The Elementalists

Chapter 2

Sammi

'Is she asleep?'

'I think she's waking up!'

'Don't be silly, she's dreaming. Look, you can see her eyes moving under her eyelids. . .'

But nobody really knows. Answers aren't meant for the likes of us.

My sister, Nura, has been asleep for the past four months. Her slumber consumes everything, the lives, hopes, and futures of my whole family, even though we knew it was bound to happen. Very few families have a child live to sixteen, let alone two like mine: my cousin, Musa, and me. By living, we doomed Nura; we don't know of any family with three children alive.

No one knows for sure what causes the toxin-sickness. The lack of clean water can't help, or the rate bacteria flourishes. Nor the radiation that lingers, a relic of nuclear wars won and lost long ago. Whatever it is, it's killing our children—only the strongest of us survive to sixteen and qualify for adulthood vaccines. Once vaccinated, our immune systems can handle almost everything.

Why everyone can't be vaccinated, I don't know. No one does. Maybe only General Jinaka knows. I hope that one day, he has a child himself. And for the sickness to take his child away. I want him to know what it feels like.

But it's children like Nura who die instead. I miss her. I miss her so much. I miss waking up to her pulling my hair, wanting to play, her chimes-in-the-wind laugh. I miss how my dad used to watch us bicker with a smile and a drink in hand, and how we'd gang up on Musa, tickling him till he cried. I miss the glow of my mother's happiness. It's all gone now. Lost in an endless waiting game for something that will never happen. For we all know.

Nura will never wake up.

'Samma, c'mon. Let's get out of here.'

A hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me through the crowd, away from Nura and my parent's despair.

'Musa? What are you doing?'

I try to wriggle free but my cousin's too strong. Musa slams his shoulder against our front door, accidentally knocking into a shocked elderly couple on their way to pay their respects. I smile an apology as I stumble after Musa, but I shouldn't have bothered; they scuttle past us as fast as they can, avoiding eye-contact. I sigh. Even though Nu's the one who's sick, I'm the one treated like a pariah.

'Sorry, Sam. I just had to get out of there.' Musa sinks to the ground outside our pod, puffing out his cheeks and leaning his head against the smooth white plastic.

Ah. . . I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath. It eases out from my chest in a sigh and in that moment, watching Musa, I feel lighter. I settle down beside him, chewing the ends of my plait as his eyebrows scrunch into a frown. 'I know. I'm sorry.'

'What are you sorry for? It's not your fault,' he snaps. But just as quickly, his temper wanes and he rubs his eyes. 'Sorry. I didn't mean it.'

'It's okay,' I mumble. 'It's hard on all of us.'

Musa shakes his head, picking at a hangnail on the side of his thumb. 'It's just. . . It's not fair. We should be celebrating. Hardly any families get two kids to sixteen. Hardly any. And all ours do is mope around after Nura. No one's even wished you happy birthday.'

I shrug. 'Well, in the grand scheme of things, it's not really important.'

'Of course, it is! Nura's going to die anyway, would it kill your parents to pay you some attention for a change?'

'Don't say that.' I struggle to my feet. I can't even believe those words came out of his mouth. 'That's a horrible thing to say.'

'Don't act like you weren't thinking it. You aren't perfect, you know.'