Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1)

by Snow, Sheena

  She feels human. My heart panged around in my chest.

  I never thought . . . I never dreamed that they might want to be human, to be like us.

  “I’m glad.” I swallowed and looked away.

  We reached the top of the hill.

  “Here.” She handed me a cardboard box. “How often have you gone sledding? Or have you ever gone before?”

  “Funny.” I kneeled in the box. “I’ve gone before. I grew up in Philadelphia. Besides, how hard could it be to sit in a box and slide down a hill?”

  It was hard. Very hard.

  The first time down the hill, I leaned forward in the box. It flipped over, allowing me to catapult, alone, down the rest of the hill. I was a perfectly shaped snowball by the time I finally rolled to a stop. The second time, well, if you want to call it that, my box broke. It tore open right from underneath me and I was left sliding down the mountain in snow-soaked jeans.

  “Sorry.” Bonnie winced. “I forgot water does that to cardboard.” She lifted my box up. There was a big hole in the middle and only the four corners left.

  My knees felt numb and my gloves weren’t doing anything to help keep the chill from my fingers.

  “It’s okay.” I flexed my fingers. “Would you mind, though, if we called it a day?” My knees started shaking.

  “Oh my gosh. I forgot. You must be freezing. You should have said something sooner.”

  “Yeah.” I took in her ensemble, jeans and T-shirt. Maybe it was a robot thing? “About that. How is it you’re not freezing? And what did you mean when you said regulating to the temperature?”

  “You mean, he didn’t tell you?”

  “No. He told me a lot . . . but I’m sure there’s still a lot I don’t know about ro— I mean about everything.”

  “Well, not all of us have the ability but we deal with a bunch of different situations that happen in all sorts of different environments and we need to be ready for any of them. Hence our bodies are able to adjust to the weather.”

  Oh.

  Well that would be very convenient for me right now. I was losing sensation in my legs every time I lifted them to walk. “And how does that work?”

  “I have no idea. I just know I’m never hot or cold the way humans are. It’s like we have internal heaters and air-conditioners inside of us.” Bonnie shrugged. “I’ve heard about sweating and freezing and I’ve seen the reactions but”—she shook her head—“never experienced it.”

  “You’re not missing anything. Believe me.” I was starting to lose feeling in one of my toes. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have a shower here, by any chance?”

  “Of course we do!” Bonnie said.

  We reached the cabin steps. Fire was smoking out of the chimney. I hoped that meant the heat was on, if they had heat.

  Warm air flooded my body when we opened the door and for that moment, I felt like I was in heaven.

  Then I saw the male robots sitting by the fire. They nodded at me. I gave a weak smile.

  The cabin was small and there were tons of couches set up in a semi-circle around the fire.

  “This door”—Bonnie opened it—“is the boys’ room. And this one is the girls’ room.” She pointed at the door next to it. “Since we are an even number, it’s three and three for the sleeping arrangements. We figured it would help you if we made the rooms boys and girls. Here, let me take you to the shower.” Three beds and three suitcases were neatly stacked against the guys’ wall. In the corner, was a single-person bathroom. “Unfortunately, it’s the only one we have, so if you need to use it during the night you’ll have to come through the boys’ room. Don’t worry.” She winked at me. “They won’t bite!”

  At least they had a toilet and shower, which is more than most places like this had inside the house.

  “I’ll bring in your stuff and leave it right outside the shower door. Oh,” she said, “there is a whole rack of towels above the toilet that you can use. Bang on the wall if you need anything else.” She closed the door.

  I pulled off my parka and tried to dust some of the snow off into the shower. I undressed and hopped. My mind wandered back to all that I’d left behind. Sydney, Carmen, Jayla. I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart clenched. I didn’t get to say goodbye. What were they going to think? Would my parents tell them what happened to me? Aunt Becky, Joel, and Uncle Leroy. Would I see them again? And my parents.

  Mom.

  I pushed my friends and family from my mind and let the steam from the shower fill the tiny bathroom. It was heaven on earth. Pins and needles stung my legs and then my arms, as blood flowed back into my body.

  I turned off the water and cracked open the door to grab my stuff. Cold air blew in, making me freeze again. I dressed in the warmest clothes I could find, my warmest socks, leggings, jeans, and three layers of warm shirts, and a jacket. I dried my hair as much as I could. And right as I exited the bathroom, Green Eyes entered.

  “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know you were done. Bonnie wanted me to tell you there wouldn’t be any hot water left soon.” He glanced at the steam entering the room. “Glad to see that wasn’t a problem.” His eyes darted back to me and roved over me.

  Heat spread across my face. I was a mess. My wet, tangled hair was like a mop on my face. I pulled at it and ran my fingers through it. They caught on the knots and I gave up, letting my hair fall back around my shoulders.

