“Mister Wing.”
I look up from staring through the airplane window at the clouds, my hands messing with my paper clip ring. The attendant has come over to Eden and me to hand us both a couple of forms. “We’ll be landing shortly,” he says, nodding briefly at me.
Eden adjusts his glasses and grins. “Are you ready?”
I smile back, my own joy cautious and restrained, and return to staring outside. “Ready enough,” I reply. Through the window, I can see the sprawling grid of Los Angeles materializing under the clouds, the downtown skyscrapers sitting along the shores of that familiar lake, the coast dotted with Republic warships. It looks just like how I remember: darker than Antarctica, grayer, grittier.
Tess will be here.
We land, are inspected by Republic officials. Then we’re escorted into a car that takes us to the apartment where we’ll be staying while Eden interviews for his internship. An engineering position in Batalla sector. The words repeat in my head, strange and surreal.
As we drive through the city, I notice a headline rotating on the JumboTrons.
EDEN BATAAR WING IN LOS ANGELES TO INTERVIEW FOR BATALLA ENGINEERING POSITION
I guess the Republic still remembers us. The sun is setting over the city by the time Eden and I are finally settled in our apartment. As we step out of the complex and head toward the parking structure where our car waits, I glance at my brother. “Excited for dinner?” I ask him.
He pushes his glasses up a little and practically beams. “Excited?” he replies. “We haven’t seen Tess in . . . I don’t even know. She was a kid the last time we were together.”
I laugh. “You were a kid the last time you were together.” I smile at the slight pink in his cheeks. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you planning this dinner with her.”
“Just glad to see an old friend,” Eden says as his blush deepens. I shrug and let it drop, though a smirk plays at the edges of my lips.
“Oh!” Eden suddenly exclaims. He snaps his fingers. “Forgot her gift.” I roll my eyes as he turns us around to go back to our apartment.
As we walk, Eden chats energetically about the details of his proposal, constantly pushing the sleeves of his collared shirt up to his elbows and gesturing in midair. I listen quietly. Mom and John would be proud of you. I look for hints of them in his mannerisms, in his long stride and his quick smile.
“And when I see Tess, I’ll tell her about the hospital wing addition I’m planning for—” Eden interrupts himself to give me a quizzical glance. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I laugh. “Because you’re talking like a little man,” I reply. “All this coming from the kid who used to shoot homemade darts at the backsides of street police.”
“Hey, I can still do that, you know,” Eden retorts with a grin.
I raise a teasing eyebrow at him. “And now look at you,” I reply, shoving him.
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