Page 36 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

Seven days to Mars

The helmet ILSA forms around my head to supply oxygen is fogging up, blurring my view of the watching class.

As I finish my presentation, I pinch my eyes shut.

My heart is racing and a jittering panic pulses through more muscles, urging me to fight my way out.

Save myself. It’s so much worse when she’s got me fully cocooned.

You’d think this would get easier. Like exposure therapy.

I close my eyes, trying to imagine I’m somewhere else.

Cool darkness, warm hands sliding up my… No. Not that.

I picture my backyard at home. Hot, oxygen-rich wind carrying the scent of fruit blossoms.

“Conclude demo mode, ILSA.” My voice sounds hollow inside the plastic encasement, but it parts and she releases me, setting me on my feet. I scan the silent room, turning to Calypso before I get to Jupiter’s table. “Thank you.”

“Well done, Weslie. ILSA is truly impressive.” Calypso stands, claps, and nods to the class to join. Covered by the noise, they lean in, so only I can hear, “You could put a tad more energy into it. You sounded a little defeated. Be proud of your accomplishment.”

I nod and lead ILSA back to my seat.

A little defeated? The whole competition is a lie.

I was never going to sell my design. Jupiter’s family already stole it, and there was nothing I could ever do to stop them.

His mom would have watched me present on Mars, shook my hand, and sent me back to Earth.

She already has my design. I’m just a loose end to be tied up. And I should have seen it coming.

I slip onto my stool without acknowledging Skye, who swapped seats during my presentation with some redheaded guy who never talks and smells like he bathes in cologne.

She touches my arm. “Great job, Wes.”

“Thanks.” I brush her off and spin away, keeping my eyes glued to the front of the room.

She whispers over my shoulder, “Can we talk after class?”

“Nope.”

Calypso goes through the rest of the schedule of presenters.

The Earther Experience presentations are about what I expected from a bunch of privileged Elysians.

A lot of fake sympathy and misconceptions.

The French girl with the shaved head spends half her presentation outlining an idea for an outreach program that would match up Earthers with Elysians on their Basic Levels Earth Mission to widen every student’s view of the universe.

It doesn’t become purely offensive until she suggests Earthers would likely gain more, but it would be a charitable sacrifice. Classic elitist bullshit.

“Thank you, Céline.” Calypso doesn’t muster their usual enthusiasm, possibly as annoyed as I am with the girl’s narrow-minded point of view. “We have a few more minutes left. Those of you who haven’t presented can take this time to look over your notes for tomorrow.”

Murmurs of conversation fill the room.

I stare down at my computer, bringing up the first document I can pretend to read.

“Did you see them at the Gala the other night? I would be mortified.” Meridian’s voice is performatively loud and right behind me.

“She’s kind of pretty, I guess. If you don’t consider the fleas,” Céline says.

“So, Skye.” Meridian’s voice is full of smugness. “How does it feel to be tossed aside for a dirty Earther?”

Rage pulses through my body and my cheeks burn, but I stay completely still. She wants me to react. Shout or throw a punch. Prove I’m the lowly wild creature they all think I am.

“Shut the hell up, Meridian,” Skye says through her teeth. “You’re the only person in this room Jupiter’s ever tossed aside.”

Meridian goes silent, but I can practically feel her seething behind me.

“So rude,” Céline mutters in her phlegmy French accent.

I keep my eyes glued to the blurring lines across my screen. It can’t be much longer before class ends.

Skye leans closer, lowering her voice. “Jupiter and I have only ever been friends, Weslie. And I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you. It’s just a stupid business deal, and we can still—”

The lights flash and the bell sounds.

I stand, snatch my computer off the table, and race for the exit with ILSA on my heels.

“Weslie, I believe Skye was attempting to communicate with you. It is considered socially unacceptable to leave in the middle of polite conversation.”

“Don’t care.” Commanding ILSA into silent mode, I rush to the dining hall, grab whatever I can fit on a plate, and head out the door. I’ll eat in the escape pod bay, away from all these people.

“Miss, you’re supposed to keep dinnerware in the dining hall.” A porter with dark, curly hair and a plastic smile blocks the exit.

I stare straight into his dull blue eyes, hand him the plate, pile as much as I can in one hand, shove two mini cakes in my mouth, and grab a roll in my other hand, slipping it into my sweater pocket. “Sorry about that,” I say through my overly full mouth, crumbs flying out with the words.

He dusts off a bit of cake from his vest, and purses his lips, blinking slowly. “No problem.”

