Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (36 page)

I skirt around the dance floor which opened up in my absence. A small orchestra plays an upbeat tune that I might appreciate if I wasn’t in such a hurry to escape. It takes three sweeps of the giant, open room to find Mom. She’s deep in conversation with an older gentleman wearing glasses and carrying a cane. She waves when I catch her eye but doesn’t invite me to join her. And so I wait, leaning on the nearest wall.

The room spins and swirls with busy activity. Only I am as unmoving as stone. Once I realize Mom has no intention of ending her conversation any time soon, I search for food. But the buffet tables have all been removed, save for one, which has been picked over. As I gaze in disappointment, several white-coated servers come and remove the serving trays.

I sigh. My feet ache. My stomach growls. And my head and heart are sore. I’m pretty sure none of the Harmans like me now. Franco only feels sorry for me. Linda has always hated me, and, now, it seems Liam’s decided to join her in that opinion.

But who cares? I don’t need them anyway. I don’t need anybody but myself. And food. Food would be nice here.

“Hey, Silvia, I saved you a plate.” Franco startles me with a tap on the shoulder.

I swing around. A gorgeous man in a black tux hands me a heaping plate of cinnamon rolls and fruit. I swear I can feel my stomach smile. I grab the plate out of his waiting hands.

“Oh, my gosh, I love you.” I flush. “I mean—thanks. This looks great.”

He laughs. “I figured you might be hungry.”

“You’re right.” I don’t even have the patience to not talk with my mouth full. “I’m starving.”

“Plus, I figured you are one of the few people I think deserve this level of extravagance.” He waves an arm around the room.

“Yeah, isn’t this place crazy?” I lick frosting off my fingers.

“Yes. Feast your eyes on another government-run, so-called-non-profit organization. Or, as they say, see how the other half lives.”

I shrug. “Well, if they only do this celebration every five to ten years, I guess it doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, no, my innocent little Silvia.”

I cringe, suddenly feeling like a four-year-old at a big kid’s birthday party.

He scowls. “They eat like this all the time.”

I stop chewing for a moment, swallow, and then speak. “They couldn’t. It’s so wasteful.”

“But they do.” He cocks his head. “I’ve been talking with the servers. They work at shindigs just like this at least once, if not twice, a week.”

“While the rest of us are on rations?”

“Now, you’re catching up. Don’t you know that the real motto of the New Order is ‘Liberty and Justice for None, and Thievery and Gluttony by a Few?’“

I lower my voice. “How can you talk like that so openly in here?”

He gestures toward the orchestra. “Who’s going to hear me over that mambo? And you’re the only one I want to talk to here, anyway.”

“What about Liam?”

His face tenses. “I’m not sure I trust him anymore.”

“Really? Then I’m not the only one who thinks he’s changed.”

He frowns. “I’m afraid not.” In a flash, the dark mood covering his face vanishes. “Are you done eating?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s dance.” He takes my hand, leads me to the dance floor, and puts his arms around me.

I’m too stunned to object. And, sure enough, it’s a slow dance. He holds me close. I can feel the heat from his body radiate into mine. I try not to hold on too tight. I don’t want him to know how much I care about him. There’s no point.

He whispers in my ear. “I wanted to ask you: what happened today? Why’d you freak out on the course? What made you stop just before the finish line?”

I consider what to say and decide to be brief, blunt, and honest.

“I thought I saw my father,” I whisper back. And that’s the truth. Let’s see how he likes it. “Along with some other dead people.”

“I suppose that’s a job hazard for you.” He holds me tighter.

I tense. I can’t do this. Not if he thinks of me as a kid. Not if he pities me. Not when my entire being urges me to kiss him. I can’t stand this close and still be so far away.

I take a step back, releasing his hold on me. “Franco… I—”

The orchestra goes silent.

“Quiet everyone!” Representative Waters-Royce demands over the orchestra microphone. “I have an announcement to make.”

A drumroll begins. The titan-haired politician gestures into the crowd, and Liam steps up on the small raised platform.

She holds his hand up in the air, her chin raised proudly. “Liam Harman has just accepted a high level position in Argos, our fair sister city to the south!”

The room erupts in applause. Except for Franco. His face pales.

I whisper into his ear. “I knew I hated her for good reason.”

He leans on me as if he’s lost all strength to stand on his own. “Silvia, you’re the only one here who makes any sense. Please, take me home. I can’t watch any more of this charade.”

I wave my mother over. She rushes up, takes one look at Franco’s face, and helps me escort him into the elevator. I try to calm my racing pulse as I hold Franco upright, his body held tight against mine. At the bottom, we shuffle out of the building and to his home, his shoulders slumped and his head hung down.

