Before (The Sensitives)

Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller

BEFORE

The man with the caterpillar eyebrows won’t stop talking. So far, he’s told me about his school days–years and years and years ago!–and his off-campus exploits to places I’ve never been. Places I never hope to go.

My lips ache from smiling and my feet definitely don’t care for the shoes I’ve forced them into–four inch, two-tone, lace up booties. They match my dress, but even their smart fabric won’t save me from needing foot salve after this.

I continue to force a smile and I fight the urge to touch my fingers to my lips, a nervous habit my housemother, Bethina, made me promise not to do.

But I also promised not to lose sight of Beck, and I’ve already broken that one. As soon as he and I stepped into the packed ballroom, I was pulled one way and he was swallowed up by the crowd. Which makes me nervous. Not because I’m worried about him–Beck charms everyone he comes in contact with. But rather, I hate this type of social gathering and rely on him to protect me from the hordes.

“The Channing boy came with you, did he not?” Caterpillar Brows’ voice booms out of his tiny head. “I thought I saw him at the ceremony.”

A nervous titter moves through the group. Based on their green wristlets, most of them are State officials–colleagues of my Mother. All eyes are on me as they wait for my answer.

My hand flutters toward to my lips, but at the last moment settles onto the crinkly fabric of the black bow that sits on my shoulder and drapes down the front of my dress.

“He did.”

A wiry woman, in a gown that is twice as wide as she is tall, wrinkles her nose. “Do you ever grow tired of his company?”

The noise of the room rings in my ears and I struggle to keep smiling. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing–talking to strangers. That’s Beck’s area. He’s the one people gravitate toward. He’s the one who lights up the room. I’ve always been content staying in his shadow.

“Excuse me,” I say, making my way through the crowd. “I need…fresh air.”

The whole night–the sheer, tiered evening gown I wear, the passed trays of food with names I can’t pronounce, and the endless stream of people wanting to speak to me–makes me feel like an imposter. These people expect me to be like my mother–or at least, more like Beck. But I’m not. My idea of a fun evening is studying in my room or spending time with my friends. Not hob-nobbing and kissing up to State officials.

As I walk, the silly boots pinch my toes and I wince. Why did I agree to wear such a ridiculous outfit? Bethina warned me I wouldn’t be comfortable, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I selected the gown I thought was the prettiest.

And it is pretty, if uncomfortable. So at least there’s that.

All around me, visiting dignitaries from the five Societies mingle. I catch snippets of conversation in the high-trilling accent of the Eastern Society intermingled with the lightening fast rhythm of the Center Society. It’s truly the binding of the year and I should feel lucky to be here.

I should. But I don’t. I feel a little trapped.

In the middle of the room, I pause and tap my wristlet. There’s no way I’ll find Beck by wandering around. “Locate Beck.”

“Fifty feet to your left, near the rear exit,” my wristlet replies.

I scurry through the crowd, taking care to hold my dress aside so that it doesn’t become wrinkled or damaged. Last thing I need is a reprimand from Bethina.

As I near the far end of the room, I dodge a particularly boisterous man who seems intent on speaking to me.

“Lark,” he says, “come, join us!”

Just as I’m about to step into their tight circle, I catch a glimpse of Beck.

“I’ll be right back,” I say before hurrying past.

Beck leans against the wall, with his blond head tilted down and his eyes on his blue wristlet.

And oddly, there’s not a soul within feet of him.

When the invitation to my brother’s binding ceremony arrived, I couldn’t stop admiring it. Mother spared no cost. A small, iridescent box with a thick bow of green ribbon hovered before me and when I flicked my hand, the ribbon unraveled, sliding down the sides of the box and pooling at its base.

Excitement bubbled in me as the box opened and dozens of butterflies swirled in the air. Their beating wings shimmered in the sunlight.

I’d never seen anything like it before.

“Do you want to go?” Beck asked from just over my shoulder.

I tapped off my wristlet and the butterflies and the box disappeared. “No. But we don’t have a choice.

It’s my brother’s binding, and Mother summoned us.”

Beck’s eyes took on a distant look. Not that I blamed him. The last time we had visited Mother’s estate, my brother Callum took immense pleasure in tormenting Beck and me. He even locked Beck outside, without protective gear, in a snowstorm.

But three years had passed and I hoped we were all beyond such childish things.

I reached up to pat Beck’s cheek, and wanting to sound mature, mimicked formal State speech. “I’m the one who dislikes this type of thing, not you.”

Beck sighed. “I’m…I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

I tossed my chestnut ponytail over my shoulder and squeezed his hand. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be okay. I’ll practice what to say with Bethina.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Besides, I’ll have you with me.”

Beck ran his hand through his shock of blond, wavy hair. His olive colored eyes rested on my face and my heart thrummed. “I’ll never leave your side.”

Unlike other children, Beck and I had been paired off as infants–selected by the State as each other’s perfect mate. Our own binding ceremony was less than three years in the future.

“I know you won’t.” If there was one thing I could always depend on, it was Beck.

He pointed to my wristlet. “What’s her name–Callum’s mate?”

“Annalise.” I turned on the invitation and the box reappeared. “Annalise Delacruz.”



I slink between the last layer of people separating me from the vast empty space around Beck. Normally, people clamor to talk to us, so finding him alone like this is a bit odd.

