Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I Read Online Free PDF

pushes her feet into her flip-flops. I grab my tray from the table, impressed that I ate everything but one chicken wing.
    “Don’t bother.” As soon as Willow says this, my tray is gone, along with all the other trays on our table.
    “What happened to everyone?”
    “Break’s over. They went back to their assignments.” Probably noticing that I’m losing patience, she elaborates. “It’s called displacing. It’s how we travel to our assignments. You’ll learn all about it in training.”
    “What’s it feel like?”
    “It’s a major rush,” she says in a no-big-deal kind of way.
    She isn’t paying attention to my inquisitive look. “And my tray?”
    She flips her yarnlike hair over her shoulder. “It’s Progression, kid.”
    I follow her out of the room, which is now—conveniently—as clean as when we arrived, and I wonder aloud how two hours could have passed already.

    Just steps into her room, Willow returns to bare feet and then disappears at the end of the short hallway. “You coming or what?” she shouts.
    I follow her voice into a small doorless room. This is not looking good.
    “Clearly you’re super stoked. Please, try to control your enthusiasm.” She’s already settled on one of the two black mats like she’s either about to meditate or do yoga.
    I cross the hardwood floor to reach her. “I would have never guessed you were a ballerina,” I joke, sitting on the other thin mat. The only thing missing in the empty room is a ballet bar along the mirrored wall.
    Willow ignores me.
    I freeze on my reflection. It’s as if the past year never happened—like my brown eyebrows and messy hair had never fallen out and my skin had never looked like ash.
    “The purpose of coding is to find serenity by disconnecting from your physical body,” Willow says while I flex my arm in the mirror to confirm that my muscles are really back. “Come on, kid, stay with me here. Close your eyes and imagine your perfect place, thing, or smell—anything that will help you relax.”
    When I realize she’s being serious, I squeeze my eyes shut and then laugh.
    Willow stands and smacks the back of my head. “Come on!”
    “I’m sorry. You have to admit, this is stupid.”
    “Show a little effort. This is no walk in the park for me, either,” she snaps.
    To shut her up (because this is absurd), I close my eyes and think of Tate—of the way we used to lay together on my bed and talk for hours. Soon I can picture my arms folded around her perfect curves and her head on my chest. I’m twirling one of her curls around my finger. After another minute, I can even smell her shampoo and feel her finger mindlessly doodling designs on my defined abs.
    She lifts her head and the sunlight streams through the window, making her wild hair glow red. I trace my index finger down her cheekbone to her full, soft lips. She playfully nips my fingernail before stretching to kiss me. Her tongue moves with mine in the same dance we’ve done thousands of times before.
    She pulls back and I bite my bottom lip, tasting peppermint. Her hazel eyes darken to smoldering when she stares back at me. She’s more stunning than ever. I cling to her and bring her lips back to mine, but when she gives in, the kiss is rushed, urgent.
    I try to grab for her when she pulls away, but my arms won’t work. “No,” I whisper, but no sound comes. I can’t move; I can’t breathe.
    “Why did you leave me?” Tate’s raspy voice floors me and my eyes pop open instead of my mouth.
    “What’s wrong?” Willow asks, quickly looking me over. I claw at my chest and gasp for air.
    “Grant, answer me!” Willow shouts two inches from my face.
    “What happened?” I pant. My muscles sting when I reach up to wipe the sweat from my forehead.
    “You tell me! You blanked forever. I couldn’t wake you up.”
    No, she’s wrong. It was just minutes.
    “Where’d you go?” she asks.
    “I was with Tate.” I scrub my face despite the torturous pain