Across the Universe Read Free Page A

writing?”
    “Poems,” the boy says. “What’s your name?”
    “Amara.”
    Another long pause goes by before he responds. “Hi, Amara. I’m Noah. It’s nice to meet you, but—erm—I better get going now.”
    He turns to leave, but I wrap my hand around his arm. His skin is warm underneath my fingers. My touch halts him and he turns back, his deep brown eyes curious as he looks over me.
    “I’d like to read your poems,” I say.
    He grimaces. “I don’t let anyone read them. Why would I let you?”
    He says it defensively, like he’s hiding behind his words, but his demeanor comes off more shy than anything else. He draws his shoulders into his body, hunching his back and leaning away from me as if he’s scared I’ll grab him again.
    “Because I like words,” I reply.
    Reluctantly, Noah extracts the notebook from his pocket and slips it into my hand. When his fingers brush mine he says, “Your skin’s cold. Do you need a jacket or something?”
    For the first time, I notice the wind whipping at my hair and churning the waves. I recognize the chill but am unbothered by it. “I’m fine,” I say, and flip to a page in the middle of the notebook.
    His words are beautiful and flow over my tongue like liquid. As I read them aloud Noah cringes like I’m punching him. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red that spreads over his neck and up to his ears.
    “You look nervous,” I tell him, “but I don’t know why. The words you write are lovely.”
    “Thanks,” is all he says as he takes back the notebook and shoves it back into his pocket. “So—about school—where do you go to around here?”
    “The House,” I repeat.
    “The House,” Noah plays back. “Okay, then. Where in the world is this house?”
    “Not in the world. Outside of it.”
    Noah’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to respond, but a voice calling from the edge of the beach cuts him off.
    “Dinner’s ready!” someone says in a squeaky tone.
    I look around him and see a tiny girl stumbling through the sand toward Noah, her bare feet sliding over the loose silt and her arms flailing in front of her. A pair of shoes rests on a patch of grass across the beach line. She’s dressed in pink ruffles and her hair is tied up in bows. By the time she reaches us she’s huffing and puffing, riddled with exhaustion.
    “Dinner’s ready,” the girl says again. “Mom wants you home.”
    “Yeah, yeah, Lizzie. I’m coming,” Noah tells her.
    Lizzie scans over me with an innocent curiosity. “What are you?” she asks.
    Noah looks mortified. I just shrug and say, “A member of The House.”
    “Go home,” he tells the little girl. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    “Fine,” Lizzie replies, and then sticks out her tongue. Then, as she skips off back to her shoes, she says in a singsong voice, “Noah and weird girl, sittin’ in a tree, K—I—S—S—I—”
    “Shut up, Lizzie!”
    She giggles as she stuffs her feet back into her shoes and bounds away.
    “Am I weird?” I ask.
    Noah ruffles the hair on the back of his head with one hand. “Just a little. Don’t mind Lizzie. She’s a little freak herself.”
    “I should go. Nim’s waiting for me.”
    I turn to leave, but it’s Noah’s turn to grab me this time. His fingers close around my wrist and send a shock I’ve never felt before coursing up my arm. It makes my knees go weak and my neck flush.
    “Wait. Will you be back here later?” he asks.
    “Maybe one day,” I answer as I gently slip my arm from his grasp.
    Then I focus on The House, on its marble halls and walls and rooms, and as I turn to smoke and float away, Noah’s face goes slack from shock and he stumbles backward, falling to the ground.
     
    “How was it?” Nim asks when I return to The House. I sit cross-legged next to her, like I never left. The crystal ball holding my universe floats above the basin in front of us.
    “I met a boy,” I tell her. “He’s nice. His name is Noah.”
    “You