But Sam isn’t aware of this. All she seems to be aware of is her failure.
“It’s okay,” he says. “We all lost.”
“I don’t think I can do this, Hawk.” Her words are almost lost in the rain, but he hears them. Not just with his ears, but with his heart.
His poor sweet Sam. She’s finally found something she can’t do. And it just happens to be the one thing he needs her to do most.
If she can’t do it, then neither can he.
Which means he has to try harder.
Everything depends on it. Every moment of the rest of his life.
It all comes down to these tests.
SAM
Everyone failed.
In all the hypotheses that Sam could have proposed for the outcome of the first test, that wasn’t one of them.
Starting something as essential as a fire should be straightforward. Simple. Something a Seeker can do.
And yet Sam failed. They all did.
The sun’s setting as she paces around the courtyard, glancing from the corner of her eye at the clay urns sitting on the table against the back wall. Her name is on the third one from the left. That urn holds her future.
And the voting will start soon.
Jagger told them as they’d stood in the rain that voting will happen on the eve of each day’s test. He’d then pointed out that all the usual rules of the Proving applied—they’re able to leave the Proving Center, but there’s no coming back. Walking out is how a person withdraws from the testing.
And Sam has no intention of quitting.
She faces her urn, her mind doing the math. Six tests, two tokens per person from now on, twenty participants. Only six people will have the honor of becoming a Seeker. That means she needs a minimum of twelve tokens to be chosen. And she might not have started a fire, but she has a lot to contribute to the team. Knowledge. Passion. Determination.
Everything else, including fire, will come. It has to.
She spins around and startles when she sees her brother standing in the doorway of the building. Her hand flies to her chest. “Luca. I didn’t hear you.”
He grins. “Sorry. The quieter you are in the Outlands, the longer you live.”
Sam studies him. Late to arrive yesterday, early today. That’s her brother—about as predictable as the weather. Or these tests…
And yet there’s something different about him. He’s leaner and taller than the boy who left for the Outlands five years ago, but it’s not just that. He’s…harder.
Luca leaves the doorway, watching her as closely as she is him. “I figured you’d be here.”
Sam shrugs. “I needed a break from all the talking.”
It’s one of the reasons Sam’s always been so drawn to Hawk. His silence is her safe space. This afternoon, everyone had congregated in the communal space outside the bunk rooms. People wanted to talk about how close they’d come, that if it hadn’t rained, that they just needed a little more time. Now there would be twenty tokens, twenty votes.
Gust and Bryan had been the ones to suggest everyone simply vote for themselves. There had been a round of nodded agreements, all except Hawk. He’d glanced at Sam then looked away.
Maybe he was thinking the same thing she was. That Mercy hadn’t even tried. Neither had Luca. And that if Gust or Bryan had won, their extra tokens would’ve gone to themselves or each other, when they might not be the most suited to the role of a Seeker. Expanding Askala to the Newlands is about working together, it’s a message of peace and healing. It’s about cooperation, not competition. If the Seekers fail, the whole world will pay the price.
Or maybe Hawk was conscious that if they were out in the Newlands tonight, they’d all be cold and wet. Sam hasn’t read any books on survival, but she’s pretty sure that wet and cold aren’t what they’re working towards.
As everyone had begun talking at once, Sam’s head had developed that pressurized feeling, as if all the voices had climbed in and couldn’t get out. It had all felt too loud, too…much.
So, here she is, frowning at her urn as Luca comes to stand beside her.
He drops an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, I needed to get out of there, too. Those guys have no idea what they’re getting into.”
Sam turns to him. “I was just thinking the same thing! They’ve totally missed the point of why we’re doing this. Being a Seeker takes a very particular kind of person.”
Luca frowns. “Let me guess, you’re still going through with it?”
“Well, of course I am. I’m going to take Dad’s message to the Newlands.” Sam shrugs his arm off, not sure why she’s feeling defensive. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before the Proving. This is such a logical step forward.”
It’s the ultimate way to show that Askala’s the solution for both humanity and Earth.
But Luca’s shaking his head. “How many visits to the Outlands have you been on, Sammy?”
Sam crosses her arms. “Two and a half.”
“And a half?” Luca asks incredulously.
“We were on our way the third time when my sea sickness became too much.” Sam’s gaze slides away. Seeing the Outlands made her so mad, she’d been relieved they’d turned around. She doesn’t need to be reminded of the devastation humanity can wreak. It’s documented in some of her favorite texts.
But that was different. That was a broken world that she felt helpless to fix. The Newlands are her tabula rasa—a blank slate waiting for a wonderful new society to grow roots and thrive.
All she needs to do is become a Seeker.
Luca takes a step forward. “And you weren’t able to start a fire.”
But Sam doesn’t back down. “Neither did anyone else.” She narrows her eyes at her brother. “I bet you could’ve.”
Luca would have needed to start countless fires during his years in the Outlands. And yet he wandered around, chatting and joking…
He waves his hand through the air as if it’s of no consequence. “Do you know how to hold a weapon, Sam? Do you know how to find water that won’t make you so sick that you don’t mind the idea of dying of dehydration? Do you know how to find food that wasn’t grown in a garden?”
“You know the answer to all of those questions is no.” Sam plants her hands on her hips. “But I didn’t know how to read, and I learnt how to do that. I didn’t know anything about companion planting, and yet I learnt how to do that. I didn’t know how to tell the difference between a Periplaneta fuliginosa and Periplaneta brunnea, and I can certainly do that now!”
Does he realize how difficult it is to differentiate between those two cockroach species?
“I can’t believe you can pronounce that without tripping.” Luca jams his hands into his hair in frustration. “You’re the last person who should be going out there, Sammy. It’s too dangerous.” His arms explode outward. “You’re too…you.”
Sam wants to stamp her foot. She might be better at reading than…than climbing trees, but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn how to do anything she puts her mind to. She glares at him. “I’m doing this, Luca.”