Turning Eighteen
She was a coward, intending to remain with Les because a Solitary Notification hadn’t arrived to force an end to their relationship. She should have the courage to end it now, tonight—to do what anyone with the tiniest amount of sense would do. After all, she wasn’t a child. She was eighteen. An intense period of grief and adjustment would be better than clinging to a dying relationship. And what if they were still together when Les turned twenty-five? Every knock at the door, every sighting of a Chosen Council courier would send Mo into a panic. Not only that, if they couldn’t break up now, how would they break up after they’d been together for eleven years? Unless their relationship eventually became a habit, a mutually agreed-upon, casual affair until one of them received her Chosen Papers, ending it would only become harder with time.
Splitting up now made sense. It was the right thing to do. It would be painful at first, but better in the long run. And she was a complete idiot, because despite everything she’d just told herself, she didn’t want to do it. If she honestly believed that she and Les belonged together, why would she end their relationship?
There must be something wrong with her. She shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t hope for a particular Chosen. Other Rymellans didn’t, or if they did, they hid it well. Had she hid it well, when she’d stood in front of everyone and talked about her Chosen, all the time thinking about Les?
“Argamon, Mo, what’s with the grumpy face? You’re eighteen! You’re a Chosen!”
Mo jumped at David’s voice. She hadn’t seen him, even though he was directly in front of her. “I know. It’s great,” she said, forcing a smile. Nobody could ever know about the turmoil inside her. Nobody. Anything she said could be misinterpreted, twisted to sound like she wouldn’t accept her Chosen. That wasn’t true. She would—she’d just never love her, that’s all.
David returned her smile by leaping into the air. He landed on both feet with a thud, a wide grin on his face.
“What are you so happy about?” Mo asked, grateful for the diversion. “You’d think it was your birthday.”
“I asked Lynn out on a date and she said yes!”
“Lynn? Lynn Fielding?”
“Yes!”
What could he possibly see in her? Okay, Mo could think of one attraction. Well, two. Was it just physical, then? “Wasn’t it you who said that Lynn probably got into the academy because her uncle’s a captain? You said she’d be more suited to working in the mess hall.” He’d practically called her an airhead.
“Mo, we’re going on a date, not Joining. Come on. She’s a Chosen, I’m a Chosen. I want to have a little fun, pass the time until my Chosen Papers come. She won’t be the only woman I date, believe me.”
Was that what she and Les were doing? Passing the time?
“Will you help me decide where to take her?” David asked.
“You want to talk about that now?”
“No, tomorrow. It’s almost 01:00, and you know what Richmond said. You’re walking in the wrong direction.”
“I want to say good night to Les. Is she still there?”
“Yeah, I think they’ve almost finished cleaning up. Anyway, I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waggled his fingers at her. “Bye.”
Mo jogged the rest of the way to the recreation centre, pulled open the door, and—oh! “All done?” she asked Les.
Les nodded. “Kary’s still stacking chairs, but there’s only a few left.”
“We should go help.”
“No, no, she said to go ahead. Richmond’s given her until 01:15 to get back to the dormitory. And Ben’s helping her.”
“Ah. Best to leave them to it, then.”
Les held out a rolled up piece of cloth. “Do you want it? It’s the Happy Birthday banner.”
No, she didn’t. It would remind her of how stressful the day had been, not of how touched she’d felt because her parents and friends had cared enough to throw her a party. But she nodded and took the banner. In time, she might change her mind. If she didn’t, she’d quietly dispose of it in a few months, when nobody would be offended.
“Let’s go,” Les said, motioning for Mo to move.
Mo stepped aside and held the door open until Les had walked past. “Thanks for cleaning up. I should have come back sooner,” she said as they walked toward the dormitories.
“You were seeing your parents off. And it wouldn’t have been very nice to make the guest of honour clean up after her own party.”
“Well, thanks.” Mo paused. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to dance again. Every time I started to look for you, someone grabbed me.”
“That’s okay. You probably wouldn’t have found me anyway. Showing my parents my room took longer than I expected. And around fifteen minutes after we got back to the party, it was time to take them to the train station.”
“How did that go . . . showing them your room?”
“Better than I thought it would. I think Mama was curious about it.” Les shot Mo a bemused look. “She just didn’t want to admit that she wanted to see it. The party gave her the perfect excuse.”
“Did you mention the aviacraft lessons?”
“No. I didn’t want to spoil things.”
Would Les ever tell her parents? She didn’t have to—the lessons were only a means to an end. They wouldn’t be landing on the estates or flying anywhere near them, so her parents need never know. “Think they’ll visit, now that they’ve been here?”
Les sighed. “I don’t know. And I don’t really care. It’s up to them. I won’t keep asking.”
Mo was sure that Les did care, but didn’t look at her. The whole conversation felt weird. Not awkward, not uncomfortable, just stilted. She felt as if she was making polite conversation with an acquaintance. They hadn’t touched each other once, and they were walking with a respectable distance between them, as if they were already Joined to other women.
The dormitories loomed ahead. Mo reached out and lightly touched Les’s sleeve, wanting to break through the barrier that had sprung up at midnight before saying good-bye. When Les didn’t move away, Mo veered over and slipped her arm around Les’s waist. Les stopped walking. Mo drew back and looked at Les uncertainly. She dropped the banner when Les’s arms wrapped around her. The ground was dry, the banner could wait. Mo threw her arms around Les’s neck and pressed her face against Les’s shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn’t cry. She would not cry. Les’s hold tightened; Mo could feel Les’s heart beating. How could the Chosen Council force them apart? How? They belonged together.
Suddenly it all became clear. Mo opened her eyes, excitement coursing through her. The Chosen Council would give her Les! It had to. Nothing else would make sense. She wouldn’t be content with anyone else—could never be happy without Les. So if she and Les weren’t Chosens, then everything she believed in, everything she’d been taught, was a lie. And that wasn’t possible. Everyone important to her, everyone she respected . . . they couldn’t all be deluded.
She felt better than she had all day—no, than she had in weeks, months, even; ever since Les had turned eighteen. No more agonizing. No more worrying about meeting her Chosen. No more dreading a life without Les. She’d do what every other Rymellan did and trust the Chosen Council. She’d stay with Les, love Les, and look forward to receiving her Chosen Papers, her way of showing that inside, deep down inside, she truly believed that she and Les were Chosens, that it wasn’t a pathetic, childish fantasy she clung to because she couldn’t accept the inevitable.
“We have to go,” Les murmured into Mo’s ear. “Richmond was firm about everyone being in bed by 01:00, and it’s probably that now. He might do a spot check.”
Mo reluctantly pulled back. She smiled at Les and held her hand as they walked the remaining distance to the dormitories. For the first time in a long time, she felt optimistic about the future. You’re kidding yourself, a little voice whispered. Well, maybe she was. Maybe her epiphany was her way of coping, a way to keep herself sane until she had no choice but to let Les go. Or maybe, just maybe, time would prove her right, and she and Les would stand next to each other in the Joining Chamber.