Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(31)
“Ready,” I mutter.
Alton is silent yet somehow irritating as he oversees my workout. His eyes are sharp, taking in every move. He’s waiting for me to slip up. So that he can fuss or accuse me or worse. I don’t know how I know it but I do. He says nothing except what’s necessary. But when we reach the rooftop track, he dismisses the guard by the door and positions himself to watch over me while I run.
I take my time stretching, breathing in the crisp, fresh air before beginning my jog. The warmth of the sun far to my left chases away the morning chill. Winter is fast giving way to spring. I look forward to the extreme heat of summer. I’ve never felt anything like the warmth of sunlight. Obadiah says it’s annoying, sweating all the time in the party jackets he’s made to wear. I am curious to know what he means about such a discomfort.
Overhead, the sky is a clear baby blue with tiny white clouds dotting the distance. I stare at them wistfully, wishing I could see them from a different angle than the confines of Rogen Tower. Somewhere without the watchful Alton hovering nearby. For the millionth time I wish I was Authentic. Not that it did Raven Rogen—the real Raven—any good either.
What went wrong so many times that Titus continued to discard Ravens and try again?
My run is pleasantly exhausting. By the time I’m finished, I’ve gone the equivalent of five miles and my muscles are tired enough that it numbs my thoughts. I walk the track a few more times to cool off and then stretch beside the railing.
Alton is distracted by whatever the voice on his radio is saying so I wander up to the next level. It is more of a crow’s nest, a viewing area with a railing lining three of the four sides. If I lean a little, I can just make out the street far below me. Cars creep along, as small as ants.
A particularly large one pulls to the sidewalk in front of the building. A driver with a bright red hat and a dark coat gets out and holds open the passenger door. I can’t see the face of the man who steps out but I know instinctively it is Titus. There is no mistaking so much power contained in such a small stature. The sun glints off his head and it would be funny if the sight of him didn’t make me sour. If he’s already home for the day, I’m glad I’m leaving, even if it is with Taylor.
An hour later, I am showered and dressed in a black ruffle skirt and a red pinstriped blouse Maria laid out. I wiggle my feet inside the stiff red heels and try to sit still while Maria finishes blow drying my white-blond hair. It is the exact color of the wheat field Linc showed me once. Back then, he didn’t know me. And he’d already been angry at me for keeping my secret. He’d already wanted me to let him in. Now, I am aching to do so with the information I have and there’s no opportunity. Not with Alton so diligently hovering.
My phone beeps. I manage to snag it without pulling my hair out underneath Maria’s tight grip.
It’s a message from Obadiah. Good luck today. If it gets difficult have a drink or seven.
Seven. Funny. I don’t respond to his play on the number, though. Thanks. Call you later.
The orphans say ‘don’t be discouraged.’
I smile and my spirits lift.
Taylor is annoyingly punctual. When Alton insists on riding with us, Taylor rolls her eyes and protests along with me. Her cutting remark about needing a babysitter with more of a personality makes me giggle. I feel only a little guilty for my shallowness before I realize the obstacle Alton presents against any other destination but shopping. Titus appears and puts a stop to all of our arguing and I opt for leaving quickly with an unwanted guard rather than stay and hash anything out with Titus.
“Ugh, it’s crowded today,” Taylor remarks as our car pulls to the curb in front of a crowded sidewalk. Taylor’s driver gets out and walks around to open our door. “I hate when there’s all these bodies pressing on me. It makes me feel gross,” she adds.
I mutter something I hope she takes as agreement and climb out. As soon as I am on my feet, the sun’s rays penetrate my layers. I remove my hat and gloves, shuffling aside as Taylor climbs out behind me. I shake my hair and toss the unwanted clothing back inside the car.
“What are you doing?” Taylor asks.
“I can’t breathe with all that crap on,” I say.
“You’ll be recognized,” she says.
I blink back at her and then my eyes catch on Alton lurking beside us. I hook my thumb at him and say, “That’s what he’s for.”
“If you say so.” She turns from the car, hat and gloves still intact, and scans the storefronts. I do the same, glad she didn’t mention my still-healing bruises that peek out from underneath my blouse.
There is a small crowd gathered not far from us. I strain to see what it is they’re huddled around, but there are too many people in the way. Beside us, Alton’s radio crackles. Linc’s voice buzzing about too many pedestrians. He’s here somewhere. I pause to scan the street behind us but I can’t spot him.
“Can we pick a direction, ladies?” Alton asks.
Taylor glares at him and turns to me. “Let’s go this way. Jorge Estrada has a new plum accessory collection I want to check out.”
“Plum?” I say.
“The story I heard is Jorge bumped his knee and when he saw the bruise, he decided the color was too amazing and he designed his whole line around it.” She shrugs as if the entire thing makes perfect sense.