The Color of Rain (42 page)

Rain →

I follow the sign, turning right. At the end of the hall, another note has me turning left. And then another right at the end of that one. The signs lead me to a wide room where several uniformed Mecs stand at posts before a variety of control stations, a command deck very unlike
Imreas
's.

I glance around the room and find Ben's uncle beckoning to me.

“You can have a seat.” Keven motions to a bench. “Benson took the cab over to
Imreas
. He said he'd meet you back here.”

“He did what?” I almost shout.

Keven raises his eyebrow. “Thought it was peculiar myself. He said he needed something, but I can't figure out what. All the passengers are onboard
Holmes
until we reach the Edge, and as I understand it, they just about looted the place bare before we seized control of the ship.”

I squeeze my elbows. “What could he need?”

“This,” Ben says, appearing in the doorway. He tosses a small square of metal through the air. I catch it, and then almost drop it when I recognize Johnny's silver lighter. “Or I should say, I needed what was on it.” Ben has a great smile on his face. He motions for me join him by the front of the room, away from his uncle and the other Mecs.

He's still grinning, but I can only think of Walker. After all I went through and all that Ben did to bring my brother back to me, I pulled the plug.

“Ben, about Walker . . .”

He smile sinks. “You said good-bye.”

“I had to.” I want to reach out for him, but I glance at the wall, touching the cool glass instead. The room reminds me so much of Johnny's command except for the view screen—and I find myself missing it.

“How do you have a command deck without a window?” I say and gasp.

The whole white wall listens and turns transparent, revealing the green and blue marbled surface of a beautiful planet. We're so close to it that only a hint of star-speckled black edges the screen.

“
Oh!
” I exclaim.

“The Edge,” Ben says, his smile returning. He leans against the glass. “There were so many days when I thought that I would never see home again.” The joyful look in his eyes tugs on me as I realize that
we're
over. If this truly is done, he will go his way, and I will have to find mine . . . whatever that may be.

“You'll go back to your family.” My throat grows a little tight on the words.

“To my mom,” he says. He leans up from the window. “And you're coming with me. She'll love you.”

I look down, twisting the terrible scarlet bracelet. “How's that going to work, Ben? You going to say, ‘This is Rain. She was a prosti—'”

“I'll say, ‘This is Rain White.' No qualifiers required.” He steps even closer, and I can't make myself face him. “They're granting you amnesty, Rain. It's rare, but they . . . we, I guess, are so appreciative of what you did. You'll be able to stay on the Edge, live there, and go to the university. You have choices now.
You can do anything.”

I almost laugh. “I can't just start over. I wouldn't know where to begin. Without Walker, I have nothing.”

“If you can't start over, start better.” He holds out a small frame of glass, and it takes me a moment to figure out what it is. The thumbprint device.

I turn it over in my hand. “This was broken.”

“I had a hell of a time rebuilding it. That's why I had to go back to
Imreas
for the lighter. I needed something with Johnny's print.” His voice falls. “I'm sorry it took so long.”

I bring the frame to the bracelet, but my fingers tremble, and I can't line up the plate with the clasp. “Can I help?” he asks, holding it over the lock but waiting for me to take the final step.

I press my thumb over the glass, and the
click
takes forever, but when it comes, the metal circlet falls to the floor.

Ben touches my blistered wrist. He digs a med disc out of his pocket. “Want me to fix that?”

“No thanks.” I take the final step, closing the distance between us. “I'll just heal the old-fashioned way.” I rest my head on his shoulder.

Through the window, white clouds draw wispy lines along the swirling green and blue surface of the Edge. The green reminds me of Walker's eyes, while the blue is so similar to the lights of the pulse engines high above the spacedocks on Earth City. Both colors make me smile.

Ben slips an arm around my waist, his finger twisting into my belt loop, and all the while, his words sing through my thoughts:
You have choices now. You can do anything
.

“‘Reck'd or unreck'd,'” I whisper, feeling those words for the first time. “‘Duly with love returns.'”

Somewhere by my feet, the silver bracelet lies where it fell, finally devoid of its stained light. I press a curl of my hair against my lips, the color no longer feeling so damning. After all, red is more than lust and blood. It is the hue of the heart and the standing proof of my unique family.

It is the signature of my hope.

Thank you, thank you . . .

. . . To my husband, Christian, who enables all of my words, and my Maverick, for prodding me along in utero to write this book with not-so-gentle kicks.

. . . To my loving parents, Mark and Joan, who encourage my writing dreams, and my brothers, Conor and Evan, who give me scores to write about.

. . . To my best friends, Amy and Missy, who run up their phone bills with their support, as well as my brave and inspiring “little sister,” Julie.

. . . To Karl Norton, who introduced me to Whitman, my literary gateway drug, and who then became my very first reader.

. . . To Vermont College of Fine Arts, my Hogwarts, particularly my esteemed advisors and my literary family, the Bat Poets.

. . . To three brilliant readers/writers/friends, Kelly Barson, Anna Drury, and Amy Rose Capetta, as well as Tirzah Price, for long coffee chats and blog support.

. . . To my agent, Sarah Davies, who fought for this edgy premise, and my editor, Lisa Cheng, for giving me the strength to push this story to its finest edge.

. . . And, finally, to the boy who taught my young heart to thunder and filled my universe with the most poignant rain.

My words are for you, because of you, and always in gratitude of you.