Finishing his meal, Dad pushed back from the table and rested his palms on his stomach.
“This was fantastic, hon. Thanks for making dinner. It’s nice to have someone feed me for a change instead of the other way around.”
Finally, he looked at me. “I can pick you up from school and drive you over to the clinic tomorrow afternoon if you like. You’ll have to miss last period.”
I studied his face, searching for signs of… what? Tension? Foreboding? Lies? I wasn’t sure exactly, but I didn’t find any of those things. Just my dad, looking tired from work as always.
And last period was BioHist.
Yes.
“It’s okay,” I said, a sense of reprieve washing over me.
An unnecessary pediatrician visit was far preferable to taking a BioHist quiz. “I can walk. It’s not that far.”
During after-dinner cleanup, I sneaked a glance at the calendar and confirmed that, yes, there was a pediatrician appointment there on tomorrow’s date, right next to the weather readout. One p.m.
I hadn’t noticed it before, but I couldn’t say I’d exactly studied the family calendar. It might have been there all along.
My parents and I watched some comedy vids together in the living room for a while until I announced that I needed to go ahead and start studying for Friday’s Calc exam. And I probably needed to read those BioHist chapters before bed, too.
Thanks to the lapse, I wasn’t sure if I’d read them already, and I couldn’t afford to fall farther behind. I might be skipping the class tomorrow, but I’d have to take that quiz eventually.
“See you in the morning. Love you.” I hugged Mom first. She returned the gesture stiffly. She wasn’t big on physical contact.
Dad stood to embrace me loosely. I wouldn’t call him a hugger, but he was a bit warmer than mom.
“Night, Reya. Sleep well.”
“Okay. Have a good day at work tomorrow.”
He usually left the house before we woke because he had to meet the delivery trucks and inspect the produce and other incoming products each morning.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I cast one last glance over my shoulder to find my parents close together on the sofa, heads bent toward each other as if they were whispering.
Or about to kiss. Correction—Mom wasn’t big on physical contact with me. She was different with Dad.
Watching them, a peculiar sensation twisted through my gut. I would never experience anything like that kind of devotion—not if my dating life so far was any indication. I didn’t have one.
It hadn’t bothered me until recently. In fact, I hadn’t even thought about it.
Not that there was really much dating going on in general in our school. Even Ketta had never had a boyfriend, and she was beautiful and an outrageous flirt.
Still, it seemed like if someone was ever going to find me attractive, it would have happened by this point.
When I’d mentioned it to her, Mom said the boys I knew were “late bloomers,” that they’d come around when the time was right. I hoped that was true. I feared it wasn’t. I mean, no one even seemed to look at me twice.
Once again, the face of the handsome blue-eyed delivery guy popped into my mind. I wondered if he visited the base often.
I wondered when he’d be back.
Maybe if I were at the same curb at the same time tomorrow, I’d see him again. Of course, the timing might coincide with my doctor’s appointment, so I might have to wait until Friday to test my theory.
I walked up the stairs slowly, passing the arrangement of framed photos sloping down the stairwell wall.
They were the old-fashioned kind, printed on photo paper instead of displayed on a screen, and they’d been hanging here for years—since we’d moved in after Dad’s transfer from Peterson.
I’d seen them so many times they were like wallpaper to me, nearly invisible. Mom and Dad probably didn’t notice them anymore either.
Tonight, I stopped to look at them. Toward the bottom were portraits of my grandparents—both sets. I didn’t remember them at all. They’d died in the Calamity.
There was my dad at his Air Force induction ceremony, a wedding picture—my parents looked like babies in that one, barely older than me.
A few steps higher the pictures of me started to appear. My first birthday, my first steps, first day of kindergarten, my tenth birthday party.
I remembered that one well—it was the first year I didn’t have a princess theme. I’d asked for a Hawaiian theme instead because I’d read about the island state in class and had become fascinated with it.
All the kids in my class had been invited.
