job.”
I leaned forward on the stairs. Your job? Librarian? It made no sense. I could think of no safer vocation. Apparently Momme agreed with me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No idea! Three of the past six librarians died before they reached old age. Do you think I don’t know what they do for your little cult? Running messages like some kind of speedy delivery service, with no thought to the danger that they might face?”
“He’s in no danger. He—”
“I don’t care what you have to say. I won’t have this marriage. I won’t have him living under your thumb.”
I heard a rattle of plates, like Miriam had pounded her fist on the table. That’s when I rose to my feet. Never mind that I was wearing only a nightgown, that my feet were bare and my hair tied back in a frizzy cloud at the nape of my neck. I didn’t care, not then.
The only thing I cared about was you.
“He won’t be living under anyone’s thumb but mine,” I said, standing at the bottom step, my hand curled around the newel post. “I love him and I’ll be sixteen soon and we don’t need anyone’s permission to be wed.”
“Alyana,” Tateh said sternly. But I wouldn’t hear it. I just held my chin firm.
“It’s not a plot. He loves me, Miriam. Like you once loved Momme. And just because your hearts were broken doesn’t mean that mine will be!”
They stared at me, Momme and Miriam both. Miriam’s eyes were wide, so like yours. Momme’s mouth had fallen open—so like mine. I didn’t care, didn’t wait for an answer. Before any of them could, I turned on my heel and stomped back up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door behind me, sat down at the desk, and began writing you this letter.
No one came to comfort or reassure me, but that was all right. They didn’t have to. I was fully capable of reassuring myself.
Their voices still floated up the stairs and toward me, though, once their stretch of shocked silence wore out.
“She doesn’t know?”
“Of course she doesn’t know. She’s still a child—unlike your son.”
I clutch my pencil hard in my fist. A child! Well, I’m not a child, Benny. You must know it. I’m a woman, and soon, I’ll be your lover. Your wife.
So tell me, tell me please: What is it that I don’t know?
Yours,
Alyana
88th Day of Spring, 22 Years Till Landing
Benny,
Yes. I think it’s time, too. Meet me at our tree tonight. We’ll talk, okay?
Yours,
Alyana
89th Day of Spring, 22 Years Till Landing
Benny,
Sixteen today! This morning at breakfast Tateh asked if I was “sweet sixteen and never been kissed,” but then Momme gave him a look that said it really wasn’t very funny. She hasn’t talked to me much since her fight with Miriam. I think she’s still holding a grudge. Let her. Today is my Birthday Day and the day I can let the whole ship know that I am yours and you are mine. You are no longer a secret, kept tucked inside my pocket. I can climb the clock tower steps and shout it out in every direction if I want.
I keep thinking about what you told me last night, about the rebels, and how you are one, resisting the Council at every chance you get. The Children of Abel. You all sound very brave to me—like something out of a story. In a way, it’s a little difficult for me to imagine. All those secret meetings in the library you told me about, and your efforts to subvert our leadership at every turn. But at the same time, it makes sense. It explains Mazdin Rafferty, why you and your friends might hold him down and hit him, even though I still don’t think you should have lost your temper like that. But he took something from you, from us, from all of us—a job that could have gone to someone who deserved it, someone who could have helped us all. Instead, we’ll have an unqualified schlub who will someday run our hospital. Who wouldn’t be angry about that?
You asked if I’d join you, though, and I’m just not sure, not
I leaned forward on the stairs. Your job? Librarian? It made no sense. I could think of no safer vocation. Apparently Momme agreed with me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No idea! Three of the past six librarians died before they reached old age. Do you think I don’t know what they do for your little cult? Running messages like some kind of speedy delivery service, with no thought to the danger that they might face?”
“He’s in no danger. He—”
“I don’t care what you have to say. I won’t have this marriage. I won’t have him living under your thumb.”
I heard a rattle of plates, like Miriam had pounded her fist on the table. That’s when I rose to my feet. Never mind that I was wearing only a nightgown, that my feet were bare and my hair tied back in a frizzy cloud at the nape of my neck. I didn’t care, not then.
The only thing I cared about was you.
“He won’t be living under anyone’s thumb but mine,” I said, standing at the bottom step, my hand curled around the newel post. “I love him and I’ll be sixteen soon and we don’t need anyone’s permission to be wed.”
“Alyana,” Tateh said sternly. But I wouldn’t hear it. I just held my chin firm.
“It’s not a plot. He loves me, Miriam. Like you once loved Momme. And just because your hearts were broken doesn’t mean that mine will be!”
They stared at me, Momme and Miriam both. Miriam’s eyes were wide, so like yours. Momme’s mouth had fallen open—so like mine. I didn’t care, didn’t wait for an answer. Before any of them could, I turned on my heel and stomped back up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door behind me, sat down at the desk, and began writing you this letter.
No one came to comfort or reassure me, but that was all right. They didn’t have to. I was fully capable of reassuring myself.
Their voices still floated up the stairs and toward me, though, once their stretch of shocked silence wore out.
“She doesn’t know?”
“Of course she doesn’t know. She’s still a child—unlike your son.”
I clutch my pencil hard in my fist. A child! Well, I’m not a child, Benny. You must know it. I’m a woman, and soon, I’ll be your lover. Your wife.
So tell me, tell me please: What is it that I don’t know?
Yours,
Alyana
88th Day of Spring, 22 Years Till Landing
Benny,
Yes. I think it’s time, too. Meet me at our tree tonight. We’ll talk, okay?
Yours,
Alyana
89th Day of Spring, 22 Years Till Landing
Benny,
Sixteen today! This morning at breakfast Tateh asked if I was “sweet sixteen and never been kissed,” but then Momme gave him a look that said it really wasn’t very funny. She hasn’t talked to me much since her fight with Miriam. I think she’s still holding a grudge. Let her. Today is my Birthday Day and the day I can let the whole ship know that I am yours and you are mine. You are no longer a secret, kept tucked inside my pocket. I can climb the clock tower steps and shout it out in every direction if I want.
I keep thinking about what you told me last night, about the rebels, and how you are one, resisting the Council at every chance you get. The Children of Abel. You all sound very brave to me—like something out of a story. In a way, it’s a little difficult for me to imagine. All those secret meetings in the library you told me about, and your efforts to subvert our leadership at every turn. But at the same time, it makes sense. It explains Mazdin Rafferty, why you and your friends might hold him down and hit him, even though I still don’t think you should have lost your temper like that. But he took something from you, from us, from all of us—a job that could have gone to someone who deserved it, someone who could have helped us all. Instead, we’ll have an unqualified schlub who will someday run our hospital. Who wouldn’t be angry about that?
You asked if I’d join you, though, and I’m just not sure, not