“You should be happy for Liam,” encourages Mom. “This sounds like a great opportunity for him.”

Franco rubs his face with his hands. “Linda’s going to kill me.”

“But why?” Mom pats him on the shoulder. “Surely she’d be proud of what he’s accomplished.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “Linda will go nuts, losing her husband and now her son. I don’t know how to tell her he’s leaving.”

“Then let Liam tell her instead.” I place a tentative hand on his shoulder. Even if he only pities me, all I want is for his sadness to end.

Franco sighs. “No. I have to prepare her before he gets home. She won’t want him to know how she really feels.”

Mom frowns. “I see. You better head over there right now, then, so you get there first.”

“I know.” He groans. “I tried to stop him from racing, but even that bike accident hardly slowed him down.” He covers his face with his hands. “Oh, man, how am I going to tell her? She’s going to blame me. I know she will.”

“Tell her to blame me, instead,” I suggest. “Why not? She hates me anyway.”

We’ve reached Liam’s building. Franco gazes up to their apartment window, and releases a deep sigh. “She doesn’t hate you,” he says.

“Yes, she does.”

Franco turns to stare at me a long moment before wrapping me in an unexpected hug.

My heart almost stops beating and I find it impossible to breathe. I don’t dare glance over at my mother. I can’t handle what I expect to find in her eyes—disapproval.

He releases his grip. “Thanks, but it won’t make any difference. The result is the same. Liam will move to another city, and Linda may never see him again. Just like all the others Chosen before him. Goodnight, both of you, and thank you.”

Franco half-heartedly waves as he heads inside, leaving us hovering under the street city lights.

Mom turns away before I do. “I wonder if you’ll ever see him again.”

I don’t ask if she means Franco or Liam.

I don’t want to know.

he following two weeks crawl by. Liam leaves town in a hurry. I never even get a chance to say goodbye, but maybe that was his choice. He made it clear at the party that he was disappointed in me. And that goes both ways.

Any worries I might have had about never seeing Franco again have vanished. Ever since the race, he’s popped into Mortuary Sciences on a daily basis, the same question on his lips every time.

“Have you heard anything from Liam?” Franco asks, a hopeful light in his face that I don’t wish to crush.

But I must.

“No. Sorry.” I shake my head. I’m sure Liam would never contact me before his family, but I don’t tell Franco that.

“Linda’s getting worried.” He frowns. “It’s been five days, and not one word from him. We were told that, although transportation between cities is treacherous, once a person gets there safely, communications are still good.”

Gus zips up another body bag. “I’m so sorry, Franco. This must be hard for your family.”

Franco turns away, either unwilling or unable to talk. His shoulders sag, and he wanders from the morgue like he just lost his best friend—which I suppose he did.

Gus and I share a long look. I’m not sure what he will think when I rush after Franco, but he doesn’t say a thing as I dash out the sliding glass door.

“Franco, wait!” I catch him at the base of the stairs.

He turns to face me, his gaze on the floor. “I’m sorry to keep bothering you.”

“Don’t be silly.” I reach out to touch him arm and pause, my hand held in mid-air. “It’s no bother. I’m worried, too.”

His eyes water. “What happened to him?” he whispers, finally raising his teary gaze to mine.

I drop my hand to my side, my stomach sinking. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s fine.” If he’s fine, though, why does my voice catch?

He gives me a slight smile. “You’re sure? Could I get a guarantee with that?”

I swallow. “I don’t know. I
want
him to be all right, so that’s what I’m going to believe.” I know why he doesn’t contact me, but I’ve no idea why he’d hold out on his mom and sisters, too.

Franco sighs. “Well, he’s mad at me, so I’m not shocked he hasn’t messaged me, but you’re his friend. He’ll write you eventually. Maybe he’s just gotten lazy.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”
Maybe not.

He chuckles, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m sure you think all we did was fight, but I miss him.”

“I know you do.”

“Anyway… thanks for listening.” He turns as if to go then spins back, grabbing me into another hug. And this time, my mother isn’t watching.

My heart is in my throat. His arms are gripped so tightly around me. It takes me half a second to respond, then I tentatively encircle my own arms around him, my hands resting on the back of his jean jacket. Within my arms, he tenses and shudders then relaxes. My heart hammers and breaks at the same time. He’s in so much pain, and I’d give anything to take it away.

We stand in silence except for the sound of our breaths in the cool air. The door at the top of the stairs slides open, the wind whooshing through it.

Franco stirs. “Will you check at the gym again tonight?” he murmurs into my hair.

“Yeah, of course.” I nod.

And then he’s gone, taking any shred of happiness I had left with him.