Impostors by Scott Westerfeld

Author:Scott Westerfeld
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2018-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

The commandos’ car is a light attack craft, its skin set to jungle camo. It’s swift and loaded with firepower, but the hull is pitted and scarred. I’m not sure how long it can keep flying without repairs and a battery charge.

The Palafoxes better have a hidden factory somewhere, with solar panels the size of soccer fields.

It’s cramped here inside the car. Six people in a machine designed for four, along with a hoverboard and eight plasma guns—as many as we could fit. Two of the Specials squat in the back, giving up their seats for me and Col.

The pair of us are eating spagbol, self-heating survival food that my father wouldn’t allow anywhere near his hunting lodge. But hunger really is the best sauce, and it’s delicious. Even better is the clean water from the hovercar’s taps.

The mountains are an hour’s flying time away, but it’s taking forever. Every few minutes we dip down into the trees, cowering whenever the radar shows a blip.

Creeping along like this was tedious on Col’s hoverboard. Squished inside this tiny, damaged car, it’s downright sick-making. One of the lifting fans is damaged, so the car rides at an odd, wobbly angle.

But Col looks more hopeful than he has since we watched his home turn into a column of smoke.

His mother might be alive. He has a bunker full of weapons, an army prepared for a guerrilla war. Maybe the Palafoxes still have a chance in this fight.

Maybe they can still hurt my father. Maybe together we can save Rafi.

I wonder what she’s doing now. Is she on some balcony, smiling and waving at the crowds? Screaming at my father? Crying in our room, thinking I’m dead?

Is she really falling apart?

It seems like nonsense, diagnosing someone from readouts captured by hovercams. Psychological warfare teams aren’t doctors, after all. Rafi sounded so happy when she called and told me how to make my dress. Like she was smiling the whole time.

Of course, she was also smiling on that balcony half an hour ago, thinking I was dead.

Maybe I’m not the only impostor in the family.

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