Shattered Bonds (continued)

“Shalene!”

Shalene froze, recognizing the voice.

Speak of the devil . . .

She surprised that she had not heard him approach, guessing that the profusion of other noises and footsteps in the dining hall must have masked his entrance.

“Mom’s been looking all over for you,” he said, sounding both annoyed and accusatory.

Shalene did not turn around, but spoke clearly, “I was helping sort fruit from the harvest.”

He made a rude noise that almost made her giggle.

“Oh, that’s just great,” he replied in a half-hearted snarl. “I’ve spent all morning shoveling pig shit and you’ve been sitting on your ass looking for bruises on fruit?”

“Yeah,” Shalene agree, trying to sound only a little taunting. “Pretty much.” A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Did you get at least get a date out of it?”

From across the table, Shalene heard Farah trying to suppress a snicker.

“Huh?”

The noise coming from Farah was repeated and slightly louder now.

“You know,” Shalene replied with calm innocence. “The pigs. Their standards might not be as high as the other girls.”

A sound like a small strangling beast came from her brother’s throat. She heard him take two staggering, hesitant steps forward before stopping. He was, she guessed, deterred by Farah’s presence.

“I’d check my bed twice tonight, if I were you,” he warned her.

Shalene smiled without turning, to make sure he would not see it. Her posture, she suspected, probably gave her away anyway. There was little danger of her brother making good on his threat. Still, she decided, it might not hurt to remember it come bedtime.

Her brother made another, somewhat rude-sounding, noise and then his footsteps receded. They were once again quickly blended into the other sounds in the dining hall.

“That wasn’t nice,” Farah offered, yet still laughing softly.

“I know,” Shalene replied, feeling only the tiniest twinge of guilt at goading her brother that way.

“Plus,” Farah added, somewhat more seriously, but trying to make it sound like she was not, “he’s kind of cute.”

Shalene turned toward Farah.

“You can’t be serious.”

The long pause before Farah responded told her the answer.

“Well,” Farah said. “He is.” She gave a soft sigh. “Besides, he’d never ask me anyway.”

Shalene fought hard to suppress a shudder, trying not to imagine Farah and her brother with their lips pressed together—or worse. The only possible appeal the notion held for her was that, if—well, when—her brother broke Farah’s heart, she would be justified in inventing new and devious ways to exact her revenge.

“We’d . . .” she began, forcing some of the more devilish ideas from her mind, “better get back.”

“Yeah,” Farah replied quietly. Her voice was uncharacteristically flat.

There was an awkward pause before Shalene heard her rising from the table.

“I’ll be right back,” Farah told her, heading back toward the kitchen area with the dirty dishes. When she returned a few moments later, all she said to Shalene was, “Let’s go,” in the same even, uninflected tone.

Shalene rose and followed her, wondering what she had said that had so bothered her friend.

Or didn’t say? She wondered. Did she expect me to talk to my brother for her?

The idea bothered her in a number of different ways, not the least of which was that he was her brother, in addition to being nearly four years older than Farah. Still . . .

Should I do it anyway? After all, Farah is my friend . . .

She struggled with the notion, trying to ignore the queasy knot in her stomach at the prospect. With a sigh of agonized frustration, she called out to her friend.

“Farah?”

Farah paused. This allowed Shalene to get closer so she could speak more quietly. She sensed that her friend waited expectantly. She choked back another sigh, really not wanting to do this.

“Do you want me to, um,” she hesitated, wondering whether or not she was doing the right thing, “let my brother know that you might be interested?”

“No!” Farah said instantly.

She replied with a sharp intensity that brought immediate relief to Shalene’s misgivings. And then Farah spoke again.

“I mean,” Farah amended, “if you wanted to . . . that’d be okay, I guess.”

Shalene wanted to groan aloud. The strain of not doing so just tightened the renewed knot in her stomach.

“Okay,” Shalene agreed, trying hard not to let her reluctance show. “I’ll,” she swallowed a sigh, “drop a hint.”

She could almost feel the excitement radiating from her friend. Farah squeezed her hand tightly.

“You’re the best.”

I hope you still think so after your first date . . .

She allowed Farah to lead her from the building, wondering how, exactly, she would mention this to her brother.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. She and Farah worked only slightly more than two additional hours before there was no fruit left to be sorted. Most of the teams assigned to the orchards had returned for the last time, having scoured the trees and bushes clean of all of the fruit that was even remotely ripe or otherwise ready to be harvested. In addition to providing an ample stockpile for the human colonists, the livestock would happily benefit as well.

Most the colonists appeared tired, but in good spirits. Many of them continued to linger around the outside of the dining hall and outer patio, chatting amiably in small groups. The community dinner would not be served for a little while yet, but already tantalizing aromas teased from the kitchen area.

Several young men were dismantling the sorting stations. Among them, she could tell, was her brother. Like his footfalls, she could recognize his particular odor almost anywhere. As he had been laboring most of the day, she could detect his presence nearby even past the lingering smells from the livestock.

Shalene found a relatively out-the-way location to rest and wait while they finished their work. Farah had gone off to use a bathroom and to see if there was anything besides water and diluted fruit juice available to drink. They had been alternating between the two all day and were now looking for something a little more interesting to satisfy their thirst.

“Yeah . . .” she heard someone say.

