Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  “No, you’re the guest of honor,” Linda assures her.

  So, Mom is the guest of honor, not me. How nice.

  “I propose a toast,” announces Liam.

  Franco clamps his mouth shut but picks up his glass after Linda glares at him.

  Liam stands and pushes back his chair. “First, I’d like to thank Mom and Franco for this wonderful dinner.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Linda’s face transforms when she smiles at her only son. She almost looks like a nice person, for once.

  Franco only grunts in response, a storm brewing in his eyes.

  Liam turns to me. “And, secondly, I’d like to thank Silvia for training with me, teaching me about yoga—“

  Franco laughs, and the storm clouds disperse.

  “Shut up, Franco.” Liam makes a face. “And, finally, I’d like to pre-thank Silvia for racing with me as Team Win tomorrow. I know we can do it.” He lifts his glass.

  I’m not as confident as Liam but lift my glass in return. “And thank you for getting me off the treadmills. How will we ever go back?”

  While everyone else drinks, I realize this is the end. No more limited, government-issued freedom. No more extra passes, increased food portions, and special attention. And, quite likely, there will be no more time with Franco.

  I turn to him as he settles into the chair next to me. My mother and Linda sit next to each other, bending their heads together in conversation. Franco focuses on his food, and I try to do the same but find it hard to eat. I want to sit still and do nothing. I remain silent and hide my thoughts in the company of others.

  Franco is as quiet as I am, but Liam glows with excitement, bantering back and forth with his sisters. My mind is too numb to follow their conversation.

  My mom laughs and smiles. She seems so happy. Is it a show or for real? I can’t tell anymore.

  And then there’s Linda. I watch the woman who, simply because she had a fight with her husband, caused me to try to kill myself. Twice. When she returns my gaze briefly, I wonder if she’s thinking similar things about me. I tug at my sleeves to cover my wrists. I don’t want her to see my scars.

  At the end of the meal, Linda stands. “And now, Liam, I have a small gift for you hidden in my room. But first, let’s clear the table.”

  Everyone carries their own plates to the sink except for Lydia and Lucy, who fight over the honor of waiting on Liam.

  Linda eyes me as she clears my mostly untouched plate. “Don’t you like spaghetti?”

  At my side, Mom hurries to make excuses. “So sorry, Linda. The meal was delicious. I’m afraid my daughter has a nervous stomach.”

  “Yes,” I agree to appease everyone. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I could eat anything tonight.” I walk away.

  Dinner plates clink in the sink. Voices bubble around me. I wander over to the couch and pick up a cushion. It’s red. I want to rip it apart, throw it on the floor, and jump on it until it’s destroyed. I feel so sad and angry at the same time and can’t make any sense of it.

  My stomach convulses, and I glance around for signs of a bathroom. There’s a dark hallway past the living room. I rush toward it. There are four doors in the hallway, and all of them are shut. I’ll have to guess which one’s the bathroom. I reach for a doorknob.

  Muffled voices freeze my hand in mid-air.

  “She knows.” Linda’s tense voice whispers from behind a closed door. “I tell you she knows. I can see it in her eyes.”

  “She doesn’t know,” Franco murmurs.

  “Well, she at least suspects.”

  “She’s smart, Linda. She can tell you’re edgy around her. Maybe you should try to act normal for a change.”

  “I want you to stay away from her,” Linda pleads. “We have to be safe. They’re still watching us. They’re always watching, waiting for us to screw up.”

  “We are safe. I’ve spent my life making sure of that. But if you want to be invisible, you never should’ve let Liam sign up for that race.”

  “Are you going to stay away from her or not? I see the way you look at the girl.”

  My heart hammers in my chest as I wait through a long pause in the conversation.

  Franco clears his throat. “I’m just keeping an eye on her. I feel bad about things. Have you seen her wrists? That’s because of us.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Linda sighs. “At least Liam and the girls had you. That poor child had no one. No wonder she hurt herself. Everyone else hurt her, too.”

