Eternal Youth (22 page)

“What do you mean trouble? Am I not allowed to have my own thoughts?”

“Of course you are. It’s just—the parliament has to keep order. And if someone was talking about finding a way out, it could lead to an uprising. I’m telling you there is no way to leave this island. Please…let it rest before it gets you in trouble.”

Callie pulled her hand away, her anger rising. “Is that a threat?”

Alaric’s laugh boomed. “Of course not. I would never let anything happen to you. Just be careful where you talk about these things. Or with whom. Talk to me about them, but in private.”

They were interrupted as Sally placed steaming pot pies in front of them.

“Wow! That was fast,” Callie said, her stomach growling as she stared hungrily at the golden crust.

“You’re welcome,” Sally said, beaming. The woman’s round cheeks were flushed with the heat of the oven. “We aim to please.”

The pies smelled amazing. Sally watched in amusement as Callie sunk her fork in and took a big bite. She closed her eyes to savor the taste. “You weren’t lying. Ohmigod, this is incredible.”

Sally smiled. “I’m glad you enjoy it. Let me know if you need anything.”

“So, Callie, tell me about yourself,” Alaric said after the woman walked away. He had crumbs from the flaky pastry crust stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Callie found it endearing and wanted to kiss them away. With her previous forays into kissing including a New Guinea tribes-boy and a piece of cheating scum, Callie wasn’t too sure about trying again.

“World traveler. Not a student, no job to speak of, just a traveler,” she answered, making the split-second decision that she couldn’t share the truth of her travels with him.

“Sounds fun.” Alaric grinned, and then took a sip of his water. “I didn’t get to travel much before I ended up here, unfortunately.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Yeah, it is,” he answered, his smile falling. “Callie, you can’t psyche yourself out by holding on to a dream. Aionia is your home now. You need to make the most of it.”

They both lapsed into silence.

I am sick and tired of being reprimanded
, Callie thought bitterly, shoving her fork into her pot pie.
Maybe this date wasn’t such a good idea.

“So, is your dad back home?” Alaric asked into the silence between them.

Callie could hear by his light tone that he was trying to alleviate the tension, but mention of her father always brought her down. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.” Alaric moved his fork around in his pie before he answered. “Mine, too.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Callie recalled what he’d said on the way to the restaurant.
Our parents were killed when we were just kids.

“Guess we have that in common, then, huh?” Callie said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Alaric shrugged. “Life happens. Did he die in the crash?”

Callie laughed; the connection to his words and what had actually happened was just bizarre. “Not my crash, but
a
crash. He was killed by a drunk driver. What about your parents?”

His jaw hardened. “Murder.”

Her fork hit her plate and the clang echoed loudly. “Wow.”

He shrugged. “Yes. A robbery gone bad. They were on a trip. In London. Their vehicle was hijacked. They were both stabbed and left to die.”

This date just went from bad to worse
, Callie thought, aghast.

Alaric laughed. “Jesus, Callie. We shouldn’t be so morbid. Let’s talk about something nice. Do you have any hobbies?”

Callie flashed back to the form she’d had to fill out for her work assignment, and how irritated she’d been about the hobbies question. She shrugged. “Um, I don’t really have any. I like to read and I used to journal.”

“Journaling is cool,” Alaric said, his cheeks going pink. “I journal.”

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Alaric chuckled. “Don’t tell anybody.”

“I lost mine in the crash, though.” Remembering her simple black journal and how much it had meant to her depressed Callie. She wanted to throw her plate against the wall.

“That sucks.” Alaric chewed his food thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed. “Why don’t we go find you a new one?”

Callie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making a face. “I don’t have any money yet. It’ll have to wait until after I start work.”

“Do you have your assignment yet?”

“Not yet.”

Alaric took a bite and grinned as he chewed. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to buy it for you.”

The stationary store was so tiny Callie would have missed it if she’d been on her own, but Alaric knew just where it stood.

