Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (35 page)

Footage from the race flashes across the screen. I watch myself passing the other runners, Liam always following just behind. The red-haired girl hands me a drink, and I swerve right into Liam to avoid her. From that point on, my eyes appear to take a manic glow on the screen. I tense, wondering what the very end of the race will look like, but the video skips from mile twelve straight to Liam crossing the line with me in tow.

A round of applause breaks out from the penthouse. Who are all these people, anyway? They can’t all be Representatives. I scan the room and find Suits lurking in every corner. Scrumptious bread or not, now I want to leave.

Political speeches follow the race footage. My interest wanes until a female representative from a different city is announced. I wonder if she’ll look different somehow, but, instead, she looks like…
me
. Idly, I wonder if her mother was full Japanese and her father of red haired European descent.

Liam elbows my arm. “Hey, that’s you in twenty years or so, don’t you think?”

I nod, not even listening to the speech itself.

The coughing man who spoke before the race comes back on the screen. That’s when I realize this must be live footage because they catch him at a bad time. He’s coughing so hard; the announcers give up and move on to the next speaker.

“Poor guy.” Liam takes another swig from his bottle. “Looks like he’s in a hospital gown. He must really think this race is important. I’ve heard he’s having surgery soon, a lung transplant or something.”

After the overhead screen goes blank, Representative Waters-Royce steers us around the room, introducing us to loads of people whose names I’ll never remember. Occasionally, we swing near a buffet table but never close enough for me to grab any nourishment.

I halt, causing the representative to jerk to a stop, her hand still clenched on my arm.

“Listen, do you mind if I eat something?” I ask. “I’m kind of hungry after that race.”

She frowns. “Not yet, dear. It’s easier to make a good impression if your mouth isn’t full.” She introduces us to yet another cluster of her so-called “quality people.”

As Liam eagerly proclaims his undying loyalty to the New Order and his gratitude to being given the chance to prove himself, I watch other people eating my food. I’m not the least bit interested in meeting all these strangers, but Liam is as energetic as a news reporter. Whenever the conversation turns to me, about the only thing I care about is what’s on their plate.

“Yes, I enjoyed the race today. Thanks for asking.” I smile politely, trying not to drool. “Say, how are those cinnamon rolls? They look
divine.”

The red-haired politician sighs, shakes her head, and moves us on to the next group. She doesn’t even pause to greet Franco and my mother as we make another loop around the crowded room. I make another attempt to reach for a roll, but she slaps my hand away.

“Try to pay attention, Silvia,” she snaps. “I’m attempting to improve your future. It would serve you well to show some interest.”

I sigh and glance back to catch Franco winking at me. While I suffer through two more rounds of forced introductions, that crazy botanist parades back and forth behind the people I’m supposed to focus on, smirking and eating the whole time. He’s mocking my hunger. I’m not sure who pisses me off more—Representative Waters-Royce for not allowing me to eat the feast presented supposedly in my honor, or Franco for his maddening methods of torture.

A middle-aged man asks me a question. “Silvia, do you plan to continue your training, now that you’ve discovered you have a natural talent for it?”

What do I say? Here’s my chance to push for the opportunity to keep running outside, but is now the time? “I, uh—”

“Wow, these strawberries are
so
good.” Franco’s voice projects across the room. “They simply
melt
in your mouth.”

I pause for a moment, distracted. But this is a question I want to answer.

“Actually,” I clear my throat. “You bring up a good point. Running outside brought my physical fitness to a new level. I think it’s in the best interest of all athletes if Panopticus continues to permit these opportunities for their citizens. Is that a possibility, Representative Waters-Royce?”

The red-haired woman shakes her head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“But why not?”

She counts off the reasons on her fingers. “It’s a safety issue, primarily. Congestion of traffic. Risk of being hit by cars.”

“But there’s barely any cars on the roads,” I protest. “Why shouldn’t someone use those lanes?”

Her nostrils flare. “I’m telling you, accidents happened all the time until the New Order made safety a high priority for the citizens. And if a person has a heart attack running while at a gym, there are health professionals there ready to assist you.”

“But what’s the point in taking away every freedom if you take away every happiness along with it?” The question shoots from me before I consider the ramifications. I don’t even like discussing politics, but here I am, challenging the most popular Representative of the courts.

“You’re young yet, Silvia.” The Representative narrows her eyes. “So very young. It takes a level of maturity you haven’t yet achieved to appreciate that happiness comes from security, not freedom.”

She grabs both my and Liam’s arms, steers us away from the others, and calls back over her shoulder. “Excuse us, please. Miss Wood is exhausted, I fear, and needs her rest.” She lowers her voice. “Liam, why don’t you take Silvia to your room? She should lie down for a while before returning to the party.” She relaxes her grip, drops our arms, and walks away.

“What room?” I ask. This is the first I’ve heard of this.

“Oh, it’s awesome.” Liam grins. “Just wait until you see it.”

“Okay. Lead the way.”