“Where is everyone?” I joke as I slide up to him. “It hardly seems fair I have to endure all the attention on my own.”

Beck looks up at me, and a floppy piece of hair droops over his eye before he brushes it away. “I never thought I’d hear you complain about finding me alone.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s just different.”

“This whole day has been different,” he says with an unusual lack of energy.

“What do you mean?”

Beck stares at noisy crowd. “I’m your shadow today.”

He doesn’t sound bitter or angry. Just factual. That’s one of the things I like about him–he never sugar-coats things.

“Well in that case, you’re not a very good shadow! You disappeared as soon as we stepped into the room.” Unlike earlier, when I was surrounded by States people, my smile is genuine. “And how do you know they weren’t begging me for an introduction to the elusive Beck Channing?”

He chuckles and flicks the tip of my nose. “Because you are Malin Greene’s daughter and we’re at your brother’s binding. Why would anyone care about me?”

It is odd, the way no one, other than Caterpillar Brows, has mentioned Beck. And at the ceremony, people stared at us and whispered behind their hands.

“Have you spoken to Malin yet?” he asks

I shake my head. Since we arrived yesterday, I’ve only glimpsed my mother sitting in the front row at the Binding Hall. She never came to welcome us. Not that I expected her to–the handful of times Beck and I have visited her home, she’s barely acknowledged our presence, instead leaving us in the care of her household staff.

“I’m sure she’s busy. Throwing a binding like this must be time consuming.”

Beck rests his hand on my bare arm and rubs his thumb back and forth. That small gesture tells me he knows how upset I am, but he’s kind enough to not say it aloud. All week, I’ve practiced what I’d say to Mother and dreamt of our conversations.To not speak to her is a disappointment.

The tempo of the music changes and the crowd shifts to accommodate dancing couples at the center of the room.

Beck holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

Newscaster cameras zoom over the dance floor, zeroing in on unsuspecting couples. So far, they’ve left us alone, but we both know as soon as we step onto the floor, we’ll be mobbed.

“C’mon, Lark. You love to dance. Don’t let the cameras stop you.”

He’s right. I love the feel of music vibrating in my core, the rush of air across my skin as we twirl and spin. But the cameras. I knew I’d be subjected to them by coming here, but it doesn’t mean I accept the invasion of my privacy.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to be all over the gossip feeds tonight.”

He wiggles his hand at me. “Better say ‘yes’ before I change my mind.” His eyes sparkle and the dimple in his cheek sinks a little deeper. When he looks at me like this, I can’t control the rapid beating of my heart.

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But if the cameras attack, I’m done.”

I place my hand lightly on his and let Beck guide me to the dance floor. He bows low and I curtsey, taking care to hold my dress out on each side as Ms. Jensen, our music and dance teacher, has taught me.

He takes my hand and leads me through the first set of steps. “If the cameras come too close, I don’t have any snowballs to fire at them.”

I giggle. At school, Beck and my housemates have made a game out of pelting the cameras with snowballs. “Just don’t step on my toes, and I’ll be fine.”

With all the other couples around us, I don’t feel exposed. We’re just another couple.

Dancers swirl past us, keeping beat with the frenzied music. Beck’s hand presses against the small of my back and his fingers tighten around my hand. Step, step, step, twirl, shuffle left, step, twirl, shuffle right. We keep the appropriate amount of distance between our torsos, taking care to touch only where absolutely necessary. We don’t need people gossiping about how we flaunt the rules.

My toes cramp, reminding me that I should have practiced dancing in these shoes before actually having to do it. Balancing on my tiptoes while performing the rapid moves proves to be more challenging than I expected.

“The way that bow flutters off your shoulder reminds me of a bird,” Beck says, dipping his head toward mine so that his mouth grazes my ear. His breath feels warm against the side of my face and I shudder a tiny bit. “Birdie.”

He laughs.

Step. Step. Spin. “What?”

“Birdie. That’s what I’m going to call you.”

I tilt my face up to his, but he’s staring off past my shoulder. “I didn’t realize I needed a nickname.”

Flashes of crimson, gold, eggplant, and emerald whirl past. Next to them, my dress must look dull. Shimmering ecru with a thick, black band along an assymetric hem that exposes my knees. It’s not brilliant, but as my best friend Kyra proclaimed, it’s stunning. Or at least I hope it is.

“Everyone needs a nickname. Birdie.” The word rolls off his tongue.

I shift my weight as he spins me beneath his arm. When he catches my free hand, I squeeze it hard. “So

I should come up with a nickname for you?”

He laughs again. “I’m bigger than a nickname, don’t you know?

“Kyra’s going to love this.” She finds Beck and me nauseating as it is. I can only imagine what she’s going to say about the nickname.

The music changes to a round-robin dance. Beck raises his eyebrows and I shake my head. Dancing with Beck is one thing; dancing with a stranger is something else. We rest along the far wall, in a space all of our own, as if no one dares get too close to us. But I don’t care. Let them leave us alone. I don’t need anyone but Beck.

A gentle ringing of a bell announces the end of the dancing hour and the start of the formal dinner. Beck holds out his arm in the appropriate manner and I accept. I keep my shoulders back and head high, just like I’ve seen Mother do during broadcasts of State events. Maybe if I pretend to feel confident, I can make it true.

