Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (animal farm read .TXT) 📗

I’ll run down and get you some cocoa.” He peppers kisses across my nose, and I give him a tiny smile in return. He is impossible to stay annoyed with.

True to his word, he heads out of our room, and I flop back against the bed, in no hurry to get up and start getting made up for this interview. The interview that’s going to be on national television. I lay there for a few minutes, dreading having the perky newscaster question us, until I sit bolt upright in the bed as a thought hits me—my parents are going to see this interview!

At the same moment, Patrick backs in through our door while balancing two mugs.

“Patrick, we have a problem.” I try not to sound panicked, but nonetheless, he turns too quickly, and sloshes hot coffee on his wrist.

“Shoot! Ahh, that stings!” He quickly sets the cups down, and sits on the edge of the bed, which I still haven’t left. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to talk to my parents!”

He looks confused. “Uhm, okay, but you know that they don’t really allow any outside communications except in case of emergencies, right? Even letters are screened, and they don’t give us much mail.”

I shake my head. “This is an emergency! My parents are going to see this interview today. See me sitting next to you, being called the future Princess of the NAA, and they have no clue. I have to call them, Patrick. I don’t know if Teddy’s told them, or what he’s told them!”

He grabs both of my hands, which had been flapping eccentrically, and holds them between his larger ones. “Okay, I’ll talk to the director. It’s not usually allowed, but they let me put in a call to my mother yesterday, given the circumstances. Although, while I hate to say it, you probably shouldn’t tell them too much, in case the line is recorded.”

I nod. “That makes sense. I just can’t let them get blindsided by this. I’m sure Teddy’s told them something, but they deserve to hear it from me, not a news anchor.”

“I agree, hearing it from you would be best. You’d better get moving then! We’ll try to get you a phone call first, but you’re already late for your makeup.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going now!” I fly out of bed, with new motivation propelling me.

I rush through my usual morning routine, throw my hair in a bun—ignoring all of the wispy fly-aways, as usual—and in record time, I'm taking Patrick’s hand and heading down the stairs.

The main floor of the guest house has been overrun with people. Cameras, equipment, lights, and people wearing various headsets clog up the usually empty area, and I stop in my tracks.

“Are these people all here for us?” I whisper, leaning closer to Patrick on reflex.

“Yep, sure are. Let’s scoot past and go see the director first.” He leads me straight to an office nestled off the front entrance of the resort and knocks on the closed door.

A moment later, Jared opens the door and gestures us inside. “How can I help you this morning?” he asks, settling behind his ornate mahogany desk.

“I need to make a phone call. My parents don’t know about all of this, and I don’t want them to hear about it on the evening news.” I gesture at the doorway, where sounds of the unusual crowd of people are filtering into his office.

He steeples his fingers together, considering my request. “As I told you yesterday, we have a very strict policy regarding outside contact. We allow some letters, but otherwise we feel that it’s best if your focus remains here, on the new family you’re building, rather than outside, with the people waiting for you.” He stops and gives us a very stern look.

That wasn’t a no. I simply stare back, waiting him out.

After a lengthy pause, he finally sighs in surrender. “All right, given the unusual circumstances, we’ll allow it. Only this once, and please do not tell anyone else that you were able to call home. This really can’t become a regular occurrence.” This, he directs at Patrick with a testy squint.

“Thank you so much for understanding! We won't abuse it; I can’t let my parents hear this news from a stranger on television.”

He nods, hands me a sleek silver phone, and heads for the door. At the last second he pauses, hand on the knob. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” Then slips out, and the door shuts behind him with a soft click.

Who to call? I dial my mom first, and the phone disappointingly rings through to her voicemail. She’s probably not going to answer, since she doesn’t know it’s me. “Mom, it’s Sadie. I have some news I wanted to tell you myself before you hear it elsewhere. I only have access to this phone for five minutes, please call me back! I’m going to call Dad next. Love you, bye!” I quickly hang up, and dial my father.

Thankfully, he picks up on the second ring. “Hello,” the sound of his voice, exactly how I remember it, chokes me up so much that I forget to respond at first. “Hello?” he says again, and I finally remember to speak.

“Dad! It’s Sadie! I’ve missed you so much.” My voice comes out scratchy around the building tears.

“Sadie! Oh, baby, it’s so good to hear your voice. Is everything okay?” There’s a shuffling sound, and then he hollers, “Marie! Sadie’s on the phone, get in here.”

I can hear my mother’s voice from a distance. “Sadie? I thought she wasn’t allowed to call! Wait, why did she call you, instead of me?”

“I don’t know yet! Sadie, are you still there?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m here. I’m so glad you’re both there. I need to tell you something, and I only have a few minutes.” I have to smile at their usual back and forth, and Patrick squeezes my hand.

“Hang on, I'll put you on speaker.” I hear a beep, and he continues, “Okay, Sadie, what do