Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I (26 page)

“You all right, mate?”

I use my palm to wipe my eyes, but I can’t answer Liam.

“What is that?” I ask when I find my voice.

Liam is decent enough to ignore my moment of sissiness and stops juggling the object in question. He holds the plain silver ring between his thumb and index finger. “It’s her tocket,” he says casually, resuming his juggling. He doesn’t mention the
I promise
engraved on the inside, and I wonder if he knows that’s the ring I replaced with a better one—one that actually included diamonds.

I raise Tate’s book and skim through more pages. Over the past months, she’s been helping Fischer cope with the loss of Elliott…and playing music…and making new friends in—

“Group therapy?” I question.

“It’s made a huge difference,” Liam says.

I read on about the things she’s been doing in my absence. I’ve selfishly needed her to need me, but she’s beginning to move beyond my death.

My eyes freeze on a paragraph from two weeks ago, and feuding emotions slosh in my gut like oil and water.

“What’s up? You’re bloody pale.”

Forgetting that Liam is still here, I blink back my tears, though there’s nothing sad about her going back to school. Her major is what stings. Social work? I mean, obviously she would be great in that field, but music and art have always been her two loves. Seeing her life go down such a different road proves that she will be moving on without me. She is destined to become a different person—one I do not know. “Social work?” I whisper to myself.
Breathe, breathe, breathe…

“Maybe you should give me that back.” Liam catches the ring and leans forward like he’s going to get up.

I grip the book tighter in fear that Liam will swipe it from me. I will myself not to throw up and continue reading. He cuts me a break, going back to tossing the ring.

“We’ve got to keep her on track,” I say when I reach today’s entry in the book. “She needs to go back to school.” More than anything else, I want her to be happy. She deserves to be happy. My sanity is a small price to pay.

“You’ll be an amazing social worker if that’s the path you choose,” I whisper to Tate while she types on her laptop. “You’ll be amazing at anything you do.”

Feeling Liam’s stare, I turn away from Tate to find him looking at me like everyone else used to when they found out I had cancer.

“She can still have the life she deserves.”
Without me.
“I have to let her go.” I have to. For her. My mind goes back to the day we spent fishing, the way she watched that little boy. What if her future includes being a mom? What if I steal that away from her? “I can’t stand in her way anymore.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say to Liam after thirty seconds. “This is hard enough. Your sympathy isn’t helping.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I know it’s difficult, but it’s the right thing. You’re not supposed to be here, and I’m not even saying that for fear of getting in trouble. You’re messing with her destiny.”

Having no argument, I keep my mouth shut. Tate’s typing is the only noise in the still room. I watch my thumbs race around each other. I can’t look at her. My heart can’t come to terms with this yet.

“So, keep her on track, huh? Certainly sounds easy enough,” Liam says a few minutes later in a more upbeat tone.

“You have to.” I look at Tate when she shifts positions in the chair. “Please. And if there’s any way to keep her from destroying all of my memories along the way…”

“Brilliant. I’m all about doing the impossible.”

Under different circumstances, I would probably find the sarcastic delivery of Liam’s statement funny. “You seem like the type who prefers a challenge.”

Liam mumbles something to himself. I stare at the single word,
break
, typed on the page after today’s events that never happened. I’m unable to turn to the blank pages that follow. They are empty spaces to be filled with a life without me.

When I stop thinking selfishly, I know that moving on without me is the right path for Tate. If I’m being honest, I’ve always known—a girl like her should have never been with a guy like me. The scales were always tipped too much in my favor. I was just a carpenter, for crying out loud. I was a fool for thinking she could have been happy with the mediocre life I would have given her. She deserves the world and nothing less.

I try to ignore the emptiness spreading outward from my chest like a stain and toss the book back to Liam.

I kneel in front of Tate, pull in my filter, and kiss her forehead. “You have a whole life ahead of you. I’m only letting you go because I love you. Do you hear me? I love you!” My tears burn like acid. I try to blink them away, but they won’t stop coming.

She closes her eyes and breathes slowly.

I stare at the shape of her face, her small nose, her full bottom lip, the peach-shaped freckle on her left cheek—all the details I memorized years ago. I inhale, hoping to remember her scent forever. “Good-bye, Tate.”

I look away from her when I stand.

Liam’s not in the room anymore, but I know he can hear me. “It’s done.”

I whisper the command and grip the stone so tightly that my veins threaten to burst out of my forearm. My soul rips apart as I’m being pulled across the dark Earth.

Feeling even sicker than after my worst chemo treatment, I shrink into the far corner of Ryder’s bedroom and focus on my knees. Ryder and Hannah, curled together in peaceful sleep, breathe rhythmically in the black room. Meanwhile, I can’t stop shaking; I’m dying all over again.

Not until late the next morning am I able to force Ryder’s assignment book open.

