Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1) by Sheena Snow Page B

deepest love with?
    I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t deal with this now. And how could she? How could she do that to me? You don’t mouth something like that to your daughter for the first time, as she’s leaving, twenty feet away, in a car. You don’t mouth it, period. You tell her, out loud, to her face. You hold her. You love her. You hug her. And then you tell her you love her.
    You let her know she’s loved. That she’s cherished.
    You—
    My head fell into my hands and I choked back a sob.
    How could she?
    “You all right?” A voice broke through my thoughts, followed by the scent of pinecones. I cringed. Of all people, I had to be in the car with Green Eyes, the commander. Oh no, sorry, HB-10-11-12 . . . or whatever his name was.
    I ground my teeth together. “I’m fine.”
    “She meant it,” he said.
    “Meant what?” I crossed my arms. Just leave me alone.
    “What she said.” His hand traced the steering wheel. “She loves you.”
    I snorted. Right . “And how would you know that?”
    The hum of the car filled the air between us.
    “Some things.” He paused. “You just know.”
    I closed my eyes and my heart throbbed in my chest, like someone was squeezing it between their fingers.
    And some things you just don’t.
    Mom was gone.
    The things she’d said, or hadn’t said, gone.
    I inhaled, allowing Green Eyes’ scent to drift through me and ease my tense muscles.
    I watched the trees pass by out the window. One after another after another.
    “You’re not alone.”
    “What do you mean?” I tapped my foot on the floor of the car, trying to remove the different images and memories of Mom from my mind.
    “You have us.”
    “Us?” I repeated. I turned to face him. “Who’s us?”
    The moon silhouetted his perfect nose and full lips. Shadows from the streetlights danced across his features, showing flickers of green when the lights passed over his eyes. A strand of hair curled above his forehead. And for some stupid reason, my fingers itched to run through his hair and to smooth the ruffled strand back in place.
    I slumped back into the seat. I took another peek at him from the corner of my eye and saw his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
    A robot. I had just been gazing at a robot!
    I rubbed my head.
    “We’re not that bad,” he said. “I promise.”
    I closed my eyes. Great.
    “It’s not that, it’s just you and your crew . . . you lied to me, to us, to my family. You never let us know the truth about”— my voice caught—“Robotatouille.”
    And all that you really are.
    He nodded. “But maybe, in time, you’ll see that we aren’t what you think.”
    What did that even mean?
    “How many are like your kind, er, like you?” I stared at the floor, hoping he didn’t catch that slip.
    This was all so confusing.
    Were they more like humans or robots? And I should be mad at them or sad for them or angry for them? Or anything?
    I rubbed my forehead again.
    I was being brought into a whole new world, or more like feeling lost in an uncovered world.
    He played with the radio knobs. “Some are. I can only tell from what I’ve experienced.” An oldies song came on the radio. “But this can’t leave your lips. Not ever. No one, and I mean no one, can know. I have no idea what would happen if this information was leaked.” His jaw tightened. “And the public, they aren’t . . . they aren’t ready for it.”
    “And whose decision is that to make?” My fingers tapped on the seat. “Saying what we are or aren’t ready for? Maybe people deserve to know what they’re living with.”
    “Be honest,” he said. “When you figured it out about Robotatouille, did you panic? Did you go into shock?”
    I crossed my arms. “I think that’s what normally happens when you uncover a secret.”
    “Fair enough.” He tapped the wheel. “Fair enough.”
    “How can you sit here and think it’s fair that robots are so much more than what we’ve been led to believe. That