Huffing out a breath, I hurry around the corner and slam into a broad chest.

“Watch it, Earther!” a familiar voice snaps.

The tiny sandwiches and cupcakes I’d been holding fall to the floor, leaving a smear of yellow icing coating Curran’s medallion and the front of his white shirt.

My mouth falls open as I meet his eyes.

With obvious effort, he softens his expression. “I’m sorry, Weslie. You surprised me.”

Up to this moment, he’d never given any indication that he looked down on me for where I came from. But then, he didn’t say much at all. I had just assumed…since he’s close to Jupiter. But I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.

A trash bot cuts in between us, sweeping up the mess on the floor.

“It’s fine,” I choke out and push past him. “Let’s go, ILSA.”

By the time we get to the arboretum, I’ve finished the crushed roll I’d stashed in my pocket. The artificial wind carries the scent of eucalyptus from the quadrant of blue-green leaves. A holographic chickadee swoops over the path in front of me.

“Weslie…wait up.” Asha sounds out of breath. “I saved…you a spot…in the dining room…but you just left.”

“I’m done with that.”

She barely catches up by the time we get to the other side of the tree-filled garden, passing between the maple and pine quadrants and turning the corner into another hall. “Okay, no more dining room. I can understand that.” Her voice is sympathetic.

I speed up. I don’t want to hear another apology or condolences about getting caught in the middle of Jupiter and Skye’s engagement announcement. I don’t care anymore. Only seven more days until I’m off this ship and all these people are out of my life forever.

“Hey, can you slow down?” she calls after me. “I’m trying to—”

“Stop, Asha.” I whip back to face her. “I’m not one of you. You belong with the rest of them, so go back and leave me alone.”

She looks like I slapped her, eyes glistening instantly.

My chest tightens. I hate hurting her, but how do I know what’s real with these people? She’s Jupiter’s friend, not mine. Her, Tarak, Skye, all of them. Falling for Jupiter’s act was humiliating enough. I spin back around and keep walking.

Halfway into the escape pod bay, I freeze and put out a hand to signal to ILSA.

Around the bend, Jupiter is waiting, sitting by the window with the best view of Mars, exactly where he knew I would go.

I tiptoe back before he spots me, shaking my head.

I should have stayed separate this entire trip. Now, there’s no escaping them.

I pass the door to the stairwell we took to the cargo bay together, remembering his hand in mine.

I shake off the memory, and an idea forms in its place.

I hit the button, and the door opens. The hall is clear in each direction.

No one is around to see or stop me. Inside the stairwell, I listen for footsteps.

It’s silent aside from the gentle hum of ILSA by my side.

At the bottom, ILSA and I enter the dingy gray cargo bay.

Compared to the midday light settings upstairs, it feels darker than it was the other night.

And eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s expanding in your ear canal, filling your head.

I follow the path Jupiter and I took through the halls that night after dinner until I’m standing at the huge roll-up door across from the exit.

I touch the panel on the wall next to it, but nothing happens.

If I can find a way in, I could dismantle all of them.

Farther down there’s a normal-size entrance with a small window in it. I try the control pad, but this door doesn’t budge, either.

“ILSA, override the lock and open it.”

She moves toward the panel, an ellipsis running across her face screen.

The little round window is black, complete darkness.

An exclamation mark flashes on ILSA’s face screen.

“End silent mode.”

“Inaccessible. The security level is impassable.”

“Passengers aren’t supposed to be down here.” At the end of the hall, a porter I’ve seen before with a thick beard and long ponytail leads a tow-bot carrying a pallet of boxes.

“And yet, here I am.”

“Excuse me?”

ILSA pivots toward him. “She said, ‘And yet—’”

“We were just leaving.” I shove off the door.

He sighs loudly like I’ve ruined his day. “I’ll have to escort you back up.”

“I got it, Spence. Take the load to the kitchen.” Reve appears from around the corner, tucking a key fob into his vest pocket.

The other porter nods, eyeing me, as he waves the bot to follow.

“Always in places you aren’t supposed to be.” He shifts his focus to ILSA, raising one eyebrow. “I expected this from Weslie, but ILSA, I figured you’d keep her out of trouble.”

“Weslie’s listening skills seem to be damaged. She is unable to process my warnings.”

I glare at ILSA. Traitorous bot. If I didn’t know better, I would think she had a crush on Reve herself.

He hits the button next to the door to the white hall. “Let’s go.”