The Watch (The Red Series Book 1) by Amanda Witt Read Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda Witt
“That’s enough,” he
said, and in his voice was a warning. “Time to go.”
I’d been staring too long at the Watchers.
Chapter 5
Someone grabbed my foot and
shook it.
I sat up, blinking hard, feeling like I’d forgotten
something urgent. Bright morning light filtered in through the high windows. I ’d overslept, seriously overslept. All of the girls
who worked days were already gone, and the only people in view were night
workers—cleaning and kitchen workers already in bed, covers pulled up
over their heads, relief workers trailing out of the showers carrying their
special bags of cleansers and antibiotics, looking sleepy.
That included Cynda , who was
standing at the foot of my bunk, toweling dry her honey-colored hair. “This is the second time I’ve woken you,” she said. “I
thought you were awake the first time, so I went and showered. Now you’ve
missed breakfast, and you’re about to be late to work .”
Not good. Being late to work was never good, but
it was especially bad now that getting reported to the wardens might mean a
private visit with the scarred one.
I slid down off the top bunk, leaving it a jumble of
covers—Kari’s bunk below was neatly made, as always—and started for
the door.
“Not like that! ” Cynda said. “ You look like you were up all night .”
I was undressed and to the shower room before Cynda had finished. I couldn’t risk questions or
comments, n ot when it might make my less friendly roommates decide to
lie awake and catch me sneaking in or sneaking out. Did Cynda actually know I’d been up, or was she just
talking off the top of her head? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t ever sure, and it
wasn’t as if I could ask her.
The cold water hit me with a jolt and I shampooed and
scrubbed frenetically, rinsed, toweled, and hurried back to my bunk to fish my
one set of extra clothes out from under the bottom bed. I was starving, and doomed to a long ravenous morning.
Worse, I’d missed my best shot at getting
information about Meritt . Almost everything useful
I’d ever learned came from sitting on the edge of my bed looking
sleepy and uninterested while t he night workers
traded gossip about conversations they’d had with various wardens the night before.
I tugged my clothes on over still-damp skin, felt a trickle
of water running down my neck, and squeezed my wet hair out over the floor. Cynda —sitting on her bunk pinning her hair so it
would make ringlets when it dried—raised an eyebrow. “You’d better be
glad Wanda’s not here,” she said.
Wanda watched avidly for any excuse to report
anyone—especially me—to the dorm mother. She wasn’t the only one
who disliked me, or the only one who tried to curry favor by tattling, but of
the twenty-three girls I shared a room with, she was the one who worried me
most. If she ever caught me sneaking in or out at night, there would be no discussion,
no chance for persuasion or bribery. She’d turn me over to the wardens in a
heartbeat.
“Sorry,” I said to Cynda , mopping
the floor hurriedly with my dirty shirt. Kicking it under the bed, I started
for the door.
“You’ll never get your hair untangled if you let it dry like
that,” Cynda said. “Catch.”
I turned and she tossed me her comb. It was carved wood,
very pretty, and had all its teeth.
“Don’t lose it,” she said. “It was a gift. I’ll be in
trouble if I can’t produce it next time he comes by.”
I took off down the hallway at a jog, trying to comb my hair
as I went. I didn’t care about tangles—not today—but if the dorm
mother saw me looking disheveled, she’d send me straight back to the room, and
then I’d be later still.
I hurried down the inside stairs, pushed through the outside
door and into the cool morning air, and started down the exterior stairs,
yanking the comb through my hair and trying not to lose my balance. I was
almost at the bottom when Estelle rounded the corner. She was one of my
said, and in his voice was a warning. “Time to go.”
I’d been staring too long at the Watchers.
Chapter 5
Someone grabbed my foot and
shook it.
I sat up, blinking hard, feeling like I’d forgotten
something urgent. Bright morning light filtered in through the high windows. I ’d overslept, seriously overslept. All of the girls
who worked days were already gone, and the only people in view were night
workers—cleaning and kitchen workers already in bed, covers pulled up
over their heads, relief workers trailing out of the showers carrying their
special bags of cleansers and antibiotics, looking sleepy.
That included Cynda , who was
standing at the foot of my bunk, toweling dry her honey-colored hair. “This is the second time I’ve woken you,” she said. “I
thought you were awake the first time, so I went and showered. Now you’ve
missed breakfast, and you’re about to be late to work .”
Not good. Being late to work was never good, but
it was especially bad now that getting reported to the wardens might mean a
private visit with the scarred one.
I slid down off the top bunk, leaving it a jumble of
covers—Kari’s bunk below was neatly made, as always—and started for
the door.
“Not like that! ” Cynda said. “ You look like you were up all night .”
I was undressed and to the shower room before Cynda had finished. I couldn’t risk questions or
comments, n ot when it might make my less friendly roommates decide to
lie awake and catch me sneaking in or sneaking out. Did Cynda actually know I’d been up, or was she just
talking off the top of her head? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t ever sure, and it
wasn’t as if I could ask her.
The cold water hit me with a jolt and I shampooed and
scrubbed frenetically, rinsed, toweled, and hurried back to my bunk to fish my
one set of extra clothes out from under the bottom bed. I was starving, and doomed to a long ravenous morning.
Worse, I’d missed my best shot at getting
information about Meritt . Almost everything useful
I’d ever learned came from sitting on the edge of my bed looking
sleepy and uninterested while t he night workers
traded gossip about conversations they’d had with various wardens the night before.
I tugged my clothes on over still-damp skin, felt a trickle
of water running down my neck, and squeezed my wet hair out over the floor. Cynda —sitting on her bunk pinning her hair so it
would make ringlets when it dried—raised an eyebrow. “You’d better be
glad Wanda’s not here,” she said.
Wanda watched avidly for any excuse to report
anyone—especially me—to the dorm mother. She wasn’t the only one
who disliked me, or the only one who tried to curry favor by tattling, but of
the twenty-three girls I shared a room with, she was the one who worried me
most. If she ever caught me sneaking in or out at night, there would be no discussion,
no chance for persuasion or bribery. She’d turn me over to the wardens in a
heartbeat.
“Sorry,” I said to Cynda , mopping
the floor hurriedly with my dirty shirt. Kicking it under the bed, I started
for the door.
“You’ll never get your hair untangled if you let it dry like
that,” Cynda said. “Catch.”
I turned and she tossed me her comb. It was carved wood,
very pretty, and had all its teeth.
“Don’t lose it,” she said. “It was a gift. I’ll be in
trouble if I can’t produce it next time he comes by.”
I took off down the hallway at a jog, trying to comb my hair
as I went. I didn’t care about tangles—not today—but if the dorm
mother saw me looking disheveled, she’d send me straight back to the room, and
then I’d be later still.
I hurried down the inside stairs, pushed through the outside
door and into the cool morning air, and started down the exterior stairs,
yanking the comb through my hair and trying not to lose my balance. I was
almost at the bottom when Estelle rounded the corner. She was one of my