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

until we were certain that they weren’t going to figure out I was the one who had saved him, and not Scipio.

After the Citadel, I grew better at hiding my emotional state from my parents and Gerome—but that didn’t change the fact that I was certain we were going to get caught. That I was going to get caught. Whether it would be because of the stupid valve Zoe and I had tampered with, or someone in the Medica figuring out that Grey had Paragon in his system, was yet to be known.

As a result of my paranoia, and in an attempt to keep the people I cared about safe, I stopped going to the bi-weekly apprenticeship classes so that I could avoid meeting with Zoe and Eric. I felt bad—Zoe netted me fourteen times on the fourth day—but I needed to keep them away from all this.

After leaving Roark’s that night, burning with a need to tell my best friend what had happened, a sinister thought occurred to me: when they discovered the valve and figured out it had been tampered with, Gerome would confront me about what we had really been doing when he’d caught us near the valve. If I carried out the lie, that Zoe was training me, then we would both go down.

This meant two things. First, in order to keep Zoe safe, I would have to confess, and tell everyone I had used Zoe in order to learn about the system so I could break the valve. Second, I had to stay as far away from her as possible, so that if I was caught, they would believe my version of events. After all, if we were still spending time together, then my confession would be less believable, as they would assume I was just trying to cover for my friend.

At least, I hoped those two things would keep her safe—who even knew if there was such a thing as justice anymore. But, with limited options and a smidge of hope, the decision had been made.

My days were still ablaze with routine, though, which helped keep the paranoia at bay. I made sure to keep my room clean —not because I desired tidiness, but because I felt like my parents were watching me constantly, waiting for me to slip up, doubting the nine on my wrist. I worked out, the need to keep in shape more important than ever before, in case they came for me and I needed to fight. And I worked side by side with Gerome, patrolling the halls and floors of the Tower.

Gerome still hadn’t brought up what had happened with Grey. And he hadn’t even attempted to schedule a time for me to murder some other person. I didn’t ask, although part of me wondered if I should. I tried to believe that it hadn’t been brought up because of my argument that Grey was just a part of the population who could improve. After all, it would seem like the only reasonable explanation to them, right? Then again, if they didn’t agree, it might explain why he was being so cold with me.

I was being paranoid—Gerome was habitually stoic and stone-faced, and there was no reason to question his behavior now, save for what I had done. He probably wasn’t acting oddly; he just had a neutral, somewhat bland demeanor. Like always.

If there had been a problem, it would’ve been mentioned by now. Surely, they’d have found the valve, and learned that most—if not all—of the poison hadn’t reached the room. Surely, they’d have figured out that someone had tampered with it, and there was only one reason for anyone to have done so. Gerome had seen Zoe and me down there. Why hadn’t he said anything about it?

Because they don’t associate it with you, I reminded myself patiently. They can’t. Parts break down all the time, and a nine on the wrist is a massive deterrent for those who follow Scipio loyally, as a nine would never do anything to hurt the Tower or go against Scipio. I’m protected by the very system they created to keep people like me down.

Basically, it seemed I was enjoying the benefits of being Prim, but without actually being her.

Except when I had to, of course.

I stared out the window of my room at a group of first-year Squires practicing baton fighting on their lashes, and turned away from it. I spent as little time at home as possible, but I still needed to come here to change clothes and eat. In a few short months, I would be in my own quarters, provided by Scipio, and I wouldn’t have to look at my parents any longer... and see little more than murderers. I also wouldn’t be putting them in danger by associating with them—because as angry and horrified as I was, I didn’t want them to be at risk of execution, their tens thrown into question by my use of Paragon. They’d probably go in willingly, with how dedicated they were to Scipio.

I looked up at the digital time display over my door, and sighed. It was time to go, before Mom and Dad got up.

Slipping out of the house at five in the morning had become a part of my routine. My parents didn’t start getting ready until six, so it was better this way—to be gone before they could check in and see how I was doing. It galled me that all they cared about was my ranking and how it affected them. I could imagine a pair of tens raising a one wouldn’t reflect well on their parenting skills.

Then again, I was certain they would rationalize my one status however they wanted to in order to live with themselves, so what did it matter? I didn’t care; I just wanted to get out of here.

And by out, I meant out of the Tower. Because, as insane as Roark’s idea seemed, it was the only hope