It doesn’t fix everything wrong with the system down here, of course—there are still too many others who can’t afford the luxury of healthcare. But at least the memory of her father will be preserved here.
Now Pressa looks at me. “You got a haircut,” she replies, running a hand playfully through my newly trimmed locks. “All set to make an impression in the Republic, aren’t you?”
She’s trying her best to cover up the strain in her voice, but I can hear it. It mirrors my own reluctance to leave. I run a hand absently through my curls and try to smile at her. “We’ll see about an impression,” I reply. “They’re starting me as early as next week.”
She shuffles her feet and glances down at the framed f lowers, then back to me. “Are you nervous?”
“After what we went through? Nah, I’m feeling pretty calm.” I hesitate. “I’m going to miss you, though.”
She winces at my words, and it’s all I can do to not wrap my arms around her right now and pull her into a kiss. “You have to leave so soon?”
I nod.
We both fall into an awkward silence. “Thank you,” Pressa finallysays. “For putting in a good word for my father’s shop and making sure the community stays intact.”
“What are you going to do here?” I ask her. “Now that you’ve got Marren running the store?”
She shrugs, looking uncertainly around at the Undercity’s streets. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out,” she answers with a shrug. There is something lost in her gaze. “They said I can apply to the university, even with my Level. They might give me a scholarship. But…”
“But?” I ask.
She looks at me, and then down. “I don’t know.” And in her gaze, I see that same restlessness I’ve always felt, the feeling of not fitting in, the same need to do something bigger, to find myself in this strange world. The same thing that drew us together as friends from the beginning. “I’m ready to leave the Undercity,” she finally says. “I just don’t know where to go next.”
“Come with me,” I say.
The words spill out of my mouth without warning. Pressa looks at me in surprise.
“Come… with you?” she murmurs.
I hadn’t thought any of that through at all. But when I speak again, I find myself taking her by her hands and pulling her closer. “Come with me,” I repeat, my voice more eager this time. It’s so obvious now. “You’ve always said you never felt like you belonged in the Undercity—like there was an adventure out there, waiting for you to make it happen. Come to Los Angeles, to the Republic. Please. You could change everything there for the better. You could do everything you’ve ever wanted to do. And I could be there with you, we could…”
I trail off, too shy to ask her to be with me. But I can see the spark lighting in Pressa’s eyes, that addictive sense of life in her that I’d always admired. Her lips curve up. This is the adventure that had been waiting for her.
“Okay,” she says quietly, as if to herself, and then breaks into a wide grin. “Okay!”
Then she throws her uninjured arm around me without warning, hand still clutching the framed flowers, and I find myself hugging her in return, and we’re both laughing at the awkward angle of her one-armed embrace. She feels so good in my arms that I can’t imagine ever letting go.
On an impulse, I kiss her.
She leans into me and kisses me back, fully and firmly. It’s the most perfect kiss in the world. I hug her tight. Somewhere around us, I hear whistles, then the workers on the ladder teasing us gently before bursting into friendly laughter. I don’t move away. I just keep my arms around Pressa, holding her tight, feeling sure of our future for the first time, feelinghappierthan I’ve been in a long time.
The world shifts, tilts, sometimes collapses. But sometimes, it bends toward you, and everything feels right.
***
By the time I return home that night, our apartment’s already filled with packing boxes. Daniel is walking around in a restless state, double-checking our things and making sure everything is put away.
When he sees me, he straightens and tries to hide his anxiety. “Are you ready to go back tomorrow?” he asks me instead.
I walk over to our couch and plop down on it one last time. “Ready enough,” I reply as he comes over to join me.
Immediately, he smiles.
“What?” I say.
“Something really good happened to you,” he says, studying my face. “It’s Pressa, yeah?”
I laugh a little. How good it feels to have a brother who can read my emotions again, who knows me. I nod. “Pressa’s going to come to the Republic too. She’s figuring out all the logistics for herself now.”
