Read Online Breathe by Sarah Crossan - Free Book Online

going to bribe a Premium’s son. A friend of the Ministry—”
    “Air,” the steward interrupts. His hands are joined so he looks like he’s praying. He no longer looks threatening at all, but sad and desperate. “Can you get us tanks?” He is keeping his voice low so the crowd of tourists filing through the other lanes and queuing behind can’t hear him. “Not a bribe. A gift.” The other stewards are watching intently and their faces are no longer clenched. Each one has his eyebrows raised in expectation.
    “My wife and I haven’t … danced together in years,” he says. We stare at each other for a long time. It’s quite possible he knows I’m lying.
    “I can get you five tanks,” I say, looking at each of the stewards in turn.
    “Ten tanks to be delivered here within seventy-two hours.”
    “Eight. And you’ll get them in a week.” I won’t be a pushover.
    “Open the gate!” the steward hollers.
    And that’s it.
    Alina and I are through the second steel gate and making our way along a glass tunnel. Other tourists saunter alongside us. We lean against the curved glass to wait for Bea.
    “Do you have oxygen?” I ask Alina. Shaking a little, she pulls an airtank from her backpack, then attaches the cylinder to her hip using the belt. Once she pulls the transparent silicone mask over her mouth and nose, she tightens the straps at the back to ensure it is airtight. I take out my own tank and do the same.
    When Bea gets through, she runs to us, though she shouldn’t, and before I get a chance to speak, she throws herself at me. She presses into me so tightly it pinches. “Don’t break my ribs!” I say. I know she was worried. I don’t want to dwell on it. “I’ll help you with your mask,” I say. “We have to get going.”
    We walk down the sun-drenched glass tunnel—Bea, Alina, and me. We push open the revolving doors at the end. And we step, as one, into the airless planet.

10
BEA
    Without speaking or even looking at each other, we’ve somehow agreed to stick with Alina for a while longer; it would seem too strange if she wandered off alone. And we’ve also decided to get as far away from the pod and day tourists as we can. Most of the other tourists are as silent as we are—focused on breathing, avoiding panic as they move farther and farther from guaranteed air.
    We could talk if we wanted to—it’s easy to be heard through the holes in our blowoff valves; it’s just that we aren’t used to having our faces covered. The masks keep us alive, but mine is also keeping my nose warm. I gave Alina my scarf. What else could I do? Watch her shivering and ignore it? Quinn gave her a spare sweater and tried to give her his green gloves, too, but she refused. They finally agreed to one glove each. And so now they look a little like two parts of the same person.
    I had hoped that once rigged out in her mask, Alina wouldn’t look so pretty, but her round eyes and sharp eyebrows stand out even more. And she was smart enough to fit the straps under her hair so that it falls down over them at the sides. I stupidly pulled mine tight over my black bob, so my head must be the shape of a mushroom.
    The only other time I visited The Outlands was for a school trip when I was around seven. We were all being offered a chance to try breathing without a mask, taking turns as the teacher slowly drew it from our faces and cheerfully told us to inhale. It was like drinking fire. The teacher watched as I gasped. She smiled, nodded, kept the facemask away from my nose and mouth, and then, when I began to stagger, she snapped the mask back into place and tightened the straps. “Wasn’t that an experience?” was all she said. I always wondered what the purpose of that trip was. Were we being taught how desperately we needed the pod? It was certainly a way to ensure I never tried to defect. So I have to wonder what is happening to Alina to make her flee like this.
    Behind us, the sunrise is pink. The light