CELIA

In the field behind our plantation we walk over grass that’s taking its own sweet time to grow back. “This is usually a lot longer,” I tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Sofia Sol went on a mowing spree before she left. So bored she did both the front and back yard. Acres and acres screamed, what is happening?!”

He laughs at the funny voice I gave the grass. “Had it been that long?”

“Look at all this space! Who wants to drive the machine all day?”

“Can you sit on it?”

Eyeing him I ask, “You really think we’d have a tiny lawnmower?”

“This size.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger with a space in between.

“Oh totally. That’s what we used to have. Only problem was that the crickets absconded with it for their own houses.”

Reaching for a dandelion he mutters, “Absconded, that’s a fifty-cent word right there.”

“Oh come on, don’t be so chintzy.” Accepting the offered flower I glance to his sapphires, “Thank you.”

“I’d give you a rose but there isn’t one readily available.”

Watching my fingers twirl it round and round, I mutter, “I prefer wild things anyway.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I sneak a glance to his face, but Sean gives no indication that there seemed to be a hidden meaning there. Maybe he meant to simply state a fact, but it felt meant for me. “You’re not crushing on me or anything, right?”

He sucks on his teeth, scanning the oak trees we walk between. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Okay, good,” I smile, though I’m oddly disappointed. “I mean, because that would be weird with the training. And what I told you about my feelings for Atlas.”

Grabbing a slice of bark hanging from one of the knotted branches he mutters, “Very weird. You think he feels the same about you?”

Frowning I admit, “I don’t know. I’m really not sure.”

“You going to tell him?”

“No way.”

Sean stops walking, grabs a thick branch just above his head and swings from it, bending his knees so his feet don’t scrape. “What if it’s just a fantasy?”

Bristling I cock my head, stuffing my free hand in my back pocket. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if you just think you like him because of all the time you’ve spent together. It could be easy to fall into a fantasy of maybes and what-ifs, after all those years. He’s younger than you.”

“So? Age is a number.”

“When both people are as mature as each other, yeah.” His sneakers drop to the earth and he leans against the trunk, casually hooking his thumbs in his pockets as we lock eyes. “I’m just being devil’s advocate.”

“Atlas is…”

“What?”

My eyelashes drop to the flower because I can’t say that he’s mature. In fact, his twenty-five years barely show in Atlas’s actions when he becomes upset or feels cornered. And I still haven’t been able to fully let go of what he did to Luke. It was so strange and out of character. Even if he did it for the club. “I can be mature for both of us.”

“I see.”

My head snaps up in anger, heat rising. “Don’t act like you know things about us when you don’t.”

Sean’s lips go thin as he stares. “Let’s change the subject. I was just curious because you made it clear I shouldn’t crush on you. So let’s drop it.”

“Fine.”

He shrugs, “Fine. So did you guys go to school in town? I’m not asking about Atlas anymore,” he hurriedly says. “I mean all of you who were born here.”

Taking a deep breath to regain my temper I glance to the flower, spin it three times before I explain, “We were home schooled. When I was about three, Meg arrived. Honey Badger found her when he was traveling and she was very smart. She took on the teaching of us.” Relaxing a bit I walk to a lower branch and lean on it. “We’d sit in the grand parlor with books she’d bought online. Learning how to write, read, do math. She made it fun, you’ve noticed how nice she is.” He nods. “Well, she’s very playful. She had us paint, though none of us was very good at it except her daughter. Sage has artistic abilities we just…don’t. My brother might be smart, but you should see his handwriting. It’s terrible. And his art was worse,” I laugh, staring into the memories. “Sofia Sol always drew sexy stuff she wasn’t supposed to, then laughed when she was told to stop. Luke is almost three years younger than she is, so he would goad her into doing more. It was so funny to see Meg blush! That red hair making her look like pink cotton candy on fire!” Glancing to Sean I ask, “What about you, did you go to private school?”

“Why private? What makes you guess that?”

Shrugging I trace the bark, not meeting his eyes. “You seem upper class.”

He laughs, “I caused so much trouble after my dad died. Smoked all through high school. And it was public, thanks, not private. Upper class has never been used to describe me before today. I was a total loner. Got bullied when I was in middle school. The only reason nobody fucked with me in high school is I grew fast, towered over most of them.”

“And you’re surly.”

Sean eyes me. “Surly?”

“You don’t get asked to be a Cipher if you don’t have anger in your veins, Sean.” At his silence I lay the dandelion down on a branch and shove my hands in my pockets. “You’re quiet almost all the time. You look at the world from under your eyebrows. You’re watchful but you have this air like people had better not piss you off. Around here that fits in, but I can see how normies at school would steer clear.”

Deep in thought he nods, “That’s about right. You nailed it.”

“And I thought it was private school, too, because you seem very smart. The way you speak, too.”

“You have a great vocabulary, Celia.”

“Meg encouraged us to read a lot. She forced us, actually,” I laugh, remembering. “But she was smart about it, found books we’d love. Separately, not as a whole group, you know? Like I loved Animal Farm, and all the politics of it. Luke loved The Old Man and The Sea, by Hemingway. Sofia adored On The Road by Jack Kerouac. Actually they all did, except me and Sage. I thought it was overrated. Sage loved The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. Atlas didn’t love any of them except when we read The Hunger Games—all of us agreed those were fantastic.”

“What about your brother?”

“Tonk Jr. reads anything you give him and he loves it all. But his favorite was The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand.” I smile and look over at Sean to find the sun has reached through a gap in the leaves above to light his sapphires on fire. We don’t say anything for a moment and he pushes off the trunk, walking to me. Coming close his eyelashes dip to my mouth and I shut it, aware suddenly that I was gaping at him. “Celia,” he rasps, staring at my lips. “What if I just…” He leans in and captures my mouth in a kiss. Tingles drift into my body, and it feels so good that I respond. It’s a reflex, like I can’t stop it, or want to.

“Celia!” Jett calls from the house. “I’ve got a mission for your crew! Where you at!?”

We tear apart, my breath hitched as our eyes stay locked and heated. “Why did you do that?”

Sean frowns, “I had to.”

“Don’t do it again.” I dart under the branch to escape and head home. Sean’s footsteps are quick behind me. He jogs to catch up, hands me the dandelion.

“You forgot this.”

I could throw it to teach him a lesson, but instead I glance to it, hesitate, and tuck it into my pocket.