At the exact time I finish his final chapter, my calimeter buzzes. Ryder’s upcoming weekend and his engagement to Hannah is a slap in the face—a reminder of what I’ve just lost.

.

19. You guys look like you’re lost

As my first step toward a so-called destiny completely out of my control, I pour a cup of coffee strong enough to put Willow’s to shame and head down to meet Jonathan.

Just before I get to the Orders hall, Willow approaches from the opposite direction. God, it’s good to see her face.

“Hey, freak! Where the heck have you been?” I shout to her, but there’s no enthusiasm in my voice, despite my effort.

As she gets closer, it’s obvious something’s wrong. “Willow? What is it?” My pace quickens until I’m jogging. “Willow?”

She clutches my arms like she needs me to keep her balanced. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

My muscles turn to concrete. “Talk to me! What’s going on? Is Troy all right?” I’m desperate for her to say something, anything, so I know she’s OK, but she only stares blankly through me. Does she know about my mistake with Ryder?

“Willow?”

“It’s Tate,” she chokes.

Her unexpected words pummel me. “What about Tate?” Unsure if the question came out of my mouth or if I was just screaming in my head, I plead, “Willow, tell me!” when she says nothing.

Her fingers tighten around my arms and she looks down at the floor. “She’s been declared a Rebellion,” she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.

“Breathe, Grant! Breathe!” Willow’s voice sounds like a distant echo.

My coffee cup shatters on the tile floor. I follow behind it, shattering as well.

“Shouldn’t he have come to by now?” Willow’s muffled voice says.

“Give him a little more time. It’s important that his body protects his mental wellness.”

“He’s been out for so long.”

“Patience, Willow,” Jonathan says from far away.

I open my eyes and try to focus. Willow and her frizzy dreadlocks are just an inch from my face when the black hole swallows me again.

“What are you thinking about?” Tate asks, tracing her hand on my bare chest while we’re stretched across my bed.

“Nothing,” I lie. No way was I going to tell her I was thinking of my approaching death. “What are you thinking about?”

“Kids.” She rolls her engagement ring around her finger with her thumb.

“You’re back on that?” I try not to sound angry.

“You know I want kids,” she says into my neck.

“I know, but we’ve talked about this. I can’t give you any until my treatments are finished,” I reply, already knowing my treatments will never be finished.

“I can still dream about it.” Her voice is harder.

“What is it with you and kids, anyway?”

“Not just kids.
Your
kids,” she clarifies, softening again.

“I don’t see how that makes a difference.”

She props herself up to look at me. “I want a piece of you.”

“What—like a memento when I’m gone?”

“Grant!”

“I just said what we were both thinking.”

“I’m not thinking that! What I mean is, I want a baby with you. I want to create a life with you. Something permanent.”

“Something my disease can’t take away.” I wipe the tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She lays her head back on my shoulder. “I love you.”

I focus on keeping my breathing even so she won’t notice the panic rolling through me. I’m going to lose her.

“Willow?”

She stops pacing and leaps over the trunk. “Jonathan, he’s awake!” she yells over me. “Are you all right?”

I push myself into a sitting position on my sofa. “How did I get here?”

“We carried you. Kind of.”

My brain is so foggy, I must not be hearing her correctly.

“Well no, not really. We dragged you. How are you feeling?”

I reach up to be sure that my pounding head is still connected to my body. “What happened?”

“You passed out.”

When the replay with Willow flashes through my brain in slow motion, I spring up so fast I trip over her. “No!”

She slams her shoulder into me, and I fall back into the sofa.

“I was dreaming! Tell me I was dreaming,” I plead when I finally find my voice.

“I’m so sorry,” is all she says.

I hear Jonathan’s pacifying voice behind me. “Grant, please try to remain calm.”

“I don’t understand…” I trail off, not even sure what to ask.

“Tate has strayed a great deal off course. We’ve been monitoring her since her episode in the tub.” Jonathan sits in the chair by the sofa and watches me for a reaction because he knows I was there.

“What episode?” Willow interjects.

“Tate tried to take her life,” he answers evenly.

I ignore Willow’s shocked, abnormally silent response and ask, “What happens now?”

“The Schedulers are making the necessary arrangements to pull one of the Elites off their current assignment.”

“You’re going to be shorthanded,” Willow states.

“We’ll manage,” Jonathan says.

“Put me on Tate’s case.”

“Willow, you’ve completed Programming. You can’t go back into the field now. You know it’s against the rules.”

“Break the rules then. Jonathan, please! I’m the only Elite who has experience with a Rebellion. Let me help.”

“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I need you to stay with Grant.”

Willow nods.

“Grant, we are working diligently to get Tate back on track. We do not need any unnecessary interference,” he says firmly. “We’ll get to your new assignment in a few days.” He pushes himself up from the chair and starts toward the door. “I’ll touch base with you both soon.”

“Where’s your bag?” Willow demands when Jonathan’s gone.

I look around and shake my head. “I’m not sure.”

