Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (34 page)

“No need to apologize.” Mom takes his cup and sets it on the kitchen counter. “And thanks so much for your help with Silvia today. It’s good to know her boss is so considerate.”

“Wow.” I place a hand on my heart. “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said about my job.”

Mom sighs. “Silvia, would you
please
try not to embarrass me in front of our guest?”

Gus chuckles. “Don’t worry, Yoshe. I’m familiar with your daughter’s tactics. I’m quite sure she gives me just as much heck as she gives you.”

Mom groans. “Oh, no. Now, I’m even
more
embarrassed.” She glares at me behind Gus’s back as he heads for the door.

I trail after him. After that race, I can’t walk as fast as usual. “You don’t have to leave—”

“I’m afraid I do.” He turns back and pats my shoulder. “It appears you’ve got quite an evening ahead of you. You’d better prepare yourself.” He points to Mom’s open bedroom. A mountain of fancy gowns covers her bed.

My eyes widen. Am I seeing things? “What in heck is that?”

“Your new uniform if I’m not mistaken.” Gus waggles his eyebrows. “Now, have fun, and
be careful
. There’s bound to be powerful people at that ball. Watch what you say and do. And it’s probably best if you don’t drink any so-called ‘adult beverages’ while you’re there. Drinking makes people do stupid things.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in drinking. In fact, I’m not even interested in this ball anymore. I’d rather just eat and sleep some more.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.” Mom crosses her arms as she enters the now-crowded small hallway. “Thanks again, Gus. And you are more than welcome here, anytime.”

Wait, really?

He tips an imaginary hat, then he’s out the door.

My mind buzzes as we enter Mom’s room together. I knew she’d like Gus if she just gave him a chance. The idea that they might even become friends makes me smile like a kid at a carnival.

Inside, I count ten fancy ball gowns, in various colors on her bed. Grimacing, I discard the two red ones without even trying them on.

“Isn’t this amazing?” She runs a hand along the shimmering fabric. “I’ve never seen such dresses. Your father would’ve—”

“I won’t wear the red ones.”

“I expected that.” She hands me an envelope of soft paper. “This came with the gowns. I already opened it.”

I slide out the invite.

Silvia Wood and guest are invited to an evening of celebration at 7 p.m. at the New Order Tower, Penthouse floor. This party is invite only.

Mom smiles, her eyes alight. “I’ve always wanted to go there. The view is supposed to be amazing from the top floor. I mean, you don’t have to take me, or anything. I realize that you might want to bring someone else.”

“Of course you’ll come with me. I don’t want to go alone.” And Franco is
not
an option, at this point, because all he does is pity me. “I bet one of these frou-frou dresses will fit you, too.”

“Yes.” Her face flushes with excitement. “Three of them do. I already tried them on while you were sleeping.”

I laugh. “Which one will you wear, then?”

“Gus liked this one.” She points at a slender black gown with sequins highlighting a lower neckline.

“He did, did he?” This is new.

“Be nice, Silvia,” Mom warns. “I admit that you’re right—your Gus is a lovely man. And I’m sorry I’ve given you so much grief over your job. Now, I understand why you enjoy working for him. And I promise not to bother you again on the subject.”

“That will be a nice change,” I reply warily.

“I’m serious, Silvia. I don’t suppose you could understand this because you’re not old enough to have any kids of your own, but I felt that your not getting into Plant Production was
my
fault.”

I pause to look Mom in the face. “
Your
fault?”

She squeezes my arm. “I know I let you down after your father died…” Tears threaten to take over her newly-found happiness.

I can’t let this happen. “Don’t worry, Mom. Everything will be fine from now on. I promise.”

Mom wipes her eyes. “That’s quite the grand promise.”

“I mean it.” I smile, hoping she’ll return the expression. “Now, help me try on these dresses.”

