The Treemakers (A YA Dystopian Scifi Romance Adventure) Read Online Free Page A

girls babying him!” He spat rot in my face with each word.
    How would you know anything about becoming a man? I thought, blood rolling down my cheek. I expected to die within a week from infection, but I didn’t have to defend myself. My daddy did. And I wish he hadn’t.
    Emmanuel Superior never looks me in the eye for more than a second or two. He knows I’ll trace his matching scar with my eyes. From the corner of his thin upper lip to the crest of his cheekbone, my stare will scream at it in the silence. He covers it with so much caked-on makeup it’s hardly visible, but it doesn’t matter. I have it memorized, along with the rage on my daddy’s face the moment he gave it to him . . . the moment he chose to die for me.
    With a corkscrew from his satin robe pocket, Emmanuel stabbed him—Zephyr the Magnificent, Greenleigh’s only living magic—three times in the chest. And he laughed.
    I shrieked as my daddy’s dying body was ripped from me, taken by Arianna Superior, like all of the injured and dying men and women before him, like my mother. Still, in my panic, I knew I had to act fast. It wouldn’t be long before they cleared out our quarters and sent me to the Orphan Dorms. So I raced there and stuffed a few things away—his old boots; a pack of playing cards missing an Ace of Spades; a worn-out, faded book of magic tricks full of scratched notes in his handwriting—into the empty bag he usually kept his magician stuff in. Someone had stolen its contents from our room before I got there.
    Now, Emmanuel Superior counts us—sixteen girls and twenty-three boys—then takes Jax by the ear. “One of you is missing,” he snarls. A fake eyelash hangs loose from his eyelid. “Who is it, and where is he?”
    Mona Superior, of course, didn’t bother to tell him about Toby.
    “It’s Toby, sir,” Jax replies, unfazed by the intimidation. “He’ s dead.”
    “Dead?” Emmanuel Superior releases Jax and smoothes down his satin robe. “How?” He adjusts the bra strap peeking out from under his lapel.
    Jax stands motionless. “He went outside today,” he answers, and for a second, I sense fear in Emmanuel Superior’s beady black eyes. Hard to tell, though, with all of that turquoise eye makeup. But it’s gone with a deep inhale into his nose tubes. He brushes a brown wave of hair from his face like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever done in his life. “Hm. Just as well, he was worthless anyway. Off to sleep, all of you. We have a large shipment of materials early in the morning. You’ll need to be in tip-top shape at six a.m.”
    With fire in me, I lead my girls into our room, and he shuts the door with a bang. Seconds later, the boys’ door slams closed next to us. The girls huddle in their usual groups to chatter, and I go to the hole in the wall and unscrew the tack. Jax is already waiting there, leaning against the wall, straight black hair tucked behind his ears.
    “What an ass,” he says. “Don’t let what he says get to you. You know that’s what he’ s doing.”
    “I know, I’m trying not to.”
    “Good. So, after storytime, we leave. Square?” I guess he sees my sadness. He comes nearer and puts two fingers on the lip of the hole. I link mine with his. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I know it’ll be hard, but you have to. For them. They’re upset enough already.” He nods toward the younger boys behind him.
    “I know,” I whisper back, breathe deep, and prepare to act strong, even if I don’t feel it. “Anyone who wants to hear tonight’s story,” I announce, “must first hose down, brush, and use the toilet. Once everyone’s ready, I’ ll begin.”
    We have to be stern with the rules, otherwise things would be all finfannery and crockus—nothing would be in order.
    All at once, thirty-something sets of feet thunder across the two rooms as children scramble for the wash areas. Aby’s on spray duty tonight; she’ll hose down all the littlest ones while they