The Burn (A Runner Series Companion)

Chapter 2: Harmen

175 A.B.

(34 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

I didn't know that I loved her. At least, not at first.

She wasn't my type. Although, to be fair, no one was exactly my type. At twenty years old, I was more likely to find solace in one of the library's old pre-Burn history books than in the arms of a girl.

That's where I first saw her, in the library. I was conducting research on Darwin's evolutionary theory, engrossed in a thick textbook, when a high, tinkling sound caught my attention.

She was across the room, sitting at one of the tables, leaning back in her chair as she laughed uproariously. Normally, someone disrupting my most precious study time would cause me to grumble and stalk off to a quieter corner, but something about this girl was different.

I watched her for a few minutes. She had a habit of tossing her long, auburn hair over one shoulder, and a marked seriousness whenever she leaned in close to one of her friends. I marvelled at the way she slid easily between unbounded joy and calculated thought. I couldn't make out the conversation, but I was enraptured, nonetheless.

I wasn't worried about being caught watching her. No one ever took much notice of me. Mousy old Spencer Harmen, always the quiet one, the bookworm. There was nothing interesting about me and as someone interested in primarily academic pursuits, that suited just fine.

But, for some reason, I wanted this girl to notice me.

Eventually, I slammed my book shut and pulled myself away from the scene. Clearly, today has been a waste of time. I may as well find those last books I need and bring them home with me. Reluctantly, I sidle from my chair and enter the reference section, my practiced fingers scanning the beautiful, ratty book covers. I have become so engrossed in my search that I fail to notice someone else standing in the aisle, until I have collided with them.

"Sorry about that." I murmur, stooping to gather my fallen books.

"No problem, it was entirely my fault." She hands me my textbook and I finally look up.

It's her. It's the girl.

"Are you all right?" Her brows are furrowed as she looks at me.

She's looking at me. Really looking at me.

"F-fine." I manage. "I'm fine."

"If you're sure." We straighten. She's still looking at me. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"No." I say, too quickly. No one ever knows me.

"Yes, I do." That instant smile alights her freckled features. "From the Outer City Academy. You work there, don't you? I've seen you around."

For a moment I am too shocked to reply. "Research." I say, finally. Gods, research? Why did I say that? How boring does that sound? I should say something else, anything else.

But nothing comes to mind.

"Research." She echoes. The smile doesn't waver from her face. "I'm a student, at the OCA."

"What do you study?" I ask.

"Meteorology."

Something must have shown on my face because she laughs, that amazing, tinkling sound.

"I take it you haven't met many people silly enough to study the weather." She teases.

I have been teased before, but those jests were always intended to hurt me. This is different.