Donor 23 by Cate Beatty Read Free Book Online Page A

arm. Joanstarted to leave, but on an impulse, she turned and hugged Dolly.
    When she attempted to pull back, she found she couldn’t. Dolly kept a firm hold on her—a bear hug. The peach rolled off her lap and onto the floor. After Dolly let go, Joan picked up the peach.
    “I’ll try to make it tomorrow. It’ll be in the afternoon,” she said. She handed the peach to Dolly. “You know, I wouldn’t mind some of your famous peach pie.”
    Dolly winked, “You got it.”
    Out on the street, two young men rushed up to Joan from behind. One grabbed her shoulders and made a little growl, momentarily startling Joan.
    “Reck,” she cried with exasperation.
    At eighteen years old, Reck Tyndall stood over six-feet tall, with thick black hair set off by his hazel eyes. A quiet and serious demeanor expressed itself in his unassuming manner. His handsome looks attracted girls in the ghetto, but his shyness kept him away from them.
    Kaleb stood near him. He was nineteen, short and slight with dark black skin, black curly hair, and deep-brown, almost-black eyes. He had terrible eyesight and wore glasses, compliments of Joan. They were all best friends and had been since they were kids.
    Kaleb’s grandmother Zenobia called them the Three Musketeers. The kids had not understood the reference. In Zenobia’s younger days, she had worked for a wealthy citizen. Her job gave her access to banned books, which she read on the sly, so she always referred to strange things. She was a sage of sorts in the ghetto. Zenobia told them the nickname meant “all for one, one for all.” The kids liked that motto. They also liked the name and used it in the neighborhood. Soon everyone began calling them the Musketeers, even though no one understood what it meant.
    “Knew we’d find you here,” Reck motioned to Dolly’s apartment.
    “I have plenty of food,” Joan said, shrugging it off.
    “It’s not just that. You try to save her husband and now you help her—”
    “Reck, you know I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Sorry.”
    Joan offered, “Hey guys, I don’t have to get up early tomorrow. Want to get together tonight?”
    “Our Governor and his spoiled brat letting you have a rest?” Reck said sarcastically.
    “Give it a rest, Reck. You know, Our Governor is the one you can thank for the food I just gave Dolly.”
    Joan was still excited regarding her meeting with the Governor. She desperately wanted to talk about it, but she knew her friends’ opinions. So she didn’t mention it.
    She also didn’t want to say in front of Reck that Duncan had been there. Reck had a crush on her. She liked him, too—very much. They had been alone one afternoon the previous week, sitting on the roof of her building. He wrapped his arms around her. She relished the feel of his muscles and delighted in his masculine scent. A cold wind blew, and she nuzzled her face into his neck. He abruptly pulled her face to him and kissed her.
    Two months ago he had been rated a “ten” by the System. The System rated donors at age eighteen for health, vigor, and strength on a scale of one to ten, ten being highest. If highly rated donors married other highly rated donors, the System paid them a cash bonus. The greater the couple’s rating, the higher their combined ranking—then the greater the bonus. The rating scale was a genius incentive by the System to encourage a healthy donor population. The belief was that healthy and fit donors gave birth to healthy and fit donor children, which was all the better for organ donation and all the betterfor the citizenry. Then, of course, for each healthy child the couple gave birth to, they received another bonus.
    Joan realized she would obtain a high ranking when she turned eighteen in a few months. Their friends and family assumed Joan and Reck, best of friends since childhood, would get married one day. Joan never told anyone her true goal—to buy citizenship for her and her father, to get out of the ghetto.