Free MILA 2.0: Redemption by Debra Driza Page B

microphone he wielded in his hand. I shot Mom an imploring look. “Can’t you do something?”
    Mom shook her hand, her face stuck in that pretend frown that didn’t fool any of us. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but you know how he gets when he watches those reality singing shows.” She tsked, but ruined it when her lips twitched.
    “Stop that! You’re egging him on!” I said, trying to contain my own giggle. Everyone said smart people were the weirdest. Guess my family proved that. Still, I wouldn’t change a thing. Most days.
    I blinked, and the memory stopped, leaving me shaken. “Brown-Eyed Girl.” Once, in a tight spot during one of Holland’s tests, I’d been pitted against Three. Seemingly out of nowhere, I’d sung that song.
    Now I knew that wasn’t exactly true.
    “What’s wrong?” Lucas asked.
    “Another Sarah memory,” I said. “I don’t think I’m feeling all that brown right now.”
    After an internal command, my eyes changed pigment again. This time to a dark sapphire blue.
    “There. That works. Now, let’s see what else we can do.”
    Another few minutes later, I was still inspecting the results of my pseudo-face-lift. Paler lips changed the entire appearance of my mouth, making it look thinner and lessfull. My skin tone was now an olive color, my smattering of freckles nowhere to be found. I’d used the contour feature of the program to accentuate cheekbones, elongate my nose, and make my eyes appear a little wider set.
    Between that and the new haircut, the results were startling.
    “I don’t look like me,” I said in wonder, tracing my finger along my new cheeks and the flattened curve of my mouth.
    Lucas frowned, which worried me.
    “What? You don’t think it’s enough?” I asked him.
    He shook his head. “Sorry—no, you’re right. It’s a lot more drastic of a change than I’d anticipated.”
    “Why the frown, then? Isn’t this a good thing?”
    “It’s just—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “You’re right. It is a good thing.”
    “But?” I prompted. He was holding something back. I could sense it with both sets of my instincts.
    “But, nothing. I was just thinking, I wish that thing could change my looks. Holland is going to catch on to my sick leave eventually and put an APB out on me too,” he said. “We should go. We’ve been in here for close to fifteen minutes. I don’t want to get caught.”
    I took the drive out of my finger port and handed it back to him. Lucas pushed open the door, allowing me to walk through first. “After you,” he said.
    I had changed on the outside but I still had the opportunity to change on the inside. To learn something and become a better person, like Lucas said a few minutes ago.
    Or as close to a person as I could possibly get.
    Beyond the Caprice’s fly-stained windshield, the city’s outline grew more defined. Skyscrapers jutted up like giant, geometric teeth—some rectangular, some pointed. We’d made it to Philadelphia in a little under twenty-nine hours, with me driving ever since we left the rest stop (since I didn’t need the sleep), stopping now and then to fuel up. As we careened down 76, my eyes were glued to the scenery that was closing in around us. Recollections from the past were beginning to filter into my head.
    “I’ve seen this before,” I murmured to Lucas, who was still half-asleep.
    It was nighttime. The city lit up like a fantasyland, full of magic.
    “Mommy, look at the lights! Are all cities this beautiful at night?”
    From my spot in the backseat, I leaned forward eagerly, pointing at the windshield to the glowing city beyond.
    My mom turned to me from the passenger seat, her profile dim in the scant light. “I think Philly is particularly beautiful, but I could be biased.”
    I giggled. “You use such big words.” But even as Ilaughed, I realized that she was right. Philly would always be beautiful to me, because Philly was home.
    “You okay over there? Looking a little