Free Project Paper Doll by Stacey Kade Page B

Jenna, there were larger issues at stake. I couldn’t place protecting her emotions above my father’s safety, and mine as well.
    A fresh surge of hatred for the Rules and their necessity rose up inside me. God damn GTX. And I meant it in the literal sense, the way so rarely used by full-blooded humans these days. I wanted an all-powerful, supernatural force to come along and sweep away any hint that GTX had ever existed, leaving behind nothing but a burning hole in the ground. (Yes, the Bible—along with the Koran and the Torah—had been among my cultural studies. And no, I wasn’t sure what I believed, but that didn’t stop me from wanting what I wanted.)
    With a sick feeling in my stomach, despising myself almost as much as I did GTX, I turned away from Jenna’s locker and hurried across the hall, down to my own. I’d text her during first period, make sure she was okay, and then create some kind of reasonable lie for my absence.
    That was, in fact, my life. A whole series of reasonable lies. What was one freaking more? Staying invisible, under the protective cloak of half-truths and out-and-out fantasy was the best thing—the only thing—I could do for myself and my father, even though it made me want to scream.
    “Hey! Wait!”
    I ignored the shouting behind me; it couldn’t be for me. The only person who might shout for me was Jenna, and this was a guy’s voice.
    “Ariane!”
    I froze, then looked over my shoulder to see Zane Bradshaw barreling toward me, everyone scattering out of his way, frightened villagers running from a fairy-tale giant.
    I turned away quickly, my face burning. Having one of the most popular guys in school shouting your name in a crowded hallway was only slightly less noticeable than, say, taking out a billboard next to the interstate with your picture on it. And the words “LOOK AT ME.”
    God, I hoped Jenna hadn’t heard him. I winced at the thought. What did Zane Bradshaw want with me anyway? It couldn’t be anything good.
    I resisted the urge to squeeze myself into an open locker and, instead, resumed walking, moving as quickly as I could without encouraging more stares. Maybe if I got far enough away he’d give up and forget about me. Today was not the day for this. In fact, never would be the day for this, as far as I was concerned.
    But oh no, I couldn’t get that lucky.
    Within a few seconds he’d caught up with me, looming over me like a tall annoying tree. His legs were so much longer than mine, he’d covered the same distance in half the time.
    Stupid tree legs.
    “I need to talk to you,” he said, breathless at my side, as if he’d run up the stairs and down the hall to find me. His handsome face was flushed, he hadn’t shaved, and there were big dark circles under his eyes. I could smell soap on him, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and his dark hair was damp.
    Something was definitely up. He was almost vibrating with a sense of urgency, and I got the feeling of impending doom hanging in the air. Then again, generally speaking, I wouldn’t ever have a good feeling about Zane Bradshaw tracking me down to “talk.” That was so far from the norm, the world might as well have turned upside down.
    “What do you want?” I asked, my voice tight, barely above a whisper. I could feel people watching him, and therefore me.
    He held his hands up as if declaring he was weapon-free. “Just to talk, that’s all,” he said in what felt like an excruciatingly loud voice. Then he seemed to realize how many people were watching. “In private,” he added.
    I stared at him. What he could possibly want to talk about? We had no classes together this year, and obviously we didn’t run in the same social circles. Because I was allergic to bitch. Not that Rachel Jacobs would have had me as a friend even if I’d wanted her to, but I liked to remember that it was my choice, too.
    Out of the corner of my eye I caught more people turning in our direction, curious