Sugar Skulls by Lisa Mantchev & Glenn Dallas

Author:Lisa Mantchev & Glenn Dallas [Mantchev, Lisa & Dallas, Glenn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781503949713
Amazon: B00ZIJNMTY
Barnesnoble: B00ZIJNMTY
Goodreads: 25789738
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2015-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

M

I’m losing all track of time, being in the warren with Vee. Every moment is ours, and we’re taking advantage, mind, body, and soul.

You live a certain way long enough, under pressure, under stress, underfoot, and you forget that it’s not the status quo. I’d never talked about that night. Not with Maggie. Not with my family. Not with anyone. Just me and endless replays in my head. I realize I hadn’t even spoken their names aloud in months.

I’m slowly relearning what it’s like to be with someone. All the gentle touches, the stolen looks and smiles. How to make conversation, how to share. Not just the physical closeness, but all of it.

We left the world behind, but we can’t ignore it for much longer. Vee’s not used to this, deserves better than this. She makes the best of my cramped accommodations, but stir-craziness can’t be far off. Sponge baths with recycled water aren’t gonna get the job done forever.

I try to give her space, but here, that amounts to leaning against the opposite wall.

And I’m still working on the “making conversation” thing. It’s hard to concentrate. A girl, untamed hair and all, padding around your place, wearing your clothes? Super hot.

I clear my throat. Nothing idle. I’m not going to ask about the weather or something. Taking the plunge, I ask something I’ve genuinely been wondering. “So, Vee. Is that short for anything? Or a stage name? I mean . . . What do I call you?”

She’s sitting in the middle of my cot, pulling out long sections of clip-in hair that I’d never suspected weren’t hers. By the time she’s done, there’s enough sitting on the floor to mistake for a cat, and the girl in my bed looks even less like the girl in the poster. Running her fingers through the remaining black curls, she twists them around her fingers and over one shoulder before answering. Even then, it’s with visible reluctance. “I don’t remember.” She hesitates, then adds, “I’ve had something wrong with my nanotech from the get-go. Every time they reboot it at the medcenter, they have to do a mind-scrub, too. Just like clearing out a hard drive for a reinstall, I guess.”

“Oh, Vee . . .” Tread lightly, Micah. You don’t know everything she’s been through. “How thorough are we talking about?”

“As far as memories go, I have this last year.” Another pause. She looks down at her arms, tracing over the skin with her fingers, as if she’s looking for something there, some vestige of a previous life. “A few pieces from before that. Nothing good.”

“I can appreciate that. Plenty of times I’ve wished I could forget what happened. Wished I could have a single night’s peace, a stroll without the weight of remembering.” I take a shot in the dark, wondering how bad it was, but knowing it was bad enough to push her here. “Rough childhood? Bad family stuff?”

She looks up at me, eyes bleak. “I had some kind of tattoo.

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