Thumped

by Megan Mccafferty

  Throughout this whole scam, I’ve tried not to think about how the Jaydens would react when they found out the truth. It was easy not to care, really, when Lib had made them seem like such status-obsessed famegamers. This was a couple that was so fixated on perfection that they waited eighteen months—made me wait eighteen months!—while they waited for their application to be finally accepted by Jondoe. Only the hottest RePro on the MiNet was good enough for their “couture conception,” which is ironic because they were nowhere near good enough for him. Jondoe took them on as charitable pro-boner work just to give his image a boost and he ended up getting so much more than he bargained for.

  Didn’t we all?

  The thing is, the Jaydens I had imagined were very different from the people who set up a nursery in their brand-new home in a neighborhood selected for its excellent school system and acres of greenspace.

  I liked these people. If I had to choose between my own parents and them, I’d totally have to give them the thumbs-up.

  More horrifying than that?

  I know they will make awesome parents.

  Would make awesome parents.

  If . . .

  And a second round of nausea has me dry-heaving headfirst into the recyclables.

  “WHAT’S going ON with you tonight?” Lib asks as I try to breathe normally.

  “I could ask the same of you, Lib,” I somehow manage to say. “You went off on the Jaydens for no good reason. Zen was right. They seemed really cool and . . .”

  Lib exhales so sharply that I’m surprised his nose doesn’t blast off his face.

  “Listen, doll,” he says in a soft voice that is far more effective than his screech. “Just because you don’t know the reason doesn’t mean there isn’t one. There is no one more invested in your contract with the Jaydens than I am. NO ONE.” He takes my hands in his and looks me deep in the eyes. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t you? Because I’ve put my trust in you in a PROFOUND way, Miss Melody Mayflower. And I hope you would do the same with me.”

  He breaks away for a moment, blinking wildly. At first I think he’s scanning the MiNet, but then I realize that he’s trying to stop himself from crying. I haven’t seen him this emotional since the day he told me I was bumping with Jondoe.

  The thing is, I don’t trust Lib to look out for my best interests. He’s proven to care about one thing only, and that’s the bottom line. Last spring, when he discovered that Jondoe and Harmony had run off with each other, his first instinct was to write me off as a bad investment and to woo my sister into taking my place. When Zen, Jondoe, and I had our first strategic discussions about The Hotties, we debated for a long time as to what we should do about Lib. Ultimately, we decided it would be safer to make him a part of the lie without letting him in on it. We told him that Jondoe had bumped both of us, but Harmony was in denial and insisted that Ram was the real father and that they would stay in Goodside and raise the babies as their own. We pointed out that this miraculous, once-in-many-lifetimes identical twin synchro-bump had serious branding potential, if only someone had the business smarts to pull it all together for us. We all assumed that by the time Lib found out I was faking it, his earnings from The Hotties would be so beyond what he would’ve made in the original deal with the Jaydens that he’d swoon in admiration of our capitalistic vision and express eternal gratitude for giving him such a generous percentage of the profits.

  He sniffs, then continues.

  “All I’m saying is, you can trust me. Your health and well being, and those precious deliveries, are my top priority. I would never do anything to put you—or them—in jeopardy.”

  Gah. I never thought I’d feel even the littlest bit bad about scamming Lib. But all this talk of trust? And his sense of responsibility for not just me, but my deliveries? He’s never spoken like this before. He’s never cared about what happened to a delivery from the moment it took its first breath. Why is he starting now? He doesn’t sound anything like the Lib I’ve known since I was thirteen.

  “Well, I’ll go make a statement.”

  And then Lib takes off, preparing to spin our latest lie. Everything is back to normal, but nothing feels right.

  Zen has just returned to the couch with a cold compress in his hand.

  “I know you’re under a lot of stress right now,” Zen’s saying, gently resting the damp napkin on my forehead. “I promise nothing bad will happen to you.”

  “You can’t guarantee that!”

  “You have to look at the bigger picture. . . .”

