Callisto 2.0 by Susan English (e novels to read online .txt) 📕

was preferable to her usual weapon of choice, which was guilt, or even worse, withdrawing completely. She was the queen of the cold shoulder.”

“That must have been hard.” Pavani lifted her hand, as if she wanted to put her arm around me, but she put it back in her lap, looking at me with sympathy.

It was rare for me to share stories of my childhood, and I never talked about the shame that burned in my heart—shame for not being good enough, not being what my parents wanted. But with Pavani, there was no judgment, only compassion. I fought back the tears that threatened to spill out and gave a little half shrug. “So we built our little hideaway. It was fun, creating walls with cut branches, pine needles on the ground for carpeting. But when Madison wanted to include a toilet, I drew the line. We could pee outside!” I laughed at the memory. “When school let out for the day we would head to our fort, making minor improvements or just hanging out, talking or reading books. I suppose she was my first girlfriend, though I didn’t know anything about that back then; we were just kids.”

I ran my fingers along the edge of the bench, its smooth surface somehow soothing.

“But one day my mother must have followed us, because she poked her head in the opening which served as a doorway. I can’t describe the sensation of seeing my mom in my refuge, it was like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet and I was falling into a bottomless pit. ‘What’s going on here?’ she asked, all smiles. Madison was proud of our work, and happily showed her what we had done, but I was devastated.

As I followed my mom back home, she said, ‘A mother needs to know what her twelve-year-old daughter is doing, Callisto.’ She wasn’t happy that I had kept a secret from her, and let me know it in no uncertain terms. After that, I never went back. It felt tainted, like I could never be safe there again. A few months later, Madison’s family moved away.” I glanced at Pavani under lowered lashes.

She met my eyes, and again I had the feeling that she wanted to reach out, to wrap her arms around me, but instead she gave me a wan smile. “Thank you for showing me 236

your battle scar. I am honored.”

Giving another half shrug, feigning nonchalance, I said, “Plenty more where that came from.”

Pavani stood and faced me, holding out her hand like before. This time, as we headed to the dorm module, she didn’t let go.

◆◆◆

In the morning, when I opened my door on the way to the gym, I found another flower, a purple zinnia this time, with a note.

In case you assumed I only know The Bard.

The saddest day has gleams of light, the darkest wave hath bright foam beneath it. There twinkles o’er the cloudiest night, some solitary star to cheer it. – Sarah Winnemucca Thank you again for trusting me.

Your secret admirer

My heart beat with new vigor, and I couldn’t suppress the smile on my face as I headed to the gym. I was surprised that, like the day before, I was alone—Izumi must have decided to change her work-out schedule. Later, when I went for breakfast, I found Naomi sitting in the dining room.

“Calli!” she called out.

I carried my bowl over to her table and settled into my chair. This time, I wasn’t going to wait for her to guess! “I have news,” I said, grinning.

Her eyebrows shot up. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ve been spending time with Pavani.”

“Hallelujah!” She pumped her fist into the air, then propelled herself to my side of the table and threw her arms around me. I was laughing so hard I almost lost my footing.

When she sat back down, she was beaming. “Details! I want details!”

“I really like her, Naomi.” My face was hurting from smiling so much.

“That’s absolutely delightful!”

“I don’t know what will happen. We decided to take things slowly. So we’re just getting to know each other. You know, spending time together, in the ops park.”

“Calli, I’m so happy for you!”

“Remember what you said about Simon? Before you even met face to face? That you thought he was the one?”

She nodded, eyes radiant.

“I think she’s the one, Naomi.” I felt a sudden surge of emotion and blinked back tears. “I never thought it would happen to me.”

“Oh Calli, you deserve this.”

237

◆◆◆

Later, in the lab, I made a concerted effort to put any thoughts of Pavani aside and focus on my work. Hadley had taken the week off, and was, according to her own admission, spending all her time in bed watching holomovies. I was also looking forward to some time off, but for that to happen I needed to be diligent, and not allow my mind to wander, which wasn’t easy, and my eyes continually strayed to the clock.

