Chapter 38 #3
“What happened to you singing for me?” he asks.
“I got a little shy,” I admit.
“I won’t judge you, Warrick,” he says, staring at me beneath his lashes. “It’ll be a good distraction.”
“If you insist,” I say.
There was a lullaby my mother used to sing to Mercy and me when we were young, about a lost bluebird looking for its mother. I take a deep breath and start the first chorus. My voice is a little shaky, but Ender is far too focused on picking out the glass to care.
My breath stutters when it finally slips out, and I squeeze his hand tightly.
“Keep singing,” Ender orders.
“You’re not listening!”
“I am,” he says. “You’re singing about some bird.”
“A bluebird,” I correct.
“That’s a bird.”
“Then why didn’t you specify it?”
“Do you want me to sing the damn song back to you to prove I’m listening?”
I giggle. “You would do that?”
He glances up at me. “No, but I did hear every word you said, or rather sang,” he says. “I always do. Even when it doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
I swallow, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. He turns back to the medical kit to find a bandage.
“It’s not deep enough to require stitches,” he says. “It’ll heal in a few days.”
He seals it with a bandage and sits back. My blood is on his palms, and I expect him to clean it immediately, but he just runs a frustrated hand through his hair, smearing it across. I’m surprised a neat freak like him would do such a thing.
“Should we find our way back?” I ask.
“What do you have in your pack?” he says.
“Where’s yours?”
“I didn’t anticipate this being an overnight trip.”
“Not very leader-like of you.”
I unzip my bag.
“Don’t strain yourself,” he says, snatching the backup from me. “I’ll see what we have. Flashlights would be great and water.”
Ender rifles through the folds. He brings out a book and stares at the cover.
“When did you plan to read Burning for You on an active mission?” he asks, flipping the book so I can stare at the shirtless man cradling a woman in a long, red ballgown.
“Mercy says I should read more.” I shrug. “This looked like it’d be my speed.”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, tossing the book aside. “That has to be a prohibited text.”
He tugs out a box of tampons and flings it to the side.
“Stop throwing my stuff, Vale,” I admonish.
He plucks out my spare underwear, holding the cotton fabric with his middle finger. It dangles awkwardly from his fingertips. My skin burns as he tucks it into the side pocket of the bag and continues his search.
“What the hell, Warrick?” he barks.
He holds up a box of strawberry-flavored condoms.
“Shit, that must be Spider.” I groan. “It’s a joke. I put my dirty socks in his pack last week.”
Ender tosses it aside with the growing pile.
“Is there anything actually useful in here?” he growls.
He pulls out my spare gun and extra bullets. And then four throwing stars.
At least those he doesn’t scoff at. A crumple sounds, before he drags out a note. Oh no. That can’t be good.
“Fuck Ender Vale.” He reads aloud. “I hope he goes bald and his teeth rot. I hope he dies and his dick falls off.”
I smile sheepishly. “That was after that time you made me do forty laps, and I threw up in front of everyone.”
“Charming,” he says dryly. He waves the letter. “You owe me another forty for this.”
I throw my head back, cursing under my breath.
“Water bottle and filter,” he says. “Finally, something of use.”
“I remember putting a couple of nut bars in there, too.”
“No flashlight,” he murmurs once he gets to the bottom of the pack. “There’s no electricity, we'll have to wait till morning. It’s too dangerous to travel through the rumble in the dark.”
“That sucks.” I stretch my legs. “What now?”
“Did you really think a hate note about me and that book was more important than a flashlight?” he asks. “Seriously?”
“I don’t see your pack,” I say defensively. “Also, I’m not obligated to share my raisin and cherry nutbar with you or my water.”
I snatch my pack and tear open the nutbar, glaring at him.
Ender's mouth tightens.
“May I have the second nutbar?”
“Eat shit.”
“Please,” he says between clenched teeth.
I pity him and toss him the second bar. He did ask so sweetly, after all. I aim for his face, but he easily snatches it with his left hand. I’m a little jealous of his reflexes.
“I suppose this will be our bed for the night.”
I stare disinterestedly at the grime-stained floor. If Ender didn’t do such a good job binding the wound, I’d worry about an infection.
“I’ve slept in worse conditions,” Ender remarks, searching for the cleanest corner in this dump.
He finally comes across a few tiles that are not fully covered in filth. He lies down, stretching his long legs.
“Come here.”
The words spoken in his deep voice make me shiver. I don’t want to sleep far from him and find a rat tangled in my braid. I’m kind of glad he called me over.
He folds his jacket and places it beside him.
“Your pillow, princess.”
I smile as I stretch beside him, laying my head on the jacket. The ceiling is yellowed and covered in grime, but when I blink, I see the night sky. Stars twinkle in the distance like little crystals. I suck in a sharp breath and look at Ender. His eyes are already locked on mine.
“Wow,” I muse, turning back to look at the sky. “I can’t get over how real you make it feel.”
“It took a lot of practice,” Ender admits.
“It helps that you got your powers earlier than most,” I say. “More time to hone it.”
“I suppose.” He half-shrugs, staring at the fake sky. “Always been an overachiever.”
I chuckle, and his head snaps in my direction. I remember thinking the same thing when he first told me.
Perhaps it’s my imagination, but his eyes are warmer. It is not as frigid as usual.
“Your laugh is not the worst sound I’ve ever heard,” he says.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s a fact.”
“How did you discover your powers?” I ask.
This is the most time I’ve spent with Ender since the party. It’s a good chance for me to learn all that I can about him.
“I built a fake world for myself,” he says. “I’d spend hours there.”
He pauses. “Do you want to see it?”
“Yes.”
He grabs my hand. Even though he doesn’t need to touch me to show me an illusion.
A beautiful countryside unfurls before us. There is a white cottage in the distance, and the sun shines like a pot of gold. A boy races around with a golden pup. His hair flops in the wind, and his chubby cheeks are ruddy as he laughs.
“Is that…”
“Me,” Ender says. “My parents used to sit there and watch me.”
He points to a swing set on the porch where his father and mother sit. They look nothing like the stiff, cold figures from the engagement party. His father’s mouth is pulled in a wide smile, and his mother’s eyes are warm with love.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your father genuinely smile,” I say. “It’s eerie.”
His father only ever did his politician smile. The one meant to gain the adoration of the public.
“Yeah,” he says. “Nothing here was real.”
His face is unreadable. His fingers tighten around mine, but I don’t pull away. My heart stutters when I realize that this is not a place he has ever shown anyone before.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Did you come here often?”
“I lived here part-time and I…” He hesitates.
“You can tell me,” I say softly.
“I used it as an escape when things were less than ideal. My father, of course, didn’t approve.
He saw this place as a weakness, a lie, but it was the truest thing I ever knew,” He finishes.
“I got the Bind, and my powers were destabilized until I could prove that I wouldn’t hide from the real world anymore. ”
I blink, and the illusion is gone. We’re back in the service room with the fake sky.
“Go to sleep, Warrick,” Ender says. “You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”
“Vale,” I say.
He is silent.
“I would hide too,” I say. “Finding a sliver of joy in a world full of violence is not cowardly. It is brave.”
Ender doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect him to.
I’m grateful that he shared that with me.
Even if it seems like he regrets it, it gives me hope that maybe Ender can be convinced to fight with us.
He once dreamed of a world that was kind.
A less brutal, mechanical place untainted by his father’s corruption.
This is an opening, a thread, that I can use to draw him to our side.
To fight with us and not against us.