Chapter 4 - Changes
July
Miss Popplewish’s quarter occupies the top floor of one of the enormous buildings forming the Academy District. Sagetia—a citadel built in Libera’s northernmost side to accommodate all senior Harvesters, professors and trainees.
Non-residents have access to the district only during specific times of day. Its gates shut as soon as the sun goes down, and its tall walls offer an extra layer of protection. Besides, the stairs to the gates are so steep that nobody would dare climb them at night.
Those who decide to join the ranks of the Donatori, Reapers, Deleteri, and Writers move to Sagetia from the surrounding small villages to start their studies and training when they turn fifteen.
If they were born on the island, that is.
I was born in Horigos and didn’t have the opportunity to choose my path. When I was told I was a special kind of Reaper, I clung to that statement tooth and nail; I made it my entire new identity.
I pull Miss P.’s door shut behind me and shield my eyes from the bright light pouring in from the large windows, which overlook the orchard ten floors down; a colourful sequence of cherry, peach and orange trees that don’t seem to suffer the change of seasons.
The silence up here is pure. Not even the birds dare to chirp when flying by the windows.
My eyes are still adjusting to the light when a whistle - one I could always give a face to even in the deepest of darkness - makes its way to my ear, breaking the quiet of the corridor.
“On a scale from one to I-got-lucky-again, where do you stand?” Galen asks, jumping the last two steps at once, blowing away an unruly, curly lock from his eyes.
“You don’t get to look at me like that. If it weren’t for the million alarms I set last night, I’d still be sleeping while Popplewish picks the most painful way to strip me of my Reaper badge.
” I complain from the opposite end of the corridor, crossing my arms. “You were supposed to knock the hell out of my door and wake me up.”
“Come on, Sof, I don’t see papers in your hand.
That means Popplewish accepted your report.
Don’t be so dramatic. I mean, I should be the one complaining after half of Sagetia saw me like this…
” He looks down at the red piece of cloth that is desperately trying to stretch over his broad chest, exposing his belly button.
I press my lips together, fighting the urge to laugh at the sight of this tall, young man, feared and respected by so many younger Harvesters, tugging at the sleeves of my hoodie, hoping to make them the right size for his muscly forearms.
I try keeping a straight face while sauntering towards him. “Fine, you’re having a worse day than I am. And…yeah, yeah, she’s accepted my report.” I poke him in the chest twice.
Since I’ve known him, Galen has grown a bit taller every year. Even when it was time for him to stop, and I’d already reached my maximum extension, which was not that much of a difference from when I was fifteen, as he likes to remind me whenever he can.
When he doesn’t move from the edge of the stairs, taking up the entire space like a living wall between me and the floors below, I poke him again. Harder.
“Don’t you think you owe me an apology?” he suggests.
I tilt my head, interlacing my fingers behind my back. “Not until you change into something more respectable,” I click my tongue twice with disappointment.
“Glad to see your sarcasm doesn’t know the meaning of hangover and…I’ve already had my dose of judgemental looks, thank you very much. Please don’t push the knife deeper.” He sighs theatrically, leaning against the wall to his left.
I give him a condescending look before opening my shoulder bag.
“Here,” I mumble, diving inside my bag. “Put this on before someone else sees you…” I shove the grey jumper I was supposed to give back to him ages ago into his chest.
My jaw drops. He’s already wiggling out of my hoodie, pulling up the thin cotton shirt he wears underneath.
A fluffy cloud travelling by a window suddenly becomes very interesting.
I’ve seen him bare-chested before, but not in an official public place, with a high chance of being caught staring at my friend’s muscles by Miss P.
“It’s not something you haven’t seen—or touched—before.” The t-shirt muffles his voice before his head pops out again, his chestnut curls even messier than before.
“Galen…”
“I know…” He folds my hoodie neatly and offers it to me with a smile.
“You don’t want to talk about it.” We’ve been friends and working together for so long that it’s hard to define what we are sometimes.
Every time we grow too close, in a less friendly way, something pulls me back, something I can’t control.
