By October, the commercials were done and available on the site, everyone
was back in school, and Caroline and I had worked out the first speech. We
would be delivering the same speech in separate locations—her idea since we
didn’t have time for me to do all of it alone. Half a year was already gone and
in a year’s time, we needed to begin planning the march. I think the main
inspiration of a march came from her never leading her own. Personally, I could
have lived without one, but it made for a great way to bring everyone together
and finish out two years. If enough people showed up, there was my proof I had
made significant impact.
Drei had opted not to travel with me, though his reasoning was ambiguous.
The day before I left, Valetta and Mitchell had returned, exhausted but
smiling. Everyone had trusted them and had agreed if they felt threatened by
what we were doing, they would contact the Council who would contact me
directly and handle the problem—meaning there wouldn’t be a problem.
I wasn’t sure what Drei was doing while I was traveling across the
northeast—Caroline had insisted on taking the south, probably because she
wasn’t fond of the cold. He wasn’t fighting with Nick, though. Nick, when Drei
declined to accompany me, asked if he might. There wasn’t much for him to do as
we wouldn’t need a security detail until the march. Having one at the casual
speeches would give us the wrong image, even if everyone except Caroline and
Ian disagreed. Even Justin and Angeline said I should take few muscles with me,
warning against rioting and government intervention. But that would only
provide a reason for there to be intervention and that was something I wanted
to avoid.
Drei, of course, had no opinion on this. If he had, he would have sounded
a bit hypocritical by not wanting to come. But I wasn’t going to think about
that because I couldn’t risk being bitter.
Having Nick along wasn’t so bad, though. It gave me a chance to show him
I hadn’t changed much. The way he had acted since that first night staying with
us made me uncomfortable, though he probably felt doubly so. He was the only
one not to mention I looked different—not that I would know I looked different
for obvious reasons. Maybe some one-on-one time was all we really needed.
“Are you sure you don’t want a separate room?” Nick asked as we rode the
elevator to the fourth floor and our hotel room. “Drei won’t mind or anything?”
“Nick, I trust you,” I assured him for the third time since he had seen
the reservations. “Unless there’s some reason why I shouldn’t, in which case
you should tell me now.”
“No reason you shouldn’t trust me; I was just thinking—”
“If Drei cared, he’d be here,” I said somewhat bitterly. I hadn’t meant
for it come out that way. There wasn’t anything I could think of to say to him
to make it better.
Opening the door to the room and dropping our bags on the beds—mine
farthest from the window—he announced he was taking a shower. I sat on the edge
of my bed and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I didn’t want to be
outside, but I didn’t want to stay in the room, either. Part of me was anxious
about the speech in the morning at the park. Drei had helped me choose the
locations for all of the orations—most of which were in parks, though a few he
arranged to be at college campuses.
Grabbing my notebook, I headed to find a quiet corner in the lounge
downstairs.
I stared at the first words of my speech. “Elementals are a miracle, a
blessing, the chance to help the environment and ourselves; our government
wants to take that away, to misuse our gifts. And they don’t expect any
consequences for their actions.” It seemed more than an hour I stared at them,
unsure how I had ever agreed to do this alone. How it was Drei wouldn’t be
there, at least for the first one. I could already guess whoever showed up
tomorrow would want some excellent show of power—which I wasn’t prepared
for—and probably demand how I knew what I did about the abusive process of
breaking elementals. Could I prove that homes were broken by this? Could I
prove anything?
Cradling my head in my hands, I forced myself to breath, hoping the old
pastime of slow breathing would calm my nerves and make the threat of
hyperventilating dissipate. If he was here, he’d probably say it was all right
and I’d instantly feel better. Especially if he added something about how
wonderful I was going to be. And worse come to worse, he would be in the
audience for me to look at if things started to go awry.
He wasn’t going to be there, though. And he wasn’t going to pop up out of
nowhere to tell me I had a brilliant speech, I had something important to say,
and even if some left tomorrow feeling cheated, a lot more would leave even
more devoted to our cause.
“You don’t look too good,” Nick observed, leaning over the back of the
couch. For a split second I almost let my mind lie to me and say it was Drei.
But I knew better, and lying to myself now wouldn’t help anything.
“You’re dripping on me,” I complained, swiping at the wet spots on the
back of my blouse.
“Oh, really?” he wondered aloud. If I had turned around to look at him, I
probably would have seen a mischievous curve to his lips and known what was
coming next. As I opened my mouth to say something else, Nick bent further over
and started shaking his head like a wet dog, splattering me in water.
“Oh, stop that,” I said, angrily, not in the mood for silliness. Maybe
one-on-one time was exactly the opposite of what we needed.
Nick stopped shaking his head, a smile on his lips. His hair was curly
now that it was partially dried. One particularly long curl fell into his jade
eyes, but he didn’t move it. “I’m not dripping on you anymore,” he pointed out.
Smiling was inevitable; it was Nick, after all, and I had always found
his happiness infectious. Closing my notebook, I sat it next to me on the open
cushion. Nick jumped over the back of the couch and laid down, his legs
dangling over the armrest and his head now resting in my lap. So much for being
dry.
“If you didn’t like being wet, you shouldn’t have said anything,” he
commented, staring up at me with his bright gems.
No comments:
Post a Comment