As we walk toward our assigned seats, a hush falls over the room. Next to me, Beck stiffens and when I glance at him from the corner of my eye, I notice the hard set of his jaw. My stomach plummets. This isn’t anything like dancing. This is being the center of attention. And I hate it.

“It’s okay, Lark,” he whispers as my breathing becomes shallow and rapid. “They just want to get a good look at us.”

I should be used to this, but I’m not. All our lives, we’ve lived in the public eye, our every move documented by annoying gossip feeds. But never have we made a room go silent.

“Table Ten?” Beck asks me.

I keep a smile plastered on my face, but my fingers dig into his forearm. “Yes.”

He leads me away from the tables where the most distinguished guests sit, past the foreign dignitaries, and toward the back of the room. My insides churn with each step. I know I should be better at this type of thing, but the thought of everyone watching me makes me want to run from the room.

When we’re nearly to the end of the row, I stop short and double check our table assignment on my wristlet. Table Ten. Which is…shoved into the corner, away from the other guests, except for the unfortunate few who have also been condemned here. My frozen smile melts off my lips as soon as I turn my back to the room. When my eyes meet Beck’s, my lip trembles.

Perhaps Mother knows how much I hate being in public? Or is she simply so embarrassed by my social ineptness that she wants to hide me in a corner?

Beck releases my arm and flashes his dazzling smile to our tablemates.

“Good evening,” he says, using formal State speech. “I’m Beck Channing.”

Silence.

A mousy women with a pinched expression turns to the person next to her and says, “What a beautiful ceremony. Malin must be so proud, and Callum thrilled, to have Annalise join their family.”

My mouth drops open. What in the world? Does she not recognize us?

“Excuse me.” Despite the twinges of anger boiling in me, my voice is calm. “I’m Lark Greene and this Beck Channing, my birth-mate.”

Normally, when people hear our names, they light up. It’s embarrassing, actually. But not this woman.

“Lark,” she says coolly. “How nice of you to attend your brother’s binding.”

She scowls in Beck’s direction, but either he doesn’t notice or he’s too polite to comment because he holds out my chair and doesn’t acknowledge her rudeness. However, when my shoulder brushes his arm, he leans down so that his mouth is millimeters from my ear.

“We could leave.”

I shake my head. As much as I want to, we both know we can’t.



“When you greet Malin, keep your chin up. Don’t look at your shoes.” Bethina stood across from me, back stiff and straight, pretending to be my mother. “And do not touch your lips.”

I dropped my hand to my side and rolled my shoulders back.

“Like this?” I asked, hoping I looked more refined and less like a hopeless schoolgirl. I cleared my throat and spoke the words I’d been practicing for the past hour. “Mother, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening.”

“Not bad, Lark. I could actually hear you that time,” Beck said from the other side of the room. “She’s doing better, isn’t she, B?”

Bethina clucked her tongue. “Better, but she still has a long way to go.”

With a sigh, I stretched my spine and imagined a string pulling me nice and straight. Proper, like a real Stateswoman. I held out my arm, wrist side up, to Bethina and tried again.

“Mother, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening.” My clear voice didn’t shake or fade, and I beamed.

“Much better.” Bethina grasped my arm in greeting. “I knew you could do it. A binding is nothing to be frightened of. It’ll be just like any other State function you and Beck have been to.”

I wanted to believe her, but Bethina left out one important detail: my mother. I’d never attended an event where I had to interact with her.

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands. “Time for the two of you to finish your schoolwork.” She paused at the door. “And don’t be late for dinner.”

“I’m never late for food,” Beck called after her.

I turned on my brother’s binding invitation. Since it arrived, I’d watched it at least thirty times. Or more. And each time, bile rose in my throat as I envisioned having to stand in a receiving line with my mother, brother, and his new mate and make small talk with strangers.

“Watching it again?” Beck asked.

“It’s pretty,” I said, flicking the invitation off.

Beck laid his tablet on top of a pile of dirty clothes covering his desk and studied me with his head inclined to the left.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“No.” I attempted a confident smile. But lying was silly. Of course I was nervous. That’s why I asked Bethina to practice with me. It’s why I couldn’t stop watching the invitation. And Beck knew it.

He crossed the room to where I stood and took both my hands in his. “We could refuse to go.”

Bethina had said the same thing to me earlier in the day. “Ping Malin and say that you’re unable to attend. Problem solved.”

But no matter how tempting it was to do just that, I couldn’t bring myself to actually ping my mother.

“If we refuse to go, it may impact our placements.”

“Really, Lark? That’s what you’re worried about? A test we don’t even take for another three years?”

It did worry me. After all, getting a top job placement in Agriculture is why I pushed myself so hard in school.

But it wasn’t why I didn’t want to go and Beck knew it.

“You have nothing to worry about.” His olive green eyes studied my face. “You’re the top student in our class, you’re a hard worker, and…” He blushed. “You’re pretty. Malin is going to have a hard time finding something wrong with you.”

“But what if that isn’t enough?” So far, all I’ve ever been is a disappointment to Mother. The way she’s always ignored me was testament to that.

A dark shadow crossed Beck’s face. “Malin doesn’t know what she’s missing.”



Whistles ring out around us and I crane my neck to get a better view of the long, main table in the middle of the room. Towering arrangements of flowers and crystals climb toward the ceiling, dwarfing the guests seated below. The air shimmers as it passes through the crystals.

