Imposter by Chanda Stafford Read Free Book Online Page B

as I reach the last spotlight, which shines on a blank space on the wall.
    “Is there something I can help you with?” a low voice murmurs from behind me.
    “Will!” I gasp as I spin around, my voice coming out in a squeak. “What are you doing here?”
    He examines the pictures then turns to me, carefully wiping the disgust from his face. “I’m trying to familiarize myself with your home so I can be there to assist you in whatever you need.”
    Will jerks his head toward to the book clutched tightly in my hands. “Checking out some new reading material?”
    I shove the book self-consciously behind my back. “I guess. I figured since I’m home, I might as well get comfortable.”
    “By reading a book?” Will snorts in disgust. “Most of the world’s population has never even seen a real book outside of a museum or school, let alone held one.”
    I caress the soft canvas cover and try to think Socrates-ish thoughts. “Well, that’s a pity. I’ve always enjoyed reading.”
    Will frowns and I can see the fury fill his gaze again. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”
    I tilt my head in confusion. “Umm, sure. Go ahead.”
    He takes a deep breath. “So what you’re saying is, Mira gave her life so you can read books?”
    My fingers curl around the edges of said reading material so tightly my knuckles turn white. “No, so I can do whatever it takes to pass the Free America Bill.”
    “How noble of you.”
    The ghost of Socrates reaches inside me to give me strength. “You’re lucky I am so lenient, Will. Most Firsts would be offended by your words.”
    Will rolls his eyes at my statement. “If you were that kind of First, you’d never have brought me in the first place. In fact, I’d probably be dead already.” He gives me a measured look. “Only I’d never be on one of those.” He points at the portraits. “Which is all the better, really. I wouldn’t want someone else wearing my skin after I’m dead.”
    I tear myself away from his brutal scrutiny. “You’d rather be forgotten?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
    “It’d be better than what you did to Mira.” He spins around as stalks down the hall, his rage evident in every step, taking him farther and farther away from me.
     

Up to the Task
    Will
     
    Darkness falls earlier here than it does at the Smith. It washes over the landscape in vibrant reds and oranges, finally settling in deep blues and purples. I don’t remember much of my life at the farm, and I certainly wasn’t old enough when I left to appreciate this.
    Alone in the courtyard after dinner, I finger the alternative com unit James Scoffield slipped me in the garden. With a glance at my surroundings, I unclip my first one and stuff it in my pocket. I didn’t want to risk switching it at the Smith, there are too many eyes.
    I cross the courtyard to the round stone fountain gurgling in the center. Farther away from the house, the sounds of insects overwhelm my senses. In the approaching darkness, the stars are so bright, they add an almost daylight luminescence to my surroundings. Next to me, I see a second shadow. It’s shorter than mine is, slighter, with short, spiky hair and a cocky smile. Whatcha looking at, handsome? Mira’s ghost asks . I gulp back a lump in my throat. What? Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?
    I blink and she’s gone. Come on, Will, snap out of it. Mira’s dead.
    A light flashes on the com unit wrapped around my wrist. I press a button inlaid into the side. “Will speaking.”
    “Who?” The voice is low and gravelly.
    “This is…” What should I say? I don’t have a code name. Do I need one? “It’s me, Will. Who’s this? Why are you contacting me?”
    “How’s the weather in Santa Fe?”
    “It’s fine.” I frown at the com unit. “Who is this?”
    “No one.”
    Something in the voice sounds familiar, or maybe it’s just the way he talks. “Is this James Scoffield?”
    “There is no one by that name at this frequency.