Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) by Ann M. Noser Page A

wrists. Automatically, I cover my scars and back away from the table.
    He comes to my side. “They’ll be busy for awhile. Let me show you around.”
    Again, I play follow the leader with Franco, trailing along the tables heavy with growing foodstuffs. Raspberries hang on vines that climb on metal racks to the ceiling, see-through glass tanks reveal carrots and potatoes pushing through the dirt, and proud sunflowers tower as tall as the greenhouse.
    “How did you know how to do that?” He gestures at the other students.
    “We used to have a really sunny apartment… back when Dad was still alive. He taught me all about plants. Ever since I was four or five, he’d drag me to any place that handed out cuttings. He showed me how to sprout them, what size pot to use, how much to water… everything.”
    Franco fusses with a blueberry bush, his eyes averted.
    “But all the windows in the apartment where Mom and I live now face north, so we don’t get much sun at all, and most of the plants died. I tried to find homes for them, but a lot of them ended up in the community compost pile. It broke my heart to dump them, but what else could I do?”
    “I don’t understand why you’re not here,” he says, turning to me. “You’re so talented. Why are you in Mortuary Science when you should be here?”
    “That’s funny. Gus says I should be in Medical School instead of Mortuary Science. You say I should be here. I guess the Occupation Exams aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
    He nods, his lips pressed tightly together like he’s holding back words. A few stray hairs fall into my face, and I swipe them away. Franco stares at my suddenly-exposed wrist. I yank down my shirtsleeve, but it’s too late. He steps closer and takes my hand then traces my scar with his finger.
    I yank my arm away, my heart racing. “Don’t touch me!” It’s bad enough the New Order thinks I’m crazy. That Mom is embarrassed by me. I don’t need Franco judging me, too.
    “Why’d you do it?” Franco stares at me so intensely that I can’t look away.
    Again he wrenches the truth from me better than any Psychiatrist. “Because I didn’t want to be here anymore, all right? I wanted to be with my Dad instead.”
    My words hang in the air. I glance around as if the sky is about to fall. I just admitted out loud one of my most guarded secrets. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut like I usually do? I brace for Franco’s response.
    “What about your mom?” His voice is even-toned, but his jaw is clenched, and I can’t tell if it’s due to concern or pity. “Didn’t you care what happened to her?”
    My breath catches. It’s like I’m back in Psychotherapy, except this time someone’s actually asking all the right questions. I clench my hands, forcing myself to calm down. “Of course I care about my mom. And she and I have talked about this. We were both being selfish at the time, only thinking about ourselves and not being there for each other. Everything is better when one lives not only for oneself.”
    “You’re quite the philosopher. Or did you read that on a propaganda pamphlet?”
    My head spins. Is he being sarcastic or kind? “You ask too many questions.”
    His face relaxes into a smile. “So I’ve been told.”
    I cross my arms, careful to turn my inner wrists to the inside. “How about you let me ask the questions for a change?”
    “Okay.”
    “Why’d you offer to show me around Plant Production? Did you owe Liam a favor or something?” Oh man, where did that question come from? Franco never should’ve mentioned my scars. That always sets me on edge.
    He shrugs. “That’s a fair question, and I’ve been too nosy. I asked you along because of your dad.”
    My eyes narrow. “Why do
you
care about
my
dad?”
    Franco’s smile falls. He pulls me deeper into the greenhouse towards the end of a row of sunflowers. We stand alone, separated from all other human ears.
    He takes a deep breath. “My uncle worked