Drought by Pam Bachorz

Author:Pam Bachorz
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781606841853
Publisher: EgmontUSA
Published: 2011-01-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Darwin has declared we must all give him a full cup today.

It is the hottest day of the summer yet, and the gathering work in the woods is brutal. I’m working near the cisterns, at the base of a hill.

It’s impossible to keep my attention on the task—the heat alone is enough to make my mind wander, but it’s something more today. Ford is near, standing in a pool of shade only five or six steps away.

We are alone.

Even as I bend and scrape nothing, nothing from the leaf, I feel him watching me. “You’re staring,” I say.

“You’re the prettiest thing in the woods,” he whispers.

His slow, sweet smile makes me blush. I look back at my cup, nearly empty. There’s no time to talk. I’ve got to find water.

“Do you have a lot?” he asks in a low voice.

“No. Not hardly any.”

“Damn, Ruby.”

“I can’t help it.” Now I stop working and turn to stare at him. How can he curse me for not finding water? He’s no better than Darwin.

He takes a few steps closer, eyes getting wider. “I’m not saying it’s your fault.”

“Careful,” I warn him, looking around. Another Overseer—or a Congregant—could come at any second.

“I just can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“Then … I’d best work.” I turn back to the task.

But as I work, I feel the memory of his lips on mine. I sneak a glance—or two—and see the muscles that I ran my fingers along. They glisten with sweat, and his thin shirt clings to the ridges of his stomach.

He looks at me too, when my eyes are away from him. I know it.

Even though I told myself I’d go to that tree with Jonah, I’m not sure. I could still tell Ford yes. I could still be his, and he mine, away from here.

“Darwin’s coming,” he whispers.

I nearly look up at him, but stop at the last second. Instead I bend more into the plant, keep my eyes far from him like I would from any other Overseer.

Should I hurry away? Attention from Darwin is never good. But maybe he’ll leave. Maybe I’ll have another few minutes to be tortured by Ford’s closeness.

I tilt my head, just a little, to see what Darwin’s doing. He hands a big bottle of water to Ford; beads of water drip off the container and fall on the dirt. I imagine scuttling forward and opening my mouth to catch them.

“Thought you might need this. It’s hot out here,” Darwin says to Ford.

“Thanks.” Ford doesn’t even look at me; he lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks.

I can’t help staring, tracking it with my eyes. It’s not Ford who has my attention now. I haven’t had anything to drink all day; every drop has been for the cup and Darwin’s impossible quota.

“That little Toad behaving for you?” Darwin asks.

“She’s working,” Ford replies.

“Make sure she doesn’t get lippy. Some of her mother in that one.” Darwin comes close to me, and I return my gaze to the bush I’ve been crouched beside for a long time.

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