Read Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1) for Free Online Page B

Hopefully, one of the books would give me a lead.
    My toes rubbed against the soft sheets with my promise for tomorrow and I slid the covers over my ear. My eyelids closed and beautiful green eyes drifted into my mind. I tossed on the bed and tried to think of something else. My mind skipped to him again. I peeked an eye open and stared at my blinds.
    Was he watching me now?
    I shut my eyes and lifted my blanket higher.
    His intense green eyes flashed before me.
    He said someone was after me. Who? And why does he care so much? Who was I to him?

Chapter 6
    I let the door slam shut. It had been a rough day at school. No one was prepared for class and now we had an extra 10-page report on Greek Temples that would severely cut into my robot research time.
    “I’m home.” I walked into the kitchen. Robotatouille was stirring something that smelled delicious. Funny how its blond hair looked almost messy today, or was it always like that?
    “Mind if I try?” I grabbed a spoon from the drawer.
    Robotatouille backed up a couple of feet from me.
    I frowned at the robot as I dipped in my spoon.
    I brought the yellowish liquid to my mouth. Potato, cheese, onion, and celery hit my tongue.
    “This is really good.” I went over to the sink and dropped the spoon in.
    Robotatouille took three steps back.
    I narrowed my eyes.
    What the heck? Why did it keep backing away from me?
    Testing, I took two steps closer. It took two steps back.
    I thought robots didn’t have feelings. How was it possible? Could robots develop feelings for people? Did Robotatouille hate me?
    “Vienna,” I heard Mom’s voice call.
    “Yeah?”
    Mom entered. This time her hair was swept back and a smudge of blue paint streaked across her cheek.
    “What are you doing so close to Robotatouille?”
    “Um, trying the soup?”
    Mom should be happy that I didn’t think Robotatouille was trying to poison us anymore.
    “Well, do it from a five-foot radius.”
    “A five-foot radius?”
    Mom walked between us. “Remember the rules? I don’t want you to punch him again.”
    “You were serious about that?”
    She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t want you hurting him again. He’s a very expensive robot and I—”
    “Hurting him ?”
    What about my hand? What about everything she put me through? How dare she do this to me!
    “You want to know something.” I pointed my finger at her. “That was all. Your. Fault. You bring a robot in the house and expect everyone to adapt instantly. It doesn’t occur to you that some people, like your only daughter, might not like having a strange person-like thing in the house. Did you even ask my opinion before you got it? Did you even ask Dad’s?”
    “How dare you blame your hitting him on me?” Mom looked shocked.
    “You.” I roll my eyes. “It’s always about you. What you want. You never care about what’s best for the family. It’s always about you. What makes you happy, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of everything. I’m sick of having to deal with the robot in the house all the time. I’m tired of being afraid to go in my own kitchen. Alone. And I’m tired of you never taking anything I say seriously. I’m tired of everything.”
    “Tired?” Mom’s nostrils flared. “ You’re tired of me? After everything I have done for you?”
    “What?” I threw my hands up. “What have you done for me? Ignored me your whole life? Hidden in your studio? Made me feel like I’m not the daughter you wanted? Did it ever occur to you that there are other things to do with your daughter besides paint? Oh, wait. It’s my fault. It’s my fault I can’t paint. It’s my fault I can’t draw. I’m sorry I can’t do those things. I’m sorry if I can’t be all artsy like you.”
    “Artsy like me? You don’t have to be like me.” Mom softened. “I never wanted—”
    “Stop it.” I couldn’t look at her anymore. “You’ve been trying to put a paintbrush in my hands ever since I could