Page 33 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

Eight days to Mars

My feet stop moving on the threshold of the dining room.

Heads turn. The low hush of whispers comes from every direction.

Everything I had dreaded. It’s as bad as I imagined.

Exactly why I have never come to dinner.

And to make myself more of a spectacle, I enter with the heir of a Big Six family. There may as well be a spotlight on us.

After Jupiter was dragged away by Gianna yesterday, I didn’t hear from him all night.

Then he didn’t show up to breakfast, got whisked away after class again, and stopped replying to messages for the second day in a row.

My heart practically exploded when my comm pinged in the late afternoon and displayed his name on the screen.

Jupiter: Wes, I’m sorry. My mom’s being overly protective after the E.F.E. threats and I’ve been in constant tutoring sessions.

He hadn’t been avoiding me. The nagging concern that he’d only been swept up in the excitement and hypnotized by that low-cut dress Asha stuck me in finally loosened.

Jupiter: Come to dinner with my family tonight. They want to meet you. I want them to meet you.

I almost immediately turned him down, but before I hit send, a sinking feeling in my gut held me back. We’d spent nearly every day together until the Gala and then nothing. Two days and I already missed him.

Plus… They want to meet you. I stared at the words until they melted across the screen. My mind raced. Does that mean… Are they okay with… Maybe their laws and rules aren’t as inflexible as people say?

Weslie: Okay, but only if you promise me half your dessert.

Jupiter: Deal.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I say through my teeth and smooth the front of my ivory dress.

When Asha picked it out, I thought it was perfect.

Comfortable. Simple ivory. No glitter or sparkles.

The neckline is higher than the one she put me in for the Gala, but the cap sleeves sit on the outer edge of my shoulders and the cool, silky fabric lies over my body so softly I could forget it’s there. I hug my rib cage.

Jupiter presses his hand to the small of my back, guiding me forward. The heat of his palm burns through the dress like he’s touching my bare skin. “Forget them all. It’s just you and me.”

I take a breath, and it catches in my chest.

The walls are coated with a shimmering damask. The display is something between the gala and lunch. No band. No dance floor. Fewer chandeliers. Brighter light. Just as many people. And everyone takes a turn to gawk.

“Oh, you must be Weslie!” A woman with long black hair steps into our path, holding the captain’s arm.

Tar and Asha have her delicate chin and radiant golden skin, and her fuchsia dress is adorned with extensive beadwork I can imagine Asha doing by hand.

“I’ve so wanted to meet you. Asha never stops talking about you. ”

Asha never stops talking.

So glad I did not say that out loud.

“Good to see you, Cyra.” Jupiter takes the lead. “Have you been enjoying the journey?”

“It’s a lovely ship.” She continues to smile, like it’s her most natural expression. Caressing her husband’s arm, she leans closer and whispers, “But if I’m being honest, I’ve been on so many of these, I’m always just glad to get home. I do love our stays on Earth, though.”

“It’s a beautiful planet. I hope to see more of it someday,” Jupiter says.

I glance at him. At the pool, it sounded like he knew he’d likely never make it back, but I can hear it in his voice. He really does hope.

“Edward took me to the most beautiful little lak—”

“Cyra.” Captain Nazari pats her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Let’s let them get to their table. It’s always good to see you, Jupiter.” His eyes shift to me and he bows his head. “Weslie.”

Was she talking about the lake? In the years since Reve and I found the way out there, I’ve never seen an Elysian even close. They usually stick to the cities. Never too far from a transport and an air purifier.

“Have a good night.” Jupiter hooks my waist, guiding me to the left toward a large, round table with two free seats. “Take a breath and remind yourself that I’m giving you half my dessert at the end.”

Jupiter’s father stands, tucking his chin-length brown hair behind his ears.

His smile is comforting. Familiar. It takes over his whole face.

Right eye squinted more than the left. Perfectly asymmetrical.

Jupe might look like his mom, but he has his dad’s smile.

Behind him, Jupiter’s mother talks across the table to a man seated next to one of the empty chairs.

Mr. Earnshaw’s laugh is deep and resonating.

He never so much as cracked an encouraging smile when I was trying to control the tremor in my voice in front of him and the other contest judges.

The round-faced woman at his side grins sweetly, patting her partner’s hand as he roars and snorts without anyone joining in.

Jupiter pulls out a chair next to Mr. Earnshaw and nods for me to sit. My name is projected onto white porcelain flanked by more utensils than any human should ever need to feed themselves.

“I don’t believe we have been introduced, young lady,” Mr. Earnshaw says a little too loudly. He offers his huge hand, as puffy and pink as his face.

Jupiter discreetly whispers, “Okay, you can have my entire dessert.”

I shake the man’s hand, leaning away, and let go as soon as possible. Does he seriously not remember me?

“I’m Calvin Earnshaw, and this is my wife, Philomena.”

I nod to the woman, but my smile widens when I see who’s seated beside her. Skye. Thank the universe.

