The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,73
takes another breath, and I notice how shallow it sounds.
“Are you okay? How are you feeling?” I interrupt him.
“The same,” he answers, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. The same isn’t necessarily good news for my brother—but if he’s telling me the truth, then at least he hasn’t gotten worse while I’ve been away.
“What I was about to say is, I’ve been thinking about something since we last talked, and . . .” He meets my eyes. “I don’t want you to come home.”
I recoil in my seat. “What? What are you saying?”
“I want you to forget the—the message I gave you.” He looks away. “I realize now it was selfish of me to want you to come back. I’ve lost count of how many times this planet has tried to kill us. Whatever is on Europa, it can’t be worse than here. So . . . you have to go.”
My mouth falls open. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You want me to leave Earth? To possibly never see you again?”
“I want you to save yourself,” he says. “You’ve been given an opportunity, and I don’t want to be the one holding you back. Plus, if the mission has any hope of succeeding, it needs a brain like yours.” He musters a smile. “The future needs you.”
“But . . . but what about you?”
“I—I’ll be okay.” He gives a resigned shrug. “I’m a lot tougher than I seem, you know? I shouldn’t have pushed you to try to come home. Besides, I’ve been thinking of ways I can help you on Europa, from here.” The old spark briefly returns to his eyes. “You’re not the only one good with computers.”
“But I—I already—” I want to tell him to forget what he’s saying, that I hacked Dot last night and set a plan in motion. But of course I can’t. I can only hope he reads the truth in my face.
“Two more minutes!” Lark calls out from the doorway, where she’s supervising Beckett and me. I hold on to the edges of the computer monitor, as if I can somehow keep my brother close.
“It’s not my decision to make, but . . .” I lower my voice. “Even if I get chosen in the end, I’m still not giving up. Not on you, or on Earth.”
Sam smiles sadly. “But you should. Let go of us, Sis. Let go and soar, like you’re meant to.”
“No,” I whisper. “You don’t know—”
But the screen is flickering, turning pixelated. Our time is up.
Seventeen
LEO
I HEAR ASHER AWAKEN EARLY ON THE MORNING OF THE FIRST elimination, and I listen as he begins murmuring to himself in Hebrew. The sound is a comfort to my nerves.
My family was never very religious—we observed all holidays at Basilica di Sant’Agostino, and that was the extent of it—but in this moment, when our fates and futures lie in the control of someone else, I close my eyes, imagining my mother, father, and Angelica somewhere in the air above, listening to my thoughts. Maybe I can make up my own prayer . . . to them.
Watch over me today, famiglia. Please let me be one of the twelve still standing at the end of the night. Help me make it all the way to Europa as one of the Final Six—with Naomi there too, and Asher. Without you . . . this is all I have.
The alarm in our LED mirror bursts to life. I stretch and sit up in bed as Asher tucks what looks like a prayer book back in the desk drawer.
“Here goes,” he says, turning to me with a pale face.
I nod. “Do you think we’ll find out right away?”
“Maybe. But if they’re still not a hundred percent sure, they might drag this out as late as they can.”
Asher is right. At breakfast, we learn we’ll be undergoing a last-chance astronaut physical—a comprehensive exam to evaluate how our bodies are adjusting to the RRB and to ensure no new conditions or weaknesses have gone undetected. I can barely swallow two bites of my breakfast after hearing about all the medical poking and prodding that lies ahead. What if they find something that ruins my shot? I can’t fathom being so close only to lose it all in the last stretch. Glancing around the table, it’s clear my teammates share my anxiety. Even the possibly cold-blooded Beckett Wolfe can’t hide his nerves as he taps his foot restlessly against the floor.