Sherry Ficklin - Extracted

Ethan catches up with me first. He drapes one arm over my shoulders and runs his free hand through his hair. I let myself relax into him. He smells like saltwater and sand. I breathe in the familiar scent, holding my breath until I can’t anymore before releasing it. He’s warm and somehow soft and strong at the same time. He feels like home.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, pulling back to search my eyes.

I nod. “Just nervous.”

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t challenge me. Finally he releases me. “Nothing to be nervous about. I took my rift test already. It’s a breeze.”

“Wow. How long was I out?”

“A whole day,” Ethan answers.

That explains the hunger.

“He’s right,” Kara says, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “If he can do it, we can do it.”

Ethan leans against the wall. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kara tightens her auburn ponytail. “Just that either of us could beat you with one hand tied behind our back.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Kara says, her eyes glinting. “Isn’t that right, Ember?”

“Yeah. Sure,” I say. I try to sound confident, but my voice is shaky.

Kara turns her back to Ethan and slips her arm through mine. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

“I need to go by my room first,” I say quickly.

“Why?” Ethan asks, following us down the hall.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What can I say? I’m trying to come up with some excuse, but I’m totally blanking out.

“She got mustard on her shirt, nosy,” Kara chimes in. Leaning her head on my shoulder she whispers, “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah,” I whisper back, kissing her on the head. “Thanks for the save.”

“You can pay me back someday.”

They wait outside my door while I run into my room and, thanks to Kara’s cover, throw on a new shirt and brown leather vest. My fingers run over the board where my keys dangle, making them sing like wind chimes. I close my hand around the smallest of them. It’s newer than most of the others, its brass not yet showing signs of patina. The end is oval with intricate spirals inset. It’s the first key Flynn ever gave me, only days after I arrived at the Institute. I had finally been released from the hospital, and he had just shown me to my room for the first time. Checking to make sure I was all right, something he did frequently while I had been in the hospital, he gave me the key.

I hope my other self knew what she was doing, telling me to bring it. If I lose it, I’ll never forgive myself. Carefully I tuck it into the pocket of my vest and allow myself a glance around my room. If things go badly tonight, I’ll never see it again.

By the time I reach the rift chamber, I’m hot again, but this time it has nothing to do with quirky environmental controls. I try to keep my hands tucked into the pockets of my trousers, not just to keep them from shaking uncontrollably but also to keep my palms from getting sweaty. Behind me, Ethan marches slowly, and Kara is at my side, clutching my arm so hard I can feel my heartbeat in it. She is staring straight ahead, her face stern. Only the lack of arrogance in her eyes betrays her fears. I can’t blame her. For all Kara’s bluster, this place is her home as much as it is mine. The idea of losing one of my friends—my family? Well, it scares me even more than the idea of washing out myself, and my first solo rift will be the most dangerous.

“Did Marcia test yet?” I ask. “Did she make it?”

I look at Kara out of the corner of my eye. Her silence is my answer. My stomach flip-flops, but Kara looks impassive. Rifters are taught to be vague—to blend in, to never stand out. We have to be forgettable. Ordinary. I doubt Kara could ever accomplish ordinary. She’s gorgeous and smart and one of the best fighters here. She’ll make it if I don’t. She’ll look after Ethan if I can’t. The idea stabs me in the chest like a knife, but I have to let that be enough, because it’s all the reassurance I’m going to get.

When we get to the door to the rift chamber, I come to a dead stop, trying to swallow the orange-sized lump in my throat before I bid my friends good-bye. They aren’t allowed to go in with me, but they will be allowed to watch from behind the safety glass of the observation room, where Flynn and the other teachers will be. I finally swallow and it feels like a handful of razor blades slicing me as they slide down my throat.

The technical name for the test is the Trials. There is a series of tests that have to be passed before reaching this point, and I’ve nailed all of them, but this is the big one. I will have to make my first unassisted rift, hit a specific mark, complete a task, and return to the chamber—all without being lost in the stream or ripping myself apart. That last bit is trickier than it sounds.

So many things could go wrong that I can’t even count them. I try not to think about them, but every worst-case scenario is rushing into my brain. Without a Tether or some other way to control the rift, I could end up lost in time. I’ve heard rumors about kids who rift the first time accidentally. I shudder, imagining how frightening that must be, just landing in the stream and not knowing how they got there. Even worse, the ones who are lucky enough to find their way out of the stream usually land in some random place in time with no memories of who they were or what they did. It’s those lost children the Hollows like to recruit. Strays, Tesla calls them.

Kara stops. Throwing her arms around me, she squeezes me tightly. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I manage to keep them from spilling over. All I can think is what if I never see them again?

So it’s a good-bye hug. As usual, Ethan joins in, throwing his arms around both of us. We don’t speak. There’s nothing to say. Over the large brass door is a floodlight. A chime sounds, and I glance up to see it has turned red. That’s my cue.

“All right, get off me, you saps. It’s time.” I try to laugh, but it just comes out a dry cough. I wave good-bye, and they head up the stairs to the right of the door. Tugging the bottom of my vest, I straighten myself up, run a hand over my braid, and then press my palm to the door pad. It opens with a rickety groan.

The chamber inside is cylindrical, reminding me of a picture I once saw of the Roman Colosseum. But the walls are smooth grey concrete with metal plates like windows hung all around, all the way up to the tall-domed ceiling. In the center of the room is a brass pedestal with two arched handrails. Next to the door is a small wooden table covered with tech.

The months I’ve spent studying how to use it all evaporate from my mind. As I stare at the familiar objects, my eyes begin to lose focus, softening everything around the edges. I’m breathing too hard, too fast. I grasp the table with both hands and lean over, squeezing my eyes closed.

“It’s all right, Ember—take your time.” Flynn’s voice echoes through the chamber. Of course he is watching me. Everyone is watching me. I straighten up, forcing myself to let go of the table. I will not fall apart. I will not be seen freaking out like this. I am a Rom—

The thought explodes like a grenade behind my eyes. I am a what?

I try to recall the name that hovers in the back of my mind, just beyond my reach. But it’s useless and I don’t have time to deal with my neurosis right now. Later, I promise myself.

If I survive this.

Shaking my head, I push it away, all of it, and look back down at the table. The holy trinity of Rifter tech sits on a simple piece of white cloth.

I reach for the Babel Stone ring first. It’s cool as I slip it on my finger. Brass is coiled around a tiny round magnet, with one simple grey stone that looks deceptively like a piece of common gravel set in the side. Such an innocuous-looking thing to give a person the ability to speak and understand any language.