Four days before the Selection

Every part of my body screams at me as I relax on the mattress. I never knew how much I needed the rest until now. There are aches in places I never thought could be sore. I told Sánchez not to push themself so hard, but I probably need to take that advice too.

I glance to my side. Sánchez is lying next to me, their eyes closed. I can hear their every breath—so slow, so peaceful.

Devon's bed is barely big enough for the two of us, and the pillow separating us squishes against my arm. I wonder if it is pressing against Sánchez like this too.

Below the pillow, my knee is a hair away from touching their thigh. My cheeks warm and I shift my leg away.

It's dark, but a sliver of light from the window spreads across the ceiling like a cut. The night is not pin-drop silent as it usually is in the Tower. There is a constant stream of people walking along the streets outside, as well as the occasional faraway sirens.

"Can't sleep?" Sánchez says, jolting me from my trance.

"Uh, I guess. It's a little loud here."

"Oh, yeah. First floor problems."

Silence settles between us again. I keep my eyes on the ceiling and the thin slice of light. It has never taken so long for me to fall asleep before.

"Thank you for what you said, by the way," Sánchez speaks again, their voice much softer this time.

I frown. "About what?"

"That time in the, um, underground cave place?"

They do not need to elaborate further for me to know what they mean. Heat envelopes my body. The more I recall what I said, the more feverish I seem to feel. Why did I say all that? What's wrong with me?

"Anyway, I... I feel the same way too," Sánchez says.

A chuckle escapes my throat. "No way. You have other friends in the Tower. I can't be the reason you train the way you are mine..." I trail away, still embarrassed I admitted that—again.

"You are. No one in the cadet class has as strong of a conviction to win the Selection as you and I do, my friends included. For them, the Selection is something to get through, another test they need to do for their cadet training, one more hurdle to jump through before graduating and becoming a soldier. But unlike my friends, I can't become a soldier. I have to get out of Earth." Soft shuffling noises ensue as they adjust their body. The pillow squeezes against me. "And it's not good enough for me to just perform well in the Selection and hope to get chosen by one of the other shuttles. I'm from Ground Earth, and I know that's going to harm my chances of being picked. I need to win and show them I'm the best, because the grand winner always gets into NovaTopia, and I need to secure a spot away from Earth. But it's tough to keep improving if no one else is working as hard. So, I'm grateful for you and your obsession with winning."

"I'm not obsessed," I grumble, even though both Ryan and General Caelum have called me that before. General Caelum was the only person delighted with my obsession. And now, Sánchez too, it seems.

"You totally are."

"Yeah, well, I guess I was."

Sánchez laughs. It's soft, like a low rumble in their chest. "Also, it's particularly fun seeing the face you make whenever you lose."

"Hey! I won't lose anymore. Just you wait."

Sánchez laughs again. "See? You're doing the face again."

Scoffing, I avert my head. "I don't know what you're talking about." I want to be angry at their taunt, but for some reason, a warm, fuzzy sensation spreads throughout my heart.

"And you were right, cadet life is exhausting, and you made it better for me too," Sánchez continues. "No matter how many times you lose, you never stop fighting back. You never give up. So even though I'm already at the top of the class, seeing the way you improve keeps me on my toes and pushes me forward. You keep it challenging for me, Lorensky. You also make it... meaningful, somehow, like I'm not just doing the daily routines set for me by the Tower, like I'm not just a cog in the NovaTopian military machine. Like I'm actually doing something... something worthwhile, with you." There's a brief pause before they add with a whisper, "You inspire me, Lorensky."

The fuzzy feeling grows even more, crawling up my neck and painting across my cheeks. My face must be flushed red now, and I'm glad it's dark so Sánchez can't see it.

Oh, wait, they can see in the dark. Well, at least I'm facing away from them.

I clear my throat. "Um, the feeling is... mutual. That's- That's why I'm here to help you get your arm back. I want to compete with you properly in the Selection. One... One last time."

"Thank you," they say, with so much sincerity in their voice. "And me too. When I heard Ryan got you into trouble with some contraband he got, I was sure he'd oversleep for your court hearing. So I went to his living unit that morning and banged on his door till he got up."

"Wait, you did that?" That day, Ryan did say I had a friend who came over to yell at him. So that friend was Sánchez. My friend, huh. My lips curl into a small smile. "Thank you." This time, it's my turn to be sincere. "And I'm- I'm sorry I assumed the worst of you when you asked about it. By the way, were you there because you were finding Ryan for, uh, stuff from Ground Earth?"

