“I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.”

“Raven looks at me. “What about you, Lena?”I can feel Alex’s eyes on me. My mouth is so dry; the sun is so blinding. I look away, toward the hundreds and hundreds of people who have been driven out of their homes, out of their lives, to this place of dust and dirtiness, all because they wanted the power to feel, to think, to choose for themselves. They couldn’t have known that even this was a lie—that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven’t chosen at all.But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.Coral shifts, and moves her hand to Alex’s arm.“I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.”

“Because I have no boobs. My ears stand out, and I have freckles all over me. (Grace)Boobs? (Julian)Breasts. (Grace)You have very nice breasts. (Julian)Thanks. What about you? (Grace)I have no breasts. (Julian)”

“Don’t cry for me, Grace. I’m not worth it. (Julian)Yes you are! (Grace)You are my saving Grace. Without you, I would never have known love. And I would never have known me again. (Julian)”

“You okay? (Grace)Oh, yeah. I’m just fine considering the fact I’ve walked through burning fires that hurt less than my groin does right now. (Julian)I said I was sorry. Okay, can you reach the pedals? (Grace)I’d like to reach your pedals…(Julian)Julian! Would you concentrate? (Grace)All right. I’m concentrating. (Julian)I don’t mean on my breasts. (He dropped his hungry gaze to her lap.) Or there, either. (Grace)”

“War is the remedy that our enemies have chosen, and I say let us give them all they want.”