  “Silvia?” Mom calls from the living room. “Where are—”

  I bolt out of the dimly-lit hallway.

  “There you are.”

  “We should go.” I interrupt her, heading for the front door.

  “What’s wrong?” She narrows her eyes. “Oh, dear. You look sick. And you hardly ate anything for supper. No, it couldn’t be… You’re not—”

  I turn away and head for the door, Mom close behind me.

  She grabs my arm and pulls me close to whisper in my ear. “Silvia, please tell me you’re not pregnant.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I roll my eyes. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” I wave at my running partner, eager to get far, far away from his family. “Bye, Liam.”

  “Where are you going?” he asks. “The party’s just getting started.”

  “Pre-race jitters or whatever. Sorry.” I return my attention to my mother. “Let’s go.” I open the door, but Mom doesn’t move. “Please can we go? I don’t feel well, and I want to go home now.”

  “Okay.” Mom sighs and turns to Liam. “Please make our excuses to your Mom. I’m sure it’s just a case of the nerves. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Liam grabs me into a hug I don’t want, especially not right now. “Come on, Silvia. You know you’re going to be awesome. There’s no reason to be nervous. See ya tomorrow.”

  I break away and flee down the hall. Mom hurries after me.

  I punch the buttons for the elevator. “I can’t believe you think I’m pregnant. You, of all people.” I spin around to face her. “What is everyone’s obsession with that topic lately? I swear I’ve taken more pregnancy tests—”

  “What?” Her eyes fly open wide. “Why are you taking pregnancy tests?”

  “Every frigging time I go to that stupid Citizen Family Planning Center, they force me to pee in a cup.”

  Mom pauses. “Okay, calm down. That’s probably standard procedure at your age.”

  I point to my upper arm. “But they’ve already injected me with their government-issued birth control. So what’s their problem?”

  Mom lowers her voice. “Well, there have been rumors.”

  My hands begin to shake. “Really? What rumors? About me?”

  “No.” She covers her mouth with a hand, so no one watching the cameras can read her lips. “About girls getting pregnant. At first, there was talk that the New Order would lower the birth control mandate to fifteen, but then I heard that the girls who’d gotten pregnant had already been injected. So, then the rumor was that some of the capsules were faulty.”

  My eyes widen. “I know. Sometimes they’re empty when I remove them.”

  “Really?” Mom grimaces like she does any time I mention dead bodies.

  I nod. We step into the elevator and remain silent until we get back in the relative safety of the noisy outdoor traffic.

  “I suppose no system is perfect,” Mom says once we’re on the street. “No vaccine is a hundred percent effective. No chemotherapy works for all cancer patients. This is the same thing. Maybe some people’s bodies absorb the hormones too fast, rendering them ineffective.”

  “Maybe. I suppose that’s possible.” That’s a reasonable explanation, but it doesn’t explain the discrepancy in dates between the deaths of Amelia and her child. I shiver despite the summer night heat. “But why would that kill them?”

  “What are you talking about?” Mom leans in close to whisper in the midst of the street traffic.
<
br />   “Well…” I check for overhead cameras. “When you heard these rumors, did all the pregnant girls die?”

  “Of course not. The babies did, but we’re used to that.” Mom gives me a little hug. “You don’t know how discouraged your father and I felt after all those miscarriages. Then came you, our lucky charm.”

  I frown. “I don’t feel so lucky tonight.”

  Mom rubs my shoulder. “I’m worried you’re coming down with something. You know you don’t have to race tomorrow if you don’t want to.”

  “No, I have to.” I flinch as a red-headed woman passes by, walking in the other direction. “I just need to take a bath and go to bed.”

  Mom bites her lip. “I know you’re used to getting extra treats because of this race, but you shouldn’t get in the habit of being wasteful.”

  “Come on, Mom. The last time I took a bath was six months ago when I had a cold. Otherwise, I never use more than my allotted five minute shower a day.”