"Yeah, I got some spices for food. Devon makes this good blend that I love."

"Wow, yet another thing he excels at. You know, I have to admit, I feel so... silly. Like I don't know anything outside of my, I guess, obsession with the Selection. Like Devon. My older brother has a man here and I didn't even know about it."

"To be fair, I think he wanted to keep it a secret. They can't be together physically anyway. Devon is too old to be granted Tower residency. I was lucky; I was just under the age cut-off when I applied to be a cadet."

"I doubt Devon even wants to go to the Tower. He seems to have such a good life here, with a cool living unit, and a bar, and his awesome cooking."

"That's true. He's faring much better than I ever did."

"You were a child," I point out.

"Well, yeah, that's true too."

Rolling back to stare at the ceiling, I continue, "I also didn't know anything about Ground Earth, even though I thought I did. Why did our cadet lessons teach us that it's an uninhabitable wasteland?"

"I don't think they've ever updated the teaching materials from when it was one."

"They should update it. Ground Earth is so much better than what I can ever expect anything to be. I don't know, like, first of all, the colors? I didn't know buildings could have any other color than white. And- And there's so many different stuff. The trees? The beach? The ocean? The Tower is just so, um..." I trail off, pondering on the right adjective to use.

"Boring?" Sánchez offers.

"Monotonous."

They laugh. "Honestly, it's wild to me that anybody can grow up in that environment. So, do you like it here on Ground Earth now? Would you want to live here?"

Sánchez's tone was more teasing than anything, but I consider their question seriously. "If everyone's like the Piranhas, maybe not. But if everyone's more like Devon, then... I might like being here."

"Personally, I think it's more the former. But most people I know are from the Piranhas, so I may be biased."

I look at Sánchez. They are staring up at the ceiling too, with their short hair flattened against the mattress. "Hey, um, why don't you hate the Tower like the rest of the Piranhas?"

Sánchez shuffles next to me. In the darkness, I can't make out their expression. "I mean, I didn't get into the Tower thinking I'd like the Tower. I entered for the cadet training and for the chance to win the Selection." They glance at me. "Then I met you. And I learn that there are good and bad people everywhere, both here on Earth and on the Tower."

I blink. "Are you saying I'm one of the good people?"

"Why are you shocked?"

"Well, I thought I'd be at most a... neutral."

Sánchez chuckles as they shake their head. "I still remember how angry you were when I first beat you. You insulted me, and when I corrected you with my pronouns—it was one of the first times I tried to have people use them—you repeated the insult with the right pronouns. It was hilarious."

I did not remember that happening. "How is that me being a good person?"

Sánchez laughs again. They seem to be doing that a lot. "I don't know, but that was when I knew life would be fun as a cadet."

I still don't understand what they mean, but their every word is fanning the flames in my heart.

Turning back to the ceiling, I muse, "Yeah, there are good and bad people, and people can be both good and bad. To tell you the truth, my mind has been at war since we went to the Piranhas. I hate them for what they did to the Tower, but they are also pretty good for taking in people who need their help. Your friend—um, Big Papi, Waldo, whatever you call him—he was so friendly to me before he found us out, and he was so willing to help you too. But he was also so cruel and dismissive about the lives lost in the Tower. I don't know. It's kinda jarring..."

"I know what you mean. I don't know how to feel too. I didn't know how to feel when I left six years ago. I owed so much of my life to them but I also didn't want to be a pawn to their suicidal mission. And now, the people who had a huge part in raising me hate me, when all I want is to... live."

"Hey." I turn back to face them. They meet my eyes. "Do you think there's something we can do about it? Like maybe, after the Selection, we can try to do something up there to change the mission of the NovaTopian soldiers and what they do on Ground Earth? Maybe... we can convince NovaTopia that the soldiers should try to make lives better here so no one would have to resort to violence?"

Despite my lighthearted tone, the mood in the room becomes heavier. We stare at each other, not saying anything for a long moment, as if trying to ignore the elephant in the room: there won't be a 'we' after the Selection. No matter which one of us wins, only one of us can become a NovaTopian resident, while the other will be in another shuttle.

But at least we will be in space together.

Sánchez squeezes out a smile. "With your attitude, I believe it." They turn around to lie on their back. "Goodnight, Lara."

Lara.

"Goodnight... Morgan."

A bright spot of light illuminates their face for a second—perhaps from a headlight from a passing vehicle. Finally, I can see their tranquil expression. Their eyelashes curl above their eyelids, and their lips are parted a little as they breathe.

I close my eyes, letting Morgan's sleeping face be the image I take to my sleep.