“Aniston! Stop your hysterics. You’re not a child.” Johanna, her mother, ripped the letter out of Ani’s hand and flapped it in her face along with breath of a thousand antacids. Her voice crackled, cold and brittle. “You’re fifteen years old, for God’s sake.” A photograph fluttered to the pavers. Ani’s head bobbled as her mother shook her.
“A portrait? This is how you spend your time—ogling a picture of this awful man?” Eyes hard, Johanna loomed in for the kill. “For Heaven’s sake, get a hold of yourself!” She retrieved the photo and shredded it.
Ani’s heart writhed with despair. Didn’t Ijland’s constitution guarantee freedom of choice? To everyone but her, she guessed. She balled her fists in defiance though her lower lip trembled.
“You’ve hated John all my life, Mother. You stood in his way when he was my Watcher. When he became my friend, you went berserk.” She pointed at Johanna’s chest. “You masterminded the scheme to send him away.”
Life had dragged on devoid of sparkle without her dearest friend—the man who had raised her, really. Half of two did not equal one whole person, she’d learned. Without John, she just didn’t feel whole.
Ani’s grandmother Jansje hurried out to the terrace, interrupting Johanna’s pacing. Her voice took charge, as a chief of state’s should. “Leave her alone, Hanni. Don’t you remember what a broken heart feels like?”
Johanna dismissed Jansje’s advice with a swipe of her hand. Her eyes flickered with malice. Her voice was crisper than burned toast, as she hissed out her next dry words.
“You may as well know the truth now. We’re not bringing that man back. Not until he’s forgotten you, little girl.”
Birdsong stopped short while Ani’s heart plummeted. Her gaze darted from Johanna to Jansje, searching their faces.
Johanna lifted Ani’s chin. “Count the months, young lady. Less than a year, and you’ll be legal.” Her voice took on a wheedling intensity, and she rubbed her hands together. “Sixteen and beautiful. Courtship rituals for all the suitors on Ijland and—whoosh!—a wedding.”
Ani shook her head and forced herself to turn cold. “All my life I’ve worked hard to earn my place in the line of succession. I’ve slaved to keep our island green and free.”
She narrowed her eyes and pushed closer, though every trembling sinew urged her back. “Isn’t it enough? Now I have a single demand. I…want…my friend…back in my life. Your weird fantasies can’t keep him away.”
Johanna’s eyes turned to ice. She slapped her daughter across the face. Ani’s hand flew to her cheek. She whimpered like the child she was too old to be.
Jansje’s rebuke was swift. “Hanni! No! We never use violence.”
Ani bolted from the mansion’s terrace and sped to the garage, where she rummaged for her bike. “Gotta get away.” Where was her helmet?
Her voice turned to quivering liquid. “Screw it!” What if she did fall on her head? Wiped out her misery for good?
Through the estate’s gate she pedaled, past the cemetery and church to the center of Van Ijland Village, where fellow descendants of the founder waved to her from their porches. Three hundred years it had been, since The Twelve—enlightened Europeans all of them—had planned their utopian civilization. A lot of good it had done in Ani’s hour of need.
A wizened woman at the fountain raised her palm in greeting. “Go on, young Ani! If you really want to get somewhere, pedal harder.” A vise of desperation tightened in Ani’s belly.
John’s face materialized in her imagination.
“Is there something wrong with me, John? I’m so lost without you. Mother thinks I’m crazy.” John tipped his head.
“You’ve always been part of me, John. Not just my Watcher.” The down-stroke of Ani’s pedals emphasized her words. My Watcher. My friend. My Watcher. My friend.
She arrived atop the highest elevation on the eastern coast of her homeland, which furnished a vista of the verdant southeastern district. For three hundred years her family had served as ruling governors of Ijland because of their dedication to the land and its young. Yet now some wanted to rip open the mountains and farmlands to expose the wealth beneath the surface. Someday, protecting all this would be up to her.
Ani bit down on her bottom lip. “Oh, Mother, I need you so. But I need John more.”
From here the road plummeted closer to sea level. She glanced at the still daunting steepness. She was not afraid of it, for time and again John had nurtured her courage. This incline was nothing compared to saying good-bye to her soul mate.
She was only afraid he might never return. Did Johanna have such power to wield against her child? Ani gulped great sobs of frustration, her chin hunched on her chest, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
She was off! A young heart with a steady rhythm in tune with deep breathing. Her legs pumped harder and harder. “If…you really…want something... If you really want something...Pump harder! Pump harder! Pump harder!”
Again, John’s face appeared in her mind, his eyebrows lifted and his eyes wide. “You can do it, sweet girl. Come. I’ll catch you.”
Johanna loomed over him, claws out. “Stay away from my child. Stay away!”
Ani wobbled against a stone but corrected her balance and forced her energy into the bike. Bawling her frustration, she clenched her handlebars.
John’s smile encouraged her. “You’re strong, Ani. Pump harder! Pump harder, Ani girl.”
Tears clouded her concentration as her legs matched her heartbeats. “Pump-Swish! Pump-Swish! Please, John. Come home.”
An eight-point buck darted onto the road. She squeezed her screeching hand brakes, but the bicycle propelled her downward. It skidded. She lost her grip.
