Mom actually smiled. “He’s fine. He’s on his way home. Everything’s fine. Nothing’s happened so far.”
“I saw you on the news.”
She rolled her eyes. “They didn’t even let me run a brush through my hair.”
“You looked fine. You sounded good.”
“You, on the other hand, look beat. Did you eat something?”
“Yeah, some pizza,” Kay mumbled. She didn’t say anything about Jon coming over.
“Good. Get to bed, all right?”
Kay must have looked exhausted for her mother to comment. But she couldn’t exactly say, Well, of course I’m tired—I rode a dragon and dodged the air force today.
Strangely enough, once she’d made it to bed and under the covers, she couldn’t sleep at all. Her father arrived home shortly after, and sounds of conversation from the kitchen distracted her. She couldn’t make out what her parents were saying, but their tones were serious. There were pots and pans and kitchen noises, probably them eating something, then footsteps down the hall, their bedroom door closing, then silence. Kay rolled over and looked at her clock. Two A.M.
She stared at the ceiling. Wondered if dragons slept.
Over the next few days, statements from the air force confirmed that the fighter was on a routine patrol when an electrical malfunction caused the pilot to veer off course and lose control completely. All planes of that type, the F-16, were now being examined to ensure that the malfunction didn’t repeat. The pilot was praised for doing everything he could to keep the plane out of Dragon and for minimizing his own presence in dragon territory. Incursions by firefighting helicopters had been necessary to douse flames started by jet fuel, but once again it was hoped the dragons would understand and not take offense. The president even made a speech about peaceful coexistence and understanding and all the same lines that presidents had always gone on about. It sounded rote. How could there be peaceful coexistence when everyone was so scared? When the two sides never even talked?
They had a drill at school that week. When the alarm went off, a couple of people screamed—short, shrill, panicked—because it could have been real. Nobody joked, nobody talked as they found their places in the hall and huddled, waiting for an attack. Even the teachers, most of whom usually looked bored or annoyed during drills, seemed pale, nervous. The vice principal kept glancing out the front-door windows—against the rules, but Kay couldn’t blame him. The front doors looked north.
After that night of eating pizza, watching the news, and kissing Jon, something felt different to Kay. She felt closer to him, but more uncertain, too. They never talked about it directly. Kay couldn’t be sure how close they’d really come to going further, physically. “We’re taking it slow. It’s okay. It’s totally okay,” Jon kept saying, as if he had to emphasize it, afraid that she was actually nervous—when he was the one who sounded more nervous, like he was trying to convince himself. She used to be able to tell what he was trying to say. But now, was he trying to say it was okay that they were going slow, or did he really did want to go further?
On the other hand, Tam didn’t have any doubt. They were in the bathroom when Kay told her what had happened. She hadn’t meant to. She started by talking about the day of the plane crash.
“What were you doing out driving around?” Tam asked. Just like Kay’s Dad.
“I just was. I’d been hiking.”
“And your dad caught you? Oh my God, how pissed off was he?”
She shrugged. “I think he was too busy. He just sent me home. He and my mom didn’t get home ’til like midnight.”
“So you had all night to think of an excuse.”
“Sort of. I mainly just watched the news with Jon.”
A pause. Kay wished she could see Tam, but Tam was still in the stall. “Jon came over?”
Kay hesitated, because she knew she’d walked into a trap and Tam was about to pounce on her. “Yeah—”
“Wait a minute,” Tam said, throwing the door to the stall open as the toilet flushed behind her. “You and Jon were home alone, your parents were gone, you were together on the sofa, and you didn’t do it?”
“No.” Kay pouted, defensive. “It was kind of in the middle of an international crisis. Not exactly the right kind of mood.” Except for all that kissing they’d done…
“What better time?” Tam glared while she washed her hands. “I swear, there’s going to be a big war and you’re going to die a virgin. Then how will you feel?”
“A lot like I do now, I bet,” Kay said.
“Which is?”
“Annoyed.”
“There, you see?”
Kay let the subject drop by not commenting. Jon didn’t seem to mind, and that was the important thing. This was about the two of them and no one else. At least, she didn’t think Jon minded. He’d have said something, wouldn’t he? Wasn’t it normal for guys to want to sleep with their girlfriends? She was the crazy one, according to Tam.
Arguing with Tam over whether or not to have sex was bad enough. If she and Jon started arguing about it…Maybe it would be just as well if the situation never changed at all.
That Saturday, Jon called Kay in the morning and asked if she wanted to go climbing. “I have to get out of the house,” he said. “Away from all this news.”
She knew the feeling. Her mother had been interviewed again about Dragon and the border, along with historians discussing old newsreel footage and commentators agitating either for peace or for an invasion to take back the territory with all its valuable oil reserves and mines. “How dangerous can the dragons be?” reporters kept asking, referring to the old films from when the Silver River Treaty was negotiated. They could fly; they could burn entire towns with their fire. But they’d taken people by surprise last time. This time, we knew what they could do, we’d be ready for them. That’s what people were saying, and the talk made Kay nervous. She didn’t want to find out how dangerous the dragons could be.
Jon picked her up, and they went to a favorite spot south of town, an established sport climbing rock with permanent anchors—and well away from the border, thankfully. Driving, they talked about nothing in particular. School gossip, summer job prospects—both of them had worked for a rafting company the summer before and were debating about returning. College, the future. It seemed so vague, especially when all Kay could really think about was whether Artegal was okay. Whether Captain Conner had told anyone about them.
Then, fortunately, there was the climb, and that took all of her focus. Other problems slipped away.
It seemed strange to be using her climbing gear for actual climbing. In fact, she was seriously out of practice. Her hands cramped, and her calluses had faded. It was like learning to do this all over again. Jon had to talk her through tough spots once or twice. In terms of excitement, rock climbing left something to be desired after you’d flown on the back of a dragon. Maybe her mind wasn’t on the climb after all.
It was nice to be outside: The day was unusually warm, with a blazing sun heating the crisp winter air and making the snow on the trees sparkle. She wore sweats and a T-shirt, and was sweating from exertion. The warmth felt good.
When a jet raced overhead, roaring and leaving a contrail behind it, they paused, watching it. It moved parallel to the border—just a patrol. Nothing unusual.
Kay still had to swallow her heart out of her throat.
Jon was on the ground below her, holding her belay line while she clung to the craggy rock face, resting a moment. Finally, looking at him, she called, “I’m coming down,” because her limbs were shaking and she didn’t want to keep going. Kay braced on her feet and sat in her harness while rappelling down with Jon’s help. On the ground, she absently brushed chalk off her hands. Jon was still looking up, where the jet’s contrail was dissipating.