Rebel Page 15

  Jennie shot a glance at Ms. Lowenstein, captain of the archers. Though there was no love lost between her and Mr. Preston, Meredith’s mother nodded slowly in agreement. Meredith looked disappointed as she stepped back, but not heartbroken.

  Mr. Preston turned his head. “Jose Riley, step forward.”

  Jose wiped his trembling fingers down his pants, then stepped forward.

  Mr. Preston smiled as he said, “Jose, you’ve also done very well in training. Your discipline is impressive, especially considering your age. I’d like you to continue in Ranger training and try again next year. You’re only sixteen. If you keep at it, some day I expect you to join the Rangers. If not next year, then the year after that.”

  Jennie wished she could give Jose a consoling pat on the back, though she was sure she wasn’t the only one who’d warned him that no one had ever become a Ranger at sixteen, though it was technically within the rules. But the tension went out of his shoulders, and he even managed a grin. He seemed encouraged rather than let down.

  Jennie recognized Mr. Preston’s fond expression as he watched Jose step back. She had to force herself to stop gritting her teeth. Mr. Preston used to bestow that smile on her. It said silently, “You may be Changed but I like you anyway.” She wondered how long it would be before Jose realized what it meant.

  “Brisa Preciado,” Mr. Preston called next.

  As Brisa bounced forward, ribbons streaming in the sea breeze, cold fingers gripped Jennie’s hand. Becky had edged up to her, pale with anxiety. Over Brisa? Or over the crowd, which Becky didn’t like any better than Ross did? Jennie squeezed her hand reassuringly, but Becky stayed tense.

  Jennie knew Mr. Preston well enough to catch the slight crease of annoyance between his brows as he said, “Brisa, I didn’t expect you to stick it out this long. So I commend you for that. I’m also . . . impressed . . . with your enthusiasm. But.” He bit the word off. “Your physical skills are not up to our standards, and you lack the necessary discipline. Thank you for trying.”

  Brisa broke out of the line and bounced back to Becky. Jennie stifled a laugh at Mr. Preston’s no-longer-subtle irritation at that breach of procedure.

  Becky released Jennie to hug her girlfriend. Brisa said cheerfully over Becky’s shoulder, “It was way more fun when you were running our teams, Jennie. I really only stayed because I like hanging out with Meredith.”

  Jennie couldn’t help but grin as Mr. Preston actually rolled his eyes.

  “Thomas Horst,” Mr. Preston said.

  Tall Tommy stepped forward with a martial strut.

  “Tommy, you’re a good, strong candidate,” said Mr. Preston. “Your discipline has improved enormously, and so have your skills. I’m glad to see you learning focus and applying yourself. You didn’t quite make the cut this year, but you came so close that I’m confident that you will next year, if you keep up the good work.”

  Tommy’s shoulders slumped, then he straightened and joined the rejected candidates. Mutters arose from his family. Jennie caught, “The election . . .” and “Pure prejudice . . .” But Tommy, like Jose, looked more encouraged than disappointed.

  “Henry Callahan,” called Mr. Preston.

  Henry also stepped forward with a martial snap, though his was exaggerated almost to a parody. Muffled laughter emerged from some teenage boys in the audience.

  Neither the mockery nor the laugh escaped Mr. Preston. His look of disapproval deepened. “Henry, you’re strong and you like fighting, but you lack discipline. Let me give you some advice. There is an inverse proportion between how much you talk about killing enemies, and how capable you actually are of doing so. Talk less, train more.”

  Jennie waited to hear if Mr. Preston would invite Henry to try again next year. Henry also seemed to be waiting. But Mr. Preston waved him back to the line of rejected candidates without another word. Henry’s ever-present grin faded, then tightened for a heartbeat into an anger Jennie had never seen before. And Felicité looked almost as shocked as she had when Jennie had stuffed her into the fruit shed. Had Felicité actually expected Henry to be chosen?

  Mrs. Callahan’s voice rose shrilly, “I never thought I’d hear prejudice from that quarter. In that case . . .”

  Henry shrugged and tossed his floppy hair back, grinning like always. As if he didn’t care. And maybe he didn’t. But it sure looked as if Felicité did.