Twenty chairs line each side of the table and all but three are occupied. Many of the table’s guests–the Head of State and various department ministers–I recognize from daily wallscreen broadcasts.

Everyone else is most likely Annalise’s family.

Beck and I should be sitting with them. I may have never attended a binding before, but I do know it’s customary for the new couple’s family to sit at the main table. And yet, Mother placed us out here on the floor, as far from the table as possible.

I shift in my seat and my dress crinkles. Under the table, Beck grabs my hand and squeezes it, slowing my pulse to a lazy rhythm. The tension I’ve been carrying around all night fades.

The music shifts once again to a steady drumming. Our tablemates rise to their feet, whistling and clapping in time.

As the noise becomes louder, so does the thundering of my pulse in my ears. Panic attacks–that’s what Bethina called them. Social anxiety. And it’s gotten worse over the course of the past few months. But even if it has a name, it’s still incredibly embarrassing.

No matter how hard I try to fight it, the room sways around me and my legs wobble. As always, Beck’s at my side, his solid arm pulling me to his chest and his fingers tracing circles across the back of my hand.

“It’s okay, Birdie. Just relax.”

But this isn’t like a normal attack, instead of feeling scared, I’m angry. Angry that I’ve been sentenced to the corner. Angry that Mother’s guests are rude to Beck. And angry that my mother hasn’t said so much as ‘hello’ to me.

As the shouts of “best wishes” come nearer to us, Beck’s body stiffen. Can’t say I blame him–he and my brother, Callum, have never gotten along.

“Here they come,” Beck says in my ear.

My eyes skip past my brother, eager to have my first glimpse of my new sister-in-law. It’s customary for the woman to stay veiled during the ceremony, so I have no idea what she looks like since Mother didn’t include a picture with the invitation. My guess is she’s in the center of the gaggle of girls–most likely her housemates–just behind Callum.

As they near us and the girls fall away, fragments of Annalise come into view: thick, inky black hair; a milky white shoulder; a flash of her pale violet dress; ruby lips stretched into a wide smile. And finally, two large, blue eyes that land on my face and light up in recognition.

If I’m lucky, I may end up half as beautiful.

Next to me, Beck stands slackjawed. I elbow him in the gut. “Don’t gawk. She’s coming this way.”

“Lark?” she says in a light, musical voice. “What are you doing out here? You should be at the main table.”

When she notices Beck, her mouth parts slightly and she raises her eyebrows. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had come also.” Her once warm smile is now strained. “How…lovely.”

Without waiting for Beck or I to say anything, she grabs my hand and pulls me away. “Malin? Can Lark sit at our table?”

The crowd around my mother parts and she glides toward us, waving to the guests. Her smile is both warm, and yet conveys an air of authority. And every person in this room loves her.

I hold my breath as she comes closer. Please look at me. At least acknowledge you know I’m here.

She pauses before us and my lungs decide to stop working.

“Lark, Beck.”

“Good evening, Malin,” Beck says. His voice sounds rougher than normal and not at all happy.

I lick my dry lips and swallow to moisten my throat. “Hello, Mother.”

All those hours of practicing, and this is what you say? Really, Lark?

She places her soft palm against the side of my cheek. “Darling girl, there’s no need to be nervous. You’re among friends.”

Beck shifts his weight forward and bumps into me. I teeter on my silly high-heeled booties, but Annalise steadies me.

“It’s a pleasure to see you this evening, Mother.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Lark.” She laughs, a sweet, rolling laugh that fills me with dread. She shouldn’t be laughing at my greeting.

Annalise wraps her arm through mine, as if we have been life-long friends, instead of meeting just moments earlier. “Can we move Lark to our table? I’d love for her to join us.”

Mother’s gaze flicks between Beck and me. “Surely, you’re more comfortable here?”

Table Ten is hidden away from the action of the main room. And despite the slight of not being included at the head table, it feels safe. Still, a part of me wants to sit with Mother. Where Beck and I belong.

From behind me, I hear Beck say, “It would be an honor to sit with you, Malin.”

Annalise gasps softly and her arm tightens around me. Her presence is like a lead weight pressing down on me, holding me in place.

After a moment of silence, Mother bats her large blue eyes and smiles. “Of course.” She touches her wristlet. “Carter, have two more settings added to my table.”

“Mother,” I say with a shaking voice. “We’re happy here. No need to change things for us.” I don’t want her to think I’m fussy. Or difficult.

“Come now, Love. Don’t be silly,” Mother says, linking her arm through my free one so that I’m sandwiched between her and Annalise. “You too, Beck.”

Beck looks first to me and then Mother. “Yes, of course,” he says too brightly.

Annalise and Mother exchange knowing glances.

I should be excited, but all I feel is worry.


Every so often, my legs shake. I’d like to say it’s from standing in my shoes, but the truth is, it’s probably nerves. Standing in the receiving line, next to Mother, isn’t exactly what I planned on doing–I never practiced for it.

I peer through the crowd at Beck sitting alone at the main table. He opted out of the line, but I wasn’t given the option. Mother simply informed me I would be joining my family and Annalise’s at the greeting. And once Mother commands something, that’s the way it is.

When he sees me staring, Beck flashes a smile in my direction. My internal jitters slow down a bit, but I really wish he were next to me instead of across the room.

More guests move past us, leaving small gifts on the table before Annalise. And more people clasp my hand and tell Mother how glad they are to see me here, in the family line, where I belong. Their words, meant to compliment, somehow have the opposite effect and I feel like even more of a fraud.

