TRUE TO KRIEGER’S word, they left us alone the rest of the day. And the next morning, she was waiting for us in the cafeteria. Her pantsuit was a subdued gray, her face a little pale. She wasn’t wearing as much makeup as usual, and her hair wasn’t teased in her usual glamorous updo, but pinned at the nape of her neck in a little bun. And for the first time, she was wearing a set of glasses, brown plastic with rectangle frames.
Once we had all gathered, she said, “I just want everyone to know that we are taking what happened yesterday very seriously. We are still deep in discussions about how to proceed with the program. Classes are suspended today.” She touched her glasses self-consciously. “Let me reiterate that there are inherent dangers in a mission such as this, even in training. And that you are all free to go home, should you choose to do so. There is no shame in it.”
I found myself looking at Emilio’s profile, but his face gave away nothing.
An entire day off was a luxury I hadn’t thought possible. We spent it lounging outside on the grass under a blue sky studded with pearly clouds, lounging in the sunshine. Mitsuko and I brought out a handful of bath towels from the empty rooms and spread them out on the grass. Emilio and Anton were right behind us, balancing plates heavy with mounds of finger foods, all stolen from the cafeteria. We soaked up every second of sunlight we could.
Luka joined us, which surprised me. He sat apart, as he usually did, reading the same book he’d been reading last night. Up close, in the light, I realized it was The Count of Monte Cristo, in the original French. Unbelievable.
“God, I forgot how amazing the sun felt,” Mitsuko said, leaning back on her elbows and tilting her face up to the light. She was wearing aviator sunglasses and had her long black hair loose down her back.
Anything we asked for in the RA office, they provided, save electronics. The guys had requested a football and were playing in the field in front of us. I’d stopped by there to see if I had any mail from home, but they told me no. I didn’t believe them, but it wasn’t like I could do anything about it.
“Hey, Suko?” I asked.
“Mm?”
“You get any mail lately?”
“Haven’t checked. Why?”
I shrugged and lay back, using my hands as a pillow. “No reason.”
Mitsuko turned to her side and squinted at me. “Waiting for something from home?”
“Yeah, actually. I haven’t heard from anyone in a long time.”
“I’m sure they wrote you. NASA is probably just holding all of our mail until the selection so we don’t get distracted. I wouldn’t worry.” She turned back around and adjusted her sunglasses.
Emilio, huffing and red-faced, dropped to the grass in front of us and downed a bottle of water. Anton came trotting up behind.
“You guys should come play football with us,” Emilio said.
Mitsuko waved him away vaguely. “Mm, no thanks.”
He turned to me. “Lola?”
I wiggled my fingers. “Musician.”
Emilio rolled his eyes. “Girls!”
Kendra stood up and brushed off her shorts. “Football? I’ll play.”
“Different kind of football, Kendra,” Mitsuko said without opening her eyes.
“Ah. American football. Never mind.” She sat down again.
Somehow everyone else was able to enjoy themselves. I smiled at the appropriate times, but there was a coldness inside of me that wouldn’t thaw. I’d dreamed about the SLH in the night. I couldn’t stop reliving it. Going over the details. The valve, the hatch, the radio. Had someone really hacked all of these things, set it all up with the express purpose of locking us in a metal tomb with no way to call for help?
And why?
Mitsuko went inside, citing the sun and something about her complexion. The weather was pleasant, and we had plenty of food and bottled water, so the rest of us stayed until the sun grew too hot.
When I finally went back to our room, Mitsuko was standing over her bed, facing away from me. She didn’t turn when I came in. I took a few steps and realized what she had been doing.
Her suitcase lay open, partially packed on her bed. She hadn’t heard me come in and she was bent over a pile of clothes on her bed, folding and packing them. Her hair was a curtain, concealing her face.
“Why?” I already knew. But I wanted to be wrong.
Mitsuko looked up at me, and her eyes were filled with tears. “Hey, Cass,” she said, her voice breaking like glass underfoot. “I’m going home.”
I felt suddenly unsteady. My hand reached for something to hold on to.
She smiled sadly. “I want to. After what happened back there? I just really, really want to go home to Michael. I got a clear understanding of the risks they’re asking us to take, Cass. I want to go back and live a normal life. Even if it’s boring in comparison. I’m okay with that.”
I tried to say something. I don’t know what. My eyes were fiery hot.
“Oh, don’t do that. You’re so close, Cass. You’re so close.” She came and pulled me into a hug. “I think you can make it. You’re a good one. One of the best. Be braver than me, okay? Promise me you won’t give up.”
I shook my head. “I won’t.”
“Good.”
“You . . . ,” I began, forcing speech around the lump in my throat. “Thank you. For all your advice. For looking out for me.” The words I was saying weren’t the right ones. They weren’t nearly enough. If I’d just had more time to think, I could’ve done this good-bye so much better. “You and Emilio . . . you’re like the first real friends I’ve had.”
She smiled sadly. “That’s like the sweetest and saddest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Then she nudged me with her shoulder. “Right back at you.”