Willow darts around the room before finding it in the closet. She jerks the zipper open and starts rummaging. “Where’s your frame?”

“Huh?”

“Your frame!”

I shake my head again.

“They already got to it,” she mumbles to herself.

“Who?”

“The Schedulers. Seriously kid, do you have to be so predictable?”

“What?”

Willow bites into her fisted hand and stares at the rack of T-shirts. “They knew you’d go back.”

“Who?”

“The Schedulers! Shut up and let me think!” she yells.

Confused, I snap my mouth closed while she wears a path in the closet’s plush carpet.

“There’s got to be something,” she says to herself, continuing like a madwoman for a couple of minutes. She smacks her forehead and plants her feet. “Oh! You were still visiting her, right? Please tell me you were!”

Sure, now she wants me to break the rules.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’d be more shocked if you weren’t, considering your consistent disregard of the rules. Who was her Satellite?”

“I don’t understand—”

“Who was it? Come on, kid, we’re burning daylight here!”

“Liam.”

“Liam? Really?” She looks surprised for a few seconds and then exits the closet. “Come on!”

I run to keep up. “What’s going on?” I ask when we’re in the elevator.

She silences me with her finger, which remains frozen in front of her lips until the elevator doors open. She bolts through them before GPS Jeanette can get her words out and doesn’t slow down until we’re in Benson.

I find Liam first and point to the back of the room. Willow spots him, too, and pushes through the crowd.

“Liam!” she hollers, breathing heavy. “I need to talk to you.” She glances around the table. “Privately.”

Liam and I follow/chase Willow down a long hallway into an unfamiliar part of the building. She holds a door open and Liam steps into a room.

“Privately,” she reiterates, shoving her hand against my chest and slamming the door between us.

“Willow!” I yell, jiggling the handle. I pound my fists on the door, but the thick wood mutes the effect. “Open up! Come on, you little psychopath!”

Liam’s muffled voice raises, but I can’t make out his words. I slam my palms against the door, slide down its length, and fume.

I spring up when the door starts to open. “Willow, you’ve got some—”

“She’s raving mad!”

I push past Liam and spin around the empty room. “Where is she?”

“She took my tocket and displaced.”

“She what?”

“She’s a lunatic!”

“Tate’s tocket?”

Liam paces through the room without answering.

“Liam, what do you know about Tate?”

He studies me before checking the hallway and closing us in the room. “I don’t know what happened. She frigging swan dived over the bloody edge.”

I fall into one of the leather chairs, puzzled. “It doesn’t make sense. What happened when I left?” My volume increases. “Tate was fine when I left her!” I accuse.

“She
was
fine. Until you left.” He looks down and shakes his head. “It’s like she knew you weren’t coming back. As soon as you were gone, she went psycho on her room. Her dad restrained her, but when he let her go, she bolted. She knocked Fischer over on her way out. Her parents tried to catch her. Dude, she’s really fast!”

“She was a sprinter in track,” I say dryly.

“Well, I imagine she did quite well.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur in frustration. What have I done? First Ryder and now Tate. I’m a failure all around.

Liam stops pacing and shuts off his calimeter a second after I silence mine. “Bloody hell. What am I supposed to do now?”

“We’ll go to my room. She’ll have to displace back there.”

“No. That’s your room now.”

“Then where?”

“Programming,” he says.

Why can’t anything around here be easy?
“OK, how do we get there?”

He gapes at me before making a gagging noise that I can only assume is a laugh. “You’re kidding?”

I stare equably back at him. “We need to catch her when she returns, don’t we?”

“Are you mad? We can’t go to Programming!”

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t!”

“Well, that sounds like an excellent reason. You need your tocket back, right? Come on.”

He follows behind me, mumbling, “You’ve lost your marbles. We don’t even know how to get there.”

“Just come on.”

Glad to put my focus somewhere other than on Tate, I lead the way down the long hall until we are in the lobby and then peer into Benson’s corridor. I pull Liam around the corner of another hall and signal him to be quiet.

Henry walks out of Benson, smoothing his shirt cuffs. When he’s halfway through the lobby we follow, with me pushing Liam along with persuasive looks. Henry turns left by the courtyard doors, and we keep a silent pace behind him. When the maze of never-ending hallways opens into a larger room, Liam and I peek around the corner like kids.

Henry walks past the seating area and twists one of the candlesticks to the right. He steps around the now recessed wall and the decorative wood panel closes behind him.

“Let’s go back. We’re going to get into serious trouble,” Liam whispers.

“No way. Besides, we’d never find our way out,” I note, walking into the room.

Liam is not a happy camper. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You can wait here if you want.” I turn the candlestick Henry just used.

Liam looks around the room like he’s considering. Then he huffs and follows me in, murmuring “bloody hell” along the way. The wood panel bangs closed behind us. Three hallways branch off the metallic, ceilingless room.