I fidget with my handbag. The gift from Beck and me is tucked inside. But after seeing the pile of impressively wrapped presents, I’m not entirely sure I want to give it to my brother and his new mate. After all, who really needs potholders when you have servants to cook for you?

Every so often, Mother leans into Annalise and whispers something I can’t hear. I’m wedged between Mother and Callum, and he’s constantly looking over my head at the two of them. Like our mother, he’s blond and tall. But he has none of her charisma. He’s hard, cruel, and smug.

And from the scowl on his face and the dirty looks he keeps giving me, he isn’t happy about my placement in the line.

“I’m impressed, Lark,” my brother says. “You left your lap dog behind. Perhaps you’re finally coming to your senses.”

I swivel my head to get a better look at my brother. His lips curl back, exposing his gleaming teeth.

“What?”

“Oh come now. You’re nearly sixteen, surely you’ve–”

“Callum! That’s enough.” Mother snaps and the line of well-wishers grinds to a silent halt. “You will not berate your sister.” Her eyes flash with agitation. “And you will treat her birth-mate with respect.”

The bright lights and too curious stares eat away at whatever shreds of confidence I have left. I want to slink away and never come back, but doing so would only draw attention to the fact Mother’s reprimand seems to be not only for Callum, but for everyone in the room.

My brother’s glare burns the side of my face. He hates Beck and I have no idea why. The State paired us because we’re perfect for each other. Like Annalise must be for Callum. Everyone knows State doesn’t make mistakes.

“Beck,” Mother calls out. “Can you come here, please?”

Even though he looks calm, I can tell he’s upset from the way he rolls his shoulders and holds his head at a slight angle. When he passes through the crowd, people step back, out of his way, as if he were toxic.

It breaks my heart to see him treated so poorly.

“Enough!” Mother exclaims. Fear rolls through the crowd. I’ve never seen Mother act anything but refined or polished. And I’ve never heard of her losing her temper like this.

When Beck reaches my side, he juts out his arm as if to wrap it around me, but at the last minute, shoves his hand in his pocket. A chill runs through me.

“Good word, Mother! Are you going to let them behave like that? It’s disgraceful.” My brother’s words cut through the silence.

“Like what?” I ask, moving closer to Beck so that our elbows touch. Anger builds in my chest and pushes against my ribcage. The lights in the room flicker and a collection of hushed whispers whips through the room. “We’re just standing here. I’m sorry if you don’t like us.”

“Him, Lark. I don’t like him.”

My blood boils and I narrow my eyes. How dare he. I wiggle my fingers against my thigh and, without thinking, raise them to my lips, but stop when my hand is at chest level. My fingers are splayed wide, and I’m not sure what to do, so I grab my bow.

Callum jumps back, his eyes wide with fear. His reaction is so unexpected, I grin. “You don’t like Beck?” I say, my voice louder than I expected. Right now, I don’t care who hears me.

“Why? Because everyone else does?”

As the words leave my mouth, I realize how silly I sound. No one here seems to like him, or at the very least, they’re merely tolerating him. But why? What has he done besides not get along with Callum?

My smile fades and I clench my jaw. Did my brother spread lies about Beck? That must be it. No one has ever not liked Beck.

“You…you…” I stutter as my thoughts form in my head.

Beck reaches out and grabs my hand. My racing heartbeat slows. “It’s okay. I know he doesn’t like me.”

I nod and glance toward the door. “Can we leave?” I mutter.

Mother sighs and offers me her hand. “Walk with me, Love?” When she sees me look to Beck, she adds, “Will you be okay on your own?”

Before he can answer, Mother guides me toward the door. My stomach sinks and I instinctively turn my head back to where Beck stands, looking confused and lost. Like earlier, he’s surrounded by a void that no one wants to cross. Only this time, he looks torn between doing what she asks and following us. I’d rather not leave him, but I can’t stay in that room.

“Don’t worry about him, Love. He’ll be fine. I promise.” Mother pats my hand and leads me out of the ballroom and into a long hallway. “No one would dare hurt him.”

My eyes grow large. “Hurt him? Why would anyone want to hurt Beck?”

A soft laugh tumbles out of Mother. “They don’t. I simply meant…” She waves her hand dismissively. “Callum. I know how he’s treated the two of you in the past.”

We step into a pristine white hallway. The pale wooden floors bleed into the soft white walls which in turn become a series of arches soaring above us. The only color comes from an occasional swish of pale blue accenting a molding or curve.

At the end of the hallway, Mother gestures to an open doorway. “The Library,” she says.

In my school books, I’ve read how libraries were once filled with dusty tomes of paper. Dark places where people toiled for hours at small desks and under bad lighting. Mother’s library couldn’t be more different. The blank walls indicate the presence of dozens of wall screens and even though night has fallen, the entire room is swathed in warm light.

“Please, sit,” she says as she arranges herself in an armchair.

My heart hammers hard and I’m positive she can hear it. Like most children, I’ve never been alone with my mother. But I’ve dreamt of this moment and now that it’s here, I’m afraid it won’t live up to my dreams.

“I hear you’re top of your class.”

It takes every ounce of self-control to not touch my lips, so I sit on my hands. “I am.” I smile before adding, “Beck is second.”

“And you have a talent in agriculture?”