The people next to her must be her parents. He has Skye’s usual patient expression, and she looks like an older copy of her daughter with long hair, in contrast to Skye’s short waves, loc’d and piled high upon her head.

There’s a shift in the room, and everyone takes their seat.

Porters move around the tables, balancing trays.

Smaller plates are placed on the platters in front of each of us.

Faintly sweet steam wafts past my face. A fleshy white lump of glistening meat sits over a smear of green sauce, topped with a sprig of grass.

The other diners pick up forks without hesitation.

I guess they all recognize this as food.

Mr. Earnshaw swallows the last of the meat from his plate, chasing it with champagne and waving over a porter to refill his glass. “So, young lady, what do you plan to do after basic levels? Lots of exciting opportunities for bright young people in Elysium these days.”

This guy can’t be for real. I fight to keep my voice even, and it comes out flat. “I plan to work in robotics.”

“Is that a common path for kids nowadays? In my time, that was grunt work.”

My face goes hot. Pompous asshole. You were literally part of the panel that chose my bot as the winning entry, and you can’t bother to remember me?

“Weslie is from Earth, Calvin. She is a guest,” Jupiter’s mother is quick to inform him.

“Oh, very interesting. What are living conditions like on Earth these days? I hear the dry season has been decreasing. I was only there for a brief time.”

“Long enough to judge the contest I won,” I mutter under my breath and clear my throat. “We did have more rain than usual this year.”

The plates are removed from our table. I spear the little medallion of white meat with one of my forks and devour it whole, right before a hand reaches between me and Mr. Earnshaw. With a full mouth, I thank the silent porter who keeps his eyes down and expression neutral.

Ms. Earnshaw leans forward, so her heavy breasts almost rest on her plate. The bottom half of the letters of her name are projected across her cleavage. “What do your parents do, dear?” Her voice is nasal and high-pitched.

I take a deep breath. I’ve avoided this awkward fact until now, but no use lying. “My mother works in the Dalloway Tech factory.”

Jupiter whips his face toward me, squinting like he’s surprised I never mentioned it. Shouldn’t he have assumed, though? Almost everyone in my town works there. His family’s factory accounts for at least 80 percent of the jobs. If I go back to Earth, chances are I’ll end up working there, too.

“Factory workers are so essential.” Mr. Earnshaw downs the rest of his glass again and taps a fist to his chest, his cheeks expanding with a burp.

“It must be a treat to have the first-class experience after a life like that.” Ms. Earnshaw’s shrill voice makes the cloaked insult more enraging.

Our plates are replaced. The main course is a small, round stack of paper-thin vegetables and pastry sitting in broth, surrounded by a leafy sprig.

Everyone picks up their second fork of the meal and the knife on the other side of the plate, though I’m positive I could cut through this thing with a spoon.

“Don’t you feel awfully out of place here?” Without pausing for an answer, Jupiter’s mom cuts a small portion of food and glowers across the table with a pinched smile. “I imagine you’d be tempted to join your people in second class.”

I narrow my eyes and bite my tongue.

Jupiter shakes his head. “Mom…”

I grab his hand under the table and squeeze. I would love to give her a piece of my mind, but not here. Not now.

Conversation is minimal as we finish the second course. Skye’s parents draw attention to the opposite side of the table, asking the Earnshaws about their new housing in the Elysian habitat.

When porters come around passing out desserts, Jupiter’s father reaches for one, but his mom waves off the tray.

She really is evil.

A different porter reaches between me and Jupiter, sliding plates in front of us. I don’t know what it is, but it’s fluffy and dripping with chocolate. I snatch up my spoon and dig in.

Good luck, ivory dress.

The edge of Jupiter’s plate tinks against mine. I glance up, covering my full mouth with my fingers. “Are you sure you want to miss out on this? It’s amazing.”

He smirks. “A deal’s a deal.”

Standing, Jupiter’s mother scoots her chair back, clinking the edge of a spoon against her water glass. “Before we all indulge in desserts and scatter, my husband and I have an announcement to make.”

Jupiter’s eyes go wide. He stares across the table at Skye, who suddenly looks gray, and then at his father, who appears as stunned as he does.

As the applause settles, his mother continues.

“We are so lucky to have so many of our friends and colleagues here on this gorgeous ship’s first voyage.

Most of you know my son, Jupiter, is being primed to train as the head of Dalloway Technologies.

” She pauses, nodding as the enrapt audience claps again.

“Not now,” Jupiter says through his teeth, closing his eyes and lowering his head.

“And our lovely Skye Dupont will be inheriting Avenir Industries. She is a beautiful, intelligent, and accomplished young woman.”

Jupiter turns to face me, gripping my hand under the table. “I am so sorry.”

“And we are so thrilled to share with all of you here tonight that Jupiter and Skye will embark on these journeys together.” Her eyes meet mine. “As husband and wife.”