Requiem by Lauren Oliver Page A

came in and found me looking at photographs. . . .”
    â€œI remember,” I say. “Surveillance images, right? You told me you were looking for Invalid camps.”
    â€œThat was a lie.” Julian shakes his head. “I just—I liked seeing all that openness. That space, you know? But I never imagined—even when I dreamed about the Wilds and the unbordered places—I didn’t think it could really be like this.”
    I reach out and take his hand, give it a squeeze. “I knew you were lying,” I say.
    Julian’s eyes are pure blue today, a summer color. Sometimes they turn stormy, like the ocean at dawn; other times they are as pale as new sky. I am learning them all. He traces my jaw with one finger. “Lena . . .”
    He’s looking at me so intently, I begin to feel anxious. “What’s wrong?” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
    â€œNothing.” He reaches for my other hand too. “Nothing’s wrong. I—I want to tell you something.”
    Don’t, I want to say, but the word breaks apart in a fizz of laughter, the hysterical feeling I used to get just before tests. He has accidentally smudged a bit of dirt across his cheekbone, and I start to giggle.
    â€œWhat?” He looks exasperated.
    Now that I’ve started laughing, I can’t stop. “Dirt,” I say, and reach out to touch his cheek. “Covered in it.”
    â€œLena.” He says it with such force, I finally go quiet. “I’m trying to tell you something, okay?”
    For a second we stand there in silence, staring at each other. The Wilds are perfectly still for once. It’s as though even the trees are holding their breath. I can see myself reflected in Julian’s eyes—a shadow self, all form, no substance. I wonder what I look like to him.
    Julian sucks in a deep breath. Then, all in a rush, he says, “I love you.”
    Just as I blurt out, “Don’t say it.”
    There’s another beat of silence. Julian looks startled. “What?” he finally says.
    I wish I could take the words back. I wish I could say I love you, too . But the words are caught in the cage of my chest. “Julian, you have to know how much I care about you.” I try to touch him, and he jerks backward.
    â€œDon’t,” he says. He looks away from me. The silence stretches long between us. It is growing darker by the minute. The air is textured with gray, like a charcoal drawing that has begun to smudge.
    â€œIt’s because of him, isn’t it?” he says at last, clicking his eyes back to mine. “Alex.”
    I don’t think Julian has ever said his name.
    â€œNo,” I say too forcefully. “It’s not him. There’s nothing between us anymore.”
    He shakes his head. I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
    â€œPlease,” I say. I reach for him again, and this time he lets me run my hand along his jaw. I crane onto my tiptoes and kiss him once. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t kiss me back, either. “Just give me time.”
    .Finally he gives in. I take his arms and wind them around my body. He kisses my nose, and then my forehead, then traces his way to my ear with his lips.
    â€œI didn’t know it would be like this,” he says in a whisper. And then: “I’m scared.”
    I can feel his heart beating through the layers of our clothing. I don’t know what, exactly, he is referring to—the Wilds, the escape, being with me, loving someone—but I squeeze him tightly, and rest my head on the flat slope of his chest.
    â€œI know,” I say. “I’m scared too.”
    Then, from a distance, Raven’s voice echoes through the thin air. “Grub’s on! Eat up or opt out!”
    Her voice startles a flock of birds. They go screaming into the sky. The wind picks up, and the Wilds come alive again with rustling and scurrying