I squeeze into every dress, except the evil-colored red ones, then trudge up and down our small hallway, seeking Mom’s approval. One by one, I toss them to the side in a crumpled mound of lush fabric and move on to the next. While Mom waits for me to decide, she gets ready. She’s all set before I even wrestle into the fourth gown.

“Why do you have to tromp around like that?” Mom complains as I slump past her in yet another tight, scratchy dress. “It sounds like you’re going to bust through the floor!”

“I’d be more comfortable in my own clothes.”

“But you never minded the costumes Daniel made for you from the scraps at work.” She turns to her bed. “In fact, this red gown looks remarkably similar to the one—”

“I know. Like the one Dad made. It’s eerie.”

She bites her lip. “Do you want to try it on?”

No. Yes. Maybe. Why does it have to be red?

My hands shake at my sides. Is this some sort of warped test by the New Order? Or am I getting as paranoid as Franco?

I sigh. “Okay.” I take it from her and slip into the silky-smooth fabric.

It fits perfectly, like it was made with me in mind. I stare at myself in the mirror, entranced by my image. If only this was eight years ago when life was still fun.

“You look lovely,” Mom whispers in my ear. “And it doesn’t look like a girl’s dress at all. In fact, I’ve never seen you look so grown up before.”

“That decides it. I’m wearing this one.” I grab a small purse. “Let’s go.”

“Not so fast.” Mom shakes a finger at me. “First, we have to do something about your hair.”

Twenty minutes later, we leave the apartment. A long, black car waits outside the building.

The driver gets out and interrupts us as we approach the walkway. “Silvia Wood?”

I nod. Why is he talking to me?

“Please get in.” He bows and opens the shiny passenger door.

I glance at Mom. Her eyes are huge. I’ve never ridden in a car before, only taken the monorail. The finish on this car is so glossy; I hate to touch it, knowing I’ll leave a smudge behind.

I pause for a moment at the car door, not sure whether my butt or my feet should go first, but Mom settles in smoothly after me like she’s done this a million times.

“To the New Order Tower,” announces the driver as he slides into the car lane.

The walkers and bikers gawk and move aside in a fluid motion as we pass by. It feels so funny to be in a car. So unfamiliar. I stare out the window as the buildings sweep by, towering far above us.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mom clasps her hands in rapture, her eyes wide, taking in everything. “Such an honor. I’m so proud of you, Silvia.”

“Yeah. It’s nice. But my feet are antsy. I’d rather be walking, so I didn’t get so nervous. I’m not sure I belong at this ball.”

“Oh, Silvia,” groans Mom. “Why do you always have to find something to dislike about everything?”

“We’re here!” The driver jumps out to open our door.

I glance up. The New Order Tower is the tallest building around. Mom and I head inside and wait in front of the elevators, listening to the floor bells ring as the elevator cars rise and fall. Finally, it’s our turn. The climb lasts forever, my ears popping as we travel to the very tippy-top.

“Top floor,” announces the overhead, robotic, female voice.

The mirrored doors slide open. I’m reluctant to step out of the safe, small enclosure. The open room ahead is filled with people milling around in all their finery. Voices bounce off the walls, none of them distinguishable. The smell of unfamiliar food makes my stomach rumble. Running makes me so hungry.

“Come on,” beckons Mom.

I follow, trying to take it all in. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling—huge explosions of twinkling lights. The penthouse appears to be one huge room, the outer walls made of floor-to-ceiling windows. We’re so high in the sky, I can see the city of Panopticus spread out before me.

“Oh, my gosh! Look at that view!” Mom rushes over to the nearest window.

I pause a few steps behind her and stare at the rows of identical gray buildings, all lined up as if someone drew them with a ruler. The streets are so far below, all at right angles. We’re above the rest of our world, looking down on everyone else. People hurry through the streets on foot. They seem so small, so far away. Like worker ants, busy for their queen. And this place is as fancy as a palace, meant for such a queen.

