Super Top Secret Deleted Scene Fun!
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These Broken Stars
Deleted Scene #1
“Run, buddy!”
Here’s a scene we loved, but cut from the final draft—because Lilac isn’t quite that silly. Fans of the book might recognize snippets of this scene from the final version—our crash survivors are having a bit of a disagreement over whether to hike to the wreckage of the Icarus or stay with their downed pod.
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Lilac’s standing still again, leaning against a tree for support. The first thing I notice is the giant green caterpillar right by her hand. He’s fat and juicy, round body divided into a series of thick sections, red spots marking two lines down his back. It doesn’t seem like a good time to introduce her to the locals, so I try a polite tone instead. “Miss LaRoux?”
“I need a break,” she informs me, lifting her chin. “This trek is absurd.”
She’d be pulling off her little rebellion with a more dignity if she wasn’t squinting at me through a half-closed black eye, hair standing out from her head like we’re at half gravity, green dress grubby and marred and smeared with… oil? Dirt? I’m not sure she’d think the distinction mattered.
“We’ve already discussed this,” I say, firming my tone, optimistic.
“Well, we’re discussing it again.” Her fingers inch a little closer to the caterpillar. Its body undulates as it curves in the middle, then begins making it up the tree. Run, buddy.
She’s still speaking. “We should turn back to the pod. It’s our best hope.”
“I prefer to make my own hope.” It sounds a little like a snap, and I try another slow breath in, slow breath out. Give me strength.
“Major, you’re putting us at unnecessary risk with these high-handed decisions. I don’t recall anybody telling me that I’ve become a soldier, and I’m certainly not subject to your orders.” She’s sounding close to a snap as well. “I’m going back.”
“Then you’ll die.” Forget the deep breaths. They aren’t working. “I don’t know how to put it any more simply. The Icarus was supposed to be invincible. She wasn’t. Our pod wasn’t meant to make it through the atmosphere. It did. We’re in an impossible situation in an impossible place. If we don’t help ourselves, nobody will. We need to be near a rescue beacon, near the wreck. I know you have both the brains and the backbone to do this, and it’s time to demonstrate both.”
I’m not sure how much she heard. Her mouth fell open at the word ‘die’, and by ‘backbone’, she was staring at me like I was speaking a foreign language. I’m sure she knows what a spine is. She looks like she’d like to break mine, most of the time. “I know I’m not your choice of companion, Miss LaRoux. But if we don’t get into the rescue zone, you’ll be spending the rest of your life with me.”
She opens her mouth, and I know what comes next will be ear-splitting. Except then she shifts her hand, and her fingertips find the caterpillar, and her head snaps around. He’s scared—I get it, buddy, not unreasonable—and does his caterpillar thing, rearing up at one end and waving at her.
Seriously… run, buddy!
Turns out Miss LaRoux can still walk a little after all. She’s across the clearing at the speed of sound, or faster, maybe, because she’s wrapped around me before her scream even registers. “It’s on me, it’s on me, get it off, get it off, get it off!” She’s got me in a stranglehold, arms wrapped around my neck, and she smells like my mother’s garden, of light and flowers, and in another time and another place I’d be the happiest guy on the planet, but right now I’m worried about my eardrums.
In the end I just wrap an arm around her waist and lift her clean off her feet, swiveling her a hundred and eighty degrees, then setting her down again. A glance over my shoulder confirms the caterpillar’s making his way up the tree trunk like his tail’s on fire.
“It’s gone,” I say, carefully unwinding my arm from around her waist before she notices it, and waiting for her to realize what she’s done. “It’s gone, it’s okay, it’s not touching you.”
Eventually my words must penetrate, because she stiffens, then unwraps her arms from around my neck and goes stumbling back, one hand up to try and fix her hair.
“See?” I say. “You only think I’m the worst company on the planet.”
And there it is, against all hope, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. The tiniest hint of a smile. She turns to continue walking—away from the pod, not towards—and I’m left to follow her.
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