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1.
Once, Jake said to me, “In the other timeline—when we didn’t get the morphing cube—the Drode said the Ellimist picked five of us.”
I nodded. Jake counted off, “You, me, Tobias, Marco, and Ax. But what about Rachel?”
“What about her?” I asked.
Jake’s face got soft and uncertain, the way it only did in the shadows of the barn, next to me. “I mean, if the Ellimist didn’t pick her...why couldn’t he have left her out of it?”
It sounded ridiculous, Rachel out of the war. He made a face like he knew it. But I guess if he’d had the Ellimist’s power, Jake would have taken any chance, moved any piece, to spare one member of his family.
I said, “You know Rachel. She doesn’t let anyone leave her out of anything.”
“But what if I’d been walking with you already, me and Marco?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. “Then she would have offered the same thing you did. She wouldn’t want me to go without her.”
2.
“You were trying to protect Jake so you basically sold out the rest of the human race?”
Rachel sounded murderous. When had I gotten used to that tone in her voice? Back then, I’d seen her braid Sara’s hair with nail-polished fingers, or hug Jordan after a nightmare.
She’d even held me, once or twice. But that could have been a dream. It didn’t seem as real as Rachel’s incandescent rage now.
“At that moment, I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did.”
Rachel raised her fist. Tobias grabbed her, but I knew she wouldn’t really have hurt me, even now.
It still felt like she’d struck me anyway.
3.
As we got ready to infiltrate the National Guard base, I remembered what Tobias had said to me:
<You know she carried you.>
We were in the woods, and when I blinked I could almost see the butterfly’s colors again, fractured and vivid and beautiful.
<She was crying,> Tobias continued. <But she wouldn’t let you go, not until we made it home.>
It felt strange to imagine Rachel crying, even though I’d seen her do it many times. I wondered if she’d ever let me see it again, if she’d let me cup her cheeks and soften her, if she’d accept anything I had to give.
Probaby not. All I had to give was mercy, and Rachel didn’t want that for herself.
<I know,> I said.
<Do you?>
Now, I watched Rachel’s owl take off for the bombs, eyes alight and hungry for victory.
Yes. I had.
4.
The truck sped toward the gate, toward the soldiers who threatened us.
“Stop!” they called, but I knew it wouldn’t. I knew Rachel wouldn’t. Not until the danger passed, or Jake ordered it.
This was what we’d needed her to be, after all: the weapon who never stopped.
5.
Rachel stood beside me as we looked down at the sinkhole of our hometown. The light broke over her salt-streaked face like a flare.
“Cassie,” she said, her voice tight. But she couldn’t say anything else.
The middle school had collapsed. The mall lay bisected, like an egg cracked down the middle. Thousands of grey Yeerk bodies pooled around the pieces of rubble, overrunning what remained of our old lives.
I took Rachel’s hand and tried not to think of what I knew—
—My God, she lives for the war—
—that she, more than any of us, would never go back to that life again.
(+1).
After the bomb, I went to Rachel’s camp.
It was nighttime. Everyone who could manage it had gone to sleep, but when my owl landed on Rachel’s windowsill, I saw her blue eyes already blinking back at me.
“Just a second,” she whispered. Jordan had curled up against her, back pressed against her stomach. I guess Rachel still held her, even now.
She came out and morphed, and we flew into the darkness of the valley.
I didn’t apologize, and she didn’t, either. Finally, I asked her, <What do you want to do, when it’s over?>
<Shouldn’t you be asking Jake that?> she teased.
<I will...eventually.>
Rachel looked over at me, then down at the ground. <I guess I’ll...> she trailed off. <I don’t know. Fly with Tobias. Visit you and Jake. Maybe...maybe find where they took my Dad.>
Rachel didn’t really believe her own words. Maybe she was making it up for me, because she loved me. But for the first time I let myself really imagine those things: Rachel weaving through the trees with Tobias, Rachel smashing the last of the cages and gently lifting her dad free, Rachel and me, walking home.
It didn’t seem as far-fetched as I’d always feared. I wanted to tell her it could be true. I wanted so much to tell her not to go before we found out.
Rachel angled her wings down, so the tips of her feathers brushed mine. <Better demorph. You know time’s almost up.>