“Mr. Trevern–he’s my teacher–he says if I continue the way I have, there’s no doubt I’ll place into Agriculture.” My voice sounds foreign to my ears. Too eager. Too excited.

Mother sighs and the sound hurtles through the air, straight into my heart, leaving a vague sensation of disappointment in its path. “Is that what you want?”

I nod. While I do well in all my classes, it’s agriculture that excites me. There’s nothing I love more than working side-by-side with Mr. Trevern on complex cross-breeding problems.

“Love, look around you. Did you see all the dignitaries here this evening? Do you know why they stare at you with such curiosity and ignore your brother?”

“Because I’m with Beck?”

Mother’s lips purse and she shakes her head. “No. Because every one of them knows the promise you hold–on your own. You don’t need Beck to make you special.” She smiles. “It would be a shame to waste your natural abilities digging in dirt.”

Natural abilities? “Agriculture is what I’m good at. Beck is the one who wants to go into Diplomacy.”

Mother leans forward. Her eyes bore into me. “You love the party don’t you? The music and dancing? This could be your life in a few short years.”

“At my binding?”

Exasperation crosses Mother’s face and a sense of foolishness fills me. “That too. But I’m talking about your career. Look at Annalise. She’s going to rise rapidly. The women of our family always do.”

I’m trying–really trying–to follow Mother’s line of reasoning, but she’s lost me. Annalise isn’t a direct descendant of a Founder and she’s only been part of our family for a few hours.

Mother sits back and twirls a long strand of pearls around her finger. “Oh Love, I suppose you’re not ready yet. I had hoped things would change for you today.”

Disappointment wells in me. First, I cause a scene in the reception line and now I’m unable to tell Mother what she wants to hear, because I don’t understand what she’s asking. This is not how I wanted our first real conversation to go.

“I’ll try, Mother. Whatever you want. I’ll try.” And I mean it. At this very moment, pleasing my mother is all I want.

A wide smile stretches across her face. “You will won’t you?”

I nod, eager to do whatever she asks.

“You’re a darling girl, Lark. I couldn’t be happier with you.” She stands and stares down at me. “But now, you must hurry back to the party. Everyone needs to see how happy you are. Can you do that? Show everyone how much you love being here?”

A weird fog settles over my brain and I blink my eyes in an attempt to stay awake. I felt fine minutes ago, but now, all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep.

“I’m…very tired.”

Mother’s hypnotizing blue eyes sparkle. “No. You are definitely not tired. You want to dance.”

My head nods in agreement.

“Very good. I’ll have Carter escort you back.” I want to ask why she isn’t coming with me, but the words lock up in my throat.

A man–Carter, I assume–stands at the end of the sofa. Where did he…was he always here? I don’t remember him coming in. How strange.

He holds out his arm to me. “Miss Lark? Shall we?”

My body floats across the room as if propelled by an outside force. Even if I wanted to sit and talk to Mother, I wouldn’t be able to. It’s as if my mind and body are controlled by two different entities.

Mother bids me good-night and I slink along next to Carter, out the double doors, and into the foyer. As we pass stray guests, I hear an occasional mention of my name, but I tune it all out and focus on my conversation with Mother.

I never thought about it before, but this is my introduction to the State and it would serve me well to make a good impression. Resolve builds in my core, lifting my spirits. I can do this. I can be Lark Greene, a Founder’s descendant and future States woman. I don’t need to hide behind Beck anymore.

“Shall I accompany you inside, Miss Lark?” Carter asks when we reach the ballroom door.

Lightning fast guitar music washes over me and my toes tap in anticipation. “No. I’m fine, thank you.”

As soon as I step into the room, a camera beelines for me. I lift my chin and smile, determined to show everyone watching on the feeds how happy I am. Just like Mother asked.

“Lark?” Annalise runs up to me, dragging a boy I’ve never met before by the hand. “May I introduce Sevrin?”

The boy is tall with copper-colored hair and warm brown eyes. The kind of boy my friend Kyra would love. I hold out my hand and wait for him to take it. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Will you join me in this dance?” Sevrin asks.

Annalise gives me an encouraging shove. “Go on. Have fun.”

Sevrin spins me out onto the dance floor. His hand feels heavy in mine and a little too sweaty, but it isn’t my place to complain. We dance through one song and into the beginning of another, when a different boy cuts in.

The new boy–whose name I didn’t catch–is a vast improvement over Sevrin. He keeps us spinning and dancing and moving between the other couples without breaking a sweat. I smile up at him to show my appreciation.

“I’ve been wanting to speak to you all night,” he says.

I bat my eyes, like I’ve seen Kyra do when she’s pretending to be flattered. “Oh?”

“Don’t be so surprised. It’s not everyday a guy gets to dance with Lark Greene.”

I laugh, a long, low rumble. “You’re flattering me.”

“I’m not.” He spins me quickly beneath his arm and catches my free hand again. “Perhaps I could speak to Malin? About visiting you sometime?”

Kyra will die when I tell her about this. Boys actually asking to visit with me!

“Lark!” Annalise calls from her seat at the main table. “Come join us.”

I drop the boy’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m needed elsewhere.”

He bows slightly. “It was a pleasure.”

I glide toward the table, buoyed by the music and the celebratory goodwill circling the party. Mother was right. I could learn to like this. After all, haven’t I spent hours wishing I were part of her world? That she would notice me?

