The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,35
slip from view. A commotion is coming from the boys’ dorm—a guttural cry that pierces at my chest. Lark breaks into a run and we race after her, stopping in our tracks when we see a group of five finalists clustered outside a closed door, their faces grave.
“What’s going on?” Lark demands.
Dianna, the British finalist I recognize from the TV segment on the Twenty-Four, is the first to speak. “There was a typhoon in Tianjin last night—where Jian Soo’s family lives. The reports are saying it’s one of the most violent storm lashings China has ever seen.” Her voice drops. “The majority of the city is under the Hai River now, and . . . they haven’t found any survivors.”
I sink back against the wall, my heart breaking for the boy behind the door—for everyone in China. And all too quickly, my mind is picturing myself in Jian’s shoes, hearing the same shattering news about my own family. What if LA is the next city hit by disaster . . . and I’m not there? The thought seizes me with fear, renewing my desperation to get away from here—to get home.
“Dr. Takumi and our team leader are in there with him now,” the Australian finalist, Callum, says. “We just—we felt weird leaving without knowing if Jian’s okay.”
“He won’t be okay.” Leo speaks up, staring at the closed door. “Not anytime soon. You don’t ever get over something like this. The best you can hope for is to survive it.”
I look at him and it dawns on me—he must be speaking from experience. “Leo is right,” Lark says. “We should give Jian some privacy. Why don’t you guys go to the lounge and try to relax a bit? I’ll wait here and see if they need anything.”
I doubt any of us will manage to relax after what we’ve just heard, but we trudge toward the lounge anyway. What else can we do? Only Beckett splits from the group, and I wonder briefly what he’s up to before turning to Suki, who’s walking alongside me.
“Another city down.” I shudder. “I can’t even imagine what Jian is going through.”
But Suki doesn’t respond. She just gives me a sideways look before quickening her pace—as if she wants to get away from me. I watch her in confusion, wondering how her warmth from this afternoon could so quickly turn cool.
“Here’s a thought,” Katerina says once the ten of us are huddled up in the lounge. “Is there anyone in this room who hasn’t lost a family member to climate change? Does anyone here even have a safe home to go back to—one where you don’t have to worry about waking up underwater, or under rubble? When you think about it . . . we’re all like Jian Soo.”
I glance around and am struck by the sight of everyone nodding or murmuring in agreement. Everyone but me. I thought being forced to move three times in the past two years was bad, but I’m beginning to realize just how fortunate my situation is in comparison to that of the others here. The fact that my family is still intact is even rarer than I knew—and the realization makes me all the more anxious to hold on to them.
“I don’t even have a country to go back to if I get cut,” Asher says, studying the floor. “The flooding demolished most of the land.” He looks up, his expression determined. “Europa is my only shot.”
“It’s the only shot for most of us,” Dianna points out. She shuts her eyes. “We just have to pray the right six are chosen, and that the rest of us can handle the outcome.”
Someone stirs behind me, and I turn to see Leo push out of his seat, backing away from the lounge—away from this conversation. On impulse, I get up too, following him into the library.
“Are you okay?”
He keeps moving through the stacks, ignoring my voice until I reach for his arm, stopping him in the History of Spaceflight section.
“Leo. What’s wrong?”
“I can’t think about it,” he blurts out. His eyes are haunted as he stares straight ahead, like he is somewhere else entirely and I’m not there. “Can’t think about what would happen if I had to go home.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“It’s . . . like being trapped inside my grief.” He swallows hard. “Always waiting for them to walk through the door, listening for voices that will never come. I couldn’t do it anymore.”