I glance back at a chandelier so beautiful and delicate and gargantuan, all at the same time. This place is overwhelming. I didn’t know this kind of glamor even existed anymore. I mean, I guess I should’ve known. I’ve seen pictures of the olden days in Gus’ videos, but I didn’t realize how overdone and ritzy the Tower would be. But Mom doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by all this excess. She’s as comfortable as I am edgy.

“I’ve never seen so much sky.” Mom points to the fluffy clouds in a sea of blue air.

“Yeah. You can’t see sunsets much in town, but out near the Incinerator you can.”

She turns to me. “I wanted to ask: can you keep running outside now? After this is over, I mean? Do you still get to train with Liam?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s back to the treadmill for me.”

Mom frowns. “That’s too bad. Maybe you can petition—”

“You made it!” Liam rushes over to grab me into a hug. “Where were you? I searched for you everywhere today.”

“I went home, ate something, and took a nap.”

“You totally missed out.” Liam’s face glows with excitement. “I’ve been all over today, meeting tons of people. Winning this race is going to turn into something big for me. But, Silvia… it should’ve been you. I mean, you were there first, but you didn’t cross the line. What stopped you? Representative Waters-Royce asked me but I didn’t know what to tell her.” He pauses to take a drink from the brown bottle in his hand.

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Once again, Silvia’s the smart one.” Franco speaks from behind me.

I force myself not to turn around. Make him come to me for once, instead.

“Liam, you should’ve been resting,” Franco continues. “You’ll never make it through this party. You’ll crash for sure.”

“Will not.” Liam takes another drink. “This party’s going to be awesome. Look at all the hot girls, for starters.”

“The prettiest one’s right here.” Franco touches my arm.

I swing around. “What?”

“Actually, I meant your Mom, but”—he cocks his head—“you look nice, too.”

“Oh, please.” Mom giggles, flashing the biggest smile I’ve seen in years. I forgot she had that many teeth. She’s having the time of her life, and I don’t want to ruin it. She deserves to have fun for a change.

I turn back to find Franco staring at me. My stomach lurches.
He just feels sorry for you,
I remind myself. But it’s hard to ignore the fact that Franco looks amazing in a black tuxedo. Makes me go all mushy inside. My heart races, and my legs feel like butter. I wish I could blame the race on this, but I know better.

I need to stop staring at him, so I turn to Liam, who looks rather spiffy in his own black tux but doesn’t confuse me nearly as much as Franco does. Plus, he doesn’t pity me.

“I’m hungry.” I rub my growling stomach. “Where’s the food?”

“That’s what I like about you, Silvia.” Liam grins. “You’ve got your priorities in order.”

We approach a long, wooden table, laden with a feast. The heavenly fragrance of warm, fresh bread tickles my nose. I reach for a bun, but Representative Waters-Royce intercepts my reach with a firm grip on my arm.

“You’re just the young woman I’ve been looking for!” She swings her hawk-like gaze to my running partner. “And, Liam, you should come along, too. So many important people want to meet you both tonight. Try to make good impressions, children. This is important.” Her eyes flash without a hint of crow’s feet on either side. Maybe she
did
have surgery.

We march across the floor, away from the luscious food. My stomach growls in protest, and my feet pinch in the borrowed heels. Representative Waters-Royce has a death grip on both our arms. There’s no getting away from her, now. If only I could’ve eaten something first. I’m starving. I glance back, longingly, at the bowls heaped with fresh fruits and the plates of warmed vegetables.

Franco interrupts my view, smirking before he takes a huge bite of the bun I’d been eyeing a minute before. I scowl at him.

“Here we are!” announces the red-haired politician as we approach a small gathering of well-dressed individuals. “Fellow Representatives, I have the great honor of presenting to you the top finishers of the Citizen Race for Glory—Liam Harman and Silvia Wood.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say without meaning it. Why do I suddenly feel like an insect trapped under a glass? Everybody’s staring at me like I’m a painting in an art museum they’ve been hired to critique.

“Oh, look, the announcements have begun.” A tall Representative points to an overhead screen.