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70.

China House was the only buffet for miles. Every weekend a host of large and strange creatures descended on it to feast on an endless train of spare ribs and orange chicken. The parking lot was jam-packed, Freya noticed several vehicles had spilled into the adjacent lot of Hersch Plumbing Supply where “VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED” signs abounded. Apparently all-you-can-eat-shrimp was worth rolling the dice.

Oliver tilted his head at Freya, as if to ask if she were sure this were the right place. She returned a rueful nod, this was inexplicably Radomir’s favorite restaurant. She continued to scan the lot, there was more on her mind than illegal parking. When she didn’t see Malcolm lurking in wait with a gun, she thanked Oliver for the ride and said she hoped he could get some sleep.

Inside the restaurant her friends were posted at at one of the huge round tables. Freya’s eyes locked onto Dan’s at once, and only reluctantly let go. There was an empty seat beside him that was obviously meant for her. Next was Radomir, and Brad and Cameron came after. Jeanette was to Cameron’s left, her face lit up with a smile when she saw Freya. Tate was next, looking like he was on top of the world, Riley was beside him, sitting close. Immediately Freya could tell they were together. How on Earth had Tate pulled that off? Freya would have bet anything he had no chance.

Dan was still staring at her as if he’d been ensorcelled. Everyone seemed to follow his eyes to Freya and there was a flurry of giggling. They were so obvious.

Burning in her mind was Malcolm’s death threat, but Frey realized if she told the others now it would ruin the whole meal. She pushed the impulse to share what had happened down, she would tell them later.

Radomir stood up and she gave him a careful hug that was little more than draping her arm around him. Rad sounded very congested as he greeted her. There was still tape on either side of his nose, and there were splints inside his nostrils. He told her they would come out in a few days and his sense of smell was supposed to return within a week or two. The swelling had gone down a great deal.

Strangely he seemed much happier after the terrible beating than he had before it. Freya guessed after days in the hospital, anything was an improvement.

Freya’s stomach was backflipping with demands, and her eyes kept being drawn to the steaming hills of paradise, but she pushed it all away to sit down and talk with Radomir. They were here for him after all.

“You look so much better. How is everything?”

“The ribs are the worst of it. Six weeks of practice this idiot stole from me. Six weeks!” Radomir growled, and a jolt of pain shot across his face, raising his voice had been a mistake. Jennette took a sharp breath, her eyebrows leapt up in concern.

“It will be over before you know it,” Freya said delicately. She tapped her fingers around her eye, it had been black once too. The darkness surrounding Radomir’s eyes was still there, but she could see it getting spotty around the edges.

“I am almost done with the book!” Radomir said. “Lem is amazing, as soon as I finish I want to talk with you about it. Guess my favorite part?”

“The symmetriads,” Freya guessed at once. Radomir’s face lit up, she knew she had it.

“Yes! I went back and re-read that section three times, it was all I could think about for the whole day.”

He had a look on his face like she’d done a magic trick. But it hadn’t been difficult to figure out. The symmetriads in Solaris were city-sized formations of living plasma that rose kilometers above the sentient ocean. They created forms of incomprehensible complexity, and then after a few days they crumbled back into the sea as if they’d never been, and no one could offer any explanation.

Ten years of growing up, ten years of training, ten years of dancing, and thirty years of darkness.

Despite Radomir’s pledge to wait until he’d finished reading, they were swept into a conversation about the Solaris. Freya and Radomir were caught in the radiant excitement of sharing something that had touched them both deeply. They each wanted to say three things at once, more than anything it reminded her of the Unity, the way a memory seemed new when she felt it Dan.

Beside her, Dan’s brow creased as he tried to follow their animated conversation. The rest of the table was staring at them, with no clue what they were talking about.

“Neeeeeerrrrrds,” Cameron lowed, and there were a few snorts but no laugh. Radomir’s blackened eyes blinked in annoyance.

“Is this too complicated for you Cameron? Perhaps we should talk of Harry Potter so you can keep up, you dumb muggle.”

Cam mock-gasped, and held his hand to his heart, Tate broke out laughing at the reaction and the way Radomir’s voice honked at the end of his sentence. Cameron seemed about to retort, but the waiter arrived with a tray of sodas. Everyone took it as their cue to get food, happy to let the minor tension dissipate.

Freya lingered in her seat to process what had happened. Dan remained with her and they watched the others swarm the buffet line. She was struck by the way Cameron had made a farce of their conversation, sensing their intensity was making others uncomfortable and skewering them to relieve it. It was the kind of thing she would have been oblivious to before, but now the undercurrents of conversation were impossible to ignore.

Dan’s look was questioning, and she tried to figure out if his expression was jealousy or concern. Perhaps he felt the same frustration she did, that she had to wonder what he was thinking at all instead of feeling it. She squeezed his knee under the table in reassurance, and he smiled at her.

“This is so hard,” she confided, her voice low, and he nodded in understanding. He took her hand and they sat there, trying to reconcile the morning and the present, but her thoughts were restless and drifting.