It was run by a wizened old lady with cropped gray hair and big brown eyes. She greeted them with a “Buenos dias!” and then turned back to the book open on the counter before her.

“This is where I’ve bought journals for as long as I’ve been here,” Alaric told Callie, his voice soft. The store had a kind of hushed, respectful quiet to it that garnered low voices.

“How many journals have you used? You’re only like eighteen!” Callie said, amused.

Alaric smiled benignly. “I like to write.”

He led her to the right wall where the window illuminated a bookcase of journals of all shapes and sizes in every color of the spectrum.

“They’re all handmade. Obviously.” Alaric laughed. “Everything in Aionia is handmade.”

Callie ran her fingertips down the spines of one shelf. “I actually prefer handmade things.”

“Really? From the girl who prefers the old world and refuses to accept Aionia?” He cocked a brow, his lips quirked into an amused grin.

She shrugged, suitably chastised. Hooking a finger into the top of a thin black journal, she pulled it from the shelf. “Okay, so I like modern conveniences like the internet and indoor plumbing and I’m ridiculously fond of fast food.” She paused, running a palm over the soft leather skin of the book, and then lifted her eyes to his. “But, there’s something innately magical about handmade things.”

Alaric’s ice-blue eyes sparkled at her, a half-smile on his handsome face. He lifted a hand and paused just a moment before he gently touched her cheek. “I think there’s two different people inside you, Callie.”

She warmed beneath his touch, and her heart skipped a beat.

He leaned forward, angling her face down as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. When he pulled away, he searched her face for a long moment before he murmured, “You’re beautiful. You know that?”

Speechless, Callie just shook her head.

“So,” Alaric said, grinning. “Is that the one?”

Callie didn’t bother to look down at the journal in her hands; her eyes were on him. “Yeah. It’s the one.”

S
everal days passed before they received their work assignments. Four official envelopes with the red “Aionia Official” stamp showed up in the small white mailbox early one morning.

“Nailah,” Emma said, glancing at the front of the envelopes as she divvied them out at the breakfast table. “Calista, Belinda, and me.” She sat down in her chair before her half-eaten breakfast of fruit and toast. “Open up, ladies.”

Callie ripped open the envelope and pulled out a thick sheet of cream-colored paper. She unfolded it and stared, dumbfounded, at her placement. “Record-keeper. For the parliament.”

“Are you serious? Calista, you don’t know anything about secretarial services,” Emma said, raising an eyebrow. “How in the world did you get placed in the government building? I can’t imagine they’d just take some new teen off the street.”

“Off a plane wreck,” Callie corrected. “Maybe they just happened to need a new errand girl.”

“Nailah, what did you get, love?” Gran asked, holding her own opened letter.

“I’m to work for the city greenhouses,” Nailah said with stars in her eyes. “Gardening.”

“That’s wonderful, Nailah!” Emma said. She leaned to give the girl a hug. “I’m so glad you got something you enjoy.”

Callie grinned. “That’s awesome, girl. What about you, Mom?”

The smile on her mother’s face was beautiful. “They’re going to train me to be a teacher. How ‘bout you, Gran?”

Gran smiled sheepishly. “They didn’t place me. ‘Due to the high number of family members in your household, you’ve been cleared to choose your own position, if you so choose.’ I guess I get to pick?” She handed the sheet to Emma, who glanced over it.

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like. Because of your age, I suppose.”

“I’m not
that
old!” Gran admonished, whacking her daughter on the arm with the back of her hand.

“So, do they not have dates here?” Callie asked, reading her letter once more. “I start ‘effective the day after this letter is received’.”

“I’ve yet to see a clock or calendar in this place,” Emma said. She put her form down and smoothed it to the table with both hands. “Mine says the same thing. Maybe they don’t keep calendars here.”

“That would explain why Alaric never told us exactly how long he’s been here,” Nailah cut in. “No way to know.”