We pass by a rapidly-emptying buffet table on our way to the elevator. Liam sets down his empty bottle while I manage to grab a handful of crackers and a banana. Thank goodness the red-haired politician doesn’t notice. She’d probably have a hissy fit.

Liam cocks his head. “Are you seriously that desperate for food?”

“Yeah, aren’t you? We ran the same race, didn’t we?”

He hits the elevator down button. “I’m fine, really, but I don’t know about you. Why are you acting so strange? Winning this race is a great opportunity for us, but you don’t seem to see that. Why are you deliberately ruining any chance you have for advancement?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t see why winning a race should change anything else in my life. I just wanted to prove to myself I could do it.”

We step into the quiet elevator. Liam frowns, and his voice drops to a low growl. “I don’t get you. Are you purposely trying to annoy everyone here for some insane reason?”

“I don’t like her,” I whisper in his ear, covering my mouth with my hand, not ready yet to admit this out loud to the rest of the world, including whoever might be watching.

“Who? Representative Waters-Royce?” he mutters back.

I nod.

He turns to me, talking quietly. “Why not? She’s been super nice to me, introducing me to tons of people. I think she’s only trying to help us.”

We face off in the elevator, arguing in hushed voices, our faces hidden from the camera in the corner.

“I’ve got my reasons.” I cross my arms. “But I don’t wish to discuss them, especially not here.”

“What reasons? That she’s got red hair? Because you supposedly don’t like the color red, even though you’re wearing it right now?” He gestures at my dress.

“That wasn’t my choice. They sent it to me. It was the only one that fit right.”

He scoffs. “You’re ridiculous. You know that?”

The elevator doors slide open. Liam fishes a key card out of his pocket. We step into a small, black-and-white lobby. There are three doors to choose from. Liam steps up to the middle one and enters his key card. His movements are sharp and angry, but he says nothing until we get inside.

He spins around to confront me. “I don’t get you. If you want to get ahead in life—like, for example, if you want Yoshe to get into first chair—you have to play their games.”

“And why is that fair? Why should Mom get first chair because I can run fast? How is that fair to whoever is in first chair now?”

Liam raises his hands like he’s giving up. “Do you want your mom to be happy or not?”

“What kind of question is that? You
know
what we’ve been through!” I snap, showing him my scars like they’re some kind of weapon.

Liam clamps his mouth closed.

I glance around the room. One wall consists of floor to ceiling windows; the other three are covered with a soothing, metallic blue fabric. Pushed against the far wall is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, covered with at least a dozen blue pillows. In the far corner are two small doors.

“Did you take a nap here?” I point at the bed.

“No, I didn’t have time.” He sits down on the bed, rubbing a hand over his face.

I walk over to explore what’s behind the doors. The first is a luxurious bathroom the size of our kitchen and living room, combined. The other holds a fancy closet the size of my bedroom.

“Why on earth did they give us this room?” I ask. “There’s only a bed here.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry, Ms. Sanctimonious. I can sleep on the floor.”

“What are you talking about?” I cross over to the windows, this time pushing myself to the edge. I place both hands on the cool glass. The vision is captivating, like watching the inner workings of some vast machine. “I’m not staying here tonight.”

“Why not?” He stands next to me at the windows. “I don’t get you. When else are you going to have the opportunity to sleep in such a fancy bed?”

I glance back at the mountains of pillows. “I still don’t get why there’s only one bed.”

He shrugs. “They must think you like me more than you do. After all, you’re the one they put on birth control.”

I sigh. “I hate all those appointments at the Reproductive center and the automatic birth control. I should be able to make these decisions for myself.”

“The New Order is just trying to do what’s best for the people.”

I narrow my eyes. “I have my own brain. I don’t need it made up for me.”

He huffs. “What is your problem, Silvia? Why are you acting so high and mighty?” He gestures around the grand room. “This is a gift, you know. Try to appreciate it.”

I point at the bed. “I have no intention of sleeping on that bed or doing anything else there, either, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Liam crosses his arms. “Trust me, I’m not that desperate. I can get a girlfriend any time I want. I would’ve liked to run this evening together as a team. To make the most of the opportunities presented, together. To move ahead, visit other cities, whatever comes our way. But if you’d rather remain stuck where you are, then suit yourself. I’m done with you.”

A lump forms in my throat. “And, here, I thought we were friends.” I gaze down at the streets below. “But we’re not. You’re just like one of them.”

Liam’s voice hardens. “All my life I’ve wanted to be someone important. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I push myself away from the window, my heart hard and cold. Thick carpet muffles my steps back to the entrance door. “I sure hope you don’t lose yourself in your pursuit to become someone else because I liked you better before the race. Now, I’m not so sure.”

I let the door slam shut behind me.

ride up the elevator alone. Loud music welcomes me back to the party, muffling the overhead robotic announcement that I’ve reached the top floor. I scan the crowd for Mom, hoping I can convince her to leave early. Parties are supposed to be fun. This is more like torture.