Free Gravity (The Taking) by Melissa West Page A

the door and around the stair rail in the foyer, almost giddy.
    I did it. I—
    “What are you doing?” Dad asks.
    I turn slowly until I’m facing him. “Nothing. Why?”
    “Where did you come from? I didn’t see you down here earlier. Did you see her, Claire?” Mom joins Dad at the open doorway that leads into the kitchen.
    “There you are,” she says. “We were calling for you. Dinner is ready.” She looks from Dad to me and back. “Grexic…stop it. She’s not trying to sneak out. It’s daylight outside. Kids don’t sneak out during the day. Now come sit down before your food gets cold.”
    Dad relaxes his shoulders, but I can still see the questions in his eyes. He thinks I’m up to something. Perceptive as always. Thankfully, I put the keycard in my pocket before leaving his office.
    I brush past him and into the kitchen. Mom made a roast, which is Dad’s favorite, so maybe he’ll lighten up. I sit down at the table and Mom sits beside me, Dad across from us. I want to ask about the attack or Zeus walking off the stage. Then I remember that President Cartier is supposed to speak tonight and hope that will facilitate the talk. “Aren’t you going to turn on the T-screen?” I ask.
    “Why would I do that?” Dad asks, stabbing a chunk of roast with his fork. “I already know what she’s going to say, and frankly, I’m tired of hearing about it. I’d rather discuss your training. Cybil seems pleased with you.”
    “Well, I’ve only had the one meeting with her. Our training today was canceled.” I stare at Dad, confused. He should’ve known Cybil canceled our training.
    “Of course,” Dad says, but I sense there’s something he isn’t telling me.
    We spend the rest of dinner listening to Mom talk about her latest research—some variation on healing gel. I try to follow along, but I’m too focused on the time, which is ticking closer and closer to when I need to leave. Finally, Dad excuses himself to his office, giving me my chance. “I thought I might go to Gretchen’s for a while,” I say to Mom as she’s leaving the kitchen. “Is that okay?”
    Mom walks over and kisses my cheek. “Of course. Be home in an hour, though. You have school tomorrow.”
    I step out of my house and turn left, as though I’m going to Gretchen’s house at the end of my street, but instead I cut across the main road and back up the sidewalk in the opposite direction, toward the tron. I pull my phone from my jacket and message Gretchen: I’m at your house, okay? I know she’ll cover me. I just have to think up an excuse to tell her later. So with that handled, I lift the hood of my jacket over my head and slide into the first seat closest to the door.
    There is practically no one on the tron at this hour—a few warehouse workers and that’s it. I wait for the stop at Business Park, feeling my heart pound against my chest.
    I try to clear my head as I edge around Pride Fountain, past the Engineer building and down the alley between it and Parliament headquarters. It’s darker than dark here. There are no visible doors or entrances.
    An average person might think the alley runs to a dead end. After all, there is nothing but a large cement wall at the end, connecting from one building to the other. But I know better. The cement wall accesses the below-ground auto-walk that goes from building to building. This way, Chemists, Engineers, and Parliament members can go among buildings without others seeing them. I’ve never been on that auto-walk, and as far as I know, it’s restricted for lead personnel. Today, I won’t need it.
    I reach the end of the alley and find the opening in the walkway that I was looking for. In the dark of night, it appears to drop into nothing, but there is actually a series of steps that leads to the servants’ entrance into the building. I pull out the flashlight I packed, flick it on, and shine it down into the opening, only to fall backward as the light flashes over a person