“When . . .” I took a breath to steady myself. “When do you leave?”
Mitsuko looked hopelessly back at her suitcase. “Now. Whenever I finish packing. I want to get it over with, you know? Like a Band-Aid. Rip it off and get out of here and on a plane home. But I can’t seem to concentrate. I just keep . . . standing here . . .”
“I got it,” I said. I picked up one of her shirts and started folding. “I’ll help you.”
Mitsuko gave me a teary smile. “One of the best, Cass.”
When she was finally packed—I didn’t realize how many skin-care products that girl had brought—Mitsuko said, “Don’t tell the others. Not right away. Wait till I’ve left, okay? Wait as long as you can.”
I nodded, swallowed hard. “You’ll write me? Promise?”
She smiled and tousled my hair like I was a kid. “You know it.”
It was all I could do just to say, “Thanks. Thank you.”
She smiled, tears spilling into the creases in her cheeks. “Good luck.”
I shook my head. “Do you . . . do you want me to walk with you?”
“No. I’ll be okay.”
One last hug and she walked out of the room and down the hall. Then she crossed the red paint, through a door I was holding strong not to follow.
I sat on my bed in my empty room—my private room—and looked at each empty bed. The one beside me, which had belonged to Giselle for one night only. The places where Hanna and Mitsuko had slept and complained and studied. How had all of this happened in only a few weeks?
I’d expected to outlast them all, and I had. I’d had so much hubris. That I didn’t need friends or want them.
I’d been wrong. And not for the first time.
If I made the cut—if I, somewhere down the line, was launched into space on a journey that would take me out of the sight of Earth, it would be the most alone I’d ever be. I’d have to be okay with that. With being alone. Maybe forever.
And it was harder now than I remembered it being.
A couple of hours later, probably around dinnertime, someone knocked on the door. Emilio, come to check on us, since we hadn’t shown up for dinner. Only there wasn’t an “us” anymore.
“Hey.” His face was carefully neutral as he peered into the room. “Is Mitsuko here?”
Then I realized he had a backpack on his shoulder. “Oh my God. You too?”
“Too?”
“Mitsuko left two hours ago. She dropped out. Voluntary withdrawal.”
He covered his face with one hand. “Oh, shit, Cass, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He dragged his hand down his face, cupping his mouth. “Please don’t hate me. But I was just coming to say good-bye. I’m going home.” At the look on my face, he smiled. “It’s okay. It’s what I want. And once I’m gone, you’ll hardly remember I was here.”
“Liar.”
“Hey, buddy. Don’t cry. I’m not, see?” And he didn’t seem upset. Tired, maybe. But there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I get to go home and see my folks. It’s good news.”
“Not for me.” Then I remembered. “That night on the track—you were saying good-bye, weren’t you? I just didn’t realize it.”
He gave a sheepish look and a shrug. “I knew I wasn’t cut out for this place, but that shitstorm in the SLH just confirmed it. I guess Suko felt the same. It’s not like I’m giving up on my dream, either. Turns out, this just wasn’t it.”
I put a hand over my mouth and nodded. Tried to rein myself in.
“Just like her to forget to say good-bye to me.” He took hold of my shoulders, studied me. “Come on, kid. Buck up. Look on the bright side—you’re down two competitors.”
I shook my head. “I never thought of you as competition.”
“Gee, thanks.” He grinned. And as I tried to explain myself, he waved his hands to brush it off. “It’s been fun, up until that last part. But I’d break my ribs all over again if I had to. For you, and all the others. Well, except maybe for Boris.”
“I’m going to miss you.” It sounded so lame, and yet I had to say it, had to, because when was I going to get another chance? This was the good-bye with Mitsuko all over again. “So much. You don’t even know. You’re . . .” I struggled to find a single word that could sum him up, and instead the only thing that came to me was, “Honestly, you’re the first genuinely good guy I’ve ever met. You know, I didn’t come here looking to make friends. But I’m really glad I met you.” I swallowed around a growing lump in my throat. “You . . . you make me want to be a better person.”
Emilio seemed taken aback, his face full of some emotion I couldn’t read. And then he touched his chest, over his heart, and motioned me toward him with his other hand. “Come ’ere, Cass.”
I took a step closer cautiously, and he hugged me. I hugged him back automatically, being careful of his broken rib. My heart thudded, thinking this was all happening way too fast. I wasn’t prepared for him to disappear, too.
He kissed my cheek before pulling away, a gesture so sweet and brotherly it sparked tears in my eyes. “Good luck, buddy. I’ll see you when you get back. From outer space.”
Only Emilio could make me laugh when I was trying not to cry.
He smiled, backed up into the hallway. I followed him to the doorway but no farther. I watched him walk down the hall, as he held his hand up in a wave. And then he turned his back to me and headed for the exit.
I watched him walk away because watching was all I could do. I waited for him to stop or turn around, but he didn’t, of course.
I watched my last true friend and ally disappear through the red door.
Then I went back to my room. Closed the door. Sat on my bed and surveyed the empty space around me. I was truly alone now.
I needed to get used to it.