The Girl Who Dared to Think Bella Forrest (best classic literature txt) 📖

figure out where I was, and how I could get to Zoe. I desperately needed to see her, talk to her, hear her thoughts. She was incredibly insightful when it came to things like this, and I could use her practicality right now. It also wouldn’t hurt to have someone tell me exactly what I’d been doing for the last week. Maybe filling in the gaps would help ease some of this discomfort.

I found the room number and quickly began to push through the pipe room, heading for the elevator that was somewhere ahead. As I approached the tall opening, I could hear the sound of rushing water, and realized I was about to cross onto a catwalk suspended over the massive hydro-turbine that supplied massive amounts of energy for the Tower.

I stepped out onto the platform into a mist of water, my hair immediately going damp. The water churned white as the wheel spun at a moderate pace, crashing down to be gathered into the water storage tanks below. This was the first step in treating the water, and there were thousands of ways the water was utilized after it was processed. I didn’t really understand how all of it worked, but, much like the view from the elevator, it was another beautiful sight the Tower had to offer.

I walked down the catwalk, thoughts and ideas running around in circles in my head. When I looked up, suddenly, there he was.

He had one foot braced on one of the lower rungs of the railing, his elbows resting on it as he looked out at the massive waterfall. The water roared all around us, kicking up mist and an occasional breeze, but he just watched it all. His hands were busy cutting an apple, and his mouth moved silently, as if going over a list, or reciting a poem. His nine shone bright blue on his wrist, but his face was wild with expression and unabashed emoting that was captivating to behold. He smiled as if something he’d mouthed was silly. He laughed as if he had some private joke—which I instantly wanted to be in on. It was unlike anything the Tower demanded, and I simultaneously envied him… and desired to know how he did it.

He finally saw me staring at him like a freak, but instead of walking away like any sane person would, he took a good look at me, then smiled.

My heart skipped a beat, and I instantly forgot about Zoe.

8

The smile flickered and was quickly replaced by wariness, and he frowned at me. “I’m still a nine, Squire.”

I shifted, self-conscious. “I’m not here for that. I didn’t even know you were here. I was just—”

He looked at me, his brown eyes reflecting his disinterest in what I was saying, and I broke off. His knife flashed, catching the light from overhead, and he crunched into the fruit, his gaze once again on the waterfall.

I waited for a second, to see if he would say anything, and was disappointed by his lack of interest in doing so. A part of me wanted to just keep walking past. Another part kept me rooted to the spot, reminding me that he had a way to keep me from meeting my current fate.

“I like it down here,” I announced, and that earned me another sidelong glance. He shifted, turning slightly toward me.

“Oh?” It was barely a syllable, let alone a question, but I went with it, just happy to get any sort of response.

“Yeah. Here and the elevators that run along the interior of the shell—where you can see all three buildings from far away. Also outside. Whenever we have to do a repair mission, I like—”

“A view,” Grey cut in. I met his gaze and was surprised to see a lopsided grin there. He slid another slice of apple into his mouth and then offered me a fresh one. “Got this from a Hand up near the Menagerie,” he said, referencing the section where animals were reared.

“How?” I asked suspiciously, even as I accepted the slice.

His gaze was smug as he arched a solitary eyebrow. “Come now, even you couldn’t accuse a nine of stealing,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “A woman up there gave it to me. She was inspired by my ranking, or some such nonsense.”

Nonsense. He’d said it almost as an afterthought, but there it was. My eyes flicked to the nine and back up to his face, which was once again angled toward the waterfall. I needed to know how he’d done it. I had to. Because more pills like the ones I’d been taking would slowly drive me insane, and I’d become a statistic in one of Dr. Bordeaux’s studies.

It occurred to me that I was a statistic no matter what I did, and I set fire to the idea until it was ashes, and focused on Grey, my task clear: get him to confess how he changed his number, and use it. But I had to go slow; whatever it was, it could be illegal or possibly even embarrassing. He needed to feel confident before confiding in me.

“I see your number went up,” he said. “Good for you.”

I looked down at my wrist and then slapped my hand over the number, shifting my weight. “Thanks,” I said. “But I’m not sure how much longer it’ll be there.”

He looked back at me, his brows furrowed, but he said nothing. After a moment he shoved away from the rail to stand before me. “You want something from me,” he said flatly. “What would that be?”

I stood there, the question starting and stopping at least a dozen times in the space of a heartbeat. I was taking a dangerous risk, now that I thought about it. If I took a moment to believe in Scipio, then it would mean that somehow Grey had earned his forgiveness. And if I accused Grey, a nine, of cheating the system, my rank might tap-dance its merry way