Dissidence by Jamie Canosa Page A

cold.”
    Sheesh, overreact much? I’m not that cold. I seriously doubt I’m at any risk of freezing to death here, but I’m just too tired to argue.
    “Why don’t you talk to me for a bit, while you warm up?”
    “What about?” I mumble, still only making a minimal effort to keep my eyes open.
    “Anything . . . what’s our plan once we reach D?”
    I huff a laugh. He wants me to plan? I can barely force a coherent sentence through my chattering teeth.
    “Where will we go first?” Connor prods.
    “The archives building , I guess.” I stifle another yawn, and try to shift away from Connor’s side, but he holds me firmly in place with his heavy arm. I give up the struggle, and snuggle back in. “That’s where Peter works . . . he’ll know what to do.”
    “What about your parents? Don’t you wanna go home, and tell them what’s happened?”
    I shift again, this time succeeding in putting a minis cule amount of space between us, suddenly uncomfortable but more alert. “My parents aren’t in colony D.”
    “What? I thought that’s where you’re from?”
    “It is.”
    “Then where are your parents?”
    I root around my fatigued brain for an easy way out of this conversat ion, but besides faking sleep— w hich he won’t let me do anyway— I’m coming up blank. With a weary sigh, I resign myself to the truth. “My dad died . . . three years ago.”
    “Oh . . . I’m sorry.” Connor sounds genuinely remorseful when he says it, not like those people who say it just to have something to say.
    “My mom was paired with a new mate when I was fourteen. She was sent to live with him, so for the past couple of years , it’s just been me.”
    “Unbelievable.” He sounds angry, and I glance up at him, confused. He is angry. “Losing one parent, that’s awful. But for them to send your mom away when she was all you had left, that’s just . . . it’s . . .” He seems to be at a loss for words.
    “It’s not a big deal. I survived just fine on my own.”
    “It is a big deal. You shouldn’t have had to be on your own. It’s not right.” Resentment is rolling off of him in waves. “Those bastards just have to have their say in everything. They don’t give a damn about the lives they’re affecting at all.”
    I want to know what has inspired such indignant outrage, what happened to him to make him so angry, but I’m quickly losing my battle with consciousness. The chill seems to have drained out of my bones, and the goose bumps on my arms have receded, so I risk laying my head on Connors shoulder. The tension in his body immediately eases under my touch.
    “Besides,” I yawn, “if my mother knew about any of this , it would probably give her a heart attack. She always got so worked up every time I opened my mouth around her.”
    Connor shakes with quiet laughter. “Well, I can believe that.” 
    He pulls me closer again, tucking me against his side. “Go to sleep, Girlie.” His arm still wrapped around my shoulders, he gives me a slight squeeze before resting his chin on the top of my head.
    I don’t require much convincing. His chest is unyielding beneath my cheek, but in a comforting sort of way. Despite everything, I feel safe as I listen to his steady breathing. My eyes seem to close of their own volition, and I cease to fight the pull of sleep as I continue to leech the warmth right out of Connor’s body.
    ***
    It must be near dawn. Toward the horizon the sky is beginning to illuminate a pale pink color. The rain has stopped, but I can still hear the rhythmic pitter patter of lingering raindrops falling from the leaves above us. The birds are beginning to stir from their day long hibernation, and calling to one another to announce that the coast is clear once again. My head rises and falls steadily with each of Connor’s quiet breaths, telling me he too fell asleep. I can’t blame him. Yesterday was exhausting. When I stret ch, a weight shifts near my hip. Connor’s arm is wrapped