  I shush him, and not only because I’m still feeling pukey and for seriously not in the mood to listen to him go manifesto about how I’m destined to be a feminist icon for the ages or whatever, but also because I’ve got an incoming message.

  “It’s Harmony!” I say, but quietly. Lib cleared the room at my request, but gossipmongers abound.

  “Melllllooooodeeee,” Harmony wails, and then the rest of her sentence is swallowed by strange choking sounds.

  “What’s wrong?”

  And when she responds with even more horrifying animal howling than before, I know that this must have to do with Jondoe. Harmony has made it beyond clear that she wants no contact with Jondoe in facespace or on the MiNet or anywhere else.

  “I told Jondoe not to contact you,” I say.

  “THIS ISN’T ABOUT JONDOE.” The audio in my earbuds gets all fuzzy. “It’s the twins . . .” she moans. “The twins . . .”

  “Did your water break?”

  My skin prickles at the thought of it: This could all be over very soon.

  “NOOOOO.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “They’re going to take the twins!”

  “Who?”

  “The Church!” she spits out. “You have to come get me!”

  I don’t know what’s going on, but if Harmony wants me to spring her from Goodside I don’t need the details.

  “I’m leaving right now!”

  And then our connection goes dead.

  When I try to spring into action, Zen throws an arm across my chest to keep me on the couch.

  “What’s happening? Where are you going?”

  “Harmony needs my help.”

  Zen searches my face. “Are you hiding something from me? Did her water break? Because if it did, we need to set the Mission in motion. . . .”

  “Enough about the Mission, already!” I yell, lifting his arm off me. “I’m so sick of hearing about the stupid mission.”

  “It’s not stupid! Shifting paradigms is not stupid!”

  And that’s when I do the most insulting thing possible: I laugh right in his face.

  “Oh, that’s really mature, Melody.”

  “I’m the one acting immature? I’m not the one throwing a tantrum right now—”

  “You know what? I’m not under contract! I’m a free agent! I don’t have to put up with this!”

  “Then don’t!”

  And in the middle of this drama enters the last person on the planet I’d want to see us fighting like this.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Ventura purrs.

  I must look like I’m about to puke again because Lib rushes back into the room and right over to me with a wastepaper basket.

  “What can I do to make it all better, gorgeous?” he asks me, holding back my hair. “Just say the word. I’m a DOER. I make things happen.”

  Can he make Ventura Vida disappear? Doubtful.

  “Hey ya’ll,” Ram drawls, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’s moseying into. “Was that a barn raiser or what?”

  He must have been in the direct blast zone of a glitter bomb, because he is covered head to toe in pink sparkles. His arrival is just about the best thing that’s happened to me all night.

  “Ram!” I jump up and hug him, a decision I immediately regret when I see the sweaty glitter slick left in the wake of our embrace.

  “We have to go to Goodside immediately. Harmony needs us,
” I say.

  Regret crushes Ram’s face. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone tonight.” He takes off his hat and smacks himself in the head with it.

  “DID HER WATER BREAK?” Lib asks.

  “No!” I say. “She just needs my company.”

  “Well, I’m coming with you!” Lib insists.

  “You won’t make it past the gate,” Ram warns.

  “That’s right,” I say. “They love their God and they love their guns. They will shoot you first and pray for forgiveness later.”

  “It’s true,” Ram says, wiping his wet brow with the back of hand, cutting a clean streak through the glitter. “Now, come on, let’s go! We’re wasting time!”

  I’ll tell you who isn’t wasting any time: Ventura Vida. She must have mega-dosed on Tocin or some other love drug in the bathroom because she’s given up on subtleties and is pressing herself against Zen in a predatory way, like she’s ravenously hungry and Zen is dinner. His eyes are closed, but hers are wide open . . . and glaring right at me.

  I should be out the door already but my legs won’t move. I stare right back at her. Not because I want to but because I can’t look away. I need to watch Ventura steal Zen. I’ve lied to so many people about so many things, it only seems fitting that something—someone—so pure should be taken away from me.

