“I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind. But his hands keep pulling me back: into the alley, and Portland, and a world that has suddenly stopped making sense.”

“I wish I could close my eyes and beblown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind.”

“In my head I try and reach back, through the fence, past the smoke; I try and grab his hand and pull. Alex, come back.There is nothing to do but sink. The hours close around me, encase me completely, like a tomb.”

“Lena.” Alex’s voice is stronger, more forceful now, and it finally stops me.He turns so that we’re face-to-face. At that moment my shoes skim off the sandbottom, and I realize that the water is lapping up to my neck. The tide is comingin fast. “Listen to me. I’m not who—I’m not who you think I am.”I have to fight to stand. All of a sudden the currents tug and pull at me. It’salways seemed this way. The tide goes out a slow drain, comes back in a rush.“What do you mean?”His eyes—shifting gold, amber, an animal’s eyes—search my face, andwithout knowing why, I’m scared again. “I was never cured,” he says. For amoment I close my eyes and imagine I’ve misheard him, imagine I’ve onlyconfused the shushing of the waves for his voice. But when I open my eyes he’sstill standing there, staring at me, looking guilty and something else—sad,maybe?—and I know I heard correctly. He says, “I never had the procedure.”“You mean it didn’t work?” I say. My body is tingling, going numb, and Irealize then how cold it is. “You had the procedure and it didn’t work? Like whathappened to my mom?”“No, Lena. I—” He looks away, squinting, says under his breath, “I don’tknow how to explain.”

“And then we're kissing. His lips are soft and leave mine tingling. I close my eyes, and in the darkness behind them I see beautiful blooming things, flowers spinning like snowflakes, and hummingbirds beating the same rhythm as my heart. I'm gone, lost, floating away into nothingness like I am in my dream, but this time it's a good feeling - like soaring, like being totally free. His other hand pushes my hair from my face, and I can feel the impression of his fingers everywhere that they touch, and I think of stars streaking through the sky and leaving burning trails behind them, and in that moment - however long it lasts, seconds, minutes, days - while he's saying my name into my mouth and I"m breathing into him, I realize this, right here, is the first and only time I've ever been kissed.”

“it occurs to me that there is so much I never knew about him--his past, his role in the resistance, what his life was like in the Wilds, before he came to Portland, and I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.”

“Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, I think, he makes me feel like music.”