Escaping Elysia

Chapter 18 - Nimble as a Butterfly

Evita

I was wrong. The door alarms definitely work. Maybe even too well. Simon wasn't moving when they carried him from the hallway yesterday morning, and we haven't seen him since.

Dale and I are working on the ninth level today. A glass bubble encapsulates the Solar Room, and if I stretch upwards I can nearly graze the slick surface with my fingertips. Dale sits on the floor, his back resting against the railing as he wipes a solar panel. He hasn't said a word to me since they carried Simon away.

Yesterday he'd tried to hide the hurt in his eyes when I pulled away, but I saw it before he could. The sight almost made me wish I could undo it. Almost. His touch had reminded me of the way he'd held Nadya, stroking her hair. The gesture said he was there for me, that everything would be alright, but he can't promise that. No one can. Still, I'd been getting used to his smiles. He'd finally accepted me, and I ruined it.

On impulse, I point the spray bottle in my hand at the back of his head and spray. The solution in the bottles is harmless - stronger chemicals were banned after the disasters - and leaves a light, lemon scent in the air. Dale snaps up to look at me. I'm sure the surprise on his face mirrors my own.

Dale leaps to his feet, grabbing another squirt bottle from the bin, and sprays me in the face. I sputter, liquid dripping from my upper lip, and launch an attack. Holding my arm out, I squeeze as quickly as I can while shielding my face with my other hand. Dale sprays back and soon my hair is soaked, yet I still advance, backing him against the wall, less than a foot between us.

"I give," he says, throwing his hands in the air. I lower the bottle, grinning. Dale's grey t-shirt, now soaking wet, clings to his shoulders and chest. He catches me staring and I look away, in case my cheeks are as red as they feel.

I'm suddenly very aware of how close we are. We're both breathing hard, and Dale's mouth is parted, still smiling even as he sucks in air. Our faces are inches apart. I take a step back, forgetting how small the landing is. I bump into the railing and pitch backwards. Dale reaches out a hand to stop my fall, then hesitates. Grabbing the rail, I steady myself without his help. I flash back to when he held me yesterday. I rejected his touch then. Did he think I would do the same now? My cheeks burn.

Dale sits down and I join him, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging my legs. Suddenly, I get the urge to show Dale that I'm not as detached as he thinks. I clear my throat. "Sometimes, late at night, I miss my grandfather," I say, my voice quiet.

"Which is stupid," I continue, "because Grandfather hated me. He said I have my mother's eyes."

Dale runs his hand over his close cropped, dark hair, spraying water droplets in a mist around his face. "I don't think that's stupid."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Even if he hated you, he's still home. And this place is not. It makes sense for you to miss your home."

I shrug, but shift in my seat, drawing my knees tighter to my chest. I don't want my grandfather to be home.

I change the subject. "I've been wondering. How did you end up here?"

A scowl crosses his face. Did I push too far? Dale takes a breath, his chest slowly expanding, and his expression loses its edge. "When I was fifteen my parents left Fairbanks for Sanzha."

"Fairbanks?"

Dale nods. "The people who settled in the area named it after an old city, from before the climate wars. A woman in Fairbanks was sick, and they went to get her medicine. The city council didn't want them to go. They've banned anything made with modern technology."