Entangled (33 page)

Each sentence was another step away from Xan.

She could still feel him, faint, sending his thoughts as he fell. Gold and perfect. Which meant Cade could feel what she'd given up in order to come back to the harshness of space, so she could wake up in the mornings—or what she pretended were mornings—and keep fighting.

The gold thoughts were pain and perfection together on a long, slow fade. Cade had no idea how long this doubled consciousness would last—at any point Xan could reach the center of the black hole. The light might dwindle to nothing, or she might have to live with it forever.

At least it wasn't the Noise.

The bedroom lost some of its clamor as Rennik and Lee drained out to argue with each other about the new course. Ayumi sat on the low bunk opposite Cade. Her smile was a small, lopsided offering. A real smile—not the thin-stretched emptiness of space rapture.

“Lee said I could stay on and help with the Human Express. And talk to the people she collects from, as long as I don't talk and talk and talk . . .” Ayumi looked at the place where Lee had just been standing, and smiled wider. “She thinks my ship will be useful on planets that don't have real ports.”

Cade nodded. Even bobbing her chin up and down wasn't a pain-free process.

“I'd like to stay,” Ayumi said. “For as long as you think I can.”

Her eyes flickered to Moon-White, propped in the corner. Cade wasn't ready to play, but she would be soon. She could feel the phantom strain in her hands that came before a good session.

“Hey,” Cade said. “Thanks.”

Ayumi winced, her mind no doubt cutting back to what had happened in Hades. “I'm not sure I did anything thank-able.”

“You did.”

Cade couldn't speak it—not yet—but a purpose had been forming in her mind, swirling like space-dust until it took on its own roundness, its own gravity. It had collected around the core of Ayumi's words.

What you can do.

Connect. Cade knew how to do that better than any human, because entanglement had changed her.

What you choose to do.

That was her music. The rawness of notes and the hard-caring crowds, the finger-sting of guitars. It was the one thing her mother had left her, and the first thing Cade had chosen for herself.

What needs to be done.

This was stranger, and bigger, and it terrified Cade. There were humans to un-scatter from all over space. There was glass to clear from spacedrunk eyes. And the rest of humanity—she couldn't change all of those lives. But she could do her best to bring them together.

Another flash from the black hole sliced into Cade's thoughts. It was Xan, still confused about where she'd gone. How would she be able to help anyone when she hadn't saved the one person she set out to?

Ayumi sat near Cade's feet, patient, while she worked it out.

Lee came and checked on Cade fourteen times in an hour. Rennik brought her three different lunches, and she ate them all. Renna pulsed her happiness at seeing Cade again, little triplet beats that bubbled underneath Cade's fingertips.

The Unmakers would be after them all soon enough. But for a little while, there would be days like this.

And time. Cade knew what she had to start doing as soon as she was strong enough. But the idea of connecting with someone other than Xan was pure pain. The absolute wrong note.

Still. It would have to be struck.

Cade reached out, and it was like small steps into cold water. So terrible, her teeth rattled. But she found a simple string of notes, and sent it to the people on the ship. Lee, with her loose-fiddled melodies, and Rennik, who didn't sound hushed anymore. Ayumi's mind was laid bare, and it reminded Cade to be brave. Like she had on the verge of the black hole, she reached hard and it was all there, waiting. Bright and clear. The number of minds and their need to be heard overwhelmed her. Then Cade sent out the first notes she'd ever heard her mother play, because she wanted them to be part of the song—and from somewhere, impossibly far, she was sure she heard an echo. And for a moment Cade forgot about the pain. Not because it was gone, but because there was something else to listen to. The people on the ship. And the ones somewhere beyond it—in the wide sea of space, on far planets.

She cracked herself open, and let their music in.

This novel and I owe debts of gratitude, time, support, and affection to so many. Here are just a few:

Dad, who meant it when he said I could be anything, and Mom, who always believed I would be a writer. Christine and Allyson, who were there for my first stories. Grandma and Grandpa, who gave me encouragement—and articles—for all of those years. Mrs. Petruny, who set me on this path. Julia: best friend, favorite scientist, co-inhabitant of my brain. Stephen. The sweetest, on this or any planet.

You wouldn't be holding a book right now if I hadn't been lucky enough to attend Vermont College of Fine Arts. Thanks to the students, staff, alumni, and faculty. To Ellen Howard, Julie Larios, Margaret Bechard, and the Keepers of the Dancing Stars. Special thanks to Shelley Tanaka—the first to meet Cade and help her on her way.

This book had first-class readers. Thanks to Vanessa Lee, for her clear eyes and pitch-perfect questions. Anna Drury, for seeing the story's heart—and for the happy dances. Cori McCarthy, for every margin note, moment of belief, and ounce of Michigan Cherry. Other early friends of
Entangled
include Katie Bayerl, Varian Johnson, Maggie Lehrman, Caroline Carlson, Sara Kocek, Mary Pleiss, TOOCF, Nerdbait, and the S3Q2 Retreat. My love to the Austin kidlit community, especially the wonder-hearted Bethany Hegedus and the incandescent Cynthia Leitich Smith.

An endless, edgeless thanks to my agent, Sara Crowe. To the Houghton Mifflin team, not just for making this happen, but for making it happen dream-come-true style. And to my editor, Kate O'Sullivan, who brought all of her brilliance and brass to this novel, and gave it a home in that great starry night sky of stories.

Universe keep you all.

Once, there were two entangled beings in the universe: Cade and Xan were drawn together by the genetically engineered quantum connection they shared. Xan sacrificed himself to a black hole and winked out. Cade was lucky and escaped them both. But there are many songs left in the universe. Cade hears them all. Rennik's, a tune she wants to carry forever. Her mother's, which grows fainter by the hour. Cade is in a race against time and space to save her family and friends from the Unmakers, who are tracking the last vestiges of humanity across the galaxy. But in the final battle for the human race, Cade learns that letting people in also means letting them go. The world spins out of control, and Cade alone must face the music.

A
MY
R
OSE
C
APETTA
holds an MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She has a particle-level love of mind-bending science and all sorts of music. She adores her small patch of universe, but also looks intently at the stars.
Entangled
is her first book.