The Gender Game

243 Pages·2016·1.39 MB·English

by  Bella Forrest

THE GENDER GAME
BELLA FORREST
Contents
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Also by Bella Forrest
Copyright © 2016 by Bella Forrest Nightlight Press All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of
brief quotations in a book review.
To my readers, for every kind comment, email and review.
I would not have come this far without you.
MAP
PROLOGUE
M
y sweating palms slipped against the handles of my bike as I cycled at a
pace I hoped would not look suspicious. I tried to fix my eyes ahead on the
perfectly even road and not keep glancing over my shoulder at the makeshift
wooden trailer I was pulling behind me.
As the uniform townhouses on either side of me grew sparse, so did the light.
By the time I arrived at the edge of town, the sun had set.
I had been lucky so far. I hadn't passed anybody I knew, and nobody had
halted me to ask where I was going.
I slowed to a stop once I reached the end of the last concrete road on this side
of the city. Catching my breath, I wiped my palms against my blouse. My lower
back felt sticky with sweat. And I had run out of water.
But I was almost there now.
I repositioned my throbbing palms on the handlebars and my feet on the
pedals of the bike when a voice called behind me.
"Violet? Is that you?"
I froze.
I knew that voice. It was one I’d grown accustomed to hearing every
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Ms. Dale, my defense trainer.
What was she doing in this part of town at nightfall?
I forced a casual expression to my face and twisted around.
The fluorescent street lamps illuminated the tall, lithe brunette standing on
the sidewalk outside Georgette's Laundry. She was clutching a bundle of white
sheets.
"Good evening, Ms. Dale," I called back.
"What are you doing out here, Violet?" she asked.
My jaw twitched as she left the sidewalk and approached me.
"Trashing Ms. Connelly's old china," I explained, a response I had thought
up long before leaving my room this morning.
"Oh, I see," she said, her eyes moving from my three-wheeled trailer and
returning to my face. "Wish I had someone to run my errands." She grimaced at
her laundry.
I managed a half-smile.
She lingered a few seconds longer before glancing back at the launderette.
"Right, well… you'd better be on your way. You know the junkyard gets
creepier the later it gets."
"Yeah," I murmured.
"See you Monday."
She turned on her heel and I let out a slow breath. Gritting my teeth, I faced
forward again, my eyes focusing on the narrow cobblestone path that branched
off from the end of the road. I cycled for another fifteen minutes down the
winding route, past the suburban cottages and misted greenhouses until I reached
a pair of corrugated iron gates— the junkyard's entrance. Pulling the gates open
just wide enough for my bike to fit through, I rolled it inside. I gazed around the
sea of color-coded trash containers, wide-eyed. Nobody was around. So far, so
good.
The overpowering smell of artificial mint filled my nostrils as I wound
around the containers toward the back of the enclosure. The chemical the
hygiene department sprayed in here helped to mask the odor of trash, but had the
tendency to cause a dull headache.
Arriving at the last row of trash containers lining the back wall, I stopped. I
grabbed the handles of the container directly in front of me and slowly eased it
forward to reveal the brickwork behind it. I hurried to the wall and sank to my
knees on the ground. My fingers fumbled along the bricks, feeling for the tell-
tale gap. Finding it, I gained a firmer grip and coaxed it out of place. Then I
worked on the previously weakened bricks behind it and above it until I had
created a hole just large enough for my frame to squeeze through.
I had to be quick now. Quicker than ever. If someone spotted me here like
this, all my days of preparation, all my sleepless nights, would be in vain.
I darted for the wooden trailer hooked to the back of my bike and, clutching
the clasp that was holding the lid securely shut, I unfastened it. My heart was
hammering against my chest as I opened it.
Curled up in the cramped wooden crate, knees drawn to his chest, eyes
tightly closed, was my eight-year-old brother, Timothy.
My eyes moved over the mark etched into his right hand. The mark of a
black crescent.
The mark that had changed our lives forever.
It took a few seconds for him to unglue his eyelids and realize that it was
finally time to climb out. His black hair clung to his moist forehead as he raised
his head to look at me. His gray eyes shone with fear.
I leaned over and wrapped my arms around his midriff, helping him step out.
He winced and groaned against me. It killed me to think of how much time he'd
been holed up in that box.
But it wouldn't be long now.
It wouldn't be long.
"Come on, buddy," I breathed. "Cad will already be waiting for us."
I pointed to the dark gap in the wall. He glanced at me uncertainly before
lowering to his hands and knees. He scurried through. I followed immediately
behind him. A chill stole through me as we emerged on the other side.
I swallowed hard as I gazed around at the seldom-frequented surroundings.
At least, what I could see of them. We were standing amid a slushy marshland,
pale and glistening beneath the strip lights that lined the exterior of the wall.
Fifteen feet away flowed Veil River, above which hung a dense gray mist. The
river was wide, so wide that the opposite bank was a blur even in the daytime
when the mist was thinner.
We crept as quietly as we could through the sludge, toward the edge of the
vaporous water. I continued to reassure Tim in whispers that Cad would be
waiting in his rowboat, just like he’d promised. Only a little further up… but as
we reached the river's border, neither Cad nor his boat were anywhere to be seen.
"Where is he?" Tim gasped.
"He… He's got to be along here somewhere. Let's move up the bank a bit
more."
I led Tim further up the river through the marsh, knowing how much danger
we were in now. My whole plan had revolved around Cad being here, waiting
for us, so that Tim could immediately board his boat. We shouldn't be roaming
in the open like this. Wardens could spot us at any second and the consequences
would be catastrophic.
"Oh!" Tim hissed, making me jump. "There's a boat!" He jabbed a finger
toward the river as Cad's competitive rowboat came into view.
Warm relief washed over me. Thank God.
Cad closed the distance between us, an apologetic look on his unshaven face.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, as he bumped the boat against the bank. "I had
some, uh, unexpected complications. You know, with Margot. She started asking
me where I was going and… Let's just get this done."
I turned to my brother and bent down. Wrapping my arms around his thin