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me laugh. 
“And,” I say as the beat of the music seeps into my blood, “ask me to dance?”
Beck gives me a strange little smile. One that’s half resignation and half contentment. He takes my hand and guides me to the dance floor. This time, no one backs away from us. Mother’s reprimand earlier must have worked.
We spin across the polished floor, keeping time with the rapid tempo changes. The soft folds of my dress swish around my legs and I feel as though I’m floating. Everything about this moment is perfect: the music, the energy, the way Beck’s hand feels in mine. But most of all, I’m no longer a timid, silly girl.
“This is a disaster. I should have listened to Bethina and not come with you,” Beck mutters. 
His words shatter my feeling of bliss. “What? Why would she say that?” I ask, ignoring the fact that he would even consider it.  
Beck clears his throat and keeps his chin lifted as we spin across the floor. “I don’t know. She said something about needing me to help her with things around the house.”
I scrunch up my forehead. While it’s true Bethina frequently asks Beck to help with home repairs, there are twelve other boys in our house who can clean gutters and swing a hammer. 
“Since when do we go anywhere without each other?” 
The song ends and Beck releases me. “This is your world, Birdie.” He sweeps his hand wide, as if gathering up the entire room. “The parties, the politics, the power. It’s what you want.”
“No I don’t. You know I’ve never wanted any of this.” The words come out of my mouth, but I know he’s right. Something’s changed. I want this life. More than anything.
He tugs on the edge of the sleeve peeking out from under his jacket and I catch a glimpse of his blue wristlet. “You never wanted it before, but you do now, don’t you?”
“Beck, you don’t understand…Mother…she has expectations of us.”
“You. She has expectations of you.”
I hold out the sides of my dress, stretching it wide. “But you want it too, don’t you?” As founder descendants, we’ve been raised for this type of life. It’s what everyone expects from us. My anti-socialness is an anomaly–but Beck’s always been good at this type of thing.  
“Sure.” 
He pushes past people and stops before the floor-to-ceiling windows. His shoulders round forward as he stares at the silent scene on the other side. 
“Feel like a walk?” he asks, with his back toward me. 
At night, when I can’t sleep, we often sneak out and spy on the nightly festivities happening at the row of Senior Official homes across from our school. Tonight we’re part of that world and looking to escape.
“Let me grab my coat.”
     
#
     
Jagged shards of ice scrape along my throat and freeze the air in my lungs until I gasp. 
“It’s freezing.” My teeth clack together. I had expected it to be cold, but not like this. When we arrived earlier in the day, the weather was balmy and warm–typical for late spring. But now it feels like winter has decided to wage one last assault.
Beck flips up the collar of his coat and blows on his hands. “Do you want my scarf?” 
I glance down at my outfit. The smart fabric in my stockings automatically adjusts to temperature, as does my coat. “I’m okay. It’s just my face.” He unwraps his scarf anyway and hands it to me, but I wave it away. 
Beck shrugs and drapes the scarf back over his shoulders. “It’s so cold, I don’t think we need to worry about anyone finding us. And if they do venture outside, they’re either trying to escape or insane.” 
“I vote for insane. It sounds more exciting.” 
Beck laughs. “Insane it is. But you’re going to have to be the one to take them on. I’m too delicate.” 
I roll my eyes. Beck is anything but delicate. He’s tall, broad shouldered, and fit from his rabid love of playing sports. 
As we wander farther into the garden, the paths become more twisted and every so often a hiding