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Gracie thinks she should feel something. She is blasting off on a rocket into space. Her father tried to kill her. Her almost-boyfriend just sacrificed himself in a genuine blaze of glory. She lost part of her vision and nearly melted into a puddle of gross bloodworms. She should cry, she thinks. She should fall to the floor and weep like the wives of fallen action heroes in those movies Brody always went on about.
But she just feels numb.
No, that’s not true. It would be easier if that was true. She could pass it off as shock, or say she was just in denial.
But no, Gracie doesn’t feel numb. She feels relieved.
She no longer has to work to get perfect As, no longer needs to fight to be at the top of her class. She no longer needs to make sure the well of her father’s praise doesn’t run dry, no longer has to run herself ragged trying to please him, her professors, or the sorority girls. She no longer has to confine the imperfect parts of herself to the pages of a locked diary, making sure no one else can see them and find her lacking.
Most importantly, she no longer has to worry about the nausea she feels whenever she thinks about kissing Brody Jones.
It had been easier, in the cabin, when they both had the excuse of isolation and alcohol. It made it easy to shove down the discomfort she never was fully able to shake.
It had been easy under the influence of the worms too, when she was already so sick and so dizzy, to lean in to kiss him. Her skin had already literally been crawling, who cared if she felt uncomfortable at the mere thought of their lips touching.
And now, Gracie doesn’t have to concern herself about it at all.
It is a joy beyond compare. The worries of Earth have expunged themselves from her body with the violence of the bloodworm antidote, bloody and healing.
Gracie’s life is totally over, and she is completely and utterly free.
“Gracie…”
Well, nearly free. But Savannah has never been an obligation, not really.
Gracie turns to her, like a puppet guided by its strings. She feels outside of her body, like she and Bernando had just finished smoking a joint together. The world is figuratively and literally thousands of miles away.
Of course, Savannah can immediately tell. Savannah can always tell. She normally knows what Gracie is feeling before Gracie does, ready with her favorite comfort food after a frustrating one-on-one with her professor or a heat pack just as her cramps begin to set in. She sees through Gracie in a way no one else ever has.
But Gracie can see her in turn.
Savannah is nervous. She is wringing her wrists in the way she only does when she thinks Gracie is going to yell at her. She had done the exact same thing after their failed party at the cabin, even when Gracie had assured her that the lack of attendance wasn’t her fault.
“Are… are you okay?” She is so timid when she talks. Savannah strings her words together like threading popcorn on a garland, as though anyone of them could shatter in her grip. Gracie still remembers the shock she had felt when that timidness gave way to rage on the Fink or Swim. Savannah had turned away from her, rejected her for the first time since they have meant each other; that had hurt worse than any of the worms squirming under her skin.
“I’m fine, totally cool,” Gracie says. The words feel wrong in her mouth, her smile doesn’t fit on her face.
Savannah, like always, sees through it immediately. “Nuh-uh, you are upset about something!” she insists. She wrings her hands harder, and Grace can see a red mark on her wrist. “Is it me? I did something, didn't I? I didn’t trust you and you stood up to your father for me- for us, Brody and I, def the two of us, and I totally thought you betrayed us and I-”
“It’s not about you, bitch,” Gracie says. She tries to make the words sound teasing, maybe even sharp, just mean enough to get Savannah to back off, but they just come out fond. Gracie hates this, the fog in her brain that makes everything she once found effortless impossible.
“Oh…” Savannah says, sounding as confused as Gracie feels. “Then what is it?”
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?” Gracie says. “Dappa Dappa Du sorority swear.” She holds out her pinkie, and instantly feels foolish. It is a silly request; both their sorority and the planet are done for, there is no power in their bond. Besides, who is Savannah going to tell?
But Savannah indulges her anyway. She locks their pinkies together. “Dappa Dappa Du sorority swear,” she echoes in a somber tone. Like this promise to Gracie is the most serious thing they are dealing with. Not the rocket flight or the corpse at the base of the ladder or their ruined world growing smaller and smaller behind them. Gracie.
It gives her the courage to say it.
“I don’t think I’m sad Brody died!”
She had thought saying it out loud would help, would make it real. She had hoped that she would finally get hit with the waves of grief she must be holding back. Brody had loved her! And Gracie had loved him! She had said so and she had meant it and so surely, she would finally feel sad, but…
The relief only grows stronger.
She expects Savannah to ridicule her. To say that Gracie was a terrible person and Savannah had been right to give up on her. But to her surprise, Savannah only hesitantly says, “Can I tell you something too?”
Gracie nods emphatically, ignoring the way it makes her head ache. “Of course, what are besties for?”
Savannah takes a deep breath.
“I’mkindanotreallysadaboutBrodyeither!” she babbles, then clamps her hands over her mouth. Her blue eyes are wide and round, like she is shocked even said it.
“Wait, you are?” Gracie shrieks. “But I thought you liked Brody!”
“And I thought you loved him!” Savannah retorts, hands dropping to her hips.
Gracie is not about to let Savannah turn this back on her. “No, no, you need to spill! Why aren’t you sad?”
It’s like a dam breaking.
“He was so awful to you!” Savannah blurts out. “Like, he would say such awful things about your period and stuff, and you weren’t even ever on your period. And he acted like he knew you, like he was close to you, but he never knew your Dairy Queen order or the best way to carry your bags so your jewelry box didn’t tip over or that you didn’t want to watch Wedding Crashers ‘cuz you promised your dad you would watch it with him.”
She throws her arms up in the air with frustration. “Like, he didn’t even notice that you were infected, that you were hurting,” she continues, “and then he ran ‘cuz you were, like, gross and worm infested, and like, yeah it was kinda scary, but he didn’t even try to save you! And you were gonna kiss him and he didn’t just ‘cuz you were a little wormy. Does he even know what a privilege that is?”
Savannah is suddenly struck with an expression Gracie doesn’t recognize, like a deer in headlights. She seems scared all of a sudden. Gracie glances behind her, expecting to see some kind of terrible worm monster, but there is nothing there. She doesn’t know what could possibly have spooked Savannah so bad.
“Anyways,” Savannah says, cutting off any of Gracie’s questions. She hunches her shoulders, making herself small, and Gracie can hardly believe this is the same girl who shoulder-checked a crazed militia member off her just a few hours ago. But still, Savannah’s voice is strong when she says, “I just… think you can do better.”
It is quiet for a moment. Gracie is suddenly hit with a vision of how this was all supposed to go, of a version of her with her dad and all his stuck-up work friends standing beside her, and not her bestie. It feels unimaginable. She had felt sick when her dad had told her to get rid of Brody, yeah. But when he asked her to get rid of Savannah, it had felt like he had ripped her heart from her chest.
A world without her was utterly unthinkable.
Gracie reaches out and takes Savannah’s hand. “You’re right, I totally can.”
Maybe someday Gracie will be brave enough to tell Savannah why she had given her the key to her diary. About the dreams Savannah starred in, the ones that left Gracie spinning her thoughts in tight circles for days afterwards, until she risked putting pen to paper to get the images out of her head.
But for now, Gracie settles for the warmth of Savannah’s hand in hers, of the scratch of her calluses on Gracie’s palm when Savannah gives it a tight, comforting squeeze.
It was comforting, having Savannah beside her, like nothing was impossible.
They had already run a sorority together.
How much harder could a secret moon base be?