I glance around the room–at the dancers, the musicians, the gorgeous decorations. Every night could be like this if I were a States woman like Mother. Perhaps I can work in Agriculture and still be part of it. Surely they have States people leading that division?

I fold myself gently into the chair next to my new sister-in-law. Her friends surround her like doting housemothers.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were having fun,” Annalise says in her musical sing-song voice.

“I love dancing. At school, we only practice during dance hour.” Annalise nods and I wrinkle my nose. I’d forgotten she was a student not too long ago. “I’ve only danced in public at Founder Day celebrations. Beck’s always…”

I turn my head to look down the long table and then toward the dance floor. Where is Beck?

“You were saying?” Annalise prompts as she touches my arm.

“I haven’t seen Beck. Did he leave?” I swivel my head around, looking past laughing couples and searching into the corners of the room. Why didn’t I think to find him when I first came in? Especially after the way he looked when I left with Mother.

“Never mind him. You’re here, with us. You don’t need Beck.” Annalise pats my arm, but I wrench it away.

My pulse races and my breathing grows shallow and fast. “No. I need to find him.”

The chair totters when I push back from the table and it falls to the ground. Normally, I’d blush and hurry to pick it up, but not now. Now, all I care about is finding Beck.

Each time my foot strikes the ground, my promise to Bethina echoes through my mind. I said I wouldn’t lose him. And I did. Again. What’s wrong with me?

As I run through the crowd, toward the far end of the hall, a hand darts out and grabs me. I shake my arm and spin to see who caught me.

Beck’s olive green eyes are full of concern and his normally honey colored skin looks ashen.

“Beck?” I ask in a trembling voice. “What’s wrong? Are you not enjoying the party?”

Beneath his fitted evening jacket, Beck’s chest heaves. He swallows hard as if trying to find his voice. “The party is fabo,” he says. “Did Malin…talk to you?”

I draw my brows together and frown. “Of course she spoke to me. She’s my mother.”

“And?” The way he says it, with such expectation, makes me laugh.

“And,” I say as the beat of the music seeps into my blood, “ask me to dance?”

Beck gives me a strange little smile. One that’s half resignation and half contentment. He takes my hand and guides me to the dance floor. This time, no one backs away from us. Mother’s reprimand earlier must have worked.

We spin across the polished floor, keeping time with the rapid tempo changes. The soft folds of my dress swish around my legs and I feel as though I’m floating. Everything about this moment is perfect: the music, the energy, the way Beck’s hand feels in mine. But most of all, I’m no longer a timid, silly girl.

“This is a disaster. I should have listened to Bethina and not come with you,” Beck mutters.

His words shatter my feeling of bliss. “What? Why would she say that?” I ask, ignoring the fact that he would even consider it.

Beck clears his throat and keeps his chin lifted as we spin across the floor. “I don’t know. She said something about needing me to help her with things around the house.”

I scrunch up my forehead. While it’s true Bethina frequently asks Beck to help with home repairs, there are twelve other boys in our house who can clean gutters and swing a hammer.

“Since when do we go anywhere without each other?”

The song ends and Beck releases me. “This is your world, Birdie.” He sweeps his hand wide, as if gathering up the entire room. “The parties, the politics, the power. It’s what you want.”

“No I don’t. You know I’ve never wanted any of this.” The words come out of my mouth, but I know he’s right. Something’s changed. I want this life. More than anything.

He tugs on the edge of the sleeve peeking out from under his jacket and I catch a glimpse of his blue wristlet. “You never wanted it before, but you do now, don’t you?”

“Beck, you don’t understand…Mother…she has expectations of us.”

“You. She has expectations of you.”

I hold out the sides of my dress, stretching it wide. “But you want it too, don’t you?” As founder descendants, we’ve been raised for this type of life. It’s what everyone expects from us. My anti-socialness is an anomaly–but Beck’s always been good at this type of thing.

“Sure.”

He pushes past people and stops before the floor-to-ceiling windows. His shoulders round forward as he stares at the silent scene on the other side.

“Feel like a walk?” he asks, with his back toward me.

At night, when I can’t sleep, we often sneak out and spy on the nightly festivities happening at the row of Senior Official homes across from our school. Tonight we’re part of that world and looking to escape.

“Let me grab my coat.”



Jagged shards of ice scrape along my throat and freeze the air in my lungs until I gasp.

“It’s freezing.” My teeth clack together. I had expected it to be cold, but not like this. When we arrived earlier in the day, the weather was balmy and warm–typical for late spring. But now it feels like winter has decided to wage one last assault.

Beck flips up the collar of his coat and blows on his hands. “Do you want my scarf?”

I glance down at my outfit. The smart fabric in my stockings automatically adjusts to temperature, as does my coat. “I’m okay. It’s just my face.” He unwraps his scarf anyway and hands it to me, but I wave it away.

Beck shrugs and drapes the scarf back over his shoulders. “It’s so cold, I don’t think we need to worry about anyone finding us. And if they do venture outside, they’re either trying to escape or insane.”

“I vote for insane. It sounds more exciting.”

Beck laughs. “Insane it is. But you’re going to have to be the one to take them on. I’m too delicate.”

I roll my eyes. Beck is anything but delicate. He’s tall, broad shouldered, and fit from his rabid love of playing sports.

