Vanishing Rain (Blue Spectrum Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

top of them and then threw some uniforms on top.  I thought about taking some real clothes, but it didn’t make sense to me, just packing my regulation uniforms for school.  Where I was going, the fashionable clothes and accessories that Dove bought for me would probably be useless.
    I remembered that day with Dove, when I had my make-up done, new clothes fitted for me, and my hair styled by Sergio, the S.L.A.G. they secretly harbored. Garment had pointed to a purple chair and told me to take a drink.  I chose a small bottle of champagne, and my head became all fizzy and bubbly.  Dove warned me to stop or I would get a headache.
    Remembering the champagne gave me an idea.  Champagne, I thought.  Lots of champagne.  That would work.  I had the scissors. Now all I needed was something to kill the pain.
    I roamed out into the kitchen as silently as I dared.  Adults were allowed a certain amount of alcohol by the Administration, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing my dad or Dove drinking any, so maybe they didn’t have a well-stocked liquor cabinet like my mother did.  I cringed when I thought of her, shoving her easily on a back shelf in my mind.  I had too many other things to think about besides her.
    Then guilt slipped in again, the color of blood. It didn’t so much have a feeling, but an emptiness about it, circling around me like one of Snow’s flying toys. Guilt at leaving Dove.  My dad.  Snow and the toddlers.  My friends.
    I closed the satchel tightly, letting out a huge puff of air.  I held my hand to my stomach, to the invisible creature whose fate I held precariously in my hands.  Could I love it, be a mother to it?  I didn’t know the answer to those questions.  I only knew one thing.  It deserved to live.

Chapter 5
    Liquid
    Dove had always been in charge of meals, punching them into the dispenser after we stood on the weight reader.  Then we would sit at the huge table as a family.  There was always lively conversation, a toddler tossing food somewhere, usually vegetables, and the noise of normal family life.  I was so happy to be there that I never had purpose to snoop through the kitchen cupboards.  But that was what I found myself doing, keeping the lights on dim.  What would I tell Dove if she found me in the kitchen?  One lie was bad enough, but could I come up with a logical reason for stealing alcohol?
    Still, settling my shoulders back with thick determination, I snuck into the kitchen like a common thief pilfering booze. 
    I snickered in my head.  If I was caught on camera, my mom would have every reason to prosecute me like she did before.  I furtively opened cupboard door after cupboard door.  Nothing.  I sighed, already exasperated with my plan.  I wanted to give up, to go in and just wake Dove and my dad, let them know what a pickle I was in.   But the Administration’s mandates loomed heavily before me.  They had taken enough from me.  They were not taking this baby.
    I turned to leave, heading back to my bedroom. I would just have to forget about numbing the pain.  The thought sent chills up my spine.  Blowing out a puff of frustrated air, a small cart in the corner of the kitchen caught my eye.  I had never really noticed it before. It was crafted of delicate wood, probably maple, and it appeared to be an antique.  My eyes moved through the darkness, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed it before.  It was exquisite, ornately carved and polished to a shine.  But better yet, perched on the cart was a lavish crystal decanter, filled with amber liquid. 
    I raced toward it and lifted the stopper off of the decanter, sniffing the contents.   I stifled back a gag as the sting of sharp alcohol bit my nose.  The smell reminded me of my mom’s scotch, only stronger.  Perfect.  I snapped the lid back on the decanter and snuck back to the kitchen, hoping the cameras wouldn’t pick up my movement.  I searched the kitchen cabinets for a container.  Quietly