"I never wanted to see the list of DNA pairings again after I found them in Gunther's hidden office. I saw Esther's pairing and that was it. The rest of the Perfects—the genetically engineered children... I hate the term 'Perfects'—are a mystery to me. Others want to see the list, but not me. I never want to be reminded of Gunther again. But I know that's impossible. He, unfortunately, is one of the ghosts that refuses to leave me be. I'll never escape what he did to me. What he did to us."
-Isla Blume-Crowley

ESTHER

Graduation is tomorrow, and though it's supposed to be a huge celebration, all I can feel is dread. The ceremony means nothing for me—I'll be staying in Hicksmon to apprentice under Uncle Julian in programming—but for Milo, graduation means moving to Petra to study diplomacy at the World Alliance Headquarters. I hate the idea that another one of my loved ones will be across the world from me. First Aunt Ava, Uncle Ian, and Tempest. Now my boyfriend.

I spin my fingers through the wet curls of my golden hair to help it set without product. Aunt Celia made an amazing curl balm, but it makes my hair look too shiny, too perfected; and as a 'Perfect,' I'm wary of anything that would associate me with that adjective. Especially before going to a party with Perfects and Normals.

My graduating class is a mix of both, though most of us are Perfects like me and Milo. Eighteen years ago, the Deathless won a war against a group called Roberts and Cooper. We've been taught about it in school, but I am... well, I wouldn't say lucky, I think as I rub some tinted salve on my lips. I'm different. That's it. I'm different, because my family—both my family by blood and my family through love—actually lived through the war.

My mom Eleanor Crowley was a Carrier at George Cooper's estate. My brother Daniel was one of the leaders alongside Gunther Quail, though he dissented. My sister-in-law Isla Blume was one of the leaders of the rebellion after the first attack on Roberts and Cooper's government bunker. The war isn't just part of Hicksmon's history, it's part of my personal history too. Especially since my biological father died in the attack against the bunker. That's another reason why I'm different: I'm the only Perfect who knows who their biological parents are. Mom told me when I was ten. I'm a mixture of her—which is also different, because from what we've been told, usually Carriers didn't carry their own biological children—and Aunt Ava's cousin. His name was Nathan Ward, and from what Isla has told me, I look just like him. From the round face, to the light brown eyes, to the golden hair.

But even my family by love lived through the war. Aunt Celia was a Comforter like Isla and Aunt Ava. Uncle Julian was an Original, one of the people who survived the apocalypse in the Hoover Dam. Aunt Beatrice, who also happens to be our small nations' president (another reason I'm different) and Uncle Todd survived the apocalypse here in Hicksmon with Mom, back when it was still a place called Lancaster. Back before we re-claimed it.

Yes, the war and all that came out of it is part of our history here in Hicksmon—hell, here in the world—but it's part of my blood too. I was created by war and I was an infant through its end. It's as much part of my DNA as anything else.

Mom calls up the stairs to me, "Es, Milo is here, honey. C'mon down."

I smear a bit of colored powder on my eyelids—dark blue to bring out the specks of gold in my eyes, like Aunt Celia taught me—and flatten my navy dress against my thighs before heading down to meet Milo.

As I hurry down the stairs, my palm gliding over the banister of the home that has always belonged to my mom, the home that will one day belong to me, I do my best not to look up and meet Milo's eyes. In two days he will be leaving for Petra, and I haven't been able to look at him without crying since he told me a week ago.

You worked too hard on your eye makeup to cry it all off now, I remind myself when I finally reach the bottom step and lift my eyes to him.

Please don't go. Please don't go. Please don't go.

That's all my heart can feel and the words invade my thoughts, leaving me speechless. He is too, for lack of a better word, perfect to leave. Black hair, blue eyes, naturally dark skin. His hair grows in little curls like Daniel's, which really scared me for a while. I didn't agree to be Milo's girlfriend until I was sure we weren't related to each other in any way, but that's one of the perks of having the president for an aunt. For breeding purposes, Beatrice, and only Beatrice, has access to the DNA pairings, so that she can ensure no unintentional incest will poison the gene pool. She assured me Milo was not related to me, which was a relief.

That only leaves a few options for who he could be related to. The late war hero Dr. Winston Fowler, perhaps? But then where do those crystal blue eyes come from? I always wonder.

"Hey," he says with a smile. He's hiding something behind his back, but he hasn't revealed it yet.

"Hey," I reply. At least I didn't blurt out, "Please don't go," like my heart wanted me to.

He moves his arms to reveal a single red rose from behind his back.

"Where did you—?"

