The Gender End by Bella Forrest (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📕

cheeks more pronounced. I questioned the absence of a wig, but Ms. Dale told me the short hair was a better disguise than she could’ve hoped for, as no one in Matrus would know I had short hair now. Desmond was the only one who had spotted me—well, the only one who wasn’t in a berserk rage—and Ms. Dale doubted she’d had time to report anything to Elena before her timely end.

“Amber,” Thomas said, interrupting the quiet within the cockpit, “when you kill the engine, don’t forget to keep the antifreeze pump on, or else this thing will not restart.” His voice sounded just as indifferent as before.

“Wait, what?!” I exclaimed, all the calm I’d carefully gathered while contemplating our disguises evaporating in an instant. Ms. Dale reached over and patted my arm as she cinched herself into the seat next to me.

“Relax, Violet,” she said. “This is actually going to be a little bit fun!”

I had no idea how to respond to that, so just resigned myself to keeping my mouth shut. Viggo, having finished buckling himself in, took my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it.

“We’re going to be okay,” he assured me, his strong fingers massaging mine, and I nodded.

I wanted to believe him, I really did. Maybe if I had never fallen off a flying motorcycle or tried to maneuver a broken heloship away from a storm, I would have been less conscious of the fact that doing crazy flying stunts could so, so easily get us all killed. It had seemed simple when Thomas explained it to me. Sure, I hadn’t liked it, but I was a big girl. I could put away my fear for this.

Now I was on the ship, and rational Violet was nowhere to be found. She’d deserted me and left me zero coping mechanisms to deal with the realization that this plan was insane.

Tim caught my eye again, and I noted his concern and exhaled slowly, pushing the panic away. I had to try to stay strong for him and Viggo. At the very least, I needed to keep from having a panic attack while everything was happening. I sincerely hoped I could pull it off.

“We’re at 37,000 feet,” Amber said, her fingers clicking on the buttons.

“Excellent. Now, we’ll have to input these coordinates mathematically. We’re so high up that missing our mark could mean the added distance of at least twenty-five miles.”

“Please stop reminding me, Thomas,” Amber sang sweetly. “I’m ready to input your numbers. You check your math?”

“Always,” replied Thomas, clearly missing Amber’s joke. “And I ran it through a few computer programs to check it again. It’s right.”

“Everyone in the cargo bay needs to get up here now!” Ms. Dale shouted loudly.

A moment later, Owen and Solomon appeared from the bay. “We strapped everything down as best as possible,” Owen reported. “And the nets are secured.”

“Good. Secure the door and sit down. And for the love of everything, buckle your damned seatbelts.” Amber cleared her throat. “Start reading me those numbers, Thomas.”

Thomas began giving her numbers, and she used the keypad on the arm of her chair to input them while Solomon and Owen got into their seats, one on either side of Morgan. Morgan looked up at Owen as he sat down, and then immediately cast her gaze back into her lap, looking everywhere but at the blonde man.

I had a moment to smile, distracted from my nerves by their awkwardness, and I found myself wondering what had happened after Viggo and I left the party that night. And then the heloship began to move, the entire thing rattling.

“In position in five, four, three, two, stop.” Amber clicked something, and we went still again, hovering in place. “I’m ready when you are, Tom-Tom.”

Thomas sighed at the nickname, but said nothing as he produced a roll of electrical tape. His handheld had been resting on his thigh, and within moments he had it secured there, wrapped up absurdly with the black tape running around his leg. After a few moments, he ripped off the edge of the tape, setting the final piece down, and nodded. “All right, everyone. This is where things get a bit dicey.”

“What are the odds on this, Thomas?” Owen asked, and Thomas blinked and looked up at him.

“The mission or the landing?”

“The landing.”

“Good, surprisingly. Sixty-one percent.”

“Numbers aren’t everything, Thomas,” Ms. Dale said sharply. “Are you ready?”

He blinked over at her, and then nodded, his cheeks jiggling slightly. “We’re ready. On my mark. Amber?”

Amber exhaled softly, rubbing the tips of her fingers together, and nodded. “Go.”

“On my mark—three… two… one… Go!”

I squeezed Viggo’s hand hard as Amber leaned forward and flipped a switch.

Immediately the vibrations of the heloship stilled as the engine cut off. There was a moment in which it seemed like nothing was happening… and then we began to fall out of the sky.

Everything seemed horribly weightless, and my stomach plunged with the ship. My grip on Viggo’s hand grew tighter, and through the bubble I could see the flat, paper-thin land below start to get closer as we plummeted. The sensation of weightlessness was a lie: we were strapped into the side of a falling ship, and gravity was bringing us down, faster and faster each second.

The cockpit began to shake and shudder, and I was tossed against my harness. “It’s wind,” Amber shouted. “Just hold on!”

A whimper escaped me as a whistling sound began, all around us, and I heard someone—Solomon—ask, “What’s that sound?”

“It’s us!” Amber shouted over the growing whistling noise. I looked back at her and saw a wide grin on her face, her eyes narrowed in intense focus while her fingers hovered over a button—presumably the one that would turn the engines back on. She seemed utterly exhilarated, and the glee on her face was almost as nauseating to me as the descent.

“It’s okay!” Viggo yelled to me in assurance, but I could barely hear him over the sound of the wind