Page 106 of Impossible

Everybody looks at me again.

“What?” I ask.

“Appeal what?” Hollis says.

“The sheet.”

“You can’t justappealthe sheet,” Hollis says.

“No. Indie.”

I conjure the rule from the recesses of my mind. Hollis blanches.

“Is that… is that right?” Leon asks.

Joshua is already up, headed to the bookshelf for the Coalition law book. I don’t need to check. I know it’s right. He reads the words out loud anyway. For Hollis.

“In the rare case of an omega signed as ward of the Coalition who may disagree with her designated pack selections, an appeal process may be filed on her behalf by her legal guardians, the signatories of her Omega Agreement, and the pack she wishes to mate with, provided the pack be in good standing with the Coalition and not determined to be genetically disadvantageous to future offspring. The appeal will be considered by the Office of Genetic Diversity and, if approved, taken to the Board of Governors for a direct vote in the quarterly Panel for Internal Affairs.”

“How did you remember that word-perfect?” Hollis asks me.

I glow. I blush. I try not to remember. Twelve years old. Under the covers, flashlight on pages, sounding out too-big words. Big leader Hollis and book smart Joshua and easygoing Leon and Risk, baby Risk, unwanted Risk, liability Risk, stuck on like a tick Risk, determined to be worthy Risk. Hollis sees what I try to hide. His arms are around me. I am smushed crushed loved and I squirm because toogoodtoogoodtoogood but he doesn’t let me go.

“That’s still…” Leon’s voice pulls us back. “She has to do it. She has to admit she wants us.”

“And the signatories. Her parents.” Joshua burns.

“The Coalition panel is quarterly. We’d have to expedite.” Hollis plots.

“And the psychiatric clearances.” Leon sighs.

“That’s only like… four things.” Everybody looks at me. I shrug.

Laughter. Big roaring belly laughs shaking my body because Hollis hasn’t let me go yet. I hope he never does.

31

Impossible

Indigo

WhenIgettomy room, I bury my face in my pillow and scream.

My sinuses inflate, the force of it ricocheting through my skull.

I should have said more, I should have apologized, I should have told Joshua how badly I want him, them, how scared I am, how ‘crush’ is a vile understatement for this mossy growth in my chest that pulls towards Midas like leaves turn to the sun.

It isn’t pheromones that made Joshua give me a book of poems, or forced Risk to part with one of his precious knives. Leon’s warmth and nurturing is all him, and Hollis’s brief moments of earnestness are truth, not a hormonal ruse. I can’t be the only one who thinks Joshua’s freckles are beautiful, or sees the flames flicker in Risk’s eyes. None of that is my body playing tricks on me. Right?

Yet I had to go running my mouth. Cruelty and sharpness. I should have held his hand. I should have hugged him goodbye. I should have explained.

Even as I think it, I can’t make myself believe. I can’t make myself take this seriously. Not if it’s a trick of biochemistry. Genetic compatibility does not a love-match make.

And yet.

I close my eyes and try to imagine myself on the couch again, Leon at my feet, Hollis’s brow furrowed across the chess board from me, Risk’s shoulders hunched in front of the fire and Joshua’s song floating between us all. I wonder if a pack bond would be like that music, something so beautiful and special and shared.

I try to recall the peace of it, but it’s like having the flu and trying to remember what ‘normal’ feels like when your fever is 102 and you’ve been vomiting all day. It just isn’t there, not now.

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