“I bought a journal.” Callie let her own paper fall to the table, struck by the thought. “I’m going to keep track of how many days it takes us to get home.”

“That’s great, honey,” Emma said, and then turned to her mother. “Mom, this is a chance for you to start over. If you could turn back the clock and change your career, what would you want to do?”

Gran smiled sheepishly. “I know this will sound silly to you guys, but I’ve always wanted to open a yarn shop. You know how much I love to knit.”

“That’s not silly at all. I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Nailah grinned. “I’ll be your first customer. I’ve been wanting a shawl. They’re all the rage in Europe right now.”

“You really think it’s a good idea?” Gran’s voice was hopeful, like a little girl.

“It’s a great idea, Mom,” Emma said, patting her mother’s hand. “I have to admit—I’m a little excited about teaching. I always wanted to be a teacher when I was little.”

“You mean you always liked to boss people around when you were little.” Gran chuckled.

Her family’s chatter faded into the background of her consciousness as Callie stared at the official letter in her hands. Even though they seemed to be accepting of their new lives, Callie couldn’t justify it. Was she the only sane one?

I’ll find a way out of this place. And this paper is the key.

There was no Josie to give her a ride to Parliament the next day, but luckily it was cool and cloudy for the long walk to work. She spent the time alternating between daydreams of her first kiss with Alaric—which she was sure would happen soon—and daydreams of finding a way home.

Callie walked through the dim hallway that led to the interior of the temple, and strolled up to the reception desk. The guy behind it was gruff and unfriendly, but he motioned for Callie to have a seat, and then he disappeared—presumably to find whoever she was supposed to report to.

A few minutes later, Gretta entered the reception area and smiled brightly. “Hi, Callie! Welcome to the Parliament building. Are you excited for your first day?”

Callie stood and shook the woman’s hand, surprised to see her doing—yet again—another job. “Absolutely.”

“You’re going to be a sort of ‘errand girl’ for the members of parliament, if that makes sense,” Gretta pushed on. She motioned for Callie to follow her, and began to lead her deeper into the temple. “It is
very
easy to get lost here, so until you’ve learned the halls and recesses well enough to do it alone, I’m going to ask that you stick with someone at all times.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, no need to be formal. Call me Gretta.” They turned down a secondary hall that looked exactly like all the rest, and Gretta opened a door, ushering Callie inside.

It was a room full of cubicles. Heads peered over the top of the wooden partitions and greeted Callie in a chorus of “welcome” and “hello!” Gretta kept walking, leading Callie past the drones. The woman’s fast pace made Callie’s head spin. They reached a back office, where Gretta opened the door and ushered her inside. She shut the door, and held a hand out for Callie to take a seat.

The office was painted maroon and boasted a large, carved wooden desk with lion’s feet as legs. The walls were bare. Gretta sat down in the desk chair and shuffled through some papers on her desktop. “Today, I’m going to have you shadow me. You’ll likely bounce between all six of us on a regular basis, particularly until you’ve gotten to know each of us.”

“Sounds great!” Callie tried to put excitement into her words, but she was pretty sure they fell flat. It sounded as boring as watching a golf game.

“Most of what you’ll be doing is paper-pushing. Running forms between parliament members,
et cetera
. But, there is a lot of room for expansion—for moving up—here at the government building.” Gretta smiled, and her round cheeks dimpled. “You seem like a bright young girl. I’m sure you’ll go far.”

Yeah, I’ll go far enough to go home.

“So, that’s it really.” Gretta gestured to the room. “Just stick by my side today, and we’ll see what happens.”

Two hours later, Callie was regretting her rash decision to pretend to be qualified for office work. Gretta had left her alone in a small filing room where Callie had to file away the job forms of the new survivors. She’d already given herself three paper cuts trying to find the right hanging folders for Madeline and Cindy, and the tiny, hand-printed letters made Callie’s eyes hurt.