satisfied hands on his hips, staring us down.
I couldn’t speak. Aspen didn’t either, and I wondered if our silence was helping us or condemning us.
Finally Mom broke the silence. “Is it true?”
I needed to think; I needed to find the right way to explain this. Or a way to fight it, because really, it wasn’t true . . . not anymore.
“Aspen, go check on Lucy,” I said. He started walking until Kota protested.
“No, he stays!”
I lost it. “I say he goes! Now sit!”
The tone in my voice, unlike anything I had ever heard before, startled everyone. Mom plopped down immediately, shocked. Aspen made his way down the hall, and Kota slowly, begrudgingly sat as well.
I tried to focus.
“Yes, before the Selection, I was dating Aspen. We were planning on telling everyone once we saved up the money to get married. Before I left, we broke it off, and then I met Maxon. I care about Maxon, and even though Aspen is with me a lot, nothing is happening there.” Anymore, I amended in my head.
Then I turned to Kota. “If you think, even for a second, you can twist my past into something and try to blackmail me with it, think again. You once asked if I told Maxon about you, and I did. He knows exactly what a spineles
s, ungrateful jackass you are.”
Kota pressed his lips together, ready to boil over. I spoke quickly.
“And you should know that he adores me,” I said grandly. “If you think he’d take your word over mine, you might be surprised by how quickly my suggestion of putting a cane to your hands would happen if I chose to make it so. You want to test me?”
He clenched his fists, clearly debating. If I was right and his hands got injured, that would be the end of his career.
“Good,” I said. “And if I hear you say another unkind word about Dad, I might do it anyway. You were damn lucky to have a father who loved you so much. He left you the house, and he could have taken it away after you left, but he didn’t. He still had hope for you, which is more than I can say.”
I stormed off, heading into my room and slamming the door. I’d forgotten that Gerad, May, Lucy, and Aspen would be waiting for me there.
“You were dating Aspen?” May asked.
I gasped.
“You were a little loud,” Aspen said.
I looked to Lucy. There were tears in her eyes. I didn’t want to make her keep another secret, and clearly it pained her to think about it. She was so honest and loyal, how could I ask her to choose between me and the family she was sworn to serve?
“I’ll tell Maxon when we go back,” I said to Aspen. “I thought I was protecting you, I thought I was protecting myself, but all I’ve been doing is lying. And if Kota knows, then maybe other people do. I want to be the one to tell him.”
CHAPTER 26
I SPENT THE REST of the day hiding in my room. I didn’t want to see Kota’s accusing face or deal with Mom’s questions. The worst was Lucy. She looked so sad to find out that I’d kept this secret from her. I didn’t even want her serving me, and it seemed she was mostly fine with helping Mom however she could or playing with May.
I had too much to think about to have her around anyway. I kept rehearsing my speech to Maxon. I was trying to figure out the best way to confess this news. Should I leave out anything Aspen and I had done at the palace? If I did and he asked about it, would that be worse than me admitting to it in the first place?
And then I would get distracted thinking about Dad, wondering just what he’d said and done over the years. Were all those people I didn’t know at his funeral really other rebels? Could there possibly be that many?
Should I tell Maxon about that? Would he want me if he knew my family had rebel ties? It seemed as if some of the other Elite were there because of who they were linked to. What if my link undid me? It seemed unlikely now that we were so close to August, but still.
I wondered what Maxon was doing now. Working, maybe. Or finding a way to avoid it. I wasn’t there for him to take walks with or sit with. I wondered if Kriss was taking my place.
I covered my eyes, trying to think. How was I supposed to get through all this?
There was a knock on my door. I didn’t know if what was coming would make things better or worse, but I told the visitor to come in anyway.
Kenna walked in, and, for the first time since I’d come home, Astra was nowhere in sight.
“You okay?”
I shook my head, and the tears came. She walked in and sat beside me on the bed, wrapping an arm around me.
“I miss Dad. His letter was so . . .”
“I know,” she said. “He hardly even spoke when he was here. But he left us with all these words. Part of me is glad. I don’t know if I would remember it all if he hadn’t written it down.”
“Yeah.” In that I had the answer to a question I was afraid to ask. No one else knew Dad had been a rebel.
“So . . . you and Aspen?”
“It’s over, I swear.”
“I believe you. When you’re on TV, you should see the way you look at Maxon. Even that other girl, Celeste?” She rolled her eyes.
I smiled to myself.
“She tries to look like she’s in love with him, but you can see it’s not real. Or at least not as real as she wishes it was.”
I snorted. “You have no idea how right you are on that one.”
“I was wondering how long that had been happening. With Aspen, I mean.”
