It was true—the dot was practically zipping across the screen. It’s them! thought Kieran, transfixed.
He forgot about Waverly and the heinous things she’d said about him.
He had work to do.
WAVERLY
Waverly lay on the floor of her mother’s untidy bedroom, unchanged from the way her mother had left it months before as if frozen in time. Waverly held her mother’s worn cardigan to her chest, and she sobbed. She wasn’t missing just her mother. She was missing her old life, because now she knew that it was gone forever. She’d never go back to being Waverly Marshall again. And Kieran, she didn’t know who he was.
That smile of his at the podium, the way he’d held up his hands as if to embrace the congregation, the words he’d used, everything about him reminded her of … If Waverly thought about it, she’d get sick to her stomach.
When she was all cried out, Waverly wandered down to the orchards and picked a few plums and almonds. She sat at the base of an apple tree to eat. She was glad to be in the orchard, listening to buzzing bees as they flirted with the blooms above her head. It had been horrible to be in the apartment she’d shared with her mother, knowing that she might never see her again.
What would Mom say to me now? Waverly wondered. She’d probably ask me how I feel about him. She’d ask if I could look past all this.
“I do still love him, Mom,” she whispered, her eyes on the mossy soil of the orchard. She probably always would. But she couldn’t let herself become blind the way Amanda had been. There had been something pathetic in Amanda’s childish trust of Anne Mather, taken to the point where she couldn’t see all the evil things happening right before her eyes. No. Waverly would not be like that.
But could she remain objective as Kieran’s wife? How could she marry him now?
This thought pushed her into fresh spasms of grief, and she buried her face in the fragrant soil of the orchard. Loam worked its way between her teeth and she chewed on it, her mouth a frothy mixture of earth and saliva as she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, when the sun lamps flickered on, Waverly sat up. Her mouth was mossy, and there was dirt in her hair and on her clothes. She found an irrigation hose and took in mouthfuls of cold water, swirled it in her mouth, and spat. Then she drank long and deep until she felt refreshed.
She picked apricots, knowing they’d do little for the rumbling in her belly. She’d go to the central bunker for some eggs, but she wanted to do one thing first.
She limped between the trees, breathing in the beautiful scents of fruit and blossoms. She got in the elevator, selected her level, and waited. She wiped her mind clean, and forced her breathing to slow down and soften. What she was doing was logical. She needed information, that was all.
The brig was quiet. There was one guard on duty, Percy Swift, a slow-moving boy whom she caught dozing on his chair with a nightstick on his knees. He stirred when Waverly approached. “Visitors are allowed, aren’t they?” she asked.
“No. He’s in solitary confinement. Kieran Alden’s orders.”
“Don’t worry. Kieran said it’s okay,” Waverly said.
“Really?”
“I’m his girlfriend. He trusts me.”
The boy looked at her warily, but she stared him down.
“You have to sign in,” Percy said as he pushed a ledger toward her.
This isn’t a betrayal, she told herself as she signed her name, then glided past Percy and down the corridor to look for Seth.
She found him lying on a cot in the farthest cell to the right. She cleared her throat, and he turned to look at her, then sat up, surprised.
“Did you know we came back?” she asked. She felt the old pull toward him. He’d grown since she’d been gone, and his hair was long and hung in his eyes. She took in the bruises on his face and the thinness of his wrists. What had Kieran been doing to him?
“I knew about it,” Seth said, then seemed to think better of his tone and muttered, “Welcome back.”
“You got yourself into a real mess,” Waverly observed.
“I guess,” he said, guarded. His eyes shifted over her suspiciously. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve got questions.”
“What questions?”
Waverly sat on the floor, one leg extended in front of her, the other bent so that she could lean her chin on her knee. “Why did you starve Kieran?”
Seth chuckled. “He told you about that?”
“Seems a pretty harsh thing to do.”
“He starved himself. He kept lying to the crew, and I had to stop him. So I denied him food to try to get him to admit the truth, but he wouldn’t.”
“He’s stubborn,” Waverly said, a deep sadness welling inside of her. “But he didn’t deserve that.”
“I didn’t let him starve. I let one of my guards pretend to sneak him some food. So he’d eat.”
“Oh.” Waverly’s voice was softer now. “It was right after your dad died, right?”
“After Kieran killed him, yes.” Seth scratched at a raw patch of skin on his neck, and Waverly remembered this was a nervous habit with him. “There were a million ways to get them out of the engine room, and he chose the most dangerous.”
“So that’s why you tried to take over the ship?”
Seth nodded wearily. “That, and he made mistakes that endangered us all. He crashed into the atmospheric control dome, did you know? We had to work around the clock repairing it, guys in OneMen who had never flown them before. And he left our parents trapped—”
Seth choked up.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Seth.”
