In between the trees, we hide in the shade. Flecks of summer sunlight flash through the leaves like moving polka dots on our legs as the warm air conjures up a soft breeze. I lay in his lazy arms, his back against the rooted tree trunk, dark sticky hair clinging to his forehead like spaghetti on a wall. We are perfect in this moment, still, a part of nature.
"Krista! Allen!" A voice echoes through the rows of apple trees.
"No," Allen groans burying his face in the curve of my neck. "Tell Bonnie to go away."
"We can't," I laugh. "We have work to do."
"Let's not work and lay out here all day instead."
"Until we become part of the trees?"
"Until the grass starts to grow around our legs, pulling us into the earth. That way, Bonnie won't find us."
I reluctantly break from his hold, standing up to dust off my pants and offer my hand to Allen. "You're such a poet. Be nice."
"I am nice." He takes my hand, really getting up on his own rather than using my help and pulls me into his chest. His deep voice vibrates my body like a soft hum as he wraps his arms around me. "You know, we could take off for the horizon and run until we pass out."
I wrap my arms around his waist, feeling the lean muscles in his back and look out away from the city to the vast emptiness of trees and grass. "What sense would that make?" I ask. "We don't even know what's out there. It's just grass."
"Way to kill the mood."
I stifle a laugh. "Sorry."
"Point of the story was: It doesn't matter what's out there. I'd follow you anywhere."
"If that's the truth," I say playfully, taking his hands and pulling him as I walk backward, "then go to lunch with me."
"I always go to lunch with you." His blue-green eyes sparkle as he smiles and I have to turn away to keep from blushing, even though I'm sure that I already am. Allen and I have been together for a year, and he still manages to make me nervous.
"Hey, sicko love birds," Bonnie says, finding us in a row of orchards. Her black braided hair runs down to her waist and her bright yellow dress stings my eyes when the sun flashes on it. She folds her arms. "You guys gonna stay out here all day, or what?"
"That was the plan," Allen says draping an arm over me. I nestle up to him, hugging the side of his waist just under the hem of his red tshirt.
"Blah," Bonnie waves a dismissive hand and twists her face up. "There really should be a PDA rule in place at all times. Your guys are over the top."
"Alright, alright we'll stop," I say, pushing Allen away from me. He laughs and rakes his hands through his shoulder length hair.
"We're supposed to be loading up the crops to go to the rest of the factions. My mom was starting to wonder where you guys were." Bonnie tells us. "Let's go."
The three of us walk until we are out of the glimmering shade of the orchards and into the direct sun. It beams overhead, making the air warm as it kisses our skin. We can see the gates to the city up ahead and the row of trucks that drive us back and forth to Amity headquarters. Our people are busy carrying crops and goods from the fields to the service trucks. Though they are far in the distance, I can hear them singing a song that I can't make it out.
"Hey Allen, too busy making googly-eyes at Krista to race?" Bonnie says with a mischievous grin. I shake my head trying to bite back a smile. Here we go. Bonnie and Allen have been in this boyfriend - best friend competition for months. Before I used to think it was serious, that they actually meant to compete for my attention, but it's harmless, just good fun. A few years ago, Allen lost his older brother to the selection when he chose Erudite, but he now always talks about how Bonnie is like a new found sister to him. He hardly talks about his brother anymore.
"Haven't I beat you like seven times in a row?" Allen asks.
"That's because I never give myself-," she takes off toward the gates in a full sprint and yells over her shoulder, "a head start!"
Allen shoots across the open field after her. His arms are quick and sure, his red shirt rippling in the warm air as Bonnie's long braid trails behind her like a whip. They belong to the sun, Allen's skin a warm tan that seems to make him glow, and Bonnie's, a smooth flawless brown, like toffee.
I run after them, "Hey, wait up."
Bonnie's fast, but never fast enough. They race to the old willow stump and Allen, as the winner, jumps on top, taking his victory bow which is a legendary rock out on air guitar. He jumps down when I catch up to them and kisses me on the forehead.
"No fair," Bonnie says with her hands on her hips. Her chest heaves up and down as she catches her breath.
"You want to talk about no fair?" Allen jests as we all start walking again towards the gates. "You had three seconds on me!"
"I just needed a bigger start."
I pat her back. "How about you start on the old willow. You're sure to win then."
"Possibly," Allen interjects. "I still might beat her."
Bonnie sticks her tongue out and we all laugh. It takes us ten minutes to walk from the fields up to the city gates and with each step the gates seem to grow taller as we come into its looming presence. Here, just outside the city, the crops brought up from the fields are sorted and loaded onto trucks that take food to each of the five factions.
"There you two are," Olivia, Bonnie's mom, says, stepping out of the assembly line of loaders. "Where are your crops. You two were assigned the orchards today, right?"
"We - uh - picked the apples," Allen blurts out, trying to make up some extravagant excuse, "And passed the baskets off to someone nearby. Yeah, they said they needed our baskets for some reason. Right, Krista?"
"The baskets weren't full," I add, trying not to laugh.
"Yeah," he agrees. "We don't want to waste valuable time and space carrying up half empty baskets. Right?"
Olivia rolls her eyes and shares an look with her daughter. "No, I guess not. You guys jump in the line. Krista, I told your dad I'd keep an eye on you," she says to me. "What he really wants me to do is keep an eye on Allen."
Allen lifts his palms, "I've been a perfect angel."
"Right. You guys help out."
The trucks grumble by as each one is filled and driven into the city, tossing up dirt under the wheels. The three of us jump in one of the assembly lines and help pass along baskets of grain to the truck. It's minor labor since most of the compound is out to help like always. Everyone says we have the biggest sense of community out of all the factions. We've been called everything from tree-huggers to loonies to lazy bums, but the best of all is family. We all know each other, and we all protect one another. That's why we have the highest percentage of Returns who stay within the faction. Our system is perfect.
We help out for the next couple of hours, passing grain and singing a few Amity songs to keep the good spirit. Every time I pass on a basket of grain from Bonnie, Allen brushes my hand before loading it into the truck, and I find myself looking more at him than the baskets. Every now and then Bonnie has to nudge my shoulder to get me to focus. She's right. Allen and I are sicko love birds. I think about what he said earlier, about taking off toward the horizon. I look over my shoulder at it, far off where the edge of grass meets the sun. I squint but can't see any farther. What is really out there? More grass? Another community like this one?
"Okay." Allen claps his hands together, stealing my attention from the horizon. The grain line is done for now. "Let's get some food."
Once the grain is ready, the three of us load up with a couple other Amity in the back of one of the grain trucks to head to the compound. Members of the Dauntless faction, the ones who protect the gates, direct the trucks into the city with their spiked hair and strange tattoos. I've never liked them. They're always being tougher than they have to be, and they run, literally, everywhere. Yet they call us loonies.
Plus, they carry guns while they're patrolling the gates, and I never understood why. The look of the hard metal makes me shudder, and Allen pulls me in close, draping his arm over my shoulder. He knows what I'm thinking, because he thinks it too. We've never encountered any danger outside the gates, not once. We haven't even heard stories from our older members about any danger. It unnecessary, carrying those things around, but Dauntless cling to their weapon as if its part of their uniform or an extra limb. I look away from them, leaning my head on Allen's shoulder as we pass through.
Nothing is out there, nothing but Amity fields and grass.
At least that's what we think.
