This confirms my assessment that she had a part removed. “Affirm.”
“Who else knows about Allie’s plan? Bel?” She leans over the desk, hands clasped, anxious for my answer.
“No, Bel’s not part of it. She doesn’t know anything.”
“But Sharrow…” She sounds so disappointed.
“She knows.” I don’t want to get Sharrow in trouble, but I need to build trust with Dietrich. Besides, it seems like Dietrich already knows.
“Sharrow’s not planning to travel with Allie, is she?”
“What? No. I mean, she’s not a Jenny—wouldn’t the radiation be a problem?”
“No one’s going to actually travel,” Dietrich snaps. “I need to know their intentions. Their plan. What else do you know?”
“That’s it. I told you everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
When I wake up in “my” room, the first thing I think of is Flyx.
No! I can’t have feelings for him.
Fine, it’s too late for that. But I don’t have to give in to them. No more kissing, or dancing, or thinking about him. No more Flyx.
Good luck with that, I hear in my head.
Yeah. I definitely need luck.
Bel flounces into the room dressed in her fancy diplomat clothes, hair and makeup already done. “What are you still doing in bed?”
“Chill out. I just woke up.”
“What’s wrong with you? We need to leave in five minutes.”
“What?” I jump out of bed and run for the closet. Why am I always doing this to myself?
I’m yanking clothes off hangers like a maniac when Bel starts laughing.
“You’re so easy!” She punctuates this with a little snort. “You’re not late. I couldn’t sleep, so I got ready early and thought I’d mess with you.”
“Very funny.” I drop the clothes on the bed. “Now you owe me a coffee.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do. Rule number seventeen—when you punk someone first thing in the morning, you owe them a caffeinated beverage.”
“There’s no such rule.”
I put my hands on my hips and stare her down.
She stares back. Then rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She stomps dramatically to the kitchen.
“Cream and sugar,” I call.
I hear clanking and can’t believe she’s actually getting me coffee. Maybe some part of her wants to be friends. I wish I had more time to let that play out naturally. But that’s not in the cards.
I finally figured out last night what I have to do. And it makes me sick to my stomach.
Bel comes back and puts a coffee mug on the nightstand. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
Here goes. “I don’t like what I picked out last night.” I hold up the yellow and brown checked dress. “Don’t you think it’s a bit…blah? Like something Sharrow would wear?” I’m careful to conceal how much I hate myself for this.
“Oh gods, completely. Let me find you something.” She shoulders past me into the walk-in closet and pages through the hanging outfits. She pulls out a long hot pink shirt with black polka-dots. It reminds me of Good & Plenty candy from the movie theater.
“Nice. Really bold.” I strip down and slide it on over my head.
Bel hands me black leggings and a short sweater with wide pink and black stripes. I slip those on, too.
“What shoes?” I ask, taking a swig of my coffee. It’s weak and tepid, so I put it back down, but I don’t give her crap about it.
“You definitely need boots.” She looks at the row of shoes along the bottom of the closet and wrinkles her nose. “Come with me.”
I follow her into her room. She rummages through her closet, and I can’t believe how much progress I’ve already made—loaning me shoes is pretty much girl code for being friends.
She emerges with royal blue patent leather mid-calf boots. “Perfection.”
Blue boots with a pink and black outfit? Maybe she’s punking me again. But I put them on and look in the full length mirror, and have to admit the effect is fantastic.
She looks at my reflection, cocking her head. “Nice.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it.
“Now if only we could do something with your hair.”
I comb my fingers through the long strands, pulling out tangles. “Sharrow said she was going to do it for me, but I think her taste is…questionable.”
“Sit. I’ll do it.”
I sit on the stool in front of her dressing table, angling away from the mirror. I can’t look at myself. I wish I knew a quicker way to get on the good side of a mean girl than by badmouthing another girl. Especially when that girl is Sharrow.
Bel takes the brush to my hair, not bothering to be gentle. When the knots are out, she parts my hair in three sections and braids each of them individually. Way beyond my skills.
Maybe now’s a good time to bring up the crew. I need her to remember them and want them back.
“Did you ever do Vee’s hair like this?” I ask.
“Not like this. But yeah, I did her hair.” She sounds a bit wistful.
“It’s funny how I thought you two were sisters, and now it turns out we all are.”
“Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t suspect. Vee and I were so much alike, the most like actual sisters.”
I let that hang in the air for a moment. “I bet you miss her.”
“Done,” she says.
I check out my hair in the mirror. “Wow,” I say, equally wowed and horrified at the three braided buns on my head. One is front and center, the others on the sides like Princess Leia. I have to wonder if Bel is setting me up. “Thank you,” I say for lack of anything else.
“Crowns are the new thing in all the fash-vids. Next time I’ll try four or five.”
Crowns? Okay, crowns. Hmm. I think she’s being genuine. And she said “next time.” Total progress. “Maybe I could try it on you sometime,” I suggest.
