The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗

She pointed behind me, at a long, cloistered balcony. “They can almost touch the stars. If we stood up there and sang to them, I bet they’d hear us.”

A wave of despair washed over me. Somehow, I knew we’d never stand on that grate. They’d never let us near it, near our parents or our past.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I said.

Ona laughed. “What could happen to me?” She let go of my hands and rubbed at her middle. “Even my rash is getting better. It’s from Outside, like I said.”

I couldn’t look at her. I turned my head toward the house. “Should we go in?”

Ona bounded ahead of me, a bundle of energy. Dad was already inside, puttering about in the kitchen. He looked small, standing there, dwarfed by his surroundings. Our whole place could’ve fit in the kitchen, with room for a dog. A big window opened over the sink, looking out on a neat square of grass. A tree stood in the center, an actual tree, and I wondered if it was the kind that bore fruit. Ona bumped up against me, craning to see.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she said.

We thundered up a spiral staircase, wrought metal overgrown with ivy. The upstairs was airy, four rooms on our left, the balcony to our right. It stood open to the hallway, letting the sounds of the square filter in.

“Those would’ve been our rooms,” said Ona, peering into the smallest one. “If we weren’t Ascending.”

“They’re ours for tonight.” I checked the next one along and found it furnished, just a bed and a dresser, but both of high quality. I felt lonely looking at it, picturing it empty. Picturing Mom looking in on it, Dad closing the door. Dust gathering over time.

“They could still have more children,” said Ona. “They’re not too old.”

I turned and saw she was crying, one hand pressed to her mouth. I pulled her close and held her, choking back my own tears. She shook in my arms, quiet sobs that tore through her just the same.

“I’ll be with you,” I promised her. “Right there, no matter what.”

Chapter Seven

I slipped out late that night and headed to the Banks, to the bridge over the reservoir. I could see my old building from there, the rock garden out front. A few stragglers from the swing shift made their way along the bank, hunched shapes in the dark. I wondered how long it would take me to forget the sound of the water, the play of light on its surface. Or my own bedroom ceiling, with its canopy of cracks. I’d heard of people forgetting faces, even faces they’d once loved. I wished I could draw so I’d remember.

I scrunched down as footsteps approached, tried to make myself small. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even hello. I just wanted to look, to drink it in and absorb it, the place I grew up.

“Thought I might find you here.” Lock stopped beside me. “Okay if I sit?”

I gestured vaguely at the spot beside me—be my guest. Lock eased himself down and swung his legs over the side.

“I went home too,” he said. “Got me a souvenir.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fuzzy something.

“Ew. What is that?”

“A toy mouse.” He dangled it by its tail. “There’s this lady who sells them downstairs from me. I always wondered who bought them. Now I know.”

“They’re for cats.” I took a swipe at Lock’s mouse. He curled around it, protecting it with his body.

“Toss Smedley in the reservoir, I’ll be very upset.”

“You named that thing?”

“Don’t mock. I’m sad.” He tucked his mouse back in his pocket. “Truth be told, I swung by your new house first. When Ona said you were out, I thought you might’ve made a run for it.”

“I thought about it,” I admitted.

“What made you stay?”

“Ona.” I stared into the reservoir. The water had risen with the rains, lapping up to the footpath. A thousand lights glimmered on its surface, streetlights and bedroom lights, fizzing neon signs. “All she sees is the dream. Someone needs to be there for her, in case...”

“I want to think there’s no ‘in case.’” Lock touched his pocket where he’d stowed his mouse. “Ascension’s not just a dream. It’s what gets you through, you know?”

“Like in the pit?”

“Sort of. But no. I meant when you’re just hanging on, when it’s down to life or death.” His breathing quickened. “I spent the night down a vent one time, with my leg crushed under a rock. Couldn’t move an inch. The steam just kept coming, boiling the skin off my bones. By morning, I’d stopped healing, just... even we have our limits, what our bodies can take.” He rubbed at a spot above his knee, as though it still hurt him. “That dream got me through, the thought of waking up to real sunshine, a song on the radio. Visiting my folks in the Stars. And now it’s all coming true, just like it’s supposed to. First the pain, then the gain. You’d have to be some kind of monster, putting kids through all that, if the reward’s just a lie.”

Some kind of monster. I ducked my head to hide my grimace. “How’d you get out, in the end?”

“Samson came back with a jackhammer. Busted that rock all to powder.” Lock sighed. “Most of us don’t make it. We fall or get shot, or our buggies flip over. There’s a hundred ways to die out there, but we hold onto that promise—see it through to the end, and we got you covered.” His whole face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s all been true so far. They let my whole family move up, my aunts and uncles, all my cousins. It’s like a mansion, their place, a room for every kid. There’s a park out back, with swings. That makes it all worth it, whatever comes next.”

A sense of sadness came over me, heavy