“Two years. It started after you got married and Kota moved out. We’d been meeting in the tree house about once a week. We were saving up to get married.”
“You were in love then?”
Shouldn’t I have been able to answer right away? Shouldn’t I have been able to tell her that I knew without a doubt that I’d loved Aspen? But now it didn’t really seem that way. Maybe it was, but time and distance made it look different.
“I think so. But it doesn’t feel . . .”
“It doesn’t feel like things with Maxon?” she guessed.
I shook my head. “It just seems so strange now. For the longest time, Aspen was the only person I could imagine being with. I was ready to be a Six. And now?”
“And now you’re five minutes away from being the next princess?” Her deadpan voice made the whole thing funny, and I laughed with her at the drastic change in my life.
“Thanks for that.”
“That’s what sisters are for.”
I looked into her eyes and sensed that this hurt her somehow. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You’re telling me now.”
“It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It was part of what made it special, I think. Keeping him a secret.” Saying it out loud, I realized that it was true. Yes, I had feelings for him, but there were other things that surrounded us that made having Aspen that much sweeter: the secrecy, the rush of being touched, the thought of having something worth working toward.
“I understand, America, I really do. I just hope you never felt like you had to keep it a secret. Because I’m here for you.”
I exhaled, and so many of my worries seemed to leave with that breath. At least for a moment. I propped my head on Kenna’s shoulder, and it was nice to be able to think.
“So, is anything going on between you and Aspen anymore? How does he feel about you?”
I sighed, sitting up. “He keeps trying to tell me something, something about how he’s always loved me. And I know I should tell him that it doesn’t matter and that I love Maxon, but . . .”
“But?”
“What if Maxon picks someone else? I can’t walk away from this with nothing. At least if Aspen still thinks there’s a chance, maybe we could try again when everything’s over.”
She stared at me. “You’re using Aspen as a safety net?”
I buried my head in my hands. “I know, I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?”
“America, you’re better than that. And if you’ve ever cared about him at all, you need to tell him the truth just as badly as you need to tell Maxon the truth.”
A knock came at the door. “Come in.”
I blushed a little as Aspen walked in the doorway, a dejected Lucy close behind.
“You need to get dressed and packed,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” I stood up, suddenly tense.
“All I know is that Maxon wants you back at the palace immediately.”
I sighed, confused. I was supposed to have one more day. Kenna wrapped her arm around me again and gave me a tiny squeeze before heading back to the living room. Aspen left, and Lucy merely grabbed her uniform and went to the bathroom to change, closing the door behind her.
Alone again, I thought over everything. Kenna was right. I already knew how I felt about Maxon, and it was time to do what Dad had told me to do, what I’d meant to be doing this whole time: I was going to fight.
And because it felt like the bigger task, I would talk to Maxon first. Once that was settled, no matter the outcome, then I would figure out what to say to Aspen.
It had happened so slowly that it took me a while to realize how much we’d changed. But I’d known for weeks and had still kept my feelings to myself. I had to do the right thing and tell him so. I had to let go
of Aspen.
I reached into my suitcase, hunting for the bundle at the bottom. Once I found the ball of fabric, I unrolled it, taking out my jar. The penny wasn’t so lonely in there now with the bracelet, but that didn’t matter.
I took the jar and placed it on my windowsill, leaving it where it should have stayed a long time ago.
I spent the majority of the plane ride going over my confession to Maxon. I was dreading this, but we could only move forward if he knew the truth.
I looked up from my comfy seat near the rear of the plane. Aspen and Lucy were sitting toward the front on opposite sides of the aisle, deep in conversation. Lucy looked upset still, and she seemed to be giving Aspen some sort of instructions. He was quiet as he took in her words, nodding at her suggestions. She retreated into her seat, and Aspen stood. I ducked back, hoping he didn’t notice me spying.
I tried to look very interested in my book until he approached.
“The pilot says another half hour or so,” he informed me.
“All right. Good.”
He hesitated. “I’m sorry about everything with Kota.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. He’s just mean.”
“No, I do. Years ago he teased me for having a crush on you, and I brushed it off; but I think he saw through it. He must have been paying attention since then. I should have been more careful or something. I should have—”
“Aspen.”
“Yes?”
“It’ll be fine. I’m going to tell Maxon the truth, and I’m going to take responsibility for this. You’ve got people at home depending on you. If something happens to you—”
“Mer, you tried to keep me from this, and I was too stubborn to listen. It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.”
He took a deep breath. “Listen . . . I need to tell you something. I know it’s going to be difficult, but you need to know. When I told you I’d always love you, I meant it. And I—”