The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (best novels of all time TXT) 📗

to the Eyes specifically because he wanted to work with Scipio. The great machine had always fascinated my brother, drawn him in like sweets would any other child.

“What’s wrong with Scipio?” I asked—cautiously, though my mind was ablaze. Of course something was wrong with Scipio—what else could explain people like Grey and I trying and trying and trying but never going anywhere but down? Of course, if Alex was just figuring this out now, we needed to have a long talk about his observational skills.

I don’t know what’s wrong. Not exactly, anyway, he said. I think… I think Scipio’s losing it a little.

A chill ran down my spine at the edge of anxiety in his voice. “Losing it?”

He’s getting more extreme, Alex said, and his words were quieter now, as if he was speaking in a jumbled whisper. More violent. He’s using the Knights more viciously, and punishing low numbers more aggressively.

I swallowed, thinking about Roark and his claims. “Punishing them how?”

Alex began to talk, then cut off. I heard a set of footsteps moving by.

People have died, Lily, he said.

“What do you mean, people have died?” I asked. “Alex… have you heard something about the Knights?”

Silence met my question, and I waited, heart in my throat. I almost gave up waiting for an answer, but after a moment I heard a soft breath, followed by his voice.

I don’t know. All I know is that it is a good thing you got your number up.

I frowned. “Alex, when was the last time you checked it? Because it isn’t the best right now.”

I’m looking at it now, he said, sounding confused.

“Well, then I’m glad you’re impressed with my three, but—”

Have you checked it? Alex asked, bemused.

I looked down at my wrist, expecting to see red. Instead, I saw blue. A blue so cool and calm that I had a hard time reading the number there. My wrist hadn’t ever looked like that.

Sitting primly at the base of my hand was a glowing nine.

I don’t think you have anything to worry about with a nine, Alex was saying. I’m genuinely unsure what they gave you to spike you that fast, but it does make me feel better. I gotta go, but I’ll check in soon. Tell the folks I said hi, all right?”

“Wait, Alex. I want to know more about Scipio,” I said hurriedly, but he didn’t respond, and I could tell by the now inactive net that the call was over. I exhaled and looked back at my wrist. Still a nine—certain, still, and confident.

I lowered my arm and considered my own feelings. Did I feel any different? Was I feeling the urge to do anything differently?

A quick assessment revealed two things. Number one, other than the shock of seeing a nine on my wrist, I felt relatively normal. A little excited, but ultimately, I still felt like me.

Number two, the only urge I had was to go down and use my ration cards to get some fry-bread and see if I couldn’t scrounge up some berries. Which was pretty normal, for me. Not that I was going to follow through on that urge, either. Going outside now with a nine on my wrist was just as dangerous as the three; I worried people would notice incongruities with my behavior compared with that of other nines or tens. I had to be careful not to reveal anything to anyone, and keep my emotions hidden as much as possible.

Grey’s pill had worked, and just in time too. With Scipio malfunctioning somehow, I could’ve sunk to a two and gotten booted from the Citadel before it got fixed.

But that didn’t stop it from happening to other people.

That thought haunted me for several hours after that, and it took a long time to go to sleep, the nine suddenly feeling heavy on my wrist.

12

“I don’t know how this is possible.”

My father sat opposite me at our dining room table, his eyes flat with shock, his hands playing excitedly across the tabletop. My mother was next to him, a broad smile splitting her features.

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Neither do I,” I blatantly lied. I looked down at my wrist, and the nine smiled back, bright and cheery. “It was just like this when I got back from my walk.”

It was morning, and I had spent the better part of the night trying to decide how to explain the significant increase. Luckily, the last time they saw me I was a five, not a three—but rising four ranks overnight wasn’t normal. I considered concocting a tale of heroism, but that seemed a little far-fetched, and was too easy to disprove. My next thought was that I could tell them I went on a spiritual quest and came out understanding my place in service to Scipio, but the thought was so nauseating, I immediately dismissed it. There was no way I could be convincing in the retelling, so it was better to pass.

In the end, I decided to opt for something as close to honesty as I could manage: I took my pills, met with Zoe, came home, and boom, nine status.

“Anyway, I really need to get going,” I said, glancing toward the door. “I have my apprenticeship.”

My mother shot to her feet, dragging my father up with her. I canted my head toward her, alarmed by the intensity on her face, the wide-eyed panic on it.

She gave me an incredulous look as she saw me staring up at her, and frowned. “Liana, you’re going to be late!” she exclaimed. “We don’t want your number dropping, so the best thing to do is to keep doing what you’ve been doing. Now get up and get to class, dear.”

I barely had a chance to grab my things before she literally pushed me out the door. I stood there, blinking in the hallway, confused by the sheer enthusiasm still seeming to radiate out from our quarters. Was this what it felt like to be loved, like