The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,66
chicken tikka masala from tonight’s menu. “Besides, I honestly don’t know. I mean, I have my opinions, but Dr. Takumi and the general haven’t told me which way they’re leaning.”
“Well, have you given them your input on who you think the Final Six should be?” Beckett asks, watching her carefully. I try to catch Leo’s eye to make a face, but he is preoccupied, staring at Beckett with a slight frown. Come to think of it, he’s been acting weird since the bungee-jumping day.
Lark laughs, waving Beckett off. “Again, no comment. Dr. Takumi has made it very clear that I’m not to discuss this with you. However, I can confidently say that any one of you would be a true asset to the mission.”
“I’m so nervous.” Asher buries his head in his hands. “What’s even the point of trying to eat?”
“Does this mean none of you feel any . . . different about the mission, after what happened to Suki and Callum?” I ask. Lark shoots me a warning glance, but I’m genuinely curious. Aren’t they at least a little less gung-ho now?
“I feel awful for them, of course I do. But I trust Dr. Takumi when he says the rest of us should be safe,” Katerina replies. “And if you knew what I’d be going back to . . .” She shudders. “Besides, how could you not want to be one of the six humans in the world to live out an adventure greater than anything in history?”
“Sounds like that doesn’t interest her,” Beckett says, jerking his thumb in my direction, before turning to Lark. “Maybe she should just go home now, if her heart’s not in it. I’m more than happy to carry the American flag on my own.”
“Um, I’m right here,” I snap at him. Just because he happens to be correct that I’m not ready to take a one-way trip off our planet doesn’t mean I’ll sit back and let him try to undermine me.
“That’s not how this works, Beckett,” Lark says, arching an eyebrow at him. “Having the right set of skills and characteristics matters more to the mission leaders than who’s the most eager.”
While he grumbles into his plate, I turn back to Katerina.
“Could you go somewhere other than Russia? I mean, if you didn’t get chosen.”
“I don’t even want to think about what I’d do,” she says flatly. But to my surprise, Lark backs me up again.
“Actually, it’s smart to think about and prepare for either scenario,” she says. “The reality is, not everyone gets to go to Europa. And I’m sure there are some things from your normal lives that you’d be glad to return to. Right?”
“I don’t know where I’d go,” Leo speaks up, shaking his head. “But it won’t be Rome. There are too—too many ghosts for me there. I would have to start over somewhere new.”
“I can’t go back to Israel either,” Asher says, staring at the table. “Our entire land is under the Mediterranean now. Before the draft, I’d just moved in with my aunt and uncle to their two-room flat in Surrey. I know I’m lucky to have a roof over my head, but . . . I never thought I would have to become a yerida.” He glances back up at us. “That’s what we call those who emigrate from Israel. I would have stayed forever, on the same street where I grew up, if I could have.”
“You realize how much of yourself is wrapped up in where you’re from once it’s taken away,” Leo says.
The two of them share a knowing glance, and I suddenly feel out of my depth. I don’t have a right to be a part of this conversation, not when I have my parents and little brother waiting for me at home—when I have an actual home, period. It’s strange to think that my intact family marks me as different, unrelatable, in my teammates’ eyes. And as I gaze across the table at Leo and Asher, a wave of helplessness washes over me. There’s nothing I can do to change their situations . . . nothing.
“You can try to keep a part of it with you, though,” Katerina says. “After Moscow went under, I found I missed the nights most of all—the way the monuments looked all lit up, the energy in the capital city before everything sank. So I started painting it all from memory, and even though I’m not the best artist, it really helps. It’s sort of like