“As much as I didn't want to, I had to read Jag's note. I pulled it out of my back pocket. His handwriting still made my breath catch, but when I opened it, I wanted to cry.
The paper contained two words: Fly, babe.
I shredded it into little pieces. Fly? The stupid boy wanted me to fly? I'd fly off the handle when I caught up to him. Then he'd see me fly.”
“I miss you so much my lungs have forgotten how to breathe.”
“He walked close enough to hold hands and far enough away that words could never repair the damage we'd done to each other.”
“Sometimes life doesn't allow us to be free to fly wherever we'd like.”
“Tech simulations,” I said, the realization hitting me in the gut. “Jake, you’re so dead! You tricked me with that purple pill!”
“But now you know you can’t control the elements,” he said.
Like that made me feel better. “I hope you have a will!”
“Blame Jag,” he responded.
“Oh, I do,” I snapped. “Trust me, he’s going to die too.” I imagined the way he’d smile when he saw me. He wouldn’t even see my fist coming.”
“Vi?" Jag's soft voice called from the other room. I'd been soaking so long, the water in the tub was cold. I stepped out, careful not to get the book wet, and wrapped a towel around myself.
"In here," I whispered. He had switched the lamp on and was rubbing his eyes when I came into the bedroom.
"Hey."
I slipped the book back onto the table next to his bed. "I didn't get it wet."
"Not. That." His eyes raked over my only-towel-covered body with a hungry expression.
"Knock it off." I pulled the towel tighter and returned to the bathroom. He followed me, putting his hand on the door before I could close it. I looked anywhere but at him. Lying fully clothed in bed with him was bad enough.
I couldn't help it when I drank him in, starting at his feet and slowly creeping up to his neck, past his chin, lips, nose to his eyes. When I finally reached them, my heart clutched almost painfully. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, playing with the end of my towel.
"Vi, babe-"
"Don't talk like that," I said.
He smiled his Jag-winner. I took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. "Don't smile like that either. It's not fair."
"Okay, then. Let's talk about being fair." He carefully wove his fingers through mine. The way he studied the ground was adorable. He took a few slow steps back into the bedroom, pulling me with him.
"Jag-”
“What do you have that I could possibly want?”
With a knowing smile, he pulled an envelope from his back pocket. Even from across the room, Jag’s handwriting made my heart pound. I took several steps forward, never removing my eyes from the two letters of my name. Jake could have anything he wanted. Kidney, liver, whatever.”
“Finally I knelt on the bed and placed my hand on his back. I patted awkwardly, hoping that was protocol for when someone was sobbing their eyes out. "hey." pat, pat. "It's okay. We'll bust out of here before they tag us." pat, pat, pat. I felt lame”
“James II’s second wife, an Italian Catholic princess called Mary (at the time, there was an edict whereby all female royals were to be called Mary to confuse future readers of history books),”
“It’s difficult to know when love blooms; suddenly one day you wake up and it’s in full flower. It works the same way when it wilts—one day it is just too late.”
“starting with Martin Luther’s rebellion against the Church of Rome in 1517, led to widespread religious wars founded on philosophical differences: one side took Church authority and tradition as the criterion of truth, the other appealed instead to the Spirit of God acting within the individual believer.”
“After he died, my mother was like a crab: she tucked everything inside and left only her shell.”
“How easy it was to be a Communist when you weren’t living under Communism!”
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