Gravity (The Taking) Read Free Page A

cocks his head. “What are you doing?”
    “Nothing,” I say as I plant myself between him and the evidence.
    “Your patch case. Now.”
    “I’ll do it, Dad, really. You go set up.” I fight the urge to cringe. I can’t let him know I have an ulterior motive.
    He hesitates but marches from the room. As soon as he leaves, I slump against my bed and draw a long breath. I feel like I’ve lied to him, even though I didn’t say a single untrue word. With him gone, the events of last night flash through my mind like lightning, one after the other, each more confusing than the last.
    Jackson Locke.
    I think back to yesterday when Coach revealed he and I were the top two seeds. Jackson had nodded toward me and I to him, respectful. I tried not to watch him fight after that, but I couldn’t help it. It’s hard to avoid watching your biggest competition. I watched as he quickly beat his opponent and felt a tinge of jealousy. He made it look so easy. Now I know why.
    I get dressed in a daze, throwing on the stretchy gray pants and tank Dad had designed for our training, and head downstairs. The case reader is visible from the bottom step, implanted in the wall, sort of like a safe except with a glass front. Mom and Dad already placed their cases inside. Each has a green light beside it, letting us know all is well…and no investigation will be commencing. I have no idea how the Ancients are assigned to us or, more likely, how we are assigned to them, considering they are the ones who require the patch and monitor the case readers. But it seems odd that of all the people in our city of Sydia, Jackson Locke is assigned to me.
    The reader activates as I near. I press my thumb into the fingerprint scanner, causing the glass to slide open. A cold mist releases from the box and I wonder, not for the first time, what they do to the patches when analyzing them. I fiddle with the case in my hand, hoping the device won’t detect the missing patch. Maybe I can tell Mom I lost it. No, she’ll tell Dad, and even he won’t be able to save me from this. I lift the case up and then lower my hand, up again, then drop it. Blast!
    Finally after several seconds of staring, I drop my case in its slot and back away, my eyes clenched tight. I hear the glass close. Then something magical happens—it clicks off. I open one eye and see a green light beside my case. I can’t help it. I have to check.
    I press my thumb into the scanner, and once the glass lifts, grab the case and pop the lid, preparing to slam it back into its slot, but stop cold. My patch is there, silver and shiny and staring at me as innocent as ever. My mouth drops. How did it…? I shove the case back and rush from the scene before whatever just happened reverses and my patch goes missing again.
    I think to last night. It wasn’t there. I had dumped my case upside down. I checked everywhere in my bedroom. Yet…maybe it was a dream. And if I imagined that, then maybe I imagined Jackson, too. My mind replays his face, his eyes, the way his jaw looked so strong, confident. I didn’t imagine it.
    I need to tell Dad, but if I do I’ll get interrogated and dosed with memory serum for sure. I release a long breath. I have to tell him but not yet. I need to question Jackson first.
    I step over to our transfer door. The glass lifts, and once I’m inside, the elevator shoots down to one of the most advanced training rooms in the city. The four gray walls appear ordinary, but these walls are temp-treated, soundproof, and able to absorb a bullet without causing it to ricochet back. Dad structures the rest of the room according to our training schedule. Last year, there were four shooting stations. Now, the room is empty except for the combat mat positioned in the center. Dad is already on it, bouncing around as though he’s still a trainee. Sometimes I think he wishes he still were one, which is why he pushes me so hard. Reliving it and all.
    “I’m here,” I say without looking