Unworthy: Marked to die. Raised to survive. Read Online Free PDF

me anymore right now. Just then Grandad calls from the pod, and we tidy up what we’re doing to head inside.
    As we move down the path he takes my grubby, earth stained hand in his, and when I see him smile down at me again a jittery, jumpy feeling starts in my stomach. Perhaps I do have an idea what he wants to talk to me about, and it makes me excited and shy at the same time.
    At the door to the pod he takes his leave. “I should really call round to Mum’s,” he smiles apologetically. “But I’ll see you tonight. I missed you, Arcadia,” he says, and squeezes my hand.
    I stifle my dopey smile in the hallway. I’m still not looking forward to the Naming tonight, but with seeing Bastian afterwards, my mood has lightened considerably.
    Inside, Grandad has made three mugs of tea.
    “He’s not stopping?” he asks me.
    I shake my head. “He hasn’t called at home yet.” I turn away from his knowing look. I go to wash up, giving the heat on my face time to cool.
    We sip in silence, the sounds of other workers returning home reaching us. Across the hall, the Martell children are home from school, loud voices combining with the clomping of their shoes. Before long we hear the screen in their pod come on. My eyes flick over to ours, mounted on the wall of the main room. It’s hardly ever used. When I was little, Grandad would heavily censor what I was allowed to watch, even though I would beg and plead with him. The brightly coloured images held such appeal for me. As I got older I was able to regard the panel with a little more discernment, and could see a certain regularity to the shows. Stories of great valour, where the hero often sacrifices their own comfort for the good of others, or documentaries about our history and the history of the ancients, who lived in the time before the Sickness. Through it all, the strong overtones of conformity and submission.
    “Arcadia,” Grandad brings me out of my reverie. “Don’t let that boy limit you.”
    I have to think for a second about who he’s meaning, he’s caught me completely by surprise. I frown into my tea. “Limit me?”
    “Don’t let him tell you what you can and can’t do.”
    His caution confuses me. “If you mean Bastian, he’s never limited me. He only wants me to be safe.”
    “That’s what I’m worried about,” he nods. “He thinks that you need looking after. He wants to wrap you in a soft blanket.”
    “Well, what’s wrong with a soft blanket?”
    “You can’t wrap yourself in it forever. Plus, what happens to him when you no longer need it?”
    I’m starting to feel very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is taking. “Come on, Grandad. Bastian is Firstborn. I’m Unworthy. If he does want to look after me, then I’m the luckiest girl in the hub.”
    “Your mark has nothing to do with it,” he says. “You need to choose a partner on his own merits, not on how grateful you feel that he’s looked your way.”
    How can he use the word “choose” as though I have options? I am undesirable to everyone because of my mark. An Unworthy mother is likely to pass on weakness to her children. Why would anyone willingly enter into that kind of relationship? The fact that Bastian might be willing to overlook it is nothing short of incredible. However, I know him well enough not to be surprised. He’s got a heart that matches his height.
    “He’s not the first one who’s looked my way, Grandad, he’s the only one. How many suitors do you see? I’m seventeen. Chloe has already had her first baby. And the other girls -”
    He puts his hand over mine on the counter. “I know how hard this must sound. I just don’t want you to be in a rush to settle down.”
    I shake my head in confusion. I’m not sure what he wants me to do, how he can expect me to live as though I’m not marked?

    Chapter Four
    The evening comes too soon, and I’m one of the last women to make my way down to the square in the failing light. I pause