“If you insist,” she said, handing over the carefully creased paper.
Daphne frowned down at the former square, now folded into a layered diamond shape, with three thin rays each emanating from the left and right sides.
“It’s the beetle,” said Zada.
Flipping it over in her hands, Daphne said, “It’s not a very good beetle.”
“Don’t judge something by its larval form,” Zada said. “Andit’s not done yet, so if you wouldn’t mind—”
Daphne passed it back to Zada. Their fingers brushed in the handoff. Even though by now, Zada knew there would be no music, the silence felt sharp.
“How’d you learn how to do that?” Daphne asked. “The folding.”
Zada resumed her work. “Picked it up after graduation,” she lied.
There was no way she could admit the truth, that she’d seen the instructions in her lenses two years ago and it had made her think of Daphne. She’d practiced it again and again in her final year at school to try to fill up the hole in her time left by Daphne’s absence. She had worked on the paper beetles all through class, half hoping Daphne would look over and half hoping she’d never notice.
A few quick manipulations of the paper and the flat lower point of the diamond became a chunky, three-dimensional wing case. From there, it was a simple matter of shaping the legs and pleating the two layers of the upper point into something like mandibles.
“There. A one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen specimen,” Zada announced, holding the origami beetle aloft on the flat of her palm.
“And what peculiar markings,” added Daphne, peering at the scraps of words still visible in Jocelin Hastings’s tidy cursive. The wordlovecould be clearly read on one of the periwinkle legs. She exhaled, and Zada could feel the gust of breath on the underside of her wrist.
“I did say that this was one you didn’t already have.”
“I’m not sure a paper beetle counts,” Daphne said. Still, sheplucked the beetle off of Zada’s palm and slipped it into her trouser pocket anyway. “But I suppose it would be boorish of me to complain. Now that payment has been tendered, I’ll be on my way. Good luck with your impending nuptials and your perfect future with your perfect match.”
Daphne saluted and headed out the door.
Zada followed. Walking out onto the sidewalk after Daphne into the searing midday sun, she felt like the string of a cello, vibrating after a bow.
“Did you need something?” Daphne asked.
“I’m just seeing you out,” Zada said. With one hand, she shielded her eyes from the harsh rays that beamed through the hexagonal pieces of clear blue sky above them on the dome.
“Well, don’t. Or if you must, at least put up your sunshield. With your complexion, you’ll be crispy in five minutes,” Daphne grumbled. With a tap of her SmartGem, she activated her own sunshield. A blue-tinted shade unfolded above them, the force field filtering out the sun. They both stepped into the cooler darkness, a relief from the scorch of the surrounding summer air.
“Thank you,” Zada said fervently. Just a minute outside without her sunshield up was enough to make her feel ever so slightly fried. New Ionia had state-of-the-art, self-sustaining climate control systems that kept temperatures within a livable range. The problem was her. She’d never been able to handle the heat. It was one of her many flaws—inability to tolerate higher temperatures, chronic introversion, and now, failure to love her Heartsong match.
Zada was only eighteen, but she’d already made a complete hash of her life.
“Uh-huh.” Daphne shifted her weight, creating space between the two of them. “You’d better head inside before—”
“Please don’t go yet,” Zada blurted out.
There was no one around. There were only the hydroponics labs crammed full of overgrown crops and the small, shabby family units that had made up the backdrop of Zada’s life for as long as she could remember. Everyone kept to themselves out here, and certainly no one was venturing out into the noonday heat. Still, Zada glanced around to check.
“Oh, I see,” said Daphne, the mockery sliding back into her voice, smooth and acidic. “A secret, is it? I know these days you’re afraid of even sneezing too loudly, in case it might hurt your social standing. What clandestine dramas could someone like you possibly be involved in?”
“Um,” Zada started.
“Nothing worth sharing after all, I take it,” said Daphne. “Disappointing.” She stepped away, taking the shade with her.
“I don’t love him,” said Zada in a rush.
“What?” Daphne stilled. “Say that again.”
Breathe.Zada made herself look Daphne in the eye. It was a choice this time, saying this terrible secret out loud. It was a deliberate choice, not a foolish impulse that she couldn’t control. She said slowly, “I don’t love Buford. I want to, but I can’t, and I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