  I’m getting exactly what I deserve.

  I can’t say how long we’re locked in this staredown. Long enough to think about me and Zen riding bikes to school together, me and Zen quizzing each other for the Science Olympiad, me and Zen laughing over secrets in our plastic tree house. Long enough to recall how his lips felt on mine, the first and only time we kissed. To remember the sizzle of electricity when our hands touched. . . .

  Bleeeeeeeep! Bleeeeeeeep! Bleeeeeeeep!

  He’s my best friend but I don’t even bother saying good-bye.

  Zen’s already gone.

  SECOND

  “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.”

  —Luke 16:10

  melody

  ONE ADVANTAGE TO MY FAME IS ACCESS TO THE FASTEST first-class transportation. This autopiloted air taxi to Goodside will only take fifteen minutes, which is just enough time for me to get in costume and in character.

  “It’s safe to look now!” I command Ram, who insisted on covering his eyes while I changed. “What do you think?”

  There isn’t a lot of room in the cabin, but I do a slow, clumsy spin to model the Conception Couture maternity gown Lib borrowed from a vendor at the party. We figure it will be easier to sneak me into Goodside if I’m dressed as Harmony.

  Ram inspects me carefully. “You don’t have freckles on your nose like she does,” he says. “But I doubt anyone else will notice.”

  Jondoe would notice, I think. I feel bad that he’s not here with us right now, but that’s his own fault for going off the grid. Besides, Jondoe and Ram have gone out of their way to avoid each other for the past eight and a half months. Now certainly isn’t the time for Harmony’s husband and babydaddy to bond.

  “How are we going to get her out of there?”

  “It’s Sunday night. Zeke Yoder will be at the main gate,” he says. “He’ll let us in and out if we’re right quick about it.”

  I’m relying entirely on Ram here. I have to trust him, but he’s not the sharpest pitchfork in the barn.

  “How do you know?”

  Ram reveals the tiniest hint of a smile. “I just know is all.”

  My own sketchiness has made me more attuned to others’ secret-keeping. There’s definitely something Ram isn’t telling me right now.

  “It sounds like you’ve got experience with sneaking around,” I say in a leading way that I hope will encourage him to keep talking.

  “I reckon I do.” He blushes. Then, to take the heat off himself, he asks, “So what’s going on with you and Zen anyway? That other girl was getting mighty familiar.”

  Gaaah. My stomach swoops and drops, and it’s not because the air taxi has just flown through a turbulent air stream.

  “I don’t know anymore,” I say honestly.

  Zen was right when he said he isn’t contractually obligated to do anything with anyone. He’s a free agent. He doesn’t have to wait around for me. He can sperminate anyone he wants to.

  Or no one at all.

  Zen is still in possession of one black-market condom, after all. He wouldn’t use it with Ventura, would he? WOULD HE? Because as eager as she is to bump, Zen is equally committed to the Mission.

  The stupid mission.

  “We’re almost there!” Ram calls out as the air taxi slows down its descent. “Just let me do all the talking.”

  Ram has changed dramatically since I’ve known him. Eight and a half months ago, Zen and I had to dose Ram with Tocin just to get more than monosyllabic responses out of him. Now he’s masterminding escape plans. These public appearances have really helped him come out of his shell.

  The air taxi decelerates considerably before hovering over the green space in front of the main gates to Goodside. Ram glances out the window.

  “Oh dear Lord!” he yelps, unbuckling himself from the seat.

  And before I can even ask what’s wrong, he slams open the Emergency Exit door. The air taxi is still hovering a good ten feet in the air, but that doesn’t stop Ram from jumping out and landing with a roll onto the grass.

  “Ram!” I scream. “Are you crazy?”