She frowns, but then shrugs. “Sure, I guess. I mean, if you can’t pull it off, we can take it down.”
She doesn’t have much confidence in my hair-styling ability. But honestly, neither do I.
“We need to go get our makeup done now,” she says.
“Someone’s doing our makeup for us?” That seems weird.
“Our deformities, remember?”
“Right!” I’d completely forgotten.
In a room off the clothing “store,” two makeup artists create our fake deformities. I have one on my left forearm and another on my right shoulder. They’re deep red and purple, and somehow the artist made them look gnarled and bumpy, though she warned it’s just an illusion and I shouldn’t let anyone touch them. She complimented my crowns which I could tell made Bel feel smug.
Bel’s deformities are yellow-brown, and she’s got three. She’s wearing her hair down, so they put one on the back of her neck. She’s also got one on each calf, which will be easy to show because her pant legs are loose, like she’s wearing a long, blousy skirt that’s been sewn up the middle. She swears it’s the height of fashion, but they look like clown pants to me.
It’s time. We head to Dietrich’s office to meet the president’s daughters. It feels like bees are swarming in my stomach.
This has to go well. If it doesn’t, Bel will blame me and our bonding will go down the toilet. No time travel. No saving my family. No escaping recycling.
If I don’t nail this con, it will be my last.
No pressure.
When we get to the reception desk, I spot two girls down the hall at Dietrich’s door, and I’m stunned. “That’s them?” I whisper to Bel. “They’re younger than I expected and…not white.”
The older one is pre-teen with black wavy hair and brown skin. The younger one can’t be more than six or seven. She’s got long blond ringlets and lighter brown skin. They both look mixed race.
“So what?” Bel says.
“Uh, since when are Nazis okay
with that?”
She gives me a look that would dry out a raindrop. “Did you not watch the vids?”
“I did.” Sorta.
“Nazis were racist. ASPs aren’t.”
This doesn’t compute. “What about all that racial purity stuff?”
“They say they’re perfecting the human race, not purifying.”
Perfecting. Okay, maybe they’ve evolved a little for the better, but they’re still Nazis.
“Tell me the girls’ names again,” I say.
I sense Bel rolling her eyes. “The older’s Liddy. The little’s Maisie. You get her—I can’t stand kids.”
“Wait, are we splitting up?”
“No, nafe, we’re tag-teaming.”
I glance around the lobby. “I don’t see Weasel.”
“Weasel—that’s good,” Bel says, and I think maybe she means it as a genuine compliment.
“Isn’t she coming to supervise or whatever?” I ask.
“She was, but my mom convinced the president it would put the girls more at ease—and show the world there’s nothing here to be afraid of—if it was only the four of us.”
“But isn’t your mom trying to show the exact opposite—that it is dangerous?”
“Duh. She got rid of the chaperone to make it easier for us to convince the girls. Plus she was worried about when you slip up.”
“If I slip up, you mean.”
She shrugs. “Even without a chaperone, it’s still not going to be cake. You’d better not blow it.”
“Relax. I’ll be fine.” I hope.
I don’t know what Bel was so worried about. We did a photoshoot with the girls, then the tour, and it all went great. The girls were super easy. After we showed them around, we had cookies and played with a kitten Dietrich had her receptionist bring in. The kitten was a smart move—definitely the highlight.
During the tour, we also made sure to privately show them our “deformities” which seemed to sufficiently appall them. Mission accomplished.
But there’s still an entire forty minutes before we drop the girls off, and we’re out of things to do. The girls are bored and getting more bored by the second.
I know what I’d show them if we were in the private sector.
“Bel, we’re dying here,” I whisper. “We have to do something fun, like the slides.”
Her mouth makes an “O” and she nods. “Girls, would you like to go on a slide?”
“Yes!” Liddy says.
What? I give Bel a wide-eyed, what-the-hell look.
She gives me a look that says ease out, nafe.
At the top of the slide, which I really hope is in the public sector, the girls are balls of nervous energy even though this slide’s not very steep or long—from the top I can clearly see the pads at the bottom. Seems like it was made for little kids, though I haven’t seen a single kid other than our guests the entire time I’ve been here.
“Why can’t we go together?” Liddy asks.
“Not safe,” Bel says.
“This is dangerous?” Maisie’s eyes are wide.
“That’s not what I meant,” Bel says, clearly frustrated. Kids are even less her thing than mine.
“What she means,” I explain, “is you don’t want to go at the same time because you could bump together and get hurt.” I have no idea if it’s true, but the girls seem to buy it.
“I’m scared,” Maisie says.
“If you want to change your mind…” Bel suggests.
“Noooo,” Liddy says.
“How about if we show you?” I ask. “Bel, you go first.”
“Okay,” she says. “You sit on the edge, feet in front, arms to the sides.” She demonstrates. “If you tip, put your hand down for balance. It’s easy. Watch.” She pushes off and slides down on her rear end.
The girls watch with rapt attention, the little one covering her mouth with her hands.
