The Vault of Dreamers Read Free Page B

spike.”
    “My spike?”
    “You know. For this compassionate little outreach of yours.” He did a double jerk
     of his thumb, like a hitchhiker, to indicate the cameras.
    It took me a sec to follow his logic from the cameras to the viewers to a likely spike
     in my blip rank. “You think that’s why I’m talking to you?” I asked. “For my blip
     rank?”
    “The fifty cuts are tonight,” he said. “Students will be pulling stunts all day today
     to get their blip ranks higher. It happens every year. It’s pathetically predictable,
     actually, especially among the doomed.”
    I dropped my rock and brushed my hands. “Actually, asswipe, I just wanted to be sure
     you were okay,” I said. “My mistake.” I turned and started toward the quad.
    His voice came after me. “Your name would be?”
    “Seriously?” I paused to stare back at him and braced a fist on my hip. “That’s an
     apology?”
    He lowered his ice pack again. He didn’t bother to smile and I didn’t either. Then
     he gave the slightest shrug.
    “I beg your pardon,” he said. “It hasn’t been my best morning. I’m Linus Pitts.”
    I frowned, considering him, and then I took a couple steps nearer again. “Rosie Sinclair,”
     I said.
    “We meet at last.”
    His voice was so deadpan I couldn’t quite tell if he was being ironic. That was when
     I noticed something really was wrong with his eye. I came nearer to inspect him. The
     pupil was a murky color instead of clear black.
    “Can you see all right?” I asked.
    “As it happens, I can’t. I think there’s blood in my eye.”
    “Let me see.” I looked closer while Linus aimed his eyeballs at me. It looked like
     red liquid had spilled inside his left pupil. I didn’t know that was possible. “Shouldn’t
     you get that checked?”
    “Probably.”
    “Like now?” I said.
    He closed one eye slowly, and then the other. “This happened to me once before. It’ll
     clear in a few days.”
    I laughed. “So you’re half-blind and it’s no big deal?”
    “I’m not keen on doctors.”
    “Neither am I, but I like to be able to see .”
    “Like I said. It’ll clear.”
    With a beeping noise, the ice cream truck backed up from the dining hall next door
     and drove away.
    “How long have you worked here?” I asked.
    “Me? Three years.”
    “That’s a lot of dishes,” I said.
    “What makes you think I only wash dishes? I do a lot of prep, too.”
    He resettled the ice pack against his bad eye and shifted so he could see me with
     the other.
    “Where’s your accent from?” I asked.
    “I’m Welsh, by way of St. Louis.”
    “Why aren’t you in school yourself?”
    “Because I quit,” he said.
    “To work kitchen prep?”
    His eyebrows lifted. “You’re a regular charmer. You know that?”
    “Sorry,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with kitchen prep. I’m just wondering.”
    “How do you feel about getting cut tonight?” he asked. He pushed off from the giant
     spool and ran a hand down his apron, catching his thumb where the string wrapped around
     to the front.
    “I said I was sorry. You don’t have to be vindictive.”
    He let out a laugh. “Not bad, Sinclair. You almost make me want to watch the show.”
    “You don’t?” I asked. “Seriously? But you work here.”
    “Exactly. It’s too much of a good thing. Franny likes to run it in the kitchen, and
     I always work facing the other direction if I can help it.”
    I couldn’t believe it. He worked on the staff of one of the most popular reality shows
     of all time, and he didn’t watch it. Actually, that was pretty interesting. “Cool,”
     I said.
    “Tell me something,” he said. He lowered the ice pack and turned it in his fingers.
     “All that compulsory sleep every night. What’s that feel like?”
    “It’s a little weird,” I said. I glanced around to see a mic button on the top of
     the giant spool. Every inch of this place was wired for sound. I leaned back against
     the spool