  “Sujata Vardam.” Mr. Preston’s voice easily drowned out Mrs. Callahan’s remark that Noah Horst had her vote.

  Sujata glanced at Indra as she stepped out of the line. A tiny, private smile passed between brother and sister. Jennie knew how much Indra had been working with Sujata outside of training. A pulse of regret squeezed her heart. She longed to spar with him again. Just as friends . . .

  Mr. Preston also smiled. “Sujata, I confess that I was very surprised to see you enter training at all. And I also confess that I wasn’t expecting much. But you completely surpassed my expectations. I don’t know which is better, your skill or your discipline, but both are more than sufficient to guarantee you a place on my team. Sujata Vardam, welcome to the Rangers.”

  The crowd broke into cheers.

  Sujata’s solemnity melted into a brilliant smile. It was met by looks of pride from Mr. Preston, her brother, and her family in the audience. Julio came forward and handed her signature weapon, a pair of highly polished dark wood double sticks. Sujata thrust them through her belt.

  Then she was passed down the line of Rangers, shaking hands and getting slapped on the back. When she came to Indra, he caught her up in a hug and swung her around in a circle. Then he set her down beside him, a part of the line.

  Sujata stood straight and proud, claiming her place amongst the Rangers.

  A long, fluttering sigh escaped Jennie’s lips. Right there, beside Indra at the end of the line: that had been her place.

  Mr. Preston called out, “Paco Diaz.”

  Paco, the last of the candidates, stepped forward.

  Mr. Preston spoke with surprising gentleness as he said, “Paco, I only wish your mother were here for this moment.”

  Unshed tears stung Jennie’s eyes. She bent her head, letting her braids fall to hide her face, only realizing as she did it that she’d learned that trick from Ross. Jennie listened, breathing as Sera had taught her, until she felt safe to hold up her head again.

  “Sera was proud of you, whatever you did,” Mr. Preston went on. “But she loved to see you put your best effort into a task, and practice until you were brilliant. You’ve done that here. Your discipline is superlative and your skills are undeniable. You’ve worked hard for this moment, and you’ve earned it. Paco Diaz, welcome to the Rangers.”

  Julio came forward to give Paco his sword.

  Jennie must have worn out her envy on Sujata: she felt none as she watched Paco move down the line, shaking hands. But neither was she as happy for him as she’d have liked to have been. Was it really what he wanted? His face was expressionless, and, unlike all the other candidates, his tension hadn’t relaxed after he heard Mr. Preston’s choice.

  But becoming a Ranger was a huge achievement. Jennie added her applause to that of the crowd as Paco took his place beside Sujata.

  Mr. Preston held up his hand, stopping the cheers before they could die out. “Our new Rangers have a lot in common. Both of them always were strong and quick and physically capable of being great fighters. But both of them intended to do something else with their lives. As you probably remember, Sujata meant to inherit her parents’ orchard, and Paco was dividing his time between glass-making and music.”

  Another, smaller cheer went up.

  Mr. Preston raised his voice. “And then Voske attacked. I happened to see both Paco and Sujata fight in that battle. Paco stood beside Yuki in the last defense of the gates, and Sujata was one of the archers who kept the enemy from rallying at the broken wall by the south forge.”

  Rustles and whispering rose up. Jennie caught quite a few suspicious o
r hostile looks directed at Kerry, though none, to Jennie’s relief, at Paco. But Kerry, who had joined Brisa and Becky, seemed unconcerned. Well, Kerry could handle some dirty looks. She was one person Jennie didn’t need to protect.

  “Both of our new Rangers lost a parent in that battle,” Mr. Preston went on. “That changes a person, for better or for worse. Sujata and Paco took their loss and turned it into purpose. I’m proud to welcome them both.”

  Another cheer rose, even louder than before. Sujata rubbed her wrist across her eyes, while Indra laid a hand on her back. Paco stood unmoving, his gaze fixed on the ground.

  Indra cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey, come celebrate at Luc’s! It’s our treat!”