“Help! Catch me, John!”
Someone screamed. People shouted and sobbed.
“Not our little miss.”
“It’s Ani!”
“A portrait? This is how you spend your time—ogling a picture of this awful man?” Eyes hard, Johanna loomed in for the kill. “For Heaven’s sake, get a hold of yourself!” She retrieved the photo and shredded it.
Ani’s heart writhed with despair. Didn’t Ijland’s constitution guarantee freedom of choice? To everyone but her, she guessed. She balled her fists in defiance though her lower lip trembled.
“You’ve hated John all my life, Mother. You stood in his way when he was my Watcher. When he became my friend, you went berserk.” She pointed at Johanna’s chest. “You masterminded the scheme to send him away.”
Life had dragged on devoid of sparkle without her dearest friend—the man who had raised her, really. Half of two did not equal one whole person, she’d learned. Without John, she just didn’t feel whole.
Ani’s grandmother Jansje hurried out to the terrace, interrupting Johanna’s pacing. Her voice took charge, as a chief of state’s should. “Leave her alone, Hanni. Don’t you remember what a broken heart feels like?”
Johanna dismissed Jansje’s advice with a swipe of her hand. Her eyes flickered with malice. Her voice was crisper than burned toast, as she hissed out her next dry words.
“You may as well know the truth now. We’re not bringing that man back. Not until he’s forgotten you, little girl.”
Birdsong stopped short while Ani’s heart plummeted. Her gaze darted from Johanna to Jansje, searching their faces.
Johanna lifted Ani’s chin. “Count the months, young lady. Less than a year, and you’ll be legal.” Her voice took on a wheedling intensity, and she rubbed her hands together. “Sixteen and beautiful. Courtship rituals for all the suitors on Ijland and—whoosh!—a wedding.”
Ani shook her head and forced herself to turn cold. “All my life I’ve worked hard to earn my place in the line of succession. I’ve slaved to keep our island green and free.”
She narrowed her eyes and pushed closer, though every trembling sinew urged her back. “Isn’t it enough? Now I have a single demand. I…want…my friend…back in my life. Your weird fantasies can’t keep him away.”
Johanna’s eyes turned to ice. She slapped her daughter across the face. Ani’s hand flew to her cheek. She whimpered like the child she was too old to be.
Jansje’s rebuke was swift. “Hanni! No! We never use violence.”
Ani bolted from the mansion’s terrace and sped to the garage, where she rummaged for her bike. “Gotta get away.” Where was her helmet?
Her voice turned to quivering liquid. “Screw it!” What if she did fall on her head? Wiped out her misery for good?
Through the estate’s gate she pedaled, past the cemetery and church to the center of Van Ijland Village, where fellow descendants of the founder waved to her from their porches. Three hundred years it had been, since The Twelve—enlightened Europeans all of them—had planned their utopian civilization. A lot of good it had done in Ani’s hour of need.
A wizened woman at the fountain raised her palm in greeting. “Go on, young Ani! If you really want to get somewhere, pedal harder.” A vise of desperation tightened in Ani’s belly.
John’s face materialized in her imagination.
“Is there something wrong with me, John? I’m so lost without you. Mother thinks I’m crazy.” John tipped his head.
“You’ve always been part of me, John. Not just my Watcher.” The down-stroke of Ani’s pedals emphasized her words. My Watcher. My friend. My Watcher. My friend.
She arrived atop the highest elevation on the eastern coast of her homeland, which furnished a vista of the verdant southeastern district. For three hundred years her family had served as ruling governors of Ijland because of their dedication to the land and its young. Yet now some wanted to rip open the mountains and farmlands to expose the wealth beneath the surface. Someday, protecting all this would be up to her.
Ani bit down on her bottom lip. “Oh, Mother, I need you so. But I need John more.”
From here the road plummeted closer to sea level. She glanced at the still daunting steepness. She was not afraid of it, for time and again John had nurtured her courage. This incline was nothing compared to saying good-bye to her soul mate.
She was only afraid he might never return. Did Johanna have such power to wield against her child? Ani gulped great sobs of frustration, her chin hunched on her chest, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
She was off! A young heart with a steady rhythm in tune with deep breathing. Her legs pumped harder and harder. “If…you really…want something... If you really want something...Pump harder! Pump harder! Pump harder!”
Again, John’s face appeared in her mind, his eyebrows lifted and his eyes wide. “You can do it, sweet girl. Come. I’ll catch you.”
Johanna loomed over him, claws out. “Stay away from my child. Stay away!”
Ani wobbled against a stone but corrected her balance and forced her energy into the bike. Bawling her frustration, she clenched her handlebars.
John’s smile encouraged her. “You’re strong, Ani. Pump harder! Pump harder, Ani girl.”
Tears clouded her concentration as her legs matched her heartbeats. “Pump-Swish! Pump-Swish! Please, John. Come home.”
An eight-point buck darted onto the road. She squeezed her screeching hand brakes, but the bicycle propelled her downward. It skidded. She lost her grip.
“Help! Catch me, John!”
Someone screamed. People shouted and sobbed.
“Not our little miss.”
“It’s Ani!”
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