As we wander farther into the garden, the paths become more twisted and every so often a hiding nook appears in the shrubs. Unlike inside, it’s still and quiet out here, and for the first time all night, I can hear myself think.

I sigh and marvel at the endless freckles of light stretching high above us.

“Is this what you really want?” Beck asks as he sits on a stone bench beneath a snow pine. “To live like this? Always on display?”

The honest answer is, I don’t know. I never thought I did, and being here, having everyone stare and whisper about me, is upsetting. But I want to make my mother proud. I want to show her I can live up to my ancestry.

But more than that, I like feeling important. Like I’m more than just a good student. And Beck’s shadow.

“I think so.” When his face falls, I add, “It’s not so bad. Don’t you like feeling important?”

“What would you give up for it? Your privacy? Your friends? What?”

I lay my hand over his bronze warm one. “Why should I give up anything? My friends will always be my friends, regardless of what I do for a living.”

He rakes his free hand through his hair. Why is he so upset?

“Is that what Malin told you? That you can have everything?”

Just as I’m about to answer, Beck presses his finger over his lips, hushing me. It’s a gesture I know too well. Over the years, we’ve learned to guard our conversations in public and to recognize the sound of an approaching news camera.

But this time I hear nothing. Not the familiar hum of the machine, nor the chatter of the newscaster commanding the camera from a remote location.

Beck tilts his head to the side and focuses his attention on the path leading away from us.

“Someone’s over there,” he whispers.

My lips form a tight line. The last thing I want is for the cameras to invade this small piece of privacy we have.

I start to walk away, determined to out maneuver the camera, but Beck wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me back to him. He shakes his head with wide eyes.

Then I hear it. The muffled sound of sobs; a low, unintelligible treble of a man’s voice; and the sound of crumpling fabric–like a ball gown.

“I can’t,” a woman says with a shaking voice.

“Why?” The man speaks with a hint of hysteria and I raise my eyebrows. It feels wrong eavesdropping, but I’m frozen to this spot.

“You need to stop making this difficult.” So much sadness in each word. “Malin will flay us if she finds out.”

“Then let her. I don’t care anymore.”

I lean close to Beck’s ear and whisper, “We should go.”

He nods and jumps to his feet. We’re half-way down the path when the crunch of gravel stops just behind us.

“What are you two doing out here?”

My foot hovers above the ground and my heart hammers hard. I know we shouldn’t be out here. And we shouldn’t have eavesdropped.

I set my foot down and pivot slowly only to find myself face-to-face with Annalise. Her tear-streaked cheeks and mussed hair look nothing like the perfectly coiffed girl I met in the Ballroom.

“Did Callum send you to spy on me?” Her eyes dart past my shoulder, to Beck, and then around the garden. “Or Malin?”

My mouth drops open and I look to Beck for a suggestion on what to do. He slips off his jacket and holds it out to Annalise, who despite the frigid weather, is dressed only in her flimsy evening gown. No coat, no gloves. Nothing. And yet, she doesn’t appear cold at all.

“Are you okay?” Beck asks her. She eyes the coat suspiciously before slipping it on. “You seem upset.”

Annalise clutches the jacket lapels to her chest. “Why would I be upset? It’s my binding day.” She speaks quickly and a notch higher than normal. “In fact, I need to get to back to the reception.”

She shrugs out of Beck’s coat and tosses it at him. He catches it with one hand and lays it over his arm.

“And you two need to get back inside.” Annalise’s eyes land on my face. Her sky blue eyes study me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She exhales and shakes her head as if debating something. “No one is supposed to be out here.”

I’m not entirely sure what to make of her. Inside, she was all polish and poise–a model of what I should aspire to. But out here, away from Mother and the crowd, she’s like any other girl from school. Only infinitely more beautiful.

She holds her hands before her and mimics pushing us back to the house. “Go.” I glance at Beck, who–to my surprise–shrugs, and walks away.

When he’s a few feet ahead of me, Annalise laces her fingers around my arm. A slow humming fills my ears as she tightens her grip. “Keep him away from Callum, Lark.” She releases me and the humming stops. “And don’t wander the grounds again without permission. You’re lucky it was me who found you. I won’t tell–this time.”

My insides roll, leaving a sick feeling in their wake. Something about Annalise feels dangerous. “I will. I promise.”

At the intersection of paths, Annalise heads to the left while Beck continues straight, toward the house.

“Best wishes,” I call after her retreating figure.

She doesn’t lift her hand or even acknowledge she heard me.

On tiptoes, I race back to Beck and latch on to his arm. “What was that?” I ask.

“Maybe she’s had to give up more than she wanted to get where she is?” Beck’s monotone voice fills me with alarm.

I pull him to a stop. “I admit Callum would never be my choice of mate, but the State selected him for her. Just like they selected you for me. He must be perfect for her.” I wave my hand around the garden and toward the house where we can see the party through the huge windows. “And Mother said she’s going to rise quickly. Her path is guaranteed.”

He grins. “Are you saying I’m perfect?”

I give him a playful shove. “Perfect for me. Not perfect.”

He turns around and jogs backward. “I’ll take that.”

My cheeks flush red. Or at least they would if I wasn’t half frozen. “Stop teasing.”

He speeds up his backward jog. “Make me.”

As I chase my best friend back toward the house, I realize that Beck’s right. I wouldn’t give up everything to be part of this life.

I would never give up him.