Page 86 of Across the Universe (Across the Universe 1)

“Because he likes you. ”

I stare at Harley, but I see no sign that he’s not sincere. “I don’t think anyone here likes anyone else. ” Not like that, anyway.

“Why do you say that?” He looks truly surprised.

“Didn’t you see those men yesterday? That wasn’t ‘like’! That was—ugh! And just now—” I stop. I don’t want to talk about Filomina.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Harley says, and I know he means it. “But the Season is over now. It won’t happen again. ” I can hear the threat in his voice. I hope I’m there when he sees Luthe again. “But what happened today?” he adds. “Where were you?”

“On the second floor. ” Harley waits for me to go on. “The women there—”

“Oh!” Harley smiles. “The Feeder women! They were here for their examinations. ”

“They were creepy. ”

“Oh, no, they’re normal. ” I shudder at his choice of words.

“They were not normal,” I spit out. “That is not the way normal people act. People are not mindless drones!”

Harley shakes his head. “You’re only saying that because you’ve been in the Ward since you were unfrozen. We’re the ones who aren’t normal. People are supposed to be like that: obedient, calm, working together. It’s us—who can’t focus, who can’t work together, who can’t do the Feeder or Shipper jobs—we’re the ones who aren’t normal. We’re the ones who have to take the mental meds just so we don’t go loons. ”

I stare at him. I don’t know what’s going on, but everything is twisted here. The normal people are “insane,” while the ones who’ve lost any capacity for real thought are “normal. ” And the Season . . . Luthe’s mocking eyes flash in my memory, and I choke down bile.

“Don’t people around here have emotions?” I ask finally.

“Sure. Take now for instance. Now, I’m hungry. Do you want to go to the cafeteria with me?”

“No, I’m serious. Do you have love, or just the Season?”

Whatever laughter had crinkled Harley’s eyes is dead now. “The Season wasn’t our finest moment, but I wish you would appreciate the fact that I didn’t act like that. ”

“And why didn’t you?” I ask, frustrated. “What is it with this ship? Why were some people rutting in the streets, and some not affected at all?”

Harley fiddles with the pencils lying on the desk next to the notebook I got from my daddy’s trunk. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do. ”

“Then tell me!”

“I was in love. Once. ”

It is the “once” that stops me. Because I was in love once, too. And we’re both talking in the past tense.

“That’s probably why I wasn’t affected by the Season. Why would I want to be with any other woman?” His eyes drift to the peeling painted ivy that swirls around the doorframe. “I painted that for Kayleigh. ”

I don’t even dare to breathe. I’m afraid anything—movement, a sound—will silence Harley’s confession.

“It’s been three years. I was a little older than Elder is now. Kayleigh and I . . . we matched. We couldn’t have been more different, but we matched. I liked art; she liked machines and mechanical things. Whenever I’d paint, she’d tinker with stuff. ”

“What happened?” I ask as Harley grows silent.

“She died. ”

The words hang in the air. I want to ask how. But I don’t want to make Harley look any sadder. The rough wool of my clothing feels uncomfortable on my skin. I think about how I found her clothes here, that first night. I remember touching the ivy around the door, tracing the delicate petals, and I can picture a younger Harley painting them for a laughing Kayleigh whose face I cannot see, but who is wearing these clothes.

“She wasn’t meant for a false sun. Kayleigh needed a real sky, like the one you told us about. She felt trapped by the walls of the ship. We all knew we’d land one day—we’d be the generation that would leave this ship and live in the new world. ” Harley picks up my bear from the desk and holds it against him, like he’s remembering the feel of Kayleigh. “But she couldn’t wait that long. ”

And I know without being told that she killed herself. And I totally understand why.

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