Chapter 66
Atlas
Sandra finds me bent over at the knees, pruning a vine of tomatoes with Ezra.
I pinch the suckers with my nails and pull them clean off.
Ezra nudges me. I stand at full height and find her holding a clipboard, exuding a fake sense of kindness.
(I could see right through you from the beginning, bitch.)
“Can I have a word with you, Mr. MacPherson?” she says.
She’s never been informal with any of us since the moment we arrived.
“Sure,” I say, not knowing what to expect.
I feel Ezra’s gaze sear into me the farther Sandra and I go. Students run alongside the tracks, and elementary-aged kids play at the swing set. Ofa waves as she passes by the stalks of corn. Sandra taps her pen on the clipboard, which only makes the suspense worse. (God, I hate this woman!)
“How are things here?” she asks. “I see you and Mr. Gray are still working together nicely.”
She one hundred percent knows about us. Her disapproval rolls off her in waves, but I ignore the snipe and decide to play friendly.
“Things are fine here,” I answer.
I will not give her the satisfaction of small talk. (Absolutely not.)
“Good, good.” Sandra returns to inspecting her clipboard and the mysteries its pages must hold.
“Well, I came by to extend an offer. The school board here was impressed with your interview. They’re willing to offer the opportunity for you to teach middle grade math if you’re still interested.”
“Yes!” I blurt out. She startles and almost drops her pen (and I’m not about to apologize for it). “Absolutely. I would love to.” She fixes her face, then smiles fakely once again.
“Splendid. I’ll communicate your answer to the board.”
Sandra’s about to walk away and leave me to my devices when she stops in her tracks. She lifts a finger, hesitates briefly, but twists around to face me.
“Oh, and congratulations. I’m sure the news about your parents was wonderful to hear,” she says, then finally leaves.
I return to Ezra, who’s finished pruning the last of the tomatoes. He dusts off the light coat of dirt that’s stained his pants. I watch the particles rain into the grass. He shucks off his gloves and sidles alongside me, smiling as he notices the bright grin that sits on my face.
“You’re happy after an interaction with her?” he says, chuckling.
“Of course not. It’s what she said that I’m happy about,” I answer.
“I’m intrigued. Proceed.”
“I got the job.”
“You got the job?”
“I got the job!”
Ezra rushes forward, scooping me up for a kiss.
My feet hover above the ground for a split second and in that second, I wonder how it feels to fly, to fight against the binds of gravity.
I feel like I’m soaring in the skies with him—a power all of its own.
(Sometimes I wish I was born with that ability instead.)
“I’m so happy for you,” he tells me once the excitement has settled into an enjoyable buzz.
“Thank you. I can’t wait to tell ma and pa,” I say.
“They’ll be so proud.”
Ma and pa have finally settled down after completing the work that needed to be done since abu's passing. Essentially, they needed to erase all traces of the bunker and contact the powered individuals abu had connections with, which is about the extent of my knowledge regarding the situation. I’ll be happy to hear from them when they arrive at Proctus to live here for good.
It’s been nine months, so the excitement is tangible.
Ezra’s forearms are chiseled from the hard labor working in the fields.
I find myself entranced for the umpteenth time at the musical notes and elongated lines that wrap and spiral up his arms—the evergreen trees and colorful, sporadic swirls that have been elegantly tattooed all over, admiring Claude’s handiwork.
Ezra pulls away, looking me straight in the eyes.
His one blue and one green iris are home.
The way his hair frames his face perfectly steals a breath queued on my lips.
We have a good thing going on here. I never want it to end.