“I am too!” he cried, as though this amazed him. “He was a mean son of a bitch, but I miss him now. I guess you learn to love what you’re used to.”
Waverly studied Seth. He seemed changed, more humble, and only too willing to cooperate. She liked him better now, she decided.
“Do you know about the services Kieran is holding?” Waverly asked him, one eyebrow raised.
He nodded. “He’s built up quite a little cult for himself, hasn’t he?”
“You don’t like that?” Waverly said, trying not to give any hint in her voice of how she felt about it.
“All I know is that he hasn’t held an election for himself or for a Central Council. He’s ignoring all the bylaws. He makes all the decisions himself, and anyone who might question him is either locked up in the brig or sick almost to death in the infirmary.”
Hearing Seth put it this way, Waverly felt her blood run cold.
Seth was eyeing her. “Why are you here?”
Waverly tilted her head, cautious. “I had some questions.”
“You’re Kieran Alden’s girlfriend. Get your information from him.”
“I don’t know who he is anymore,” she said. Tears dropped from her eyes, and she wiped them away.
Seth looked at her, surprised. “Trouble in paradise?”
“No such thing,” she said, not even certain what she meant.
“I still don’t see why you’re here.” His eyes traveled up to her face and he watched her reaction. “Even if you guys are fighting, why should anyone’s version matter to you but his?”
“I like to make up my own mind,” Waverly said with a dry smile.
“Well, then you and I have something in common.”
The nausea had come back, hovered at the back of her throat. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to betray Kieran, but was he really the Kieran she’d loved? Or had he turned into something dangerous?
“So, Seth,” Waverly said, her voice careful and even, “you don’t like Kieran’s politics. What do you think can be done about it?”
“Don’t ask me. I tried and failed.”
“It’s your own fault if you did.”
“I know.”
Her mouth popped open with surprise. This was the last thing Waverly expected to hear him say.
“I’m too rough with people. Too much li
ke my dad,” Seth said softly. He wouldn’t look at Waverly, though she stared right at him. “Kieran is kind. That’s why he won.” Seth leaned his forehead on his knee, mouth pointed to the floor so that Waverly almost missed hearing him whisper, “I’m not a good person.”
Waverly searched for a comforting word, but everything she thought of to say would have been a lie.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Seth said, raising his eyes to hers. “Kieran can’t become some two-bit cult leader. We can’t let him destroy himself that way, or this ship.”
This was precisely what she wanted to hear, and that’s what worried her.
“Just get me out of here, okay?” Seth said. He grasped one of the iron bars and pulled himself closer to her. “We can save Kieran from himself. I’ll show you I can do better.”
“I don’t need you to show me anything,” she said softly.
They looked at each other through the iron bars.
Suddenly the floor under her lurched. Waverly fell to her side, feeling as though her world were sliding. She looked at Seth, who was wide-eyed and clinging to the bars of his cell.
“It’s happening again,” Waverly groaned, and rested her forehead on the cold metal floor. “They’ve come back.”
“No,” Seth said calmly. “We’re changing direction, and speeding up, I think.”
Waverly lifted her head and looked at Seth, who was pale. She’d never seen him look afraid before.
“Why would we—”
“We’re going after them,” he said, sounding eerily calm. “But Kieran is crazy if he thinks we can catch up to them.”
“Then what can we do?” Waverly said. “We can’t just abandon our parents.”
“We’re going to have to make a deal of some kind,” Seth said.
Waverly laid her head down on the floor again, stared at the minute scratches and nicks in the steel. She tasted the bitter word as she whispered it: “A deal…”
“Yes,” Seth said quietly. “We’re going to have to be brave.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The theories of Sacvan Bercovitch, Ph.D., described in his remarkable book The Puritan Origins of the American Self, shaped the major themes in Glow. I owe a debt of gratitude for many nice turns of phrase to my friend and mentor, Stephanie Spinner. Also many thanks to DJ and Jane Boushehri, Laura Resau, Todd Mitchell, Victoria Hanley, Catherine Stine, and the Slow Sanders for their enthusiasm, support, and wisdom. Dad, Mike, and Mom, thanks for the years of encouragement. Rich, thanks for all your help with the physics, for the years of fun, and for going to work with numbers every day so that I can do my work with words every day. I thank Jennifer Weis and the whole team at St. Martin’s Press for showing me such a warm welcome. Last but not least, I must thank Kathleen Anderson, the wizard who has made all this possible.
Also by Amy Kathleen Ryan
Vibes
Zen and Xander Undone
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
GLOW. Copyright © 2011 by Amy Kathleen Ryan. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
ISBN 978-0-312-59056-7
First Edition: September 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-9842-0
First St. Martin’s Griffin eBook Edition: August 2011
Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment in
The Sky Chasers!
Available Summer 2012
Amy Kathleen Ryan, Glow
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