Body of Stars Laura Walter (chrome ebook reader .txt) 📖

“Yes, of course, and I don’t have the abduction marking.” She seemed a bit exasperated. “Most girls don’t, you know. We’re not all as unlucky as you.”

I fell silent. Angel didn’t believe in luck, and neither did I. We believed in fate.

“If you wait here, Miles will be out soon,” Angel added. She moved to the appointment book in the corner and began jotting notes in the margin. I hovered for a moment, then took a seat in the parlor with girls still waiting for a reading. They peered my way curiously, but did not engage.

Time passed. Behind me, I thought I felt the air change in the room. A minor disturbance, a new energy entering.

“Celeste.”

I hadn’t heard him speak in so long. The sound of his voice was the same, almost as familiar as my own. I rose from my seat and slowly turned around. Miles stood in the doorway wearing a white lab coat. He was noticeably thin—so much thinner than when I had last seen him. His skin seemed pale, his eyes red-rimmed, damp. I barely recognized him.

He took a step toward me but stopped short. I did the same. We had let too much time pass and didn’t know how to be around each other. Our time apart, how we’d aged, the guilt and secrets and regrets—I could see it all on his face, just as surely as he could find it in mine. We were twins and strangers at once, still trapped on opposite sides of a coin.

And the coin was in the air, turning over itself, dropping fast.

We were both waiting for it to land.

Dear Miles,

I’m writing this letter late on my last night on the mountain. The other girls just gave me the traditional graduation send-off—though I suppose you don’t know what that entails, and I don’t have the energy to explain it right now. I’m not sure why I’m writing this letter in the first place. Even if I post it in the morning, I’ll arrive home before it reaches our house. I suppose I’ll carry it back with me, though I don’t imagine ever giving it to you. It’s one more secret between us.

What would you think, I wonder, to know that I’m treating you like a diary right now? Maybe I’m preparing for the future, for when you aren’t here—when all I’ll have are these made-up conversations with you that I create in my own mind.

I’ve been thinking how strange it is that we know any part of the future at all. Imagine if we never knew when our loved ones would die! We’d never know when it’s the final birthday or holiday or anniversary with someone. We’d never know to be on the lookout for the first sign of cancer, the initial ache of heart attack. We’d just live. That would be terrifying in its own way, to know nothing, but sometimes I think it would be better. Don’t you?

These are the things I wish we could talk about. Like friends. Like siblings. So much is fraught between us just for knowing the worst of what the future will bring. But in this moment I’m writing to you alone in my single bedroom on the mountain, trying to delay the moment I must leave. I don’t want to descend into the heavier air below, but that’s where you are, Miles. And it’s time for me to return to you.

Celeste

25

Miles finally leaned forward to hug me, but he hesitated at the last second. He was being cautious, like he worried he might lose me again if he made any sudden moves. Maybe he was right, because the sight of him spooked me. I had anticipated my brother’s death so many times that it was a shock to see him standing before me, alive and in the flesh.

I pushed down those feelings and embraced him. I felt his ribs through his clothing, the rigid structure of his spine.

“Glad to have you back,” he said, as if I’d been away on a mere holiday. He glanced at the girls in the waiting room. “Let’s go to the office so we can talk.”

He, Julia, and I headed down the hall to the office and shut the door behind us. I hadn’t been in that office since that day I’d brought Cassandra for a reading. It reminded me of being young and frightened and uncertain of everything.

I took a seat as Miles paced in front of Julia’s desk.

“You already know that Julia has learned to read the abduction marking,” he said. “That means you can learn, too. It was all foretold in your juvenile predictions, how they said we’d work together. Well, here we are. I can’t do this without you anymore.” He started to rush, speaking faster with every word. “You’re the one who endured the abduction. You’re the one who knows what it’s like to be marked with the future. Only you can help these girls in the end.”

“Miles, slow down and listen to me.” I took a breath. “I learned on the mountain that the Office of the Future is preparing to take action, to officially ask you to stop giving readings without a license.” I turned to Julia. “And, Julia, if he doesn’t stop, your license might be revoked.”

Miles didn’t seem fazed. “They’re using the license as an excuse—they’re upset because I’m offering readings as a man, and because I’m pushing for an addendum in Mapping the Future. But once you learn to read the abduction markings, you’ll take over and then they’ll have no lawful reason to shut us down.”

“I don’t have a license, either. Considering my transcript, it’s not likely I’ll be able to get one.”

“You can serve as my apprentice without a license,” Julia said. “By the time you’re ready to apply for one, you’ll have enough experience to pass the test. As long as you earn a high enough score to justify why I’d choose