LEO
I SNAP OUT OF A DREAM AS THE VIDEO SCREENS MOUNTED TO the media room walls fade to black. Two dozen people I never knew existed, whose paths should never have crossed with mine, are about to become my entire world. And if I’m lucky, if I make the final draft . . . I will be tied to five of these strangers for life. The thought sends goose bumps prickling across my skin, and I’m hungry to learn everything there is to know about these twenty-three. I try to recall their faces, but even now, moments after the screens turned dark, I can only remember two: the girl with the deep brown eyes, who looked so sad in our moment of triumph—and the pale-haired boy who jumped in the air at the news, whooping with pride. It was the kind of unbridled reaction I might have had if I weren’t still in a state of shock.
Prime Minister Vincenti opens the door, stepping into the room where I’ve been sequestered with Dr. Schroder since just after the news broke.
“Leo, security is still trying to contain the crowd, but the public is demanding another look at you. Would you be willing to go back out there and just . . . smile at the cameras for a few minutes?”
“What?” I stare at the prime minister, wondering if I heard him correctly. “But most of those people already know me. They’ve probably seen me cross the passerelle hundreds of times. Why—”
“That was before,” he interrupts. “You may look the same and feel the same, but you’re someone different now. After today, you’re no longer just another neighbor or survivor—you’re a legend in the making.”
And as he speaks, I can hear their voices, growing louder as their chants carry toward our closed door.
“Leo, Leo, forza, Leo! L’italia é fiera di te!”
Emotion swells in my chest. It seems unthinkable that they’re cheering for me, of all people—the same me who came so close to throwing my life away in the sea.
But I didn’t, I remind myself. I’m still here, and somehow, I earned a place among the Twenty-Four. And I won’t let this second chance go. I’ll be worthy of it; I’ll make my country proud.
“Okay,” I tell the prime minister. “I want to see them.”
A security guard posted at the door springs into action as we step out of the media room. He leads the three of us into the marble hallway and toward the noise, his eyes darting over to me every few seconds, as though I’m the VIP to be protected instead of our prime minister.
We return to the Neo-Gothic Salon, and the crowd has nearly doubled. People are spilling out of the room, with barely an inch of breathing space between them. When they see us, their cheers escalate to a frenzied pitch.
“Leo, Leo, forza, Leo!”
They look at me as though I’m someone else entirely—like I’ve shed my old skin and revealed a superhero underneath. I want to laugh, to wave my hands in front of their faces and bring them back to earth, remind them that I’m just Leo from the crumbling Pensione Danieli. But then the realization hits me: if I make it to space, if I succeed in the mission . . . a hero is exactly what I’ll be.
The thought sends a burst of adrenaline through my body, and I move with new purpose. I smile at the crowd of my neighbors, and I let myself soak in their roaring approval as the security guard steers the prime minister, Dr. Schroder, and me to the front of the packed room. Sergeant Rossi is still there, along with the prime minister’s wife and Elena, the three of them attempting to calm the feverish crowd. But there’s no restraining them now. A voice breaks into “L’Italiano,” our unofficial anthem, and soon everyone is joining in—singing at the top of their lungs, clapping and swaying to the rhythm.
I can’t stop grinning, even as a lump rises in my throat. This is the first time I’ve seen any of my fellow survivors emerge from the shadow of our grief, celebrating life the way we used to. Looking at the faces in front of me, it’s clear I wasn’t the only one who had lost hope, who was searching for something to cling to. Somehow, today I changed that for us all. Me.
Sergeant Rossi hands me the microphone.
“Thank you.” My voice comes out shaky, and I clear my throat. “Thank you for your love, your support. I won’t let you down. I’m going to represent our country, not just in front of the world . . . but in front of the cosmos.”
The room fills with whoops and whistles. Their voices drown me out, giving me a moment to say something to the one empty sliver of space I can find in the room—the place my parents and sister should be.
“This is for you.”