The last time it happened, I promised myself I no longer want to be the cause of the hurtful look of longing in Galen’s eyes.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, staring at his face. It’s something that calms me down and grounds me.
He seems to know that, and for as long as I need, I know he will never avert his eyes.
My heart begins to speed up.
Shit. What was that?
I shake my head and put the hoodie back in my bag.
“It’s not that…They found another Rogue.
I’m crossing again in a couple of weeks.
” I exhale, pressing a hand to my chest as if out of breath.
“Why are you here anyway? I didn’t know you had an appointment with Miss P.
” Perhaps the question will distract him from what I’ve just revealed.
He pushes away from the wall and clutches my shoulder, towering above me. “That’s insane. Who approved this? You’ve just come back…”
Distracted, not even a little.
I blink quickly. “Hey, who’s being over-dramatic now? You know I don’t have a say when Roden senses a Rogue. I’m not privileged like the rest of you—” I bite my lip, but it’s too late to take it back.
But his expression veers towards worry rather than disappointment.
His fingers cling to my shoulder like I’m about to run away. “They can’t send you out so soon; it’s not safe. Is this why you kept the details of your next mission hidden from me?” And now it’s his time to regret words spoken too soon.
My eyes narrow. “And how do you know that?” I straighten, my arms akimbo, hoping to look a couple of inches taller.
I understand where he comes from, his sudden fear. Whenever we complete a mission, we need to spend enough time in Libera to make sure our Writers reset the memory of those who accidentally saw us, mostly relatives and friends of our crops.
Galen picks at his days-old stubble, retreating and giving me space. “What happens if you get caught?”
Here we are… I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.
“What if anyone saw us before I transported the body of that woman to the Fields?” His eyes roam furiously over my face, the silver specks in the left one catching the light from the window and turning into miniature stars.
I take a big breath and blow it out when he stops me again.
“You know you could be captured and locked in their jails if you end up in an unfriendly province. Roden won’t be able to let you out for at least a couple of years. Not even dear Galen could save you.” His voice climbs to a dangerous level.
Alarmed by his reaction, I cast a look over my shoulder to make sure Popplewish hadn’t come out.
“Are you done?” I eventually ask.
He nods, lips pursed, and gestures to the stairs behind him, moving aside to let me pass.
I stretch one hand, picking at the hem of his right sleeve. “I know crossing only days before our birthday is not ideal. But orders are orders.” I give him a side look and pucker my lips.
In response, he brings the collar of his jumper to his lips and starts nipping at it.
I let go of his sleeve, rolling my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic and stop doing that. It’s gross. Besides, we don’t know if I’m returning to Cleryce. It could be anywhere. Unless some random Herionos pops up from a manhole while I’m distracted, I should come back unseen and in one piece.”
“Don’t even mention them...” he sounds truly worried.
“Come on, Galen. You’re too smart to believe they’re still around, waiting to make our lives miserable. When was the last time you saw one of them? And I’m not talking about pictures in some history book.”
My words trail behind me as I start walking down the stairs, waving my hand to swat off whatever horrible image he may be picturing of me dead in a dark alley of Horigos. Or worse, behind bars.
I give him time to think, knowing the answer already, but he remains quiet even when I’m halfway down the stairs.
I pause, flashing him a grin over my shoulder before answering my own question. “Correct! Never. Also, I’ve never called you dear…” I mock him from the square landing between two floors. “And get a haircut, or I’ll give you one,” I shout, cupping my hands over my mouth.
I wait a second for him to run down chasing me, like when we were kids, but he remains where I’ve left him, hands in the pockets of his black trousers.
“You go ahead. I need to speak with Popplewish anyway,” he dismisses me. Deep down, I’m glad we don’t have to discuss my mission—for now.
Harvesters our age can refuse a mission if they don’t feel ready; some of us still don’t know how to cut the flimsy thread of affection that sometimes blooms between them and their Nistarei. Some of us take months before feeling ready to dive into a new mission.
But Galen knows I don’t fit into either of those groups, and he will pester me to find out why I didn’t back down from the offer sooner or later.