  “Thanks. For the warning.” I tugged at my T-shirt. “By the way.” I walked over to the window. White mountains tumbled over each other in the distance. “Where are we?”

  I could feel him walking over to stand next to me, the hairs on my arms rising in awareness of his nearness. I pulled my arms closer to myself. He gazed out the window with me. The turtleneck outlined his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and toned figure.

  “We’re in Croghan, New York.” His voice held an edge to it.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Most people haven’t. We’re in Lewis County, up in the mountains. Probably a couple hours northwest of Albany.” His arms tightened across his chest. “You’ll be safe here. It’ll be hard for anyone to find you. When it snows, you can’t see where you’re going and when it doesn’t snow, things leave tracks.”

  “What kinds of things?” I whispered.

  “You know what kinds of things.”

  “I don’t think I ever thanked you properly.” My fingers played with wet strands of hair. I bit my lip. “For everything but also about pulling over and helping me . . . while we were driving. You didn’t have to . . . and you did . . . and I just wanted to say thanks.”

  For comforting me, for being there for me.

  “And for saving my parents. It’s not even just me you’re saving, it’s my whole family. And about my mom . . . what she said just as we were leaving, I . . .” The words I was going to say fled and I played with the buttons on my jacket.

  “You don’t feel accepted,” he said. “You never felt wanted.”

  My throat closed up and tears marred my vision.

  How did he know?

  “It sucks that she chose that moment. She’s had plenty of time.” My chin quivered. “All the time in the world. And then, after all that I’m supposed to believe her. Sometimes I even want to believe her and other times I don’t. I want to pretend it never happened because I’m scared she’ll take it back.” I pressed my lips together. “I’m scared that she didn’t mean it.”

  I was opening up my soul and spilling the contents on him. Pouring my thoughts, my feelings, my cares, and my wants, all at his feet.

  “I’m sorry.” I spun away from him. “I don’t know why I’m suddenly talking about this now.” I took a deep breath and collected myself. “I guess I just wanted you to know I wasn’t on purpose being harsh with her as we left. An
d that it’s just been there in the back of my mind, bothering me. I just . . . I just wanted . . .”

  The words hung in the air. I didn’t even know what I meant or what I wanted or why I was suddenly explaining myself to him.

  “I know what it’s like to not feel accepted. To feel like you’ll never be good enough,” he said.

  “You?” I snorted and wiped my eyes. “But you’re practically perfect.”

  “I’ll never be human. I’ll never be perfectly imperfect. I’ll never have blood racing through my body. I’ll never be able to have children. I’ll never be able to live the way others take for granted. I’ll never know what it’s like.”

  “You . . .” I faced him. “You want to be human?”

  He backed away and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Why,” I asked, “why would you ever want to be human?”

  “For the joy, for the family, for the laughter and the love and freedom and the choices.”

  “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you? But have you thought about all the pain being human comes with? Being human can suck a lot sometimes, too,” I whispered.

  “There’s pain in everything. With every choice and every decision you make, pain comes with it,” he said.

  I peered into his eyes. The soft green glowed with sadness. A strand of black hair fell onto his forehead. My heart pounded. I wanted to run my fingers across his face. I wanted to smooth the strand back into place.

  I wanted to soothe his soul. I reached out to him and he stepped away from me.

  “Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked.

  Robot, the voice hissed again. You were a fool to trust him when he doesn’t trust you.

  “N-N-No.” I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  He tugged at his turtleneck.

  “Actually.” I swallowed. “There is something, I heard your body adjusts to the weather.” I glanced at his outfit. “Is that why you don’t wear a lot of clothing? I mean—”

  Oh God. Did I just say that?

  I felt my eyes bulge out of my head, totally horrified but luckily Green Eyes didn’t seem to notice, either that or he was being kind. From the slight uptick on his lips, I was guessing the latter.

  Robot. He’s a robot.

  “Our bodies need to be capable of surviving,” Green Eyes said, “from the ice-cold lands of the arctic to the deserts of the Sahara. We are made to regulate our body temperatures to our environment. Here”—he held out his hand—“touch me.”

  Touch. Me.

  Two small and simple words.

  Considering where my thoughts were moments before, this shouldn’t be so unnerving. Yet still, I was finding it hard to swallow.

  I slipped my tiny hand into his broad blue vein-corded palm, as if we were in a ballroom and about to start dancing. And then the iciness of his palm frosted against my fingers.

  “Good God!” I snatched my hand back and a zing shot through my arm. “You’re freaking freezing.” I rubbed my hands together.

  “Try it again.” His palm remained outreached.

  I made a face.

  “What?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Afraid of a big scary robot?”

  “I would be”—I smiled—“if you were scary.” I glided my palm into his, and warmth spread through my hand. I relaxed in his grip and the heat radiated to my wrist and washed up through my body.

  I sighed, my hand and now arm, being wrapped in his heat blanket.

