-Worlds Apart- Ruination by Amanda Thome

like steam where he touched. I glance to look at him; my unruly hair covers my eyes. 
    “See you tomorrow Nessa.” He brushes the rogue hairs from my face, tucking them behind my ear.
    That night I still feel his touch across my cheek. It’s not normal to spend so much time thinking about someone, or actually trying not to think about one person. His body, his touch, his everything keeps me awake until at last I fall asleep. Once again I dream of him.
     

Chapter 12
     
     
    Emma’s tossing body abruptly interrupts my dreams. I follow her into the bathroom as she crouches over the toilet. My free hand strokes her shaking shoulders.
    “It’s ok Emma. I’m here, I’m here.” I collect her long blonde hair, holding it clear from her face.
    “Nessa I…” She’s cut off by another surge of wrenching vomiting. Her tiny body quakes under my arms. Wave after wave lays assault to her insides.
    Most of the night we alternate from the toilet to the floor. Emma can hardly open her beautiful eyes that are now rimmed with red. It’s been at least an hour since the last wave hit and I scoop her tiny body from the floor, carrying her to bed. 
    “First light’s almost here. I’ll take the shuttle to education and tell them you’re sick. I’ll let Garrett know I can’t come today but I’ll be home right after” I reassure her.
    He’s only got two days left until his leap but Emma needs me more.
    “No, I’ll go. I’ll fall behind if I don’t.”
    Education’s supposed to be every citizen’s top priority but I never thought she took it as seriously as she should. Maybe she just hid it, or maybe she’s finally seeing how important it is.
    “I’ll get the lessons from the educator, we can do them together.”
    I watch out the window until the light over the eastern hills severs the grey landscape, releasing me from curfew. I close the creaking door as quietly as possible and enter the cold December air. It constricts like a vice on my chest. I force my breaths around its icy grasp. The rhythmic left, right of my legs pumping warms my body until I can finally empty my mind and become a vacant vessel. My breathing becomes less erratic as I pump my legs toward our hillside.
    I sprint through the sub-two neighborhood and automatically turn left, leaping across the fallen tree that’s been unhurriedly rotting since before I was born. I’ve taken this route almost daily since I was six. It feels like home to me. I hop foot to foot across the scattered rocks that lay at the base of the log.
    I keep running through the canopy of trees along my trail that’s been pounded down from years of travel. I memorized every rock, stump, and tree along the way years ago and my body responds automatically. I cut through the thick forest until I see the glittering water of the river peak through the trees. Garrett isn’t here yet. 
    Our hillside’s open, all except for the oak tree that stands just left of center. Countless days I’ve sat on the hill gazing at the tree in awe. The dark arms reach in all directions; some wind and curve upwards while others dip and twist toward the ground to hover just above the red soil. The soil gives way to a massive trunk that I could lay at the base of and be hidden from sight.
    This tree’s the reason Garrett and I chose this spot. It provides shade in the summer and shelter from howling winds and heavy rain. For years we’ve tied messages to the low hanging branches for each other. I tie my brief note to one of the sagging arms knowing he’ll look here once I haven’t made it to the hill. 
    I have to hurry if I’m going to catch the shuttle to education before class begins. I clear the tree line crossing the log as the shuttle approaches the platform. I duck my head letting my chin nearly hit my chest, I swing my legs fast racing to the platform. I leap onto the shuttle just as the doors seal shut.
    There’s a sea of blue when I arrive at education. Blue clothes, bags, even blue