Zack reverted to his default wordlessness for the rest of the ride to the auditorium, so Clementine followed suit, but the silence felt different than it had before -- like there was something they were supposed to say, but neither of them could remember what it was.

As they neared the end of the short trip, however, Clementine's thoughts turned to the orchestra she was trying to create. Would anyone come? Had enough people even brought their instruments onto the cart?

When the doors opened, the dissonant sound of instruments being tuned greeted her, filling her with a joy she hadn't felt since leaving Earth. An orchestra could make incredibly powerful music together, but her favorite part had always been the thirty seconds before the piece starts, before the conductor even lifted his baton -- when the oboe played the tuning note, and the sound of eighty disparate instruments clashed and crunched against each other, each little burst a musical moment isolated within itself, until finally the tension eased, and they all blended together, the right balance struck, achieving a blissful harmony.

"You okay?" Zack asked.

Clementine's eyes flew open, and she realized she was still standing in the doorway. Like an idiot.

Deflecting from her warming cheeks, she nodded at the mugger, stirring on the floor. "Will you be okay?"

Zack watched her for another moment, then pulled the knife from his pocket. "Yeah. I'll bring him to the hospital and come back for you."

"I'm not sure how long the rehearsal's going to be. Ideally a bunch of people will show up." She gestured at the three people on stage. "And I'm hoping that we all brought at least one piece in common that we can work on -- I'm betting on Beethoven's Fifth, although anyone with half a brain should have brought Dvorak's New World."

He didn't say anything, just stared at her with searching pale blue eyes that barely peeked out from beneath his feathered black hair. She was startled by the sudden urge to push that hair out of the way, to see those eyes more clearly. Heat rushed back into her face, and she quickly looked away, stepping into the auditorium.

"You could be waiting around for a while, is my point," she said, turning back to him.

She wanted to tell him he didn't have to stay, that she'd be fine, but another glance at the man in the leather jacket kept the lie from being spoken.

"I'll be here," he said, right before the doors closed.

Over the years, Mr. Crayden had said many times that Zack made promises he didn't keep. "He swears he'll be home for dinner, he's home at midnight," he would say when Clementine saw him on the street. "He promises he'll water the tomatoes, they're withering on the vine. I don't know what to do with this boy."

So despite Zack's assurances that he'd come back and wait for her, Clementine was not surprised when he still hadn't returned by the end of rehearsal. Twenty-three people ended up coming, although it was mostly brass (her dad would not be pleased) and violins, plus a few flutes, one upright bass, and her. An orchestra they were not.

Despite their meager numbers, they still had fun. Only half of the group had Dvorak's New World, but everyone did have Beethoven's Fifth, so they played around with that, laughing at how crazy it sounded and counting through all the empty measures where missing instruments should have been playing. Luckily the skill level of everyone was at least equal to Clementine's -- it seemed only truly dedicated musicians were willing to take up their precious cargo space with instruments -- so she didn't have to worry about kicking anyone out. After a few hours of fooling around they made plans to get together again in a couple days, giving everyone some time to research pieces that matched their instrumentation.

While all of the musicians lived in the same sector as Clementine -- she'd only knocked on doors within a few hours' walk of her house -- only three were going to the same station as her. The ride back was pleasant, as the small group bonded over jokes about viola players, but as the doors of the transport opened, they were met with a cacophony of shouts that silenced all conversation.

The station itself was empty, but Clementine could see people standing at the top of the ramp with their backs to the transport. The din of yells and whistles started to take shape as chanting, but it was hard to understand the words. She exchanged an uneasy glance with Tian, the bass player, and they all started up the ramp.

Most of the crowd was standing around, watching whatever the spectacle was, but some of the people she pushed past to get a closer look were chanting along, their fists pumping in the air. Their words made her chest tighten in fear.

"Don't trust Relicans! Keep us free!"

"You coming, Clementine?" asked Tian.

"You go ahead," she said, waving them on and working her way into the crowd. Finally she reached a spot where she could see what was going on in the square. About a hundred people were marching in a circle, all wearing black face masks. Many had white t-shirts on with the words "Humans Right" written on them with black marker, identifying themselves as part of that anti-Relican group. And just in case anyone was still uncertain about their opinion, nearly all of the protesters were holding signs with slogans like, "Humans Right, Relicans Wrong," "We will fight to the death for freedom," and "Asteroid Mates = Traitors."

It was that last one that really kicked Clementine into panic mode. Anti-Relican terrorist groups like Humans Right had popped up within days of the Relicans' arrival on Earth, going on TV and radio and saying the whole thing was a scam to enslave humanity. What really bothered them though was the Asteroid Mate angle -- asking for a hundred human women to breed with a hundred Relican men to help rebuild their population after centuries of war. It was purely for breeding, as emotional attachment was considered immoral by the Relicans, and Humans Right told anyone who would listen that recruiting women was a trick to get humanity to willingly enslave themselves, warning that any woman who volunteered would be considered a traitor to mankind.

When Tierney, who had been living on one of the Relican vessels to continue her work as liaison, was exposed and jailed for having a romantic relationship with a Relican Squad member, Humans Right was quick to use her story to their benefit, saying that even though she was obviously "mentally unstable" to have developed feelings for one of the aliens, the fact that she was being imprisoned for it proved that Asteroid Mates were in fact slaves, and that the Relicans were cruel, domineering, and heartless. As soon as the story changed, however, and Clementine's sister made her announcement that she and Tausson were being released and would meet humanity on Lota, Humans Right called her a traitor, and said she was a conspirator in the plot to deceive them all and lead the human race to slaughter. So far Clementine's family had been able to keep their heads down and avoid any direct trouble. But if any of the marchers recognized her as Tierney's sister, things probably wouldn't end well.

