4
ONE YEAR AGO
I have never understood how something can seem close and yet it ends up being such a long way away. I have lived in Martindale for my entire life, waking each morning and walking onto the streets to stare up at the hill in the distance. I have always believed I could walk there one day. When I was very young, I remember asking my father about it and he always promised we would make the trip when I was older. I asked how long it would take and he grinned in the way only my daddy could, telling me it would take as long as it needed to.
As I walk towards the hill now, I know I am not going to get close. My legs feel sluggish and I know I have slowed down. If anything, the destination seems to be retreating further, the hazy sunshine making it shimmer in the distance.
Opie has dropped his pace to stay by my side. We have been walking all morning. At first we chatted and laughed, speaking about when we were younger and telling stories about the people we know. Now I can feel a slight shortness of breath, knowing I am going to have to rest soon. We got up as the sun was rising, sitting on the grassy banks outside of Martindale and watching the gentle orange glow fill the sky until a beautiful blue enveloped everything above us. We have been looking forward to this day for months now, telling ourselves we would do something different for our fifteenth birthdays.
For at least an hour, all we have seen are endless lush grassy fields, trees, squirrels scurrying in and out of the hedgerows, pheasants and pigeons chirping to each other and, of course, that hill towering on the horizon – as far away as it ever was.
The sun is at its highest and I know I cannot continue. We could walk for the rest of the afternoon and not reach our target but even if we turn around, we are still hours from home.
Opie is a few steps past me when he realises I have stopped. He turns around, his blonde hair ruffling in the breeze, but, if anything, its untidiness makes him more appealing. His head is tilted as he grins lopsidedly.
I love it when he looks at me like that.
He scratches the back of his neck, unsure what to say, but I sit on the ground, relaxing into the luxurious grass and taking a breath.
‘I could just leave you here,’ Opie says, half-turning away as if heading back to our village. He must have known for as long as I have that we were not going to get to the hill.
‘Go on then, Opie Cotton,’ I dare him, knowing he won’t.
He takes two steps away but I don’t budge. ‘Are you coming?’
‘No.’
‘You can’t stay here forever.’
‘I can.’
Opie sighs. ‘What about your mum?’
‘She’ll blame you for leaving me.’
He snorts at the suggestion. ‘Don’t you want to see Colt again?’
‘He’ll blame you too. He’ll say, “Why, Opie? Why? Why would you leave my only sister out in the open?” His little face will be all upset and it will be your fault.’
Opie shakes his head. ‘You can’t blackmail me.’
‘Want to bet?’
He smiles again and it is magical – he makes me like being me. ‘What do you want?’
‘A piggyback. You’re all big and strong and male. I’m a little girl. Look at me.’
I can feel the breeze in my hair too, whipping it across my face as the silver streak at the front that gave me my name separates from the longer, darker strands at the back.
‘I’m not carrying you all the way home,’ he says.
I smile, knowing I am winning. ‘You don’t have to take me all the way back – just most of it. I need a rest.’
‘It’s too far.’
‘Think of poor Imp. He might be your brother but he looks at me like a sister. Who’s he going to fight with if you leave me here?’
Opie shakes his head and starts walking away. I run the grass between my fingers, plucking individual blades and counting under my breath. I get to eight before he turns and screams my name. It disappears into the vast open space as he runs back towards me, throwing himself onto the ground as we roll around, giggling uncontrollably. His big arms are wrapped around me as I cradle my head into his neck.
‘You’re a menace, Silver Blackthorn,’ he says.
‘I’m your menace,’ I correct him, knowing today is a day I will never forget.
The experience feels so real that it takes me a few seconds to realise where I am. I start to count in my head, reminding myself that this is the fifteenth annual Reckoning. Many sixteen-year-olds have gone through this before. Now I can understand why no two people have the same story to tell about it – I’m not sure what it is myself, even when I’m in the middle of taking it. Its mystery is the biggest reason why the day is so fearsome for us, that and the fact that our results are pooled together across the country. Our Northern Realm is ranked against the East, South and West to determine who gets the most supplies for the next twelve months. We are taking part not just for ourselves but for everyone around us too. I can feel it skimming through my memories, but it doesn’t seem particularly focused on the exact contents, more on how I respond to things. Am I emotional? Impulsive? Strong?
I can sense it stretching further, delving deeper, wanting to know more about me. My throat is dry and I am desperate for a drink but before I can even think about doing anything, it has taken me again.