  His broad, handsome smile swept over the teenagers, and went right past Jennie without an instant’s pause. The crowd broke up, all going in different directions. Summer took off in floating skips, ignoring the murmurs that arose at each long, slow leap. Paco went with the Rangers, but unspeaking and unsmiling, alone in the crowd.

  Indra had shut her out. Paco had shut the world out. Those entirely different hurts melded within Jennie, becoming a single, deeper pain. It made no sense. Paco had lost his mother and Jennie her mentor in the battle; Sera’s death had nearly destroyed Jennie with guilt and seemed to have drained the joy from Paco’s life. But Jennie and Indra had broken up earlier, and Jennie had only been banned from the Rangers months later.

  Logical or not, everything felt as if it had come together at that one moment, instantaneous and irrevocable.

  Sera, falling . . .

  Jennie tensed, waiting to be caught in an endless repeat of that memory. She shut her eyes and reached for memory: sitting in Dr. Lee’s kitchen while he once again listened to her recount Sera’s death. Usually, he’d then walked her through every decision she’d made, gently but relentlessly making her see how impossible it had been to foresee or prevent. But that time, his question was unexpected: “Who’s living who you love?”

  Startled, Jennie had begun naming people. Her family. Her friends. Her students. People who’d taught her or simply been kind to her. When she’d come to the end of a list so long that it had surprised even her, Dr. Lee had said, “Of all those people, who do you miss the most?”

  Jennie had replied without thinking: “Mia.”

  And then she’d walked outside, come face-to-face with Mia, and talked to her instead of avoiding her.

  At the time, their meeting had felt memorable because Mia had confessed that she was plotting to release Kerry Voske—an act which had led to so many things, both good and bad, from losing the Rangers to saving Ross’s life. But in retrospect, Jennie remembered it as the moment in which she’d turned away from the past and the dead, and moved toward the present and the living. Toward love.

  I can’t stray from that path, Jennie thought. I have to keep going forward.

  Most of the crowd was gone now. But Mia had hung back, eyeing Jennie. Either Mia wanted more guards if she had to be around Summer, or she was hoping Jennie wouldn’t want to go to Luc’s either and Mia would have an excuse to stay away.

  Jennie’s heart lightened. She’d do whatever Mia wanted her to do, and no matter what else was going on, she’d enjoy her friend’s company.

  “Waiting for me?” Jennie said with a smile. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Ah.” Mia glanced around. “Actually, I was thinking of staying right here.”

  Jennie looked at the abandoned practice ground, puzzled. “To train?”

  Mia made a face. “No, no! To talk. In private.”

  “About . . . ?” Jennie inquired. But she could guess from Mia’s nervous fidgeting and uneasy glances at townspeople way out of earshot. Mia only got that way when the subject was Ross. And relationships.

  “Sex.” Mia’s eyes flickered furtively.

  Or sex, Jennie thought, blinking.

  “Because you know all about it!” Mia burst out. “And I don’t know anything. At all! Nothing!”

  “Okay,” Jennie said, wondering how Dr. Lee’s daughter could have possibly avoided learning about a biological basic like sex. Well, maybe Mia could manage it. Before Ross had arrived, she’d seemed disinterested or disgusted at schoolyard talk that even remotely touched on the subject.

  “I know this is your night with Ross. Ugh, I feel weird even saying that. But maybe it’s only that I’m weird. Or that I’m weird about sex,” Mia added with a sigh that seemed to come all the way up from inside her scruffy work boots.

  Jennie relaxed at that. At least she wouldn’t have to explain anatomy. Probably. “Remember how we agreed that we’d figure out how to make this work, instead of getting in a stupid fight over it? Well, talking like this is how we figure it out. So what are you feeling weird about? You know the basics . . .” Mia’s look of horror deepened, prompting Jennie to add, “Right?”

  “I know what goes where and how to not get pregnant,” Mia muttered, turning bright red. “Dad made sure of it before I had my first and only date. I mean before Ross. I was so embarrassed. But I was scared, too. And I still am. Even with Ross. Not of Ross! Of sex. And I don’t even know why.”

  “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready,” Jennie said. “Some people aren’t until they’re a lot older than us. And some people just aren’t interested. Ever. Do you want to have sex with him? I mean, even though you’re scared, too.”