My transformation continues with an offer to spend my last weekend in Italy at Palazzo Senatorio, as the Vincentis’ guest of honor. I know the real reason for the invitation is so the prime minister’s guards can keep their watchful eyes on me until I take off for International Space Training Camp, but it’s a gift all the same. I can’t imagine returning to the pensione now—its emptiness would suck me back in, would make today’s news feel like it never happened. And so I jump at the chance to stay at the Palazzo, telling the prime minister I don’t even need to go home to pack. The only possession I’m taking is safe on my finger—the Danieli family signet ring.
Instead of the deflated mattress and moldy comforter back at home, I’m now lying in a plush double bed under a soft duvet, my stomach full for the first time in months. I’m just drifting off to sleep when I hear a knock at the door. I pull the covers up over my head with a groan. Maybe if I ignore them, whoever is knocking will get the hint? But then I hear a voice.
“Leo, it’s me, Elena. Can you let me in?”
Huh. That’s not who I was expecting.
I drag myself out of bed and throw on the ESA shirt Dr. Schroder left for me. Is Elena here to hit on me or something? It almost makes me laugh to think about, until I remember that she is fifteen now, only two years younger than me. Still, I don’t think I could ever go through with it. There’s too much history. But Elena seems to have something else on her mind when I open the door.
“Sorry if I woke you,” she says, shutting the door behind her. “I just . . . I needed to talk to you before I lost the nerve.”
“Why? What’s going on?” I take a seat at the foot of the bed, but she remains standing, her face creased with worry.
“It’s—it’s something I overheard my parents talking about in their room. I’ve spent the past hour going over it in my head, wondering whether or not I should tell you. My papà says that repeating state secrets is treason, and I don’t want to go against him, but if something happened to you and I hadn’t said anything . . .” Her voice trails off. Now she’s got me nervous.
“What is it, Elena? Please, just say it.”
“He . . . told my mom that there’s a deeper reason you were chosen for the draft. He said the director of ESA—Dr. Schroder’s boss—has been watching you for years.”
It takes me a minute to digest her words, and then I grin with relief. That doesn’t sound so bad. “Okay, so I was carefully vetted. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Except they were tracking you long before the Europa Mission was even approved,” Elena says with a frown. “I heard Papà saying that it all started three years ago, after you got some attention from your first big swim championship. The ESA director reached out to him and asked for government permission to investigate you. He told my father that your speed, and ability to hold your breath underwater so much longer than normal, could make you some kind of . . . weapon for them.”
I stare at Elena. “You sure you heard that right?”
“I know I did, because then Mamma asked what he meant, what kind of weapon? Papà said all he knows is that it has to do with Europa. He told her she couldn’t say a word about any of this, and then he changed the subject. That’s when I left.”
I pause, letting this sink in. “So what you’re saying is that ESA spied on me, and your dad helped them? Because they think I have some deadly underwater skills?” I try to make a joke out of it, but there’s something chilling about the realization that these people have been watching me, invading my privacy, while I was in the dark.
Elena winces. “Yes. And that’s why I’m convinced there’s more to this mission than we’ve been told. These people obviously see you as something more than just a potential astronaut, and based on the secrecy . . . whatever they have in store for the Final Six has to be far more dangerous than they’re letting on.”
I take a moment to think. Elena’s revelation might change the way I look at ESA and the prime minister, but it doesn’t alter my feelings about the mission. Even if she is right and there is an untold danger on Europa, some unlikely reason that I’d be used as a weapon—what else do I have to live for? I can either help ensure humanity’s survival, or I can remain a useless waste of space on Earth. There is no scenario where I don’t choose the former.
“I’m glad you told me, but I wouldn’t back out even if I could,” I say. “If my skills are needed, and that’s what gets me out of here and into space . . . then I consider that good news.”
“But you can stay on guard while you’re at training camp. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything amiss. If you get there and it turns out the mission is a whole lot riskier than we’ve all been told, promise you’ll find a way to get word to me.” Elena lowers her voice. “You’re Angelica’s brother. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
Angelica’s brother. The words twist at my insides. It’s been so long since anyone spoke of my sister like she still exists.
“Okay.” My voice catches. “I promise.”