The group photo showed us outside in the back yard under the big oak tree, its low-hanging branches strewn with brightly colored leis and dotted with escaped balloons. I was blowing out the candles on an enormous cake, and Ketta was right at my side.
I leaned in closer to study the “late bloomers” in attendance, the faces of the boys I’d known all my life. Everyone looked pretty much the same, only taller and more mature. Some had slightly darker hair now.
There was one boy I didn’t recognize immediately. He was much taller than the rest, maybe a bit older, around twelve.
Separated from the group, he leaned against the tree trunk and watched from a distance.
For a second, my heart stopped beating. Then it slammed against my sternum hard enough to steal my breath.
Snatching the frame from the wall, I rushed back into the living room, where my parents were still sitting on the couch together.
Dad looked back over his shoulder when he heard my footsteps. “Hey, kiddo. I thought you’d gone upstairs.”
“I was going.” I leaned in between them, holding the photo out so they could see it. “Who is this kid?”
I pointed to the tall loner.
“Hmmm, I don’t know. He doesn’t look familiar.” Mom looked over at my father. “Tony?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Must have been some neighbor’s boy who wandered into the shot.”
It was possible. Base personnel came and went with regularity. But this kid didn’t look like he’d ‘wandered’ anywhere.
He looked… purposeful.
“Here.” Mom reached for the photo. “Give it to me. I’ll take it and ask around tomorrow when I go to my book club. Maybe one of the ladies there will recognize him.”
Her fingers gripped the bottom edge of the frame, but I didn’t release it.
Maybe it was silly, but it actually crossed my mind that if I let it go, the next time I saw this photo hanging on the wall, the space beside that tree trunk would be empty, and the boy would be gone.
I tugged gently until she let go, injecting a lightness I did not feel into my voice.
“No, it’s okay. I just wondered. Daddy’s probably right. Okay, goodnight y’all.”
“Good night,” they said in unison, and I headed for the stairs again, holding the frame close against my body until I reached the top floor.
In my room, I closed and locked my door behind me and lay the photo on the desk.
“Light on,” I commanded the work lamp.
Brightness flooded the desktop, and my heart thudded to a stop.
It’s him.
He was younger. His face was baby smooth, but it was definitely Heath the delivery truck operator.
I’d been right—he was close to my age. But what was he doing in this picture? Why had he lied and said we’d never met?
He’d attended my tenth birthday party, so even if we hadn’t been close friends, we must have at least met each other before.
Maybe he hadn’t remembered me. It wasn’t like my face was so unforgettable. But no… based on the strange way he’d acted, the way he’d practically run away from me today, he had remembered and hadn’t wanted to admit it.
Why not?
A flash of memory filled my mind. A handsome dark-haired guy, brushing my hair gently back from my face.
Not today. No, this had happened at some earlier time. My heart fluttered in my chest at his smile. His warm, oceanic eyes looking down at me.
Eyes.
I moved my focus away from the mystery-guy’s photographic image to my own. I was in mid-blow, so my eyes in the photo were half-closed. I squinted to see them better, but it didn’t help. Then it hit me.
My holoconnector.
I pushed up my sleeve and tapped to wake the device. Using gesture commands to scroll to the photo function, I zoomed the camera as tight as it would go on the party photo and captured a few close-ups of my ten-year-old face.
Then I turned off the room lights. I tapped the virtual screen, causing one of the tight shots to appear in the air above the holoconnector.
Swiping repeatedly, I spread my fingers until only my eyes filled the frame.
Time for the moment of truth.
My hands shook as I twisted my arm and tilted the projection toward the wall. The enlarged image landed on the white-painted surface.
A projection of my eyes covered the blank wall space in front of me, and all the breath left my lungs in a rush.
It wasn’t a reflection from the birthday candles.
It was not an effect of the camera flash, which according to my parents, had tended to make human eyes appear red in some old photos.
My eyes were only partially open in this picture, but the bottom halves of my irises were clearly visible, and there was no doubt about it.
They. Were. Green.
