The Girl Who Dared to Think 7: The Girl Who Dared to Fight

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BONUS CHAPTERS





The Child Thief





Blurb:





In a world where we have government of the rich by the rich for the rich…

America in 2105 is beset with mass inequality, poverty and increasingly large numbers of the poor. This, combined with the breakdown of families and marriages has led to huge economic and societal burdens. A fractured and divided America ushers in a right wing government that promises to solve all these problems in one stroke with a radical solution.

Welcome to the CRAS: the Child Redistribution Adoption System. Also known as the cure for America’s failing economy… and the bane of nineteen-year-old Robin Sylvone’s existence.

Under the System, not all parents can expect to keep the children they bring into the world: families who are not self-sustaining have their children taken and given to the rich.

And as a single teen mother, Robin fell within the scope of the scheme and lost her baby two years ago.

After being forced to drop out of school and become a factory worker in order to support herself, she doesn’t see much light in her future—or hold any hope of seeing her child again.

Until she stumbles upon a group of misfits who share her frustrations and desire for change. An underground movement that operates in some rather clever yet unconventional ways…

By day they still call me Robin Sylvone. Factory worker and upper class reject.

But now, by night, they call me Robin Hood…

Brimming with action, mystery and romance, fans of The Girl Who Dared to Think will be gripped by this imaginative thrill-ride through a chillingly warped America.





Prologue





I stood frozen outside my parents’ bedroom.

Staring at the door handle, I tightened my grip around the breakfast tray I had prepared. I could hear the murmuring of the television seeping through the cracks of the closed door, and I wished I didn’t feel so nervous. I wished today was just like any other day I treated them to breakfast in bed… But it wasn’t.

I had news to share with them this morning. News unlike any I had ever shared before.

And although I had known them for sixteen years and ten months of my seventeen years of living, I feared how they were going to react. They had always treated me as if I were their own child, ever since the day the Ministry of Welfare took me from my birth parents and assigned me to them.

But this… This was big.

I tried to convince myself that everything would be okay. They loved me, didn’t they? They wanted me to be happy, right? They had always said so, and yet, with this, I feared I had gone too far.

Still, I drew in a deep breath and moved closer to the door. I had delayed this for long enough already. It was time to come out with the truth.

God knew I couldn’t wait longer than a couple more months, even if I wanted to.

I repositioned the tray against my hip to free up one hand and then knocked boldly, thrice, with more confidence than I felt.

“Come in,” my mother’s musical voice chimed through the cracks.

Swallowing, I gripped the handle and opened the door, then entered with the tray.

My parents were in bed. My mother, forty-five years young, a beautiful woman with long, dyed blond hair and eyes the color of a clear sky, had been watching the television, while my father, a tall, bald man of forty-nine with swarthy skin and a strong black goatee, was holding a newspaper in front of him. Even lying in bed, he exuded the confidence of one of the most important people in the United Nation of America: a governor, whose moral high grounds were as high as they came.

“Oh, thank you, darling. What a treat!” my mother cooed as I approached her side of the bed. I set the tray down in between the two of them, then tucked my hands behind my back and stepped backward.

“Thank you, Robin,” my father murmured, lowering the paper momentarily to pick up his coffee and a piece of toast.

I nodded and tried to smile back, but it felt like I was wearing one of my mother’s solidifying masks.

As they began eating, my toes curled over the silken rug, and I allowed my eyes to wander to the television screen, unable to resist the temptation of procrastinating a few minutes longer.

“—latest report from the Ministry of Welfare was released this morning. Divorce rates are steady at 79 percent—a slight improvement from 2102—while the number of children born out of wedlock remains at 56 percent of the total number of children born. Government savings are up, thanks to continued implementation of the CRAS, while adoption admin fees continue to improve living conditions for low-income families nationwide. The CRAS has saved the UNA trillions in child welfare and foster services since the system’s introduction by President Burchard after the Crisis in 2082—”

“You sleep well, hon?” my mother interrupted around a mouthful of fruit.

And I was glad for the interruption, as the current news topic was doing nothing to help my nerves.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Are any of your siblings awake yet?” she asked.

“Um, I think I heard Joseph and Lora. I’m not sure about anyone else.” The last thing I’d thought to do this morning was check on any of my seven younger siblings—not when we had two full-time nannies caring for them.

“It’s going to be a gorgeous day, by the looks of it.” My mother sighed, glancing toward the sunshine streaming in through the wide French windowpanes. “You want to take the dogs for a walk?”

“Um, yes. Sure. I just…” I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look from one parent to the other. I inhaled slowly. “Mom, Dad… There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

They both paused in their eating, their eyes moving to me.

“What is it?” my mother asked, while my father raised a dark eyebrow.

A surge of blood rose to my face, and I suddenly felt too hot, even with the cool breeze wafting in through the window. I balled my fists together, trying to take a deep breath through my constricting throat. And then I closed my eyes and let it out.

“I met a boy last year at summer camp. We… We’ve kept in touch ever since. He’s the reason I’ve been coming home late from school on some days, recently. I was going to tell you about him sooner, but… one thing just led to another, and I just… didn’t. I wish I had told you sooner now, though, because… things got a bit out of hand. I never planned for this, but… I’m pregnant.”

It felt like I could have dropped a pin onto the mahogany floorboards and heard it even over the television. My parents stared at me, their jaws slack.

“What?” My mother finally found her voice, her fingers quickly moving to the remote to switch the television off. She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, Robin. Is this some kind of late April Fool’s?”

I shook my head. “It’s not,” I croaked.

She gaped at me, stunned, while my father maintained his shocked silence.

I was most fearful about what he was going to say, and I was so desperate not to be one of the statistics I knew he so disapproved of—which was why I’d waited for Henry to propose before telling them. I’d thought he would… but he still hadn’t.

And I just couldn’t hide my pregnancy from my parents any longer.