The way she and Radomir had been geeking out and gushing with enthusiasm was so close to Unity. Freya grappled for a word for the experience. It combined the joy of finding something unexpected, the feeling of understanding and being understood, and the sense that she was not alone any longer. It was a kind of electric sharing, a little like the Norwegian forelsket, but without the romance that word implied. As she thought about it, she wondered if that was actually true.

All through eighth grade, Freya had a terrible crush on Radomir. They were alike in ways she and Dan would never be. She couldn’t help but wonder what Unity with him would be like, and at once she felt guilty for considering it. Freya had been given an incredible, unique bond that no one else on Earth had ever had, and already she was greedy for more.

When they were Reunified, Dan would feel that desire, it would carve into him like a knife. Looming over her were the thoughts she’d had that morning, even more strange and forbidden. She couldn’t forget them, couldn’t deny them, the harder she pushed them away the stronger they would return. That was the price, it was impossible to conceal who she really was and what she really wanted.

Don’t go there! Dan had hissed at her, but how could she not? She was suddenly aware she was gripping his hand too hard.

“You ok?” Dan asked quietly.

“Yeah, just spacey, I haven’t eaten all day,” Freya began, making and excuse out of habit. “No wait, that’s not the truth I’m sorry,” she said, catching herself. “There’s a lot of weird shit running through my head and I’m afraid of it. I’m worried about what you’ll think, what it will do to you when we’re together again.”

“Oh man, I’m right there with you,” Dan said. “I keep being afraid stuff I think will pop up and make you think I’m awful or hurt your feelings.”

“I can take it,” Freya assured him.

“It’s so weird talking to other people after being with—being you. Normal conversation is so difficult and incomplete,” He looked out at their friends joking in the line as they inched forward with their plates. Freya and Dan’s eyes met, something desperate passed between them.

“I miss you,” they said together, sitting inches away from each other.

Freya took his hand and they shared a a deep breath, for a moment she was afraid the Unity was about to begin right that instant. She was sure neither of them was ready. But it was only ordinary closeness.

“Let’s get food before I die,” Freya joked. They joined their place in the line.

* * *

It was four plates until Freya began to feel sated. There were no jibes this time because everyone else was pigging out just as hard as she was. One by one they were defeated.

“What have we done?” Cameron lamented, his face screwed up in exaggerated anguish. Freya was still pretty sure she could return for a fifth.

As they were all reeling, Freya’s phone buzzed with a notification. It was Lynn Harris. She’d been asleep when Freya texted her. In a three paragraph text, Lynn said would handle filing the police report, told Freya to be careful, and asked if she needed anything.

“Death threat?” Dan asked, eying her screen. Freya felt a moment of pique, she hadn’t wanted to bring it up here. But everyone had heard him.

She pulled up the text with the pistol and showed him and the rest of the table, watching everyone’s postures stiffen.

“Is that a real gun?” Riley asked.

“I think so,” Freya said. “I can’t read the writing on the barrel.”

“Let me see,” Brad Kayal said, and she slid him the phone.

“That’s a Ruger SP101, it’s a five shot .357. It’s real,” Brad confirmed. He and his father owned a small arsenal of weapons.

“Where did he get it?” Tate asked

“He’s 18, he could have just bought it at Cabelas. This is really fucked up, you might want to skip town until they catch him,” Brad advised, with a deep frown.

“Skip town?” Freya repeated, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that.

“I dunno, like visit relatives or something. This is so fucked up,” Brad said.

Dan was rubbing the back of his head. Freya turned to him, full of sudden excitement.

“Do you want to go to Paris?” Freya asked.

“Je ne pais Francais,” he said.

“She means Paris on Route 26,” Tate chided Dan.

“I definitely mean France,” Freya corrected Tate. “I’m for real, let’s go.” The table was quiet for a second, she’d said it a little too emphatically and come across as desperate.

“I would in a heartbeat,” Dan said, rescuing her from the awkwardness. “But I don’t have a passport.”

“The Paris here has a bowling alley,” Tate offered.

“I’d rather get shot, thanks.” Freya rolled her eyes.

Cameron broke up laughing while Jennette’s mouth made an “O” in surprise.

“Let’s all go to New York for a week,” Radomir said. “I want to go to the New York Ballet. That’s George Balanchine’s theater.”

“I’ll go!” Jennette chimed in with naked enthusiasm, and Freya smiled at the color that rose to her cheeks afterward. She was surprised to see the hint of a smile on Radomir’s face too, his eyes on Jennette as she looked away. Maybe the beating had broken his shell as well as his nose.

The idea danced in front of them, bright and enticing, but it was just a daydream. Radomir was still hurt, he’d been fading visibly as the meal went on. There was no way anyone’s parents would let them blow off school for a week to go to New York on their own.

But for a second Freya could see them all piling into Brad’s Explorer and driving eight hours to New York City, laughing like fools. They could walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and take the Staten Island Ferry past the Statue of Liberty, all the things she’d done with Randall. She could picture the rapturous look on Radomir’s face at the ballet. She could walk through Central Park with Dan and kiss him at Bow Bridge. She could take him to the guitar store where Randall bought her the Ovation and they could pore over the memory together. She shut her eyes for a moment, wishing it was true. Wishing she could escape.