Grounded

Chapter 15

Singing birds and a brightening light usher me into consciousness. Of course, it isn't the sunrise or actual chirping. Both are artificial. Korwin has the same fake window as I have in my room, complete with computer-generated butterfly.

He sleeps like an angel next to me, his olive skin a tempting contrast against his white pillow. Full lips part slightly, and a strand of his black hair sweeps across his forehead. Everything about him is peaceful. For a moment, I just lie there, smiling for no good reason whatsoever. But then, like a slow leak, my joy drains from me, and reality seizes me by the throat. I am in bed with a boy I hardly know. What would my father say?

I creep from the bed, careful not to disturb Korwin, and slip into the hall. Halfway to my room, a sharp tug at my ribs pitches me forward onto my toes. My distance from Korwin. I've broken some unseen physical boundary, torn myself from the force of gravity surrounding his person. I rub circles over the sharp pang beneath my sternum but can't dull the ache.

Convinced I can wash this feeling away or at least suppress it, I strip down when I reach my room and start a shower. Under the warm spray, I have time and quiet to think about my actions. I've spent the night with Korwin. Nothing happened, of course. Still, my brain pummels me with excuses for my misaligned guilt. In Hemlock Hollow there is a tradition called bundling, where courting couples spend the night together in the same bed. Parents bundle the girl in blankets or hang a sheet between the two. It's a way of showing they trust the boy and also a rite of passage. One more stop on the journey to Amish marriage.

I compare what happened with Korwin to bundling and try not to think about the fact that we aren't courting and my father isn't here to approve. I'm in the English world, after all, and this behavior might be commonplace. Only I don't think it is, even here. Desperate for self-forgiveness, I tell myself that my actions are due to my new abilities. My blood is different, my cells are different, and I've just met the only other person in the world with the same condition. However it came to be, Korwin and I share something unique.

This last excuse sticks. I forgive myself for spending the night with Korwin. After all, I have more than enough to feel guilty about. I've participated in injuring a slew of people. Yes, it was in self-defense, but in the Amish world, violence is never the answer and self-sacrifice is not only encouraged but demanded. Then there's Jeremiah. Technically we aren't courting yet, but that doesn't mean promises weren't made. He'd promised to court me, and I hadn't given him any reason to doubt that I'd accept. From the time we could walk, we've done everything together. Everyone in Hemlock Hollow expects us to marry.

But never, not in all the times I've stretched out in the hay next to Jeremiah, have I felt the kind of attraction I feel for Korwin. I'm not sure it's solely because I'm a Spark. Maybe, like the lightning, my cells are drawn to Korwin's in some scientifically explainable way. Maybe Maxwell can make me understand with a series of charts and graphs.

Here's what I can't deny. If God gave me this power—made me a Spark—for the purpose of saving Korwin and myself, then he also gave me this attraction to Korwin. And if he did, this is more than a human connection. Who am I to deny fate?

All this thinking doesn't give me any answers. Not how to get home or what Korwin will do when it's time for me to leave. It doesn't answer what to do about my father or Jeremiah. I finish showering, resolved to face the future as it comes.

From the closet, I select a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with a clever design I've never seen. My thumbs fit through holes in the cuffs and the neck is cut at an angle to reveal one shoulder. I apply some makeup from the basket on the counter, imitating the picture on the kit, and brush out my hair until it falls in waves down my back. The person in the mirror is not Lydia Troyer but an Englisher named Lydia Lane. For now, that's how it has to be.