  Mia’s head dropped so her glossy hair hid her face. Jennie wondered if she too had learned that movement from Ross. Before he’d come to town, she’d only fiddled with her glasses.

  “Yes.” Mia’s voice got softer and softer until Jennie had to crane her neck to hear her. “When we kiss. And sometimes just thinking about him.”

  I’m advising my best friend on how to have sex with my—her—our boyfriend, Jennie thought. This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.

  It was so strange, she didn’t even know how she felt about it, other than incredibly awkward.

  Pretend it’s not Ross, Jennie told herself. What would you tell Mia if she was asking about anyone else?

  Once she had that idea, she felt on surer ground. “Take it one bit a time. Sex isn’t one thing you do all at once. Do you enjoy it when he does something? Or when you do something to him? If you don’t, you either try something else, or say no.”

  “I know that.” Mia squirmed, looking even more embarrassed. “It’s the part before the bits that’s getting me. How do you start? Do you just say, ‘Well, Ross, how about some sex?’”

  Jennie inwardly shook with laughter, but managed not to let it out. “Sure, why not? Most guys would say YES as fast as they could get the word out. Asking is the easy part.”

  “But this isn’t most guys! This is Ross!” Mia’s words tumbled out until she was almost tripping over her own tongue. “What if he says no? What if he runs away? What if he says yes, but wishes he hadn’t a second later but is embarrassed to say? What if I’m bad at sex? What if it’s a horrible disaster that embarrasses both of us? It would always be there, between us. Haunting us, like a—a sex ghost. So we’d both think of it every time we look at each other. And don’t say memories can’t be like that because they can. I know you’ve seen Ross when he’s remembering something awful. And—”

  Mia broke off, but she didn’t need to say, And you know, too. She took a deep breath. “Also, I think Ross is scared, too. But I don’t know why.”

  “Then talk to him. Take things one step at a time.” Pretending Mia was talking about someone else had made the conversation easier for Jennie, but Mia was right: Ross wasn’t most guys, and Jennie didn’t know how he’d react. But she knew one thing that was true for everyone. “Nobody knows how to have sex the first time they do it. I sure didn’t.”

  “So there’s no . . . mathematical formula that everybody knows but me.”

  “Mia,” Jennie said, “one thing I promise you. Everybody had to begin somewhere. And every couple figures out their own math.”


  Chapter Twelve: Ross

  Ross wanted to walk straight out into the desert after hearing Summer’s story, but he couldn’t leave town. He couldn’t even hide somewhere alone inside town. If anything happened with Summer, people would need to find him.

  He compromised by offering to do extra sentry duty, though he’d already done his week’s stint before he’d gone to the ruined city.

  “I know lots of people would rather watch the Ranger ceremony,” Ross explained to Ms. Lowenstein. She’d given him a sharp look but accepted, releasing a delighted Fernando Herrera to the training grounds before leaving herself.

  Ross paced back and forth, watching the sun set over the shining ocean water. Directly under the fiery ball of the sun, something like a soap bubble shimmered in the air. Before he could tell if it was a trick of the light or something else, it vanished into the mist that shrouded Catalina.

  The peace of walking under the open sky, as alone as you ever were in Las Anclas, allowed him to shut out his thoughts. But he was still on edge, and jumped every time a shout or cheer arose from the Rangers’ training grounds.

  A final cheer, followed by silence and then music drifting from Luc’s, told Ross it was over. Ms. Lowenstein returned to the command platform. He wondered if Meredith had made it into the Rangers—her mother’s yellow cat eyes gave nothing away—but wasn’t curious enough to start a conversation. He’d find out soon enough.

  He continued to pace as the grays and brilliant pinks of the sunset deepened to purple and deep red, then to a velvety black. Stars winked into being as the creatures of the night emerged. Coyotes yodeled to each other in the desert. Beacon cacti glowed softly in green and gold, their brightness and radiant heat luring unwary creatures close enough touch their tranquilizing spines. Then the snakes that lived among their roots would emerge to finish off the sleeping victim. They bit off chunks rather than swallowing creatures whole, leaving enough scraps to feed and fertilize the cacti.