Page 132 of Because I Killed Him
I let out a dry laugh, only half-joking when I say the course should be defunded and scrapped. Edmund wouldn’t know how absurd the lectures are. He chose Intro to Genetic Engineering instead.
He rolls his shoulders as he listens, as if even when focused, his muscles can’t quite stay still. The current builds around us, and the rough, choppy waves keep driving our boards apart. Edmund places a hand on the edge of mine, anchoring it beside his to keep us close enough to talk.
“So which class do you actually like?” he asks.
“Political Theory and Governance.”
His smile fades, his gaze drifting past me.
“You don’t like politics?” I press.
“I wouldn’t say that. My father was a politician, and so is my brother. I respect it and see its value. I just don’t think I’d be any good at it.”
The rhythm of his tone is so rehearsed that, for the first time, I sense he’s lying to me. Politics is one of the few arenas where you can’t straddle the line. The laws you support or oppose clearly reveal your beliefs. If Edmund ever became a Blue Representative, he’d be forced to choose between high and low. Either he’s not ready to make that decision, or he wants to avoid it altogether.
“What do you want to do, then?”
Edmund angles his board into a rising swell, and I follow, gliding over the crest behind him. “Not sure yet, but I hope I’ll be useful. That’s why I haven’t picked a major. I want to get it right.”
The response reminds me of Dad. He says he entered politics because it was a useful career. Yet when Edmund says the same words, I think he shouldn’t have to make that kind of sacrifice. He’s already making one by agreeing to an arranged marriage, a lifetime bound to a woman he doesn’t love. So I hope he gets the rest, at least a small piece of the life he wants.
“Are you going to major in politics?” he asks.
“No. I mean… I’m actually not sure yet.”
He smiles. “I hope you do. You’d be good at it.”
His certainty catches me off guard. “Why?”
“Because, at least in general, I think you like people. And if you’re going to care about their futures, you’ve got to care about them first.”
That’s not what I expected. But what comes next surprises me even more.
“And because you don’t confuse diplomacy with compromise. Even if you light a few fires, even if you lose your way for a while, I don’t think you’ll ever betray yourself.”
Edmund glances at me sidelong through his dripping hair, still smiling, still holding my board close.
For a single, unbearable second, I hate him.
His voice. His face. His smile.
Whether I want it or not, he’s slipping under my skin so deeply that I don’t know if I can dig him out. The only thing I know is that I need to getaway from him. Now. Before he notices my restlessness and figures out what I’m desperately trying not to feel.
If he ever realizes how I feel about him, he’ll be wrong about me.
I’ll have already betrayed myself.
“Thank you, Edmund,” I say, tugging at my earring. “I’m getting too cold. I’m gonna head back.”
I turn, ready to paddle away, when I realize how far we’ve drifted. The bonfire on the beach flickers like a tiny flag of light in the distance. We’ve already passed the reef where I saw the seashells and the swim-zone buoy, which means we’re only half a mile from the rim of the energy shield.
“Shit,” Edmund says, his voice already distant across the water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we’d gone past the buoy. Can I help?”
I strain to see him through the dull bars of moonlight. “Help how?”
There’s a rush of water as he paddles closer, and then his hand appears, held out toward me.
Oh.
