One (One Universe)

walks into the room. It’s like the freaking Sea of Reeds parts for her because the people standing in front of the door where she’s walked in kind of stop what they’re doing and all turn toward her, and then the clapping starts. Within seconds, it’s thunderous, echoing off the high ceiling and every wall.
    Even my heart swells with pride for her. She must have done something really, really incredible. I’ll have to talk to her about that.
    She holds up her hands, trying to quell the applause, which has now blocked out everyone else’s conversation, but it keeps going, and she’s clearly embarrassed. Suddenly, Dad is there, with his arm around her, saying “thank yous” on her behalf and walking her away. Right after my initial rush of jealousy for her, I look at her and Dad again, and I see it.
    Elias and me.
    There we are, twenty-five years from now. They fit together perfectly. Just like Elias and me.
    I love Elias.
    I love Elias. I beam at him and tear up a little, I’m so damn happy about it. He smiles back at me, his eyes kind. He doesn’t get it, somehow doesn’t see it in my face.
    Great. He can read my freaking thoughts about my hairstyle and its aerodynamics, but now, with my feelings so strong, he thinks I’m randomly grinning at him like an idiot. The applause for Mom dies down after a few seconds. I squeeze his hand.
    “How soon can we get out of here?” I ask, only realizing after I say it what it must sound like.
    His smile in return seems distracted and a little confused. He knows how excited I am about the Symposium. “They’re doing the gap year presentation after this.”
    Right. I feel bad that I was so stupid. Elias’s sisters, the presentation, the reception afterward. He’s not thinking about me at all, and I shouldn’t expect him to.
    It’s actually not that bad that I get to keep this to myself for a while longer. I love Elias. I love him. He’s almost told me he loves me, a few times. Last night. A month ago, when we sat on the rooftop, even though things were different then.
    I can’t wait to tell him. Can’t wait to be the first to finally say it, can’t wait to see the relief written across his face. Can’t understand how or why it took me this long to realize it.
    I look at Elias again, and some of my elation melts away, filled in by more worry. He’s still so distracted, so anxious to see them.
    “Have you heard from them?” I ask. “Letters or anything?”
    He shakes his head. “Not for a couple weeks,” he says, not looking right at me, his disturbed look.
    I squeeze his hand again, put my head on his shoulder. “Okay,” I say. “I’m sure they’re okay.”
    He kisses the top of my head, and from the way he does it, lightly and kind of sideways, I know. He’s still staring off, still upset.
    Suddenly, all I want is to get to that presentation. Because I know that, in this moment, that’s all he wants, too.

EIGHTEEN
    T he entire room clears after lunch for a tour through the Hub. I’m actually pretty bored as we near the Symposium’s end. Elias gave me a tour of the Hub, between the testing arena last night and some more awesome lab and testing areas this morning. The tour doesn’t extend nearly that far. I wonder how many people have really seen the depth of this place. I try to remind myself that Elias is lucky.
    Suddenly, I feel butterflies in my stomach. This is the gap year presentation, so Mr. Hoffman will probably be here. My skin crawls again. For the first time, I wish I could tell Elias about him. About everything. But I promised, and I can’t break that promise, not even for Elias.
    Fisk strides onto the stage, and I shiver. I focus on Elias, look over at him and squeeze his hand, and for the first time this Symposium, he’s lit up — his smile, his eyes, everything. There’s something incredible about a guy who loves his sisters this much.
    “Welcome to the crowning presentation of the Superior Hub’s Biotech Symposium.” Applause thunders through the room, and I wonder if I should have been even more excited about this.
    “I know this is the show you all have been waiting for, so I won’t keep you waiting any longer. It is my pleasure to introduce you to our inaugural class of Gap Year Gifteds.”
    The applause gets even louder, if that’s possible.
    The kids file out on the stage, ten total — two very muscular guys; the girl with the cropped hair from earlier; a blond girl almost as short as I am; one very lanky