  I try to get a look at what’s going on outside. Ram quickly picks himself up and runs toward two other men at the entrance to the settlement. It’s too dark and distant to see what’s going on and I have to impatiently wait a few seconds for the taxi to finally touch down. I dart out the door as soon as it’s landed, and try to move as fast as I can toward the scene of the commotion, which isn’t easy to do in this ankle-length gown. I don’t know how Harmony has put up with this dress code for so long.

  “Put the gun down, Zeke!” Ram is shouting.

  “I’VE GOT A TRESSPASSER!” squawks a tall, skinny guard pointing the gun at a third bearded man in black with his hands up in surrender. What is this? A bit of Church-on-Church infighting? A ruckus over a stolen goat or whatever Goodsiders feud over?

  “Don’t shoot! I know him! He’s with me!” Ram shouts, putting himself in front of the human target.

  This seems to agitate Zeke even more. “What do you mean with you?”

  The barrel of the gun is shaking. If Zeke aims for the heart, the bullet just might miss Ram altogether.

  “Now is not the time for this, Zeke,” Ram says in an assertive tone I’ve never heard before.

  “When is the time for it?”

  “Not when you’re carrying a loaded shotgun!”

  “Who is he, anyway? Is he from another settlement?”

  There’s something odd going on between these two, and it has absolutely nothing to do with me or the captured man in question. The trespasser must also be picking up on the strange tension, because he lifts his head and smiles bemusedly at me.

  And that’s when I see him for who he really is.

  It’s Jondoe in disguise.

  That crazy, lovestruck sonuvahump is here to free Harmony too.

  harmony

  I’M SCURRYING AROUND THE HOUSE, TRYING TO DECIDE WHAT I should pack (cloth diapers, knitted booties, cotton jumpers?) and what I should leave behind (cloth diapers, knitted booties, cotton jumpers?) when I’m stopped in my tracks by the lowing and braying of the animals in the barn.

  Someone’s coming. Again.

  I peek out the front hall window and see three lantern lights approaching my driveway. Oh my grace. The Elders! They must know that I’ve called my sister! Will they force me to stay here until the twins are born? It would have been better for everyone if I had never come back here. But it’s too late now. For a brief moment I consider making a run for it. But at eight and a half
months pregnant, I’m not going to get very far very fast.

  There’s nowhere for me to hide, nothing more for me to do but slump into a kitchen chair and surrender.

  I’m helpless. Hopeless.

  The lights reach the front landing. There’s no knock, just rattling of the doorknob.

  “Open up!” I’d recognize that squawk anywhere: It’s Zeke Yoder. Unarmed, he’s about as intimidating as a baby chick. With a shotgun, however, he’s the most dangerous man in the settlement.

  “It’s me, Harmony!”

  Oh my grace. It’s Melody! She came just like she promised! She must have been stopped by Zeke at the front gate. I wonder why he didn’t turn her in to the Elders straightaway.

  And then the bearer of the third light speaks.

  “And me.”

  Are my ears playing tricks on me?

  For the first time since I returned to Goodside, I don’t feel weighted down by hopelessness. I turn the lock and allow myself to acknowledge this feeling—a wish, really—as to whose voice I heard, and who it might be on the other side.

  Please, please, please, I silently ask a God who should have stopped listening to me long ago.

  I open the door to find my sister looking just like me in a green maternity gown.

  “Harmony,” she gasps. “Your hair!”

  Well, almost like me.

  Next to her stands Zeke, who is dwarfed by a second bearded man dressed in a black hat and black suit. His identity is unmistakable, if inexplicable.

  Jondoe.

  And yet, in that Goodside suit, with an abundant fake beard, he doesn’t look all that different from Ram or any other young man in the settlement. It’s easy to convince myself, if only for a moment or two, that he is the Church member in good standing that I married eight and a half months ago, not Ram.

  Until he smiles at me with those startlingly white teeth.

  Jondoe’s teeth are brighter and straighter than anyone’s in Goodside have ever been, or ever will be. He illuminates the porch better than any lamplight, and it feels like my every prayer has been answered. And though I know I shouldn’t under these serious circumstances, I can’t help but smile back.