The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) Ramona Finn (fiction novels to read .txt) 📖

“I mean, I knew she would, sooner or later. We all do—this house is just temporary, while we get settled—but...”

“But what?”

Jack didn’t say anything. He watched, dull-eyed, as one of the workmen stopped to stretch. They’d finished with Sonia’s clothes and moved on to her trinkets, a shelf full of vases, a little carved cat. They wrapped each one in plastic and settled it gently in its place, never once looking our way.

“It’s weird,” said Jack. “She never said goodbye. Like, we weren’t best friends or anything, but I thought, at least—” He shook his head. He looked hurt. “We were the last two from our group. I thought she’d say goodbye.”

“Did the others?”

“No, but they were more—they couldn’t wait to get out of here, start their real Lofty lives. Sonia wasn’t like that. I don’t think she liked it here. She missed home. She always talked about it.” He scrubbed at his cheek like it itched him. A bracelet jingled on his wrist—a twist of braided leather with a bell hanging off it. I pointed at it, curious.

“You get that in the Dirt?”

“Huh? Oh, this?” Jack thumbed at the bell. “My sister made it for me. She’s got the same one.”

“I made this one for Ona.” I showed him my smiley face. “But I think she likes gold better.”

“She won’t always,” said Jack. “She’ll miss you one day, and she’ll wish she had that to hold onto.”

“Maybe.” I shifted, not liking the turn the conversation had taken. “Do they ever come visit? The ones who move on?”

“They can’t. It’s part of the whole, y’know, settling in. Leaving your old life behind. Everyone keeps saying it’s easier, making a clean break of it, but it’s like you can’t hold onto anything up here.” Jack laughed, harsh and humorless. “Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. Not for a good while yet.”

“No?”

“I mean, what would I even do out there?” His gaze flicked past me, down the hill. “It’s like this whole alien world, the food, the people. I tried talking to ‘em at first, but I’d just bounce right off them. Like, I’d ask ‘how’s it going,’ and they’d be all, ‘Oh!’” He pinched his nostrils together, affecting an exaggerated Sky accent. “‘Well, I’m off to the races. Got ten on Big Top. Where did you find that shirt?’” He grabbed my cuff and fondled it. “‘So darling.’”

I chuckled. “You do a good Lofty.”

“That’s not a compliment.” Jack closed his eyes. The skin looked bruised underneath, black and purple.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Jack cracked one eye open. “Hmm?”

“You look tired,” I said. “Baggy-eyed.”

“Elli says that’s the food up here—all that rich stuff we eat is a shock to our system. I threw up a few times, so maybe that’s what it is. But honestly—” He swallowed. “I think I’m just depressed.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I didn’t know Jack well enough to guess what might cheer him up. I sat with him instead, watched with him as the workmen finished up. Sonia hadn’t done much shopping or brought much up with her. It took them two trips, four boxes each time, and her room stood white and empty.

“I think I’ll lie down a while.” Jack stood up and stretched. “Thanks for, uh...” He made a vague gesture, a flick of his wrist, and slouched off to his room. He stretched out on his bed without closing his door. Outside, the workmen were loading Sonia’s boxes into their truck. One of them said something, and their laughter rose and fell. They closed up the trailer and bolted the door.

“She moved out,” I said, testing the weight of the words. I couldn’t square them with the lump in my throat. I was choking on loneliness—how could Sonia move on, just let go of everything? Let go of Jack? I couldn’t see myself leaving Ona, or even Lock. Not now, not six months from now. They were home to me now, all I had of the Dirt.

I took out my phone and searched for Sonia’s contact. It was gone, moved on with her.

I knew I’d never see her again.

Chapter Thirteen

I didn’t see Ona the day Sonia moved out. She texted me around dinner time, a blurry picture of a restaurant menu, then again an hour later, a string of question marks. I texted back “what?”, but she didn’t respond. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for her and woke to Lock tucking me in. My cheek stuck to the cushion as I raised myself on one elbow.

“Mm? Wass’time?”

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

I blinked, heavy-lidded. “Is Ona home?”

“No. She went clubbing. Said she’d be back late.” Lock slid a pillow under my head. I sank into it with a groan, and next thing I knew, the sun was rising. Ona’s door was still open, her bed untouched.

I went downstairs to wait for her. The birds huddled together on their perch to watch me wait. They seemed annoyed by my presence, dipping their black little heads to whisper their disdain. One of them shook itself, scattering dust. I turned my back on them—let them gossip.

Ona drifted in around ten, scruffy and barefoot, shoes dangling from her fingers. She caught sight of me and smiled.

“Waiting for me?”

“No kidding—where were you?” I planted my hands on my hips.

“Out dancing. I invited you. Why didn’t you come?”

“Invited me? You never invited me. When’d you—”

“I texted you,” said Ona. She held up her phone. “You were s’posed to meet me for dinner. I sent you a picture and everything, in case you couldn’t read the map.”

“What, that menu thing? What map?”

“The attachment. You gotta click it. It’s that paperclip thing.”

“And I’m supposed to know that?” I buried my hands in my hair. “I thought you bumped your phone, or something. Why couldn’t you just invite me, like ‘Hey, I’m eating. Wanna join?’ Or, hey—speaking of invites. How about that Decemite ball? When were you going to tell me about that?”

“Are you mad at me?” Ona’s eyes went