It was definitely a male voice, but Shalene did not recognize it. As it came from the general same area as her brother, she guessed it was probably someone about the same age.

“But then she’ll open them for almost anyone,” he laughed. “So I hear.”

Additional laughter from at least two additional voices joined his. Although they had not mentioned a name, Shalene had little doubt who they were discussing.

Lorelei.

Lorelei had gone off, Shalene remembered, with Jackson into the orchards that morning. She could not recall hearing anything of them since then. A tight knot tied itself in her stomach, despite her best efforts to prevent it from forming.

She wouldn’t . . . He wouldn’t!

“Shalene?”

Farah’s voice barely penetrated the sound of her pulse throbbing in her ears. She felt strangely alone and abandoned. There had been people around her—lots of people—but now there seemed to be none.

“Shalene?”

The urgent tone in her friend’s voice brought her mostly back.

“Yeah,” she answered. Her breath was an almost breathless whisper.

“Are you okay?” Farah’s voice was heavy with concern. “Should I find the doctor?”

Shalene shook her head, the motion giving her a mild sense of vertigo.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice sounding stronger now. “It was just . . .” She trailed off, neither sure how or whether she wanted to explain it. “Have you seen Jackson? Since this morning?”

There was a long pause before Farah answered her. Shalene guessed that she was either trying to make sense of the sudden change in subject or checking her memory—or possibly both.

“Yeah,” Farah told her. Her casually confident tone told Shalene that Farah was telling her the truth. “He’s inside the dining hall.”

The knot tightened itself in Shalene’s stomach.

“He was sitting by himself,” Farah went on, “over by the west wall. He was eating pudding or something.”

By himself? Alone.

The tension drained from Shalene as if someone had pulled a plug. She could almost feel it swirl away as the knot in her stomach unwound.

This is ridiculous, she scolded herself. He’s just a boy.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Shalene managed a genuine smile. “Yep. Just overtired, I guess.”

“Uh huh.” Shalene could hear the skepticism in her friend’s voice. “Here,” Farah said. “Drink some of this?”

Farah pressed a container into her hand. She realized that she had not been very specific about what kind of beverages Farah should bring back. Farah had a fondness for an exceptionally strong coffee that was apparently traditional in her family’s culture. Shalene did not care for it at all, but had developed a liking for their chai tea, enough so that she occasionally even developed a craving for it.

Raising the container toward her mouth, Shalene sniffed it cautiously. A heavily sweet, highly effervescent sensation touched her nose.

“Root beer?” Shalene asked with curious awe.

“Yeah!” Farah replied with obvious delight. “Mr. Linden apparently made a huge batch and was saving it for the holidays,” Farah explained. “But they needed the containers, so they’re giving it out now.”

Shalene sipped from the container, letting the syrupy liquid pass over her tongue, feeling the tingle of its carbonated sweetness along its surface. It tickled going down her throat and she smiled, almost laughing aloud, at the sensation.

“Good choice,” Shalene murmured with satisfaction.

“Well, there did have coffee,” Farah remarked. “But it was that nasty North American kind.”

Shalene did not express an opinion, as she was not particularly fond of coffee in any form. She tried to tell from her friend’s tone if she was being teased, but was too distracted by the play of miniature bubbles inside her mouth.

“Okay,” Farah said after a long pause. “I’ll bite. Why did you ask about Jackson?”

Shalene’s cheeks prickled with warmth. She would have turned away, but was not sure which way Farah was facing.

“I was just wondering,” she finally replied, realizing that she was taking too long to answer.

“Uh huh.”

Shalene said nothing, certain that any reply would be interpreted the wrong way.

Well . . ., she admitted silently. The right way . . .

“You were afraid that he’d done off with Lorie the Libido and gone for a ride on something other than the cart.”

Shalene paused in shock and then tried not to burst out laughing.

“Where did you hear that?”

Farah giggled. “You’ve never heard her called that?”

“No!”

“I heard some of the girls call her that in the classroom,” Farah explained, laughing now. “Some of the boys do too, now.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s true!”

Shalene silently conceded that point, at least as far as she knew, based on the rumors she had overheard. She felt Farah’s hand touch her arm.

“It’s okay,” she said with surprisingly gentle understanding. “Neither of them looked too happy to have been assigned together. I don’t think Jackson is Lorie’s type—at all.”

Why didn’t you say that before?

Shalene wanted to shout at Farah in frustration, but understood that her anger was really directed at another source.

But what’s Jackson’s type?

This was not a new question for Shalene.

Certainly not Lorelei . . . Right?

Still, she felt relief that, from what Farah had reported, Jackson had not wanted to go off with Lorelei. Whether Lorelei would see that as a personal challenge to overcome, Shalene did not know.

You really need to get a grip, she scolded herself. You’re getting all bent over a boy that you’ve barely talked to, much less anything else. He might think you’re as desirable as a toad, for all you know.

Shalene hid her sigh within her container as she took another sip of the root beer, discovering that it was nearly gone. She felt a pang disappointment, guessing that the odds of getting it refilled were probably pretty slim.

Standing beside her, Farah had gone silent.

Uh oh. What did I say this time?

Shalene replayed the past few minutes of their conversation in her mind.

She’s not hooked on Jackson too, is she?

She thought about it for a moment.

No. She’s not. I’m sure of it.

As far as she could recall, Farah had not given off any of the same signs that she had for other boys like Garry or her brother.