Dissidence (34 page)

That’
s a pretty big difference, but I can see Connor’s point
,
too. Finally
,
maintenance won’t be the worst possible job out there anymore. Everyone is at each other’s throats. Half our group agrees with Connor, half with Peter, and they’re all still waiting to see where I stand.

In my world
,
there are two people that I trust implicitly, just
two
. So what am I supposed to do when they are at odds about everything?
It’s too much. The room starts feeling like it’s closing in on me, and the air is getting too thin. For a moment
,
I wonder if it’s some kind of trap, but then I realize I’m the only one feeling these effects. My chest feels tight, and I wonder if a heart attack would excuse me from any future meetings. Not likely.

I can’t do this. Not now, not like this. How am I supposed to think with everyone staring at me, everyone waiting for me to pick a side, and no matter what I decide, I know I’ll be letting someone down? Without caring one bit what anyone thinks, I bail right there in the middle of
the meeting. It was either that
or
have
a breakdown right there in front of everyone.

I can feel the irritating sting of tears building in my eyes as I plow down the hallway, looking for somewhere to hide. I just need to be alone for a minute, to catch my breath, to compose myself. 

Or not.
As soon as I duck into a vacant conference room, a sob erupts from deep in my chest. No matter how much I swipe at them, the tears just keep coming. Why does it always have to come down to me? I wish someone would just tell me what to do. What do they expect from me?

“Girlie
?
”
I hear Connor inching
his way
,
cautiously
, into the room behind me.
“Y
ou all right?”

I try to compose myself enough to steady my voice before answering, but a heavy hand folds over my shoulder.
“
Kaleigh
?”

Before I can spout off some generic ‘I’m fine’ statement, he turns me around, revealing al
l of my glorious wretchedness. Snot and tears mingle
on my blotchy red face with puffy eyes. His ever present mask slips, revealing the real Connor underneath.
A Connor that’s usually hidden behind his easy smile and wry humor.
A Connor that I’ve only glimpsed once or twice before.
  

Without a word
,
his hand slides down my arm and around my waist as his other arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close. I bury my face in his chest, afraid of seeing the pity that I’m sure must be burning like wildfire in his eyes. The ache in my throat eases as I stop trying to hold back the tears. This is the second time this week I’ve cried on some boy’s shoulder. If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d be mortified.

“It’s okay,” Connor coos, stroking my hair lightly. “Everything’s all right, Girlie.”

I try and fail to accept his assurances. Connor continues to hold me until I’m able to compose myself enough to pull back slightly
,
and look up at him. The mask is still tucked away, leaving him looking nearly as vulnerable as I feel standing here in my post meltdown condition, wrapped in his strong arms.

“I’m sure I’m a mess.
” I try to lighten the mood with a little self-deprecating humor, but it falls short.

Connor doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t even smile. He just shakes his head slowly, his eyes never
leaving mine. “You’re beautiful.”

His confused and almost frightened gaze latches onto mine, and, before I can recognize what’s happening, his lips are on mine. Softly at first, as light as a feather, as though he’s testing the waters, but when I don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss, sealing his lips over mine. It’s still innocent, sweet and warm
,
and mind numbingly unexpected. That’s why I think I hesitate. For just this second, I don’t have to think about anything at all. Kissing Connor is like a momentary vacation for my brain. Then my blissful oblivion is shattered by the sound of footsteps.

Chapter 32

My senses come rushing back to me, and I push Connor away. I don’t mean it to be harsh, I’m just surprised. And, like things could get any worse, Peter’s standing in the doorway gaping at the two of us. Before I can string together enough coherent words to form a sentence, however, he’s gone again.

“Connor I . . . I’m sorry.
 
I can’t do this . . . not now,
”
I stammer, being the eloquent speaker that I am. “I just . . . with everything . . . I . . . I can’t.”

If he understood any of that
,
he deserves a medal. 

“I understand.” Give the man a medal. “It’s all right.”

He picks a stray hair from my damp cheek and tucks it behind my ear. I wish he wouldn’t do that, it’s very distracting.

“But maybe you’d better go explain that to him.” He jer
ks his head towards the doorway
where Peter’s just disappeared.

Connor’s right. I should probably put that fire out before it really gets started, so before I have to say anything else, I make a beeline for the door. Peter isn’t difficult to find. He’s the only one in the halls besides the President’s guards, and they’re all dressed in black, so he sort of sticks out like a sore thumb in his light blue t-shirt and jeans.

“Peter?”

“What?” His voice is gruff, and he refuses to meet my eyes, making the situation all the more uncomfortable.

“I didn’t mean . . . he surprised me . . . I just . . .” Great, here I go again.

What does it matter to him
,
anyway? He can’t seriously believe I’ll side with Connor just because he kissed me. He should know me better than that. Besides, I’m not even s
ure what that kiss meant anyway,
to him, to me, to anyone. I can feel the stinging sensation starting to build again behind my eyes, and I shut them to keep the tears at bay. The last thing I need is t
o look like some prissy cry
baby in front of Peter
,
too. Despite my best efforts, though, one or two squeeze under my eyelids. I’m just so tired, I can’t fight them anymore. I’m so sick of fighting everything all the time.