  We reach our building. Mom opens the front door, and I head for the stairs.

  Mom takes my arm. “Let’s take the elevator this time. You look exhausted.”

  Up we travel. I trudge down the hall to our home and lean against the wall as Mom unlocks the door.

  She frowns. “Why don’t you use my water allotment for today? You need it more than I do.”

  I give her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Once inside the apartment, I run a bath, holding my hand in the stream of scalding water without flinching, forcing myself to become numb. It’s safer that way. Must not feel too much.

  Inside the bathroom cupboard, I find a lavender satchel and drop it into the steaming bath. I climb in, welcoming the heat, willing it to dissolve the chill inside. Sighing, I lean my cheek against the smooth white tile. My sore, overused muscles relax in the warmth, but my mind races.

  What is Linda so scared of? Why does she hate the very thought of me? And she doesn’t have to worry about Franco. It’s obvious he just feels sorry for me. There’s nothing I hate more than that. I don’t want people’s sympathy. I want their respect.

  That’s why I’m running tomorrow. To prove I’m tough. To show there’s more to me than what those doctors said. Despite their doomsday predictions, I will survive. I’ve figured out that hurting myself doesn’t harm them. More likely, it’s exactly what they want. When the New Order put a suicidal patient to work in Mortuary Services, their intentions became obvious.

  On the other hand, my motives are hidden.

  They’ll never get into my mind.

  It’s the only escape I have.

  My fingertips relish the softness of the beautiful red dress Dad made for me to celebrate Mom’s big concert. I sway slightly, side to side, and feel the swish of the fabric against my legs. The sky darkens, and I lean against my father.

  He hugs me with a wink. “Don’t fall asleep yet, hon. You have to wake up.”

  My eyes fly open. I flail in the now-cool bath.

  “Wake up, Silvia. I’m counting on you.” His voice again.

  So close to my ear.

  “Dad? Where are you?” I jump up, splashing water over the bathtub edge. “What’s going on?”

  But he’s not here.

  It’s just another cruel dream.

  I dry off and go to bed, still shivering. The city lights filter through the bedroom window and settle on Dad’s face forever imprisoned in a picture frame on the wall.

  Tears spring to my eyes. “Dad, I could really use some help.”

  urry, wake up!” Mom shakes my arm.

  I groan as the sunlight hits my eyes. “Is it morning already?”

  “How do you feel?” She peers into my face. “Are you okay to run? I let you sleep as long as I could.”

  “Of course I’m fine to race. I told you, I’m not sick. It’s just nerves.” I throw off the covers, jump out of bed, and change as fast as possible.

  We rush down the street without breakfast to the race’s check in site. New Order flags in red, white, and blue flutter above each doorway in celebration of the event. Mom and I arrive, out of breath, at a tent. A long row of runners wait to reach the tables inside. The place is a madhouse. Lots of serious faces and attitude. Plenty of bulging leg muscles. A few splashes of face paint like ancient warriors. I wonder where they got the paint. Gus would probably know.

  Liam pushes his way to us in the mob. “Hey there, Silvia. Time to hurry up and wait, eh?” He gestures to the line ahead of us.

  “Did your family drop you off?” I ask him.

  He nods.

  I turn to Mom. “I guess you don’t have to wait with us, either, if you don’t want to.”

  “What else do I have to do today?” She puts her hands on her hips. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I want to be here.”

  “Okay, then. Stay.” Why does every conversation with my mother turn into an argument?

  We creep ahead in line as the runners check in, one by one. Each entrant leaves with a red shirt and blue baseball hat in hand.

  “Are you kidding?” I sigh. “We have to wear red today?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Liam shrugs. “I’ll bet you look nice in red. I’ve never seen you wear it.”

  Mom smirks, averting her eyes.

  “I don’t like that color,” I explain.

