Building Harlequin’s Moon by Larry Niven, Brenda Cooper Page B

go.” She pushed away and stood up, walking unsteadily, the softness of a few moments before turned to confusion.
    She flew back alone, the cool night air chilling her. Ursula refused Rachel’s calls that night, and Rachel wanted Harry’s touch, but couldn’t bring herself to go find him after leaving so abruptly.
    Rachel woke the next morning to Ursula sitting cross-legged outside her window. She slipped outside into the cool air, careful not to make any noise that would wake her father, and started toward the edge of town. Ursula followed silently, looking angry and exhausted. Rachel wondered if she had slept.
    Rachel walked as long as she could stand the silence, until they stood at the edge of the tent city next to a row of palms. What was she supposed to say? “Ursula. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
    “How did
that
happen? He’s a geek. He’s just like Andrew.”
    “He’s not like Andrew. Not anymore. I don’t think he ever was.”
    “And why not tell me? How could you hide—”
    “I’m sorry.” Rachel stopped and looked Ursula in the eyes. She would not mumble a false apology, like Andrew. “I was wrong.”
    “So you won’t see him anymore? You’ll stop this?”
    “I was wrong not to tell you.”
    “Are you going to stop?”
    “I care about him.”
    “But—”
    “I know he hangs out with Andrew. But he’s not
like
him. There’s a lot we talk about—he sees things like I do.”
    “And I don’t?” Ursula’s voice was still tight, protesting.
    Rachel sat down and put her hands over her face. “Ursula, it’s different with Harry. My belly goes soft when I’m with him.”
    “Yuck.” Ursula stood above Rachel, looking down at her.
    “I mean . . . I mean . . .”
    “You kept a secret. From me. And all the while I’m stuck here, miles away from you, and you’re playing . . . with him . . . and not calling me, and I—”
    “I said I’m sorry.” It was hard to be patient. “I knew you wouldn’t like it. How could I explain?”
    “You’ve been here for three days.”
    “I know. But you wanted to talk about other things.”
    “I’ve just . . . Rachel, I’ve been so lonely here.”
    “Ursula, you’re my best friend. I didn’t set out to hurt your feelings. But I like it . . . I like him. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I mean, who’d I spend two days with nonstop when I got here? Look, don’t argue. Let’s go work in the grove and have a good day together.”
    “I don’t . . . no . . .” Ursula turned her back, but Rachel could still hear her. “I—give me a day.”
    “We’re supposed to leave tomorrow night.”
    “So we’ll meet for breakfast tomorrow.”
    “Okay,” Rachel said softly, walking away, upset enough that it felt better to hike to the grove instead of flying. She carried her wings, working up a light sheen of sweat. It didn’t help her feel better.
    Rachel went to the field by the First Trees and sat cross-legged behind the dais that Gabriel and Ali sometimes taught from, looking toward the trees. What had she done?
    Grass poked at her calves. This field was the only place Council encouraged grass to grow. There were butterflies and bees here, genetically regulated to control reproduction. Other strains would replace these as Council introduced a balance of predators, primarily birds and insects. Rachel tried to picture the world fuller, with more variety, more balance, like the balance that supported the water systems. It was hard to imagine so much chaos. A bright blue butterfly with yellow eyes on its wings landed in front of her, stayed for two heartbeats, and flew up and over the dais, away.
    Rachel stood to watch it go, and noticed Gabriel standing silently in the middle of the field behind her. He wore loose blue pants tied at the ankles and no shirt. His arms were raised above his head, hands clasped high, palms close in together. His eyes were closed. He swayed, first to the right, then the left, each time reaching far out