A warm finger brushes across my cheek bone, gently wiping away the evidence of my instability with a faint sigh. “What’s wrong, Leigh?”

“What
isn’t
wrong, Peter?”

“Touché.”
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, but
,
in a moment
,
it’s gone again.

“Will it ever be over? Will
life ever go
back to normal?”

“I don’t know.” He takes a step back. “
Kaleigh
, why did you come back for me? In the camp, I mean.”

“Because, Peter, I couldn’t just leave you there. Not when it was my fault you got sent there
in the first place. You know that.”

“So
,
that’s it then, you came out of guilt?”

“Peter, you’re my best friend.”

“Is that all we’re ever going to be, Leigh?
Friends?”

And there it is. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense, and I feel like I’ve been broadsided by a freight train. How did I not see that coming? Now what am I supposed to do?
Like I didn’t have enough problems before.
I start to stammer out some completely incoherent response, but Peter cuts me off.

“It’s all right. I know I have the worst possible timing on the face of the planet. It’s just . . . seeing you back there . . . with him . . . I . . .” At least I’m not the only one here with speech issues at the moment.

“Peter, I told you,
Connor
kissed
me
. He surprised me. That’s all.”

“But, did you want him to? Did you kiss him back?”

Did I? It all happened so quickly.

“I don’t know.” I answer as honestly as I can. “Peter, I just don’t know. Everything is such a mess, and my brain is so fried right now, I just don’t know anything anymore.” I’m starting to sound slightly hysterical, but I can’t stop myself. “Everyone wants me to make decisions, and no one can agree on anything, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t know what the right answers are . . . about anything.”

I’m breathing hard by the
time my little rant wraps up.
S
o much for
not looking like a prissy crybaby.
Peter moves closer so that he’s standing directly in front of me again. So close I can smell the soap he used in the shower this morning.

“Okay, okay.
All right.”
He lays a hand on my shoulder to try and
calm me before I hyperventilate
or something. “Leigh, breathe. It’s all going to work out, okay?”

I take a deep, slow breath, and a slight smile graces Peter’s lips, but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “There. Better?”

I nod, feeling more than a little foolish. Why does he always see me at my worst?

“I know you’re under a lot of pressure in there, and I know I’m not making it any easier on you, and I’m sorry. You can do this, Leigh
. We
can do this. All of us, together, all right? It’s going to be fine.”

“What if it isn’t?” I can barely hear my own words as I voice my greatest fear to him.
“What if I mess this opportunity up for everyone?”

“You won’t.” He sounds so confident. I don’t know how he can be, but it gives me courage. If Peter really believes that we can do this, then maybe we can.

***

The next morning
,
things are still tense between all of us. At breakfast, Peter only nods hello, and then clears out as soon as his food is finished. Connor hasn’t made an appearance at all, and I can’t remember him ever missing a meal time. Great work, I’ve managed to alienate the two people I care most about in the world.

I just wish we could
forget about Connor kissing me
and everything Peter said last night, but apparently those kinds of things are not easy to forget. In fact, I was up hal
f the night thinking about them
instead of what I
should
have been thinking about. I’ve never thought of either of them like that before. I’ve never allowed myself to because it was never an option. It’s still not an option. It’s not like any of us actually gets to
choose
who we spend our lives with. Cue
ah-
ha
moment.

We’re supposed to be meeting with
Syms
and his staff again later on today, for what I’m not sure . . . more arguing?
Probably.
After I finish my cereal, I head back to my room and stretch ou
t on the bed. Before World War IV
gets started in there, I need to make up my mind about a few things. Today, when people want my opinion, I’m going to have one to give them.
And, if my thoughts keep going the way they’re going now, it’s going to be a doozy.

The biggest point of contention yesterday was over t
he work camps.
Syms
was right—as loath as I am to admit it—
we do still need the resources, and
someone
has to produce them, but Connor was right
,
too. T
he way they go about it is wrong
and needs to change. I think Peter made the best point when he suggested it be made a regular paying job, but it would still really suc
k to get assigned there. Unless
we could make it more appealing somehow, more pay, better hours, something. Then some people may actually
want
to work there. W
hy not let them? Why not let everyone work wherever they want? The suckier the job, the more it pays. Oh, I would have made a fortune as a cashier.

And
why stop there?
Syms
already told us that they use the assignments as a way to control the population because they lack any real control, but if we return the military to him, then he won’t need that anymore. Why not allow everyone to make their
own decisions about everything?
W
here they live, who they ma
rry.
I’m on a roll now, and there’s no stopping me, but it makes sense . . . to me, anyway.

Convinced I have come up with the perfect solution to make everyone happy, I saunter into the meeting room with an idiot grin plastered on my face. They all look ready to fight already, but
I
squash that with a quick tap of the papers I’m carrying. Peter shoots me a questioning glance as I make my way around the room, but I just hand him one and move on. It took two hours to write them all, and I think I may have car
pal tunnel
syndrome now, but it’s worth it when the room plunges into silence as everyone reads.