  “Why not?” Liam asks. “I thought your Dad’s hair was red—oh gosh, I can’t believe I just said that. I mean, Franco told me about that picture in your room, and—”

  Mom puts a hand on Liam’s arm. “That’s okay. I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm, but when Silvia was a little girl, Daniel—her father—made her the most beautiful red dress. Then he died, and she’s never worn the color since.”

  “I haven’t?” I ask.

  “No,” Mom replies. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Yes, I remember that dress, but I don’t recall ever having made the decision—”

  “Name please!” A voice barks. I’ve reached the front of the line.

  “Uh… Silvia Wood.”

  “Give me your arm.” The check-in attendant scans my identification then hands me a standard red shirt and blue hat. “Good luck. Next!”

  “Thanks,” I mumble and turn away.

  Liam signs in, changes into the uniform shirt like a flash, then stands, holding his discarded green shirt in his hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “I’ll take it,” Mom offers, and Liam hands it over. They both turn to stare at me.

  “I’ve got to change out here in front of everyone?” I ask, flushing.

  “You’re wearing a sports bra, or at least I hope so. What’s the problem?” asks Mom.

  Liam chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll turn around.”

  Once he does, I first make sure Franco isn’t anywhere near by, then I quickly change and hand my mom my extra shirt. Now, I hate looking at myself. All I can see is red. I slip my ponytail through my hat.

  “Okay, I’ll let you two get to the starting line. Good luck! And don’t worry—you’ll both do fine. You’ve worked so hard.” Mom gives me a quick, tense hug and disappears into the crowd.

  Liam elbows me. “You ready for this?”

  I shake out my hands to try to get rid of the nerves. “Yes. How’s your knee?”

  “Good as new. You’re gonna have trouble keeping up with me.”

  “Oh yeah?” I smile. “So much for all your talk about us running this together as a team.”

  He grins back. “I’m just kidding. I’d probably die out there without you egging me on. Franco’s right. I’m letting you be in charge today. So, do you want to use hand signals to let me know when you’re going to pass somebody?”

  “How about we point ahead? Keep it simple and work from there.”

  “Okay.” Liam leans in close as we approach the starting corral. “I like it. Now, where do you want to start?”

  “Not right in the front, because I don’t want to get trampled, but not t
oo far back so we get stuck. How about a few rows in, on the left side, because the first turn is to the left?”

  Liam nods once. “This is why I let you make all the decisions. Okay, let’s go.”

  The runners wait in the starting corral before the race begins. Everyone leans back to watch footage on an overhead screen near the Capitol Center. Each Representative gives a short speech encouraging the runners.

  Liam whispers in my ear. “Are they seriously going to make us listen to all these speeches right before we take off? What a killjoy.”

  I try to smile but can’t. I feel like I’m going to puke.

  Representative Nielsen, an older man with a bad cough, attempts to speak from his hospital bed. “Congratulations to all of you young people, for putting forth such effort…” He coughs. “And determination.” Again, his speech is interrupted by a wet cough. “We are… saving the planet and saving ourselves… One step at a time.”

  The crowd claps, and I follow suit to not stand out. Not when eyes and cameras are recording everything.

  The announcer steps up to the podium and declares, “And now, the one you’ve been waiting for—Representative Waters-Royce and her new baby!”

  I flinch as the crowd starts cheering and her image floods the screen, her glossy red hair flowing over her shoulders, her skin tight with no sign of wrinkles. She holds her newborn like an accessory. The people quiet as she begins to speak.

  “This is the time to be proud of what you have accomplished,” she says. “A time to appreciate our New World. A time to move ahead. Expect great things from the future!”

  The overhead screen goes blank. A cheer rises up from the crowd of runners again.

  “Well, if that just doesn’t get me in the mood,” Liam jokes.

  I can’t smile. My nerves are too on edge.

  I shut out everything but the announcer’s voice. “On your mark, get set, GO!”

  And we’re off.

  The thunder of feet.

  The erratic sound of my own breath.

  People everywhere, both in the road and lining the streets. It’s elbow to elbow. There’s a scramble for placement. I keep pointing and surging.