Control Read Online Free PDF Page A

face returns to its normal beatific state. “Well, rest up. You have an allotment of three meals and three snacks from the efferent. I’ll come get you guys in the morning. There’s a ton of screenwork to do tomorrow.”
    “And the tests.” Dyl can’t hide the crinkle above her nose, as if she can smell the needles from here.
    “You’ll be just fine.” He smiles at us both. “I’m Micah.”
    Dyl opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off before she can introduce herself. “I know you both, Dylia and Zelia Benten. Your names rhyme.”
    Normally, I hate that. Dyl and I are more than a singsong-y, awful poem. But Micah says it in a way that is a hundred percent complimentary. Finally, he takes a step closer to Dyl and hovers next to her for a moment. Her eyes glaze over, and she’s in some faraway place where there’s no Dad to mourn, no nagging sister.
    “Freesia. Nice.” And with that, he’s gone.
    And from the look of her puppy-dog eyes, so is Dyl.



CHAPTER 3
    AFTER A SCORCHING HOT SHOWER, I pull on the scratchy generic loungewear provided in the room. There’s even matching granny underwear. How thrilling. The bed is the best thing I’ve seen in days. I reach around my neck to put on my necklace, the black box pendant dangling heavily at my throat. In a second, my chest wall rises and falls without my permission. I’m so ready for this box to take over so I can pass out.
    Dyl showers too, but won’t wear the clothes. Instead, she keeps her skimpy towel wrapped about her. Without the makeup and trendy clothes, her age shows for once. She’s lovely and fragile. Like the girl who used to climb into my bed, press her cheek against mine, and watch cartoons with me on my holo.
    “You look nice without makeup,” I say between the regimented breaths of my necklace.
    “Please, Zel. No lectures,” she says, combing her damp hair with her fingertips.
    “I’m not lecturing you.”
    “It’s a sneaky lecture. You’re an expert in those.”
    “Okay, okay,” I concede, sulking a little. Dyl hops over to my bed, sending foggy, shampoo-scented air my way. Her hand touches my arm. It’s not a hug, but I’ll take it.
    “I’m not mad,” she says.
    “I know. Not mad, just crazy,” I quip, and she smiles at our inside joke.
    “You were crazy first. By birth order.”
    I lie down on my bed, and Dyl goes back to hers, pinching on her holo.
    At first, the truth of her criticism won’t let me sleep. The bad feeling bounces around my insides, so I turn on my holo to scroll through my favorite cell bio sites. If I had a rock in my hand, I’d drop it just to make sure gravity still worked. I like the reassurance that some universal things don’t change, even on the worst days of my life.
    And then I freeze. Dad didn’t want me to immerse myself in science stuff anymore. I can’t disobey him now, not after today. I search for States history channels, but the sites unmoor me. I drift around, not knowing what I’m looking at, or looking for.
I wish Dad would tell me where to start.
When a yawn threatens to unhinge my jaw, I click off my holo and drift toward sleep. I am half conscious when the murmurs of Dyl and Micah make me open an eye.
    They’re deep in a holo conversation. Dyl whispers, “I’m . . . um . . . nearly a thirty-two B, I guess. Why? . . . Oh. Clothes? That’s so thoughtful of you.”
    Ugh. Did I forget to give her the lecture on not discussing bra size with strange guys, under any circumstances?
    I turn to the wall and wish for a moment that I didn’t have to be the new police, mother, dietician, and chief financial officer of the family, all at the same time. And then, as soon as the thought comes out, guilt floods me.
    I let the box around my neck do its job and punish my chest with its unmerciful push and pull.
    • • •
    “THIS IS SO MEDIEVAL. WHERE’S THE TESTING BOT? There’s always a bot.” Dyl gnaws her nails so viciously, I’m afraid she’ll hit bone