◆◆◆

At six, I went to the dining room for dinner. As I loaded my bowl, I did a quick scan of the room. Olivia was sitting with Raven, and when I caught her eyes, she looked away. She wasn’t ready to talk to me yet, and though my heart hurt, I understood she needed her space. I was a little relieved that Pavani wasn’t there, since I wasn’t sure how Olivia would feel, seeing us together. Not that we were together, exactly, but maybe one day …. I sat with Gamon, and listened with half an ear as she talked about her new idea for counteracting the effects of gravity after living in micro-g, a project she was working on with the physician at Arcadia. I tried to pay attention, but my eyes strayed to my wrist computer every few minutes to check the time. At seven-thirty I was again in my spot in the ops park.

◆◆◆

“I liked the quote,” I said as Pavani sat down next to me on the bench.

“Sarah Winnemucca,” she said. “She was Paiute, wrote the first known autobiography by a Native American woman in the late 1800s.”

“Ah hah!” I said, laughing. “So you admit it! It was you all along.”

She smiled and held up her hands, palms out. “Guilty as charged.”

Suddenly shy, I stared at the flowers along the far wall. Then something changed—

there was a shift in energy, the air around us pulsating with an almost palpable melancholy. I glanced at Pavani out of the corner of my eye. She, too, had her eyes turned toward the wall, but they were unfocused and distant, her strong, delicate features etched with sadness. I caught my breath.

“My father died when I was eleven,” she said in a quiet voice. “He was my hero. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. I adored him, and he was the love of my mother’s life.”

“Pavani, I’m so sorry.” She was silent for a long time. Finally, I said, “What happened?”

“He liked to take walks in the early mornings, at dawn, along the cliffs near our village. Said it was his morning meditation, to connect with the Earth, with nature.

Sometimes I would go with him, on days when I didn’t have school, but most of the 238

time he went alone. One morning he didn’t come back.” Pavani’s voice was cool, detached, with none of the subtle nuances of emotion that I was beginning to love about her. “We always had breakfast together, but it was getting late, so my mother sent me to go fetch him. I knew his route, and ran along the edge of the cliff, calling for him, but he wasn’t there. I started to get worried, and went home to tell my mother. Her expression was ….” She hesitated a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I had never seen her so afraid—it was like she knew. She called her brother, my uncle, and they went searching for him. She told me to wait, but I followed behind, keeping my distance so they wouldn’t notice me. I hadn’t thought to look over the cliff, but when they stopped at the edge, and my mother sank to her knees, I knew, too. I ran to her; she was sobbing uncontrollably. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother cry. My uncle climbed down the cliff, it was steep but still possible to navigate on foot. My mom tried to keep me from looking, but I had to see, had to know. I peeked over the edge just as my uncle reached my father’s broken, twisted body. It was clear, even to me, that he hadn’t survived the fall.”

Now it was my turn to resist the urge to enclose her in an embrace. But I sensed she wasn’t there; she was that little girl staring over the precipice, her world shattered. My eyes stung as the sharp knife of empathy cut me to my soul.

“I always thought my father was invincible, and my mother a bedrock of stability.

But after that, everything fell apart. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I don’t know how we would have survived.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered, wiping my eyes almost angrily with my sleeve. This wasn’t my pain, my loss, but I still felt it—the utter devastation and helplessness, the prayers to the Universe that it wasn’t true, and Pavani so young, so very young. Just a girl. My tears began to flow—a broken dam, impossible to control.

She looked at me then, eyes clear, expression serene, and reached a hand out to wipe my eye, her touch tender and gentle as a summer rain, and I willed myself to stop, pushing down my grief with the brute strength of my will.

“I miss him every single day. But with the love and support of my grandmother, and of our village, we made it through, and I will always have my memories. He’s the one who inspired me to study literature. He read to us every night. No holoTV in our house, just my dad’s voice. He adored Shakespeare, and now, I do,