  “How did you do that? It’s cool,” I whispered. My fingers tightened around his, as if trying to suck the warmth out.

  Robot! the voice hissed again.

  But he’s different. He wants to be human. He wants to give all this up.

  Those are not the same things! the voice hissed back.

  “I told you,” Green Eyes said, “I can regulate my body temperature to whatever I want it to be.” He played with a wet strand of my hair. “Touch it.”

  My fingers pulled at the strand, slipping across the warm hair. “You dried it. Amazing.”

  “I could dry it for you. Your hair I mean.”

  Wet spots soaked through my clothes where my damp hair rested. “You can do that?”

  “One of my many talents,” he said. “But I’ll need both hands.” He looked down to where our hands were still locked.

  “Of course.” I felt my face heat and electric jolts stung my hand as I jerked it away. I rubbed my palm against my jeans.

  He ran his hands down the length of my wet hair. Heat radiated off his palms onto my neck.

  I shivered.

  “I heard you and Bonnie had a good time outside.”

  “Yeah. We did. She even—” I froze. “Did-Did you just call her Bonnie?”

  Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.

  My face flamed.

  “She couldn’t resist. She told everyone.”

  My hair slipped from his hands as I turned. “You-You don’t mind?”

  “I thought it was nice of you.” He ruffled his hair and his voice softened. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Bonnie this happy.”

  “Really? I thought she was always that happy.”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.”

  “That’s a shame.” I frowned. “She’s too nice not to be happy all the time.”

  The words echoed through my head.

  Robots. Happy. Nice.

  Words that shouldn’t fit together.

  The scent of pinewood drifted through me, and my body relaxed.

  “Let me finish,” he said, and guided me back around.

  “Of course.” I cleared my throat and straightened. “Of course.”

  But every time he stroked my hair, I wished it was my shoulders, or my arms, or my face. Because it was warm. So relaxing.

  Soft and gentle. Slow and caressing. Sweet and caring.

  Do not forget what he is, the voice whispered. Do not forget what he’s capable of.

  Of stroking my hair? Of saving my life? Of saving my parents’ lives?

  You know nothing! Nothing. Only what you see.

  The voice was right. I knew nothing. I was letting their few good deeds cloud my judgment. Maybe this was all a set up. Maybe this was the point. Maybe this was how they lured you in.

  “You’re shivering.” He put his hands on my arms and rubbed them.

  He was my own personal heating blanket sealing me from the chill of the frost air.

  And all the warnings, all the doubts seemed to quiet. To wait in the distance.

  And I let them.

  I felt Green Eyes’ breath on my neck and I could almost feel his chest against my back. If I leaned backward a little more, I would be surrounded—by him.

  “Thank you.” My cheeks burned. “I’m warm again.” Sharp electric jolts scurried up my arms where his hands had been. Replaced by fire, scorching my shoulders. I clutched the burning skin and gradually the tremors subsided.

  I lifted my fingers and glanced at where he last touched me. Nothing marred my skin. Nothing was different.

  “You feel it.” He stepped back. “I didn’t know. I would never have—I’m sorry.”

  “What am I supposed to be feeling?”

  “I won’t touch you again.”

  I reached for his hand. “I don’t understand.”

  “No.” He jerked out of my reach.

  “Tell me.” I stepped toward him. “Why does it feel like that?”

  “It just sometimes happens,” he said. “That’s all. I just didn’t realize you were experiencing it.”

  “For goodness sakes.” I stomped my foot. “Experiencing what?”

  “It’s
not a big deal. Now turn around and let me finish drying your hair.”

  “If it’s not such a big deal, you could tell me then,” I mumbled, and spun around for him.

  I tapped my foot when his fingers massaged my hair. Heat radiated down on my neck. His fingers wove in and out—pulling, tugging, caressing—making it hard not to close my eyes and purr like a kitten. I focused on the tapping of my foot and the knowledge that he was keeping something from me.

  Which is what robots are all about. Secrets and lies.

  I gritted my teeth and crossed my arms.

  “Did you give anyone else a name?”

  “Well . . .” I licked my lips, grateful for the distraction. “I was planning on giving everyone names. There’s no possible way I can remember your random string of numbers. I didn’t even ask if it was all right with everyone. If it’s a problem, we can just forget about it.”

  “They’ll be thrilled.”

  “I thought of a name for the big guy.”

  He snorted. “The big guy? I hope that’s not his name. He’ll be so disappointed.”

  “Oh no.” I bit my lip.

  “Why? What is it?”

  “I was thinking, er, Bear?”

  He dropped my hair.

  Oh no.

  “If it’s too much like—”

  His deep, melodious laugh filled the room.

  “We’ll change it,” I said, heat filled my cheeks. “How about Leon? Alberto?” Think. Think. Think. “Michelangelo?”