The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

I let out a frustrated breath. A pin stuck into my side.

“I told you, don’t move.”

“Ona.” I reached for her, snapping my fingers. “Ona.”

“What?”

I breathed in again, as shallowly as I could. “I need to talk to you. About tonight.”

“If this is going to be one of your guilt trips—” She winced, jerked a pin from her dress. “Look, I’ve thought about what you said, but in the end, you don’t know. No one does. That’s just how life is, not knowing how it ends, what you get, or how long. But this is my night, and I’m going to be happy. You can’t ruin that. I won’t let you.”

“All done, sweetheart.” The seamstress patted my leg. “Just head behind the curtain and slip that off carefully. Your clothes are on the chair.”

I did as she said, leaving Ona to her fitting. I’d catch her later, by herself. Make her see—

“Myla.” Lock pulled me into the bathroom, still draped in his smock. He’d been shorn like a sheep, ears jutting out where shaggy hair had once covered them.

“Oh, your hair! What’d he do to you?”

“Never mind that. About tonight—” He pulled me away from the door, back toward the bathtub. “Reyland must’ve crapped out. We need our own plan.”

“What plan?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “We don’t know where we’re going, and even if we did—”

“We won’t get another chance.” Lock looked like he wanted to punch something, eyes narrowed to slits, fists knotted at his sides. “Even if it’s suicide, we have to try.”

“Try what, though?”

“Whatever gets us those nanobots. Take Lazrad hostage. Make her show us where—”

“We’ll never get close enough. And even if we did, they’d just take Ona hostage to force our hand.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Someone’s coming.”

“We can’t just do nothing,” said Lock. “There’ll be some opening, some moment. I need to know you’ll be—”

“Oh, Myla? Lock?” Elli’s voice drifted through, a high, wheedling singsong. “You two in there?”

“We’re just—” I fumbled for an excuse. “Lock looks like a monkey with his hair all cut off. He’s kind of freaking out.”

Lock smacked me across my hip. I skittered back, snickering.

“Well, come out of there. You’re not done, either one of you. Honestly...”

“We’ll talk later,” I promised, and I left Lock behind. I spotted Ona by herself, playing with her hair in the mirror, and I went over to join her. Our eyes met, and hers went mutinous.

“I’m begging you, Myla. Just let me have this night.”

I picked up a hairbrush, the soft kind, and ran it through her hair. “Your dress looks amazing,” I said. “And that tiara—you still wearing that?”

Ona’s scowl deepened. “I can’t play a little dress-up?”

“Of course you can.” I worked through a tangle, slow and steady, not to hurt her. She’d been through enough lately, lost and shot and captured, caught in a war beyond her understanding. She’d run home at last, only to bid everything familiar goodbye. One night of fantasy, what could it hurt? “I came to say sorry. You were right.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I smoothed her hair over her shoulders, smiling into the mirror. “This is your night. You deserve it. I hope it’s everything you dreamed of.”

“It has to be.” Ona wiped at her eyes. “For Mom and Dad. This’ll be on those screens, right? The ones they’ve set up down there?”

I wasn’t sure, but I nodded. It seemed a safe assumption.

“They have to see me smiling,” she said. “You, too. Real smiles, so they’ll know—so they’ll always remember.”

I just nodded again, struck mute by the lump in my throat. I hadn’t thought of our parents seeing, of what they might think.

I checked my phone one more time: still no Reyland.

Chapter Eighteen

My first impression of the ball was that it was dazzling, filled with glittering Lofties gliding under a canopy of stars. Champagne sparkled like diamonds and diamonds sparkled like suns. Our feet cast off sparks where they touched the dance floor, little eddies of sunfire projected under glass.

My second impression, once I’d adjusted to the glare, was how little we mattered to the proceedings. Oh, we had our grand entrance, our share of oohs and aahs. Some movie star kissed Ona’s hand, igniting a flurry of camera flashes. But the Lofties soon flocked to Lazrad, or they chattered amongst themselves. Lily of the Badlands was playing, all strings and crooning, and they’d attracted their own crowd, clustered adoringly around the stage. We drew a vague sort of curiosity, Lofties pushing between us for selfies, snapping and going without a word. I lost a button, and one of them snatched it up—“Oh, look. A souvenir.”

“This is creepy,” Lock whispered. A woman of about fifty trailed her fingers across his chest, long nails catching on his lapels. “Did you see? She just touched me.”

A man blundered into me and spilled champagne down my leg. He kept right on going, bopping and swaying to the beat.

“Hey, watch where you’re going. Watch your—” I deflated, losing him in the crowd. “What’s the use? We’re just props to them. Just—”

“An excuse to have a party?”

“At least Ona’s made a friend.” I nodded across the room. Ona had found a girl about her age and seemed to be showing her how to waltz. “Looks like those lessons paid off, after all.”

“We should show them how it’s done.” Lock offered me his arm.

“Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He pulled me so close my cheek grazed his chest. I felt the burr of his voice as he bent to murmur in my ear. “It’ll give us the lay of the land.”

His hand settled on my hip. My body responded to his touch, shockwaves running down my back. I thought of Ben without meaning to, how he’d touched me the same way. How his hand had slid lower, across the base of my spine. I’d felt safe, then, and comforted. I’d melted into him, and where was he now? Did he think of me,