Spinning around, Clementine tried to push her way back through the crowd, wishing she'd kept walking with Tian. She hugged her cello close, using it as both a gentle battering ram and a shield, hiding her face as best she could. As she broke free from the sea of people, someone grabbed her arm, and her throat tightened in panic as she whirled around to face her assailant.

"Zack!" she cried with relief. His pale face was flushed dark red. "Are you okay?" She had to shout to be heard.

He didn't reply, but quickly led her away from the crowd. They strayed from the main path, walking on the grass between houses to skirt the square. As the noise dwindled and they slowed their pace, she asked him again, "Are you okay? You're all red."

He cast a sideways glance at her brightly colored cello case and said, "I saw you from across the square. I figured I wouldn't be the only one."

Now it was Clementine's turn to turn red, realizing that he had run across the square to get to her before the angry mob could.

Time for a subject change. "How'd it go with the mugger?" she asked.

"He was awake when we got to the hospital. I tried to hold him, but he shoved me out of the pod and took off."

Maybe she was still ramped up from being caught up in that mob. Or maybe it was the apathetic tone Zack used when talking about the escape of the man who would undoubtedly continue assaulting people -- herself included. Whatever it was, she suddenly found herself very annoyed with him, even though he had definitely saved her once -- and potentially twice -- that day.

"Why didn't you come back for me like you said you would?" she asked.

He still didn't look at her, but she could see his jaw muscles tighten. "I figured I had some time, so I went for a walk. I got distracted by the protest."

"Uh-huh. I believe that as much as I believe you've been playing lacrosse for the past year."

They were back on the main path, the sounds of the rally still audible, but distant. Several people were stepping out of their houses and listening curiously to the din. Some started walking in that direction, others watched her and Zack pass by, as if the two of them would explain what was going on.

"Why would you lie to your dad about taking up boxing?" she asked.

"My dad?" He actually scoffed -- the closest thing to a laugh she'd heard come out of his mouth in a long time. "The hippie pacifist?"

"Being a hippie isn't a bad thing," she said defensively, reacting to the judgment in his voice. "Neither is being a pacifist."

"He'd pass out if he knew."

"You never know until you try." He gave her an incredulous look, and she had to laugh. "That gets a raised eyebrow, but not my sexual favors comment earlier? You're weird."

The eyebrow dropped, and the corner of his lips did that twitching thing again. "'You never know until you try?' That sounds like something you'd read in a Golden Book," he said.

"Doesn't make it less true."

They walked in silence for a while. Clementine started remembering all of the times they played together as kids, and how he was always so quick to smile and laugh. He was so different now.

What does make him smile? she wondered.

"I used to watch you play your cello."

"Watch me? You mean at concerts? I don't remember you going to any."

This time his glance met hers, and she saw something in his eyes that made her heartbeat quicken. They both hastily looked away, and she convinced herself she'd imagined it -- whatever it was.

"When you practiced," he said, almost too quiet to hear, "in your room."

Clementine knew she should be freaking out. After all, he'd basically just admitted to stalking her. Instead, her heart was racing and her body was tingling with anticipation.

Really? This guy? her brain kept saying. But she couldn't fight her growing smile any more than she could deny the fact that she was glad she'd made herself look a little extra nice that day.

"Why?" she asked, running a hand through her hair.

Their house, number 18, was in view, and she wished they were back at the square so they had more time together. Once they walked through those doors, he'd become dour, moody Zack again, his only communication shrugging and monosyllables. How could she keep that from happening?

"It's obvious that you love it," he said. "When you play, it's like you're closed off from the world."

That wasn't quite the answer she was hoping for, and the fluttering in her stomach subsided a little. "Yeah, well, it only feels that way sometimes. Most of the time I'm counting, and grumbling about fingering."

"Are you talking about sexual favors again?"

"What? No, I --" She stopped walking and cast an exaggerated look of shock at him. "Did I just hear Zack Crayden, king of shrugs and indifference, make a joke?"

He stopped too and faced her. His lips twitched, but the humor was gone. She feared she'd pushed too far, but then he stepped closer to her, and the fluttering returned full force. Her breath grew quick, drawing in the scent of his spicy deodorant, along with the sweet smell of pot that clung to both him and his dad. For a second she wondered if he was high, but his blue eyes were crystal clear, and they were staring straight into hers.

"I'm not indifferent about everything," he said, gently cupping her chin and grazing his thumb across her lips. Warmth rippled through her body from his touch, pooling low in her stomach.

"Geodes?" she asked.

His eyes crinkled with confusion, and the lips that had been slowly moving closer to hers pulled back ever so slightly.

With a smile, she added, "You were really into geodes when we were kids."

It started in his eyes. A softening. A thawing of the frosty glaze. Then the corners of his mouth began to stretch, lifting his cheeks and warming his eyes even more. He let out a sharp breath of air, and then another -- more of a cough than laughter. But he couldn't fool Clementine. She saw the smile.

I made him smile.

"Tiny!"

Zack jumped away, and she jerked her head around to see her mom walking in their direction. The bliss that Clementine had been feeling only a moment ago dissipated. When she looked back at Zack, he was already walking away -- away from the house, away from her.