I find myself laughing again. “You sure you’ve never danced before?”
He laughs, too. “I’ve only ever watched. My father would occasionally host parties involving dances, but I never wanted to join in. I did see enough to get the gist of it, though.”
“Well, that’s a shame for everyone else at those parties.”
“You’re a little awkward at giving compliments, you know.”
I sigh dramatically. “I know. It’s not in my nature.”
We both laugh and keep moving back and forth, back and forth, and I think that I could stay like this forever. Being gently led by Jay, his eyes softening as they meet mine, his hands warm in my own. For just this moment, nothing else exists. There is no exhaustion, no war, no worry over a friend whose grief is inconsolable. Just the two of us, dancing to a hummed tune from another life.
15
ERIK
NOTE TO FUTURE self: I am not cut out for babysitting. Gabriel laughs as a bunch of five- and seven-year-old brats run around the small cluster of battered tents and leaning plywood homes we’re playing tag in. They dart in and out of places easily. And I trip trying to catch up to them. Just when I think I’ve caught one of them, he darts out of range and slides into the space formed by a sheet of metal leaning against one of the wooden structures. An opening way too small for me to fit in.
“Why don’t we play a new game?” I groan.
“Can’t, can’t!” one of the tinier brats says. She dances in place as she points at me, giggling. “You’re it!”
“Yeah, but I’ve been ‘it’ for the last ten minutes. You guys are just too good at this.”
“You should give Erik a break,” Gabriel says to the little girl, who’s clearly the leader of the group of about ten kids. Gabriel looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Again. “He’s old, you know. He can’t keep up with you. Why don’t you all play ball for a bit?”
“I wanna play ball!” one of the boys says. His hand shoots into the air like he’s in class. “Playing with Erik is boring. He’s no good at tag.”
“Hey!” I say, feeling a little offended. “I was just going easy on you.”
The boy sticks his tongue out at me. But then one of the girls scoops up a nearby ball with barely any air left in it and they all scamper off to play a different game. They make sure to stay in sight.
I sigh as I sit next to Gabriel on the ground. He’s still trying not to laugh, but he’s so obvious about it. He’s doing that thing where he holds his hand over his mouth to hide his smile, as if I wouldn’t see it in his eyes and the curve of his eyebrows. His cane rests in easy reach. He’s gotten thinner these past few months. Hunger scrapes at my own stomach in a way I can’t remember ever feeling. The Order’s been successful in almost all of their raids so far, which is good for them and the sector, but means less supplies for the rebels. Including food. I can’t remember the last time I ate and felt full after it. Or even just not hungry anymore.
“Is it really that funny?” I lie on my back with my hands propped behind my head so it’s not resting on the solid rock ground.
“I can’t help it,” Gabriel says. His hand drops and I can see his smile full-on now. My chest lightens. “You, the formerly battle-hungry second-in-command of the rebels, then soldier, playing with little kids. And failing at it.”
Normally I hate it when someone compares the current me to my past self, but I laugh. It is a funny contrast. “If I’m doing such a bad job at it, I’ll just stop helping you babysit, then.”
“As if. You know the kids love you.”
“Yeah—love to mock me.”
“That’s basically the same thing for them.”
“I guess you’d know as the standing full-time babysitter,” I say. For the past few months, I’ve taken any excuse I can get to hang out with Gabriel. But a big part of his job as a noncombatant is to watch the younger kids while older rebels are out in the field. So if I want to be with him, it means I’ve got to spend time with the brats, too. Which isn’t all bad. They can be annoying, but they’re good kids. Most of the time.
Spending too much time with them just increases my guilt and anxiety, though. I’m selling out the people they think of as family—big brothers and sisters who’ve been taking care of them. When some of those rebels who I know often take care of the kids don’t return from a raid, I have to keep my distance for a week or two. There’s also the fact that I don’t know what will happen to all these children once this war is finished. If the sector wins, what will the High Council do to them? I can’t imagine they’d just let them go free. How can I protect them? And if the rebels win, what kind of world would they grow up in?
No. We’ll figure something out. The sooner we finish this war, the sooner they can eat full meals, be actually safe, and have better lives. Lai could bring them into the Order. She’s said so before. But I can’t help them until this war is over. That’s why I need to keep spying. The kids’ safety is the most important—right? This will be better for them in the long run, won’t it?
“Something on your mind?” Gabriel asks. He’s looking at me curiously and I realize I don’t know what kind of expression is on my face.
I hesitate. I don’t like lying to him, but I say, “Some more of my memories returned last night. Well, pieces. Nothing clear.” It started happening a month ago. Dreams that feel too real to be dreams. For the most part, it’s been more like sensations than anything. The image of a dark back alley that didn’t look like the architectural style of Sector Eight’s buildings. The taste of a drink I didn’t recognize, laughing with a dark-haired, copper-skinned someone who seemed somehow familiar. The smell of blood. It’s honestly worse than when I didn’t remember anything. All these little things with no context are driving me crazy. There isn’t any way for me to figure out what they mean, and I don’t know why they’ve suddenly started coming back, either. They hit at random, with no apparent connections between the memories. I hate it.
“Ah,” Gabriel says softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” I’ve told Gabriel before how frustrating it is, so he gets what I mean without me having to explain.
“I’m still sorry you’re going through that. It must be hard not remembering anything.”
“I used to think that,” I say. “But you know, recently, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember. I mean, I was able to become someone totally different, right? And better, I think. I’m definitely glad I’m not war-hungry anymore. It doesn’t sound like I was exactly happy before, either.”
“And now?”
“Huh?”
“Are you happy now?” Gabriel asks.
I watch him as I think about it. It’s true that guilt and anxiety crush me every time I report to Lai or collect intel for her. But it’s not like that stuff is constant. I also get to babysit with Gabriel and joke around with Cal. Yeah, this situation in general isn’t great, but I mean it when I say, “Yeah. I think I am happy now. I mean, I’ve got you, don’t I?” My face feels hot, so I quickly add, “And Cal and everyone else, too, I mean.”