Page 44 of The Last Love Story

“Look at you,” I say instead. “You couldn’t take a bad photo if your life depended on it. You’re beautiful, Ettie.” A swell of emotion builds in my lungs, and I kind of want to cry. I missed Callum, but I also missed Ettie. Little Ettie, who always made me feel like the coolest person alive.

I’m so busy smiling at her that I don’t realize we’ve reached our destination until we step into a massive shadow that pulls my attention upward. The building isn’t as white as the name implies; decades of ash have shadowed the paint, and the roof seems to sag. Still, a chill runs down my spine.

I’m going to have to meet the president. Suddenly that much is clear. I’ll be face-to-face with the man who outlawedreading and writing, who sent my friends to war and arrested my proctor. Will he see through me? I try to shove the thought way as Ettie leans closer.

“So I’m supposed to be telling you all about the architecture, blah blah blah, but that’s boring so we’ll just pretend. Tell me everything. How’s your mom? How’s your dad?”

Aware of the cameras at our backs, I let Ettie gesture at the grand façade of my new house and I tell her about life—the AI training, life in Post Angeles. I lie, of course, when it comes to how much Callum and I were talking. When she asks about our “late-night phone calls,” I play along, saying that my mom would pop her head in and I’d pretend to be asleep.

That’s another thing I lie about: that my mom would still check on me in the middle of the night. For some reason, I can’t bear to have Ettie lose the image of my mom that she had. To her, Mrs. Hart was the cool mom who made Halloween snacks every night for the whole month of October.

So, for Ettie, my mom is the way she was Before. And maybe, if I play my cards right, the way she’ll be again.

Eventually, as my feet are aching in these impractical shoes, we make another turn and head back toward the rose-gold obelisk, the eerily blue pool. Below us, the ground dips into a stairwell. The Metro, Ettie explains, and I freeze,leaving her to lurch to a stop next to me, as our arms are still linked.

There—right in front. It’s so faint I would have missed it if it was any darker: an Ionic column, spray-painted just over theM. With all the other tags and faded posters, it could be anything.

But I know what it is: the mark of Lyceum.

My heart stutters. I thought I was alone here, with no safe way of contacting anyone, with my tablet ripped away, unable to even post a new chapter ofWritten in the Stars. I knew Lyceum was something that stretched across the nation, but didn’t know how to find it.

But now, it seems that Lyceum found me.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Ettie laughs, and I come back to the moment. I’d forgotten she was next to me.

My mind races. “Ummm. Do you think I could use the bathroom?” I whisper conspiratorially, looking over our shoulders at the security detail behind us and the influencers just behind them.

“In the Metro? It’s been years since it worked. Plus, it’s theMetro.” She wrinkles her nose. “We’re, like, a few blocks from home—”

“I just need a few minutes to myself,” I whisper.

Ettie purses her lips, turning as we pretend to keep walking slowly. “They aren’t going to let you out of their sight. You’re basically part of the first family now.”

I make a face. “No more privacy, then.” My heart races as my mind whirls, trying to think of an escape route. Aloud, I find myself confessing a little bit of the truth: “This has just been really, really intense. I don’t know how you live like this—all the cameras, eyes on you all the time...”

Ettie pauses at the real emotion in my voice. “Okay. So this is against the rules,” she starts, and I already like the sound of it. “But just... play along.”

Without further warning, she wheels around.

“My necklace!!” she gasps, throwing a hand up to her neck. The security detail stops; one puts a hand to the blade on their belt before he can fully realize what Ettie is shrieking about. She marches over to the group of security guards, her eyes on the ground. “It fell off! Oh my gosh, my dad is going tokillme! It was a gift from the English prime minister! He’s coming to the Union Conference and if I’m not wearing it we’re talkingan international incident!”

The guards’ faces go from confused to worried at her declaration, and all their eyes drop to the ground. Behind them, Ettie’s words seem to echo through others’ mouths, as the camera-wielding crowd hooks into the drama of the unfolding story.

Ettie glances up and winks, keeping her arm at her side even as she motions with her fingers togo go go!

Before I can think any better, I race to the stairs and down until I reach a door. A dim line of light leaks fromunderneath. I yank at the handle, spilling awkwardly into the room beyond. I’m opening my mouth to call out that I’m a member of Lyceum and come in peace or whatever, but then my eyes adjust to the dimness.

Empty.

The whole place is empty.

But not because I got it wrong. Thiswasone of Lyceum’s strongholds. I’m in a railway corridor, and there are bookcases lining the walls, but they are all empty.

Single pages flutter over the rails and concrete, and I step over them as I make my way deeper into the tunnel. Tears prick against the back of my eyes.

No.

This was my shot. My chance to stay connected to the thing that made me feel less alone. I need that even more now.