"I helped him out." I turn to look into the dining room where Isla and Daniel are standing with my five-year-old nephew, their son Toben. On the other side of the dining room, stand Beatrice, Todd, and their son Henry, who's always been like an annoying little brother to me, especially since he broke thirteen years old.

I feel the heat rush from my heart to my cheeks and I spring my hands up to my face to hide my embarrassment. "Oh my god, why is everyone here?" I ask, my words muffled behind my hands.

"It's the graduation dance," Daniel answers. "You think we would miss sending you off?"

"You guys are so embarrassing," I say.

I've been too mortified by my family to actually accept the rose from Milo yet, so he gently pulls one of my hands from my face and places the de-thorned stem into my grip.

"Don't worry," he says. "My parents were the same way."

"How is your mom?" Isla asks. "I haven't run into her all week."

Apparently Isla and Milo's adopted mother, Gloria Valencia, worked together during the war. They work in different departments here in Hicksmon, but they still touch base with each other every now and then.

"She's doing well, thank you for asking Mrs. Crowley," Milo responds. Always the gentleman in front of my family.

"I told you to call me Isla, Milo," she insists. "No one will have any idea who you are talking about if you call me that in Petra. Mrs. Crowley is Es's mom, not me." Her smile quickly fades, and a blush fills into her cheeks. "Call me Isla," she says.

"Is Kayleigh coming over too?" Mom asks after a quick breath. "For pictures?"

Kayleigh is my best friend other than Milo, and the person I'll be apprenticing under Uncle Julian with. A tall, pale-skinned girl with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Unlike some of the other kids in our graduating class, Kayleigh was never intimidated by me. The first day of our first year together, she walked straight up to me and said, "I heard you're the president's niece basically, and that's why no one has talked to you yet. Well, I'm Kayleigh and I don't care who you're family is. I just want to play tag."

I always admired that quality in Kayleigh. She doesn't get wrapped up in labels or what other people are doing. She just does what she wants.

"No," I tell Mom, shaking my head. "Kayleigh's meeting us at the dance. She helped set up the presentation."

"Well then, you better head out," Beatrice says.

"Should we get a picture of the two of them?" Todd suggests.

"I want to take it! I want to take it," Toben says, jumping up and down.

"You can take one, and then let Daddy take the others," Isla tells him, handing him the electronic pad from her jeans pocket.

Toben snatches the device from Isla's hand and runs to stand in front of me and Milo. After a few deliberate pokes on the surface of the pad, he holds the device up to us and sings, "Smile."

A flash from the electronic pad and then one of the last nice pictures of me and Milo together is captured in Hicksmon's digital database. At least that will last.

***

The graduation dance has been set up in the center of the field, Hicksmon's primary common area. String lights hang between trees and poles to give us some mood lighting, but the moon and the stars provide the rest of our light. Somewhere out there a space colony called 'The Mayflower' that the World Alliance has been preparing for the past fifteen years is floating toward Janus. Last weekend when Tempest called me, she said she would be at the send off this week. It's Friday now, and I wonder how that went, though I'm sure she will call me in two days. Sunday is usually our day to catch up.

A large, white fabric screen has been displayed on the north side of the field to block Route 30 from view and to project all of the graduates' pictures, plans, and favorite quotes in a continuous loop. Of course as soon as we get to the party, Milo's picture appears on the screen.

Milo Valencia, pictured in a ridiculously handsome senior portrait.

Will study diplomacy with the World Alliance in Petra, Jordan.

"Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy." -Benjamin Franklin.

Then the slide show moves on to the next student in our graduating class, and my heart can stop its hammering in my chest.

Milo takes my hand and pulls it across his chest to tug me from his side to the space directly in front of him. His hand releases mine and then his touch is on my hips. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "Think you'll be able to sneak away from your family after the dance? Or should we just leave early?"

I smile and bite my lip. It tastes like the cherry salve Celia created. "We should probably just leave early. You know my family: they are everywhere. Especially the yard on summer nights."

"Leaving early it is," he says, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. "As long as I get as much time with you as possible before I leave."

My smile fades, just in time for me to find Kayleigh in the crowd of well-dressed eighteen-year-olds. I can't think about Milo leaving another second longer, and thanks to Kayleigh, I won't have to. She smiles a huge, dimpled grin and jogs across the field (she's wearing flats, since she's already too tall for heels) to meet us. "Hello, my favorites," she says with a quick kiss to each of our cheeks. I wouldn't like anyone else kissing my boyfriend on the cheeks, but Kayleigh is different. She's an open book. There's no mask on that girl, and she doesn't see Milo that way.

