Read Online Lauren Oliver - Delirium by Lauren Oliver - Free Book Online
Authors: Lauren Oliver
Ads: Link
the last second and I don't say, Watching me.
I can feel Hana glaring at me, but I ignore her. She must be furious I haven't told her any of this.
Alex's face doesn't change. He doesn't blink or drop his smile for even a fraction of a second. "Case of mistaken identity, I guess. Guards aren't allowed in the labs during evaluations. Especially not part-time guards."
For a second longer we stand there, staring at each other. Now I know he's lying, and the easy, lazy grin on his face makes me want to reach out and slap him. I ball my fists and suck in a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. I'm not the violent type. I don't know why I'm feeling so aggravated.
Hana jumps in, breaking the tension. "So this is it? A part-time security guard and some `Keep Out' signs?"
Alex keeps his eyes on me a half second longer. Then he turns to look at Hana as though noticing her for the first time. "What do you mean?"
"I would have thought the labs would be better protected, that's all. It doesn't seem like it would be too hard to break into this place."
Alex raises his eyebrows. "Thinking about making the attempt?" Hana freezes, and my blood goes to ice. She has gone too far. If Alex reports us as potential sympathizers, or troublemakers, or anything, we're in for months and months of surveillance and investigation--and we can kiss our chances of passing the evaluations with decent scores good-bye. I picture a lifetime of watching Andrew Marcus fish snot out of his nose with a thumbnail and feel queasy.
Alex must sense our fear, because he raises both hands. "Relax. I was kidding. You don't exactly seem like terrorists." It occurs to me how ridiculous we must look in our running shorts and sweaty tank tops and neon sneakers. Or at least, I must look ridiculous. Hana looks like a model for athletic wear. Again, I feel a fit of blushing coming on, followed by a surge of irritation. No wonder the regulators decided on the segregation of boys and girls: Otherwise, it would have been a nightmare, this feeling angry and self-conscious and confused and annoyed all the time.
"This is just the loading area, anyway, for freight and stuff." Alex gestures beyond the line of cargo sheds. "Real security starts closer to the facilities. Full-time guards, cameras, electrified fence, the whole shebang."
Hana doesn't look at me, but when she speaks I can hear the excitement creeping into her voice. "The loading area? Like, where the deliveries come?"
In my head I start praying, Don't say anything dumb. Don't say anything dumb. Do not mention the Invalids.
"You got it."
Hana dances on her feet, shifting her weight back and forth. I try to shoot her a warning look, but she avoids my eyes.
"So this is where the trucks come? With medical equipment and . . . and other stuff?"
"Exactly." Again I have the impression of something flickering behind Alex's eyes, even as the rest of his face stays totally neutral. I don't trust him, I realize, and again wonder why he is lying about being in the labs yesterday. Maybe only because it's forbidden, like he said. Maybe because he was laughing instead of trying to help out.
And maybe, after all, he really doesn't recognize me. We made eye contact for only a few seconds, and I'm sure to him I was only a blurry, in-between face, easy to forget. Not pretty. Not ugly, either. Just plain, like a thousand other faces you would see on the street.
He, on the other hand, is most definitely not in-between. There's something insane to me about standing in the open talking to a strange boy, even if he is cured, and though my head is whirling, it's like my vision gets razor sharp, making everything look ultra-detailed. I notice the way a piece of his hair curls around his scar, like a frame; I notice his large brown hands and the whiteness of his teeth and the perfect symmetry of his face. His jeans are faded and belted low on his hips, and the laces in his sneakers are the weirdest ink-color blue, like
I can feel Hana glaring at me, but I ignore her. She must be furious I haven't told her any of this.
Alex's face doesn't change. He doesn't blink or drop his smile for even a fraction of a second. "Case of mistaken identity, I guess. Guards aren't allowed in the labs during evaluations. Especially not part-time guards."
For a second longer we stand there, staring at each other. Now I know he's lying, and the easy, lazy grin on his face makes me want to reach out and slap him. I ball my fists and suck in a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. I'm not the violent type. I don't know why I'm feeling so aggravated.
Hana jumps in, breaking the tension. "So this is it? A part-time security guard and some `Keep Out' signs?"
Alex keeps his eyes on me a half second longer. Then he turns to look at Hana as though noticing her for the first time. "What do you mean?"
"I would have thought the labs would be better protected, that's all. It doesn't seem like it would be too hard to break into this place."
Alex raises his eyebrows. "Thinking about making the attempt?" Hana freezes, and my blood goes to ice. She has gone too far. If Alex reports us as potential sympathizers, or troublemakers, or anything, we're in for months and months of surveillance and investigation--and we can kiss our chances of passing the evaluations with decent scores good-bye. I picture a lifetime of watching Andrew Marcus fish snot out of his nose with a thumbnail and feel queasy.
Alex must sense our fear, because he raises both hands. "Relax. I was kidding. You don't exactly seem like terrorists." It occurs to me how ridiculous we must look in our running shorts and sweaty tank tops and neon sneakers. Or at least, I must look ridiculous. Hana looks like a model for athletic wear. Again, I feel a fit of blushing coming on, followed by a surge of irritation. No wonder the regulators decided on the segregation of boys and girls: Otherwise, it would have been a nightmare, this feeling angry and self-conscious and confused and annoyed all the time.
"This is just the loading area, anyway, for freight and stuff." Alex gestures beyond the line of cargo sheds. "Real security starts closer to the facilities. Full-time guards, cameras, electrified fence, the whole shebang."
Hana doesn't look at me, but when she speaks I can hear the excitement creeping into her voice. "The loading area? Like, where the deliveries come?"
In my head I start praying, Don't say anything dumb. Don't say anything dumb. Do not mention the Invalids.
"You got it."
Hana dances on her feet, shifting her weight back and forth. I try to shoot her a warning look, but she avoids my eyes.
"So this is where the trucks come? With medical equipment and . . . and other stuff?"
"Exactly." Again I have the impression of something flickering behind Alex's eyes, even as the rest of his face stays totally neutral. I don't trust him, I realize, and again wonder why he is lying about being in the labs yesterday. Maybe only because it's forbidden, like he said. Maybe because he was laughing instead of trying to help out.
And maybe, after all, he really doesn't recognize me. We made eye contact for only a few seconds, and I'm sure to him I was only a blurry, in-between face, easy to forget. Not pretty. Not ugly, either. Just plain, like a thousand other faces you would see on the street.
He, on the other hand, is most definitely not in-between. There's something insane to me about standing in the open talking to a strange boy, even if he is cured, and though my head is whirling, it's like my vision gets razor sharp, making everything look ultra-detailed. I notice the way a piece of his hair curls around his scar, like a frame; I notice his large brown hands and the whiteness of his teeth and the perfect symmetry of his face. His jeans are faded and belted low on his hips, and the laces in his sneakers are the weirdest ink-color blue, like
Similar Books
