The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Read Free

peek. “How did he get out there?”
    Miguel stares at his shoes.
    “Miguel . . . what?”
    “He asked me this morning how to disable the alarm for the flush chamber—”
    “And you told him!” I scream.
    “I thought he was just curious!” He takes off, slamming his fist into a wall and sending a broom flying as he disappears down the hallway.
    Jax wraps me up in his arms as I cry. “He didn’t know,” he whispers. “How could he?”
    “I know.” I wipe my eyes. “You should go talk to him. I’ll be okay.”
    He helps me to my feet and, giving my arm a squeeze, takes off after Miguel.
    The speakers crackle overhead. “Attention all treemakers,” says Mona Superior. “Please report to the common area immediately.”
    I stand on shaky legs and look outside again.
    For weeks, Toby’s been saying he wanted to be free. I didn’t think anything of it. We all want that. He said he wanted the sun to free him like it did his ma. I didn’t understand what he meant. I do now, seeing him there, arms outstretched like a scorched angel.
    I think he may even be smiling.

TWO
    “Come on,” I say to everyone still crowding around the window. “We have to go.”
    Chloe trembles in the corner, sucking her thumb. At only five, she shouldn’t witness things like this. I crouch down beside her. “Chloe? We have to go to the common area now. Would you like a ride?”
    She nods, wide-eyed, and plucks her thumb from her mouth. I swing her up onto my back and everyone stares. Our rules state: No talking, laughing, playing, or physical contact of any kind during working hours—which are from six a.m. to six p.m. Two uneven cuts already cost me lunch. Now, I’ll lose dinner too, for “fraternizing.” But I don’ t care.
    Abrilynne puts Baby Lou on her hip—the one exception the Superiors make, because she can’t walk well enough on her own yet.
    When we get to the common area, Mona Superior, with frizzy reddish-brown hair and high black boots topped with bulging knee fat, arrives on the catwalk, rolling her oxygen tank behind her.
    “Jax Grayson,” she calls down. “Miguel Ramirez. To your seats—now.”
    They emerge from a corner of the common area and take their places at the table; Jax next to me, and a red-faced Miguel down at the other end.
    “Joy Montgomery,” she says, smoothing the front of her blouse over her protruding stomach.
    “Yes, madam?” I set Chloe down in her assigned seat, while the stench of nutrient-fortified slop and the misleading delicious aroma of foul-tasting bread find their way into my stuffy nose.
    “You operate the chopper, correct?” Mona Superior places her oxygen mask to her face, takes a deep breath.
    “Yes, madam.”
    Something clanks to the floor on the other side of the factory, sound reverberating through the silence. Rats.
    “What happened to Toby?” She takes another deep breath into her mask.
    “He went outside, madam.”
    She holds the mask out from her face, vapors of life rising to the heavens like a virgin child’ s death.
    “How exactly did he go outside without sounding the chamber alarm?” she asks.
    Miguel stiffens.
    “I don’t know,” I say casually. “I suppose he figured out how to shut off the alarm so he could go out without alerting attention.”
    “Hmm.” Her eyes flit around faces and backs of heads, pausing a moment on Jax’s and Miguel’s. “And why exactly would he want to do that?”
    “He . . . he said he didn’t want to be a treemaker anymore, madam.”
    “Ha!” Another deep breath into the mask. “You have the honor and privilege of being treemakers for Bygonne. A fine, noble privilege. See what happens when you aren’t thankful for the blessings you have?”
    I clench my fists behind my back in silent reply.
    “I trust there’ll be no more uneven cuts today, Miss Montgomery?”
    “No, madam, of course not.” I dig fingernails into my palms, fuming.
    “I pray this event will not interfere with adequate performance?”