The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,7
know the laundry list of things that can—and invariably will—go wrong.
Just then, through a break in the curtains, I spot the face I love most. My little brother, Sam, is sliding into a seat beside our parents in the front row. He glances from the stage to the surrounding screens, his expression agitated. My heart seizes at the sight.
Even though he’s two years younger, looking at Sam often feels like gazing into a mirror. We share the same dark hair, olive skin, and Persian eyes, the same high cheekbones and dimpled smiles. Of course, neither of us is smiling now. We’ve been attached at the hip since he was born, and now . . . now they’re untethering us. Tears prick at my eyes, but before I can give in to them, I hear the sound of high heels clicking across the foot of the stage, and a hush comes over the room.
“You might have guessed the reason behind today’s assembly,” comes the sound of Dr. Anderson’s voice. “Well, the rumors are true. We are thrilled to introduce you to Burbank High School’s very own finalist in the Twenty-Four, one of just two Americans chosen: Miss Naomi Ardalan!”
The curtain rises, revealing me standing there in a daze, blinking under the glare of the spotlight. As the room explodes with flashing cameras, cries of shock, and smatterings of applause, I meet my brother’s eyes, trying to convey a silent message to him. I’m sorry, Sam. My brain was supposed to find a cure, to heal you—it wasn’t supposed to get me taken away from you. I’m sorry things got so royally messed up. But it isn’t over yet.
“That’s not all!” Dr. Anderson’s voice rises an octave in her enthusiasm. “Today, twenty-three other teenagers around the world received the same extraordinary news as Naomi. Thanks to NASA’s supercomputer, Pleidas, we are able to videoconference with all twenty-four finalists and introduce them to each other, and to you—right here and now.”
My head snaps up. The sound of static echoes through the room, and then all noise fades away as the blank projection screens surrounding us fill with color—with faces.
I can hardly breathe as I gaze at the twenty-three strangers who will become my new, forced family. Dr. Anderson and Major Lewis take turns rattling off their names and countries one by one, as if this is the Olympics instead of a draft into space.
The finalists all look about my age, but that is the only feature we share. We are a mix of skin and eye colors, a blend of hair textures and body types. As I look from one face to another, I find that a few are fighting back tears or gulping in panic like me—but then there are the others, the majority, who smile broadly and wave with excitement. Which of us will prove to be right?
“Last but not least, from Rome, Italy, we have Leonardo Danieli.”
I turn around, my eyes falling on the screen behind me. A boy with golden-brown hair and bright blue eyes is beaming in wonder. For some reason, the sight of his optimistic smile causes something to break inside me. You don’t know . . . you don’t know what we’re in for. We’re not victors; we’re goners.
With my back to the crowd, I bury my face in my palms, letting the tears escape down my cheeks. I only need twenty seconds to cry—a trick I learned when Sam got sick. I’ve always been his cheerleader, his strength, and I never wanted him to see my fear. But sometimes when I watched my brother hooked up to machines, when I heard the faint sound of his irregular heartbeat through the hospital room monitors—I couldn’t help it. I had to turn away, to give in to the feeling of my insides being ripped apart. But only for twenty seconds. That was how long I could let down my guard without Sam noticing. It’s a skill that comes in handy now, with so many eyes on me.
When I regain my composure and glance up, I get a shock. The Italian finalist, Leonardo, is watching me, his expression kind. He presses his hand up to the screen, his mouth forming a word. “Hi.”
I take a step closer to the screen and raise my own palm, returning his greeting. His eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, I forget where I am, what this is—until Dr. Anderson resumes her speech.