"What's up Kay? How were preparations?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Everything had to be perfect, so of course, it was a pain in the ass." Then a sneaky grin forms over her lips. "But I couldn't help throw a little wrench into the mix."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

She raises her eyebrows. "You'll see. I've been wicked." Then she laughs at a joke that clearly only she knows the punchline to.

"I'm scared," I reply with a smile.

"All us Perfects should be," she says, removing her tablet from one of the pockets in her subtly useful dress. And then, as if it were nothing at all, taps on the screen with a few deliberate jabs. Just before she types in the last—number? Letter? She never lets me see what she's working on before it's ready—she pauses, her slender finger hovering over the face of her tablet. She's not smiling anymore.

"What are you doing, Kay?" I ask, no longer smiling either.

She doesn't respond to me, but it's as if my question shook her back into focus. She presses the last key in her code.

The music picks up into a scary, cacophony of noise and the projection screen fills with red light. Milo's hands release from my body and then he's beside me, his mouth open in confusion. I turn to Kayleigh and yell over the music, "What did you do?"

"Just watch," she tells me, though I can barely hear her.

White words appear in the red and the music refuses to fade.

The class of 2098, the 'Perfects.'

Do not allow yourself to be lied to anymore.

You are not your mother's son or your father's daughter.

You were created in a lab and born to be different.

Do not allow yourself to be so plain and complacent.

You were meant to be extraordinary.

It's time to see where our extraordinary qualities come from.

"Kayleigh, what is this?" I ask.

She points her chin at the screen.

It's time for answers.

"Shut it off! Shut it off!" our principal, Galaxy (no last name) yells.

But no matter how many people rush to to shut down the display, they can't. Kayleigh must have blocked any other access to her program. She was always better at programming than I was.

I see Uncle Julian rushing to mess with the media panel beneath the screen, and I want to rush and help him or convince Kayleigh to shut it off... but then the first name comes up.

It's another girl in my class, the first in our yearbook alphabetically. She is a mix between a man named Flynn O'Brien and a woman named Meg. Just Meg. Like Galaxy is just Galaxy. I wonder if she was a forgotten person too.

Then a boy is on the screen, his post-graduate plans and favorite quote replaced by a map of his DNA. He is one part George Cooper and one part someone whose name I don't recognize.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Beatrice running down to the media panel to try to help Julian disable it. This is exactly what they didn't want, and for good reason: Even though I've known that boy forever, I suddenly feel uneasy knowing that I ever even spoke to him. He has the destroyer of worlds in his veins.

I know that there are only two other students before me, Esther Crowley. Even though I know my genetic makeup, I can't pull my eyes away from the screen. I want to see it there: Esther Crowley, one half Nathan Ward, one half Eleanor Crowley.

There's only one more student before me when I am tugged by the shoulder to turn around. Isla stands before me, her eyes wide with terror. "Don't look," she tells me.

Daniel runs up beside her and, seeing Kayleigh clutching her tablet, swipes it from her hand. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he yells at Kay once he sees the confirmation on her screen. This is her program. Kayleigh single handedly deteriorated the balance between my graduating class and the community of Hicksmon.

He grabs her by the arm, the same grip he used on me the time he caught me coming home after curfew, and pulls her along with him toward Julian and Beatrice at the media panel.

I look over my shoulder to see if Kayleigh is going to help, and as my gaze passes Milo's shocked face, I sneak a peek at the screen.

Esther Crowley. Genetically 50% Nathan Ward, 50% Isla Blume.

Isla grabs my face to tug it back to hers so I don't see the words on the screen. It has to be a lie, I think. But the look on Isla's face, the pleading eyes that seem to ask, "You didn't see anything, did you?" gives her away.

I push her away from me and look back at the screen to make sure I'm not imagining anything. But there it is, for a few moments more. And there are all the eyes of my classmates on me. I am not the daughter of Eleanor Crowley. I am the daughter of Isla Blume, the girl who led part of the rebellion eighteen years ago. The girl who I was raised to call my sister.

My chest tingles with a slow burn of anger... no, disgust. And no, those aren't tingles... it's nausea.

I lean forward, rest my hands on my knees, and try in vain to catch my breath. Instead, vomit spills onto the field, splashing onto both Milo's shoes before he can jump back and mine.

Kayleigh's message was right: Now I need answers. Right after I find my dignity.

***

Hey there! Thanks for reading! <3

Updates for this story will be posted every Sunday, for a weekly "All the Space Between Sundays" event where you can log on, read, and give me your ideas for the next week's episode. The cousins' journeys will be influenced in part by reader comments!

Each post will alternate between Esther and Tempest's points of view (those of you who have read The Deathless Trilogy will recognize those names... :-P).I hope you enjoy this new series! <3-Sarah