Bel reaches the bottom, gets to her feet and holds her arms in the air. “Ta da!” Her voice carries up to us.
The girls erupt with laughter and clapping.
“Now your turn, Liddy,” I say.
She sits and looks up at me. “Is this right?”
“Perfect. Go whenever you’re ready.”
I see her gather her courage. After a moment, she pushes off. Her arms fly out to her sides and she lets out a piercing squeal.
Maisie, beside me, grabs my hand and grips it like a banshee.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “She’s having fun.”
Maisie doesn’t take her gaze from her sister.
When Liddy reaches the bottom, she tumbles and rolls. Maisie gasps and squeezes my hand harder.
Liddy bounces to her feet, laughing. “That was gail!”
“See?” I say to Maisie. “She’s fine. She liked it.”
Maisie shakes her head, still gripping my hand. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, Maize,” Liddy shouts. “It’s a bluster!”
“You’re going to like it, too. I promise.” I ease into a sitting position, gently pulling Maisie with me. Once she’s seated, I extricate my hand from her grasp. “You’re doing great,” I say, my voice soothing. “Now push off with your hands.”
“I don’t know how.” Her voice is quavering.
“Like this.” I put my hands by my sides, and I don’t mean to push, but suddenly I’m sliding. Crap!
I wrench around onto my stomach so I can see Maisie. “Come on,” I call to her, reaching my hands out. “I’ll catch you!”
She shakes her head and backs out of sight.
“Maisie!” Liddy cries. “Come back.”
“Stop! Stop right there!” Bel calls.
I’m still looking backward when I reach the bottom, and I crumble into a pile like a rag doll. I scramble to my feet, craning to see Maisie. “Where is she? Where’d she go?”
“She’s gone, genius,” Bel says.
“Oh no, oh no,” Liddy says. “We have to find her.”
“We will,” I say, praying it’s true because it has to be. “How do we get back up there?”
“Utility stairs.” Bel runs around to the side of the slide and opens a door to a dark, narrow hallway. I can’t see more than a foot inside.
“No way,” Liddy says, backing away. “I’m not going in there.”
“You stay with her,” I tell Bel as I take off running. I have to find Maisie or—
I can’t even think about what will happen if I don’t.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Flyx
I was dreading today’s lockdown when Dietrich assigned me to hang with Sharrow and get info about Allie’s plans. I couldn’t exactly tell her I don’t need to spend time alone with Sharrow for that.
I cogged it would be awk and uncomfortable with Sharrow, esp given how I feel about Allie. But it’s actually been phee. Turns out we like same-same—manga, Free-bop, soft pretzels, ska music. And she seems excited about one of my faves—swimming in the cistern.
“We have it to ourselves, entire?” she asks, her voice low, and I realize it’s not swimming she’s thinking about.
I feel guilty, like I’m misleading her, but it’s not like I have a choice.
I crack a glow stick and drop it through the hole. It hits the water far below and floats, lighting the surface and the brick dome of the cistern in a blue glow. I crack three more sticks, dropping them in.
“Ready?” I ask.
“More than.” She lets her towel slide to the ground.
I can’t help eye her body—the singlet is practically see-through. She’s not looking at me as she grabs the ladder and climbs down, but I can tell she cogs I’m scoping.
“It’s cold,” she calls as her feet reach the water.
“You’ll get used to it once you start moving.”
“Or you could warm me.” She looks up, bathed in the blue echoing off the water and walls.
Any doubts about her intentions evaporate. How in the uni am I going to nav her feeling
s without hurting them?
I leave my towel with hers. “Move out. I’m coming in.”
She submerges, bubbles bursting at the surface as she sinks into the depths.
I quick-climb halfway down the ladder, then drop. My chest constricts as I go under, bracing against the chill. I descend all the way to the bottom, then push for the surface, breaking through near the curved wall. My eyes are drawn to Sharrow, floating on her back in the center of the pool. It’s surreal with the blue light bouncing, the total silence.
“This is so phee,” she says. “I can’t believe you got my mom to agree to this.”
When Dietrich gave me the assignment, coming here popped into my head. I asked on a whim. I didn’t expect her to agree.
I shiver, then dip below the surface again and swim hard for the other side to get warm. It feels good to push my muscles—this is the only cistern sally enough that I can.
After several times back and forth, I pop up to see Sharrow by the ladder, eyeing me. She motions me over. I feel a dull dread, but I don’t cog how I can refuse.
I swim to the opposite side of the ladder so we’re facing each other, the rungs between us.
“Why haven’t you ever brought me here before?” She shoves me playfully. We had to leave our personals behind, so she’s being bold.
“No idea.” It’s bizarre that a version of me had a relationship with her that I can’t remember.
She moves to my side of the ladder and trails her hand down my chest.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember…us,” I say.
“We can make new memories.” She tilts her face up. “You could kiss me.”
I’m tempted—who wouldn’t be? She’s pretty and smart and nice.
But it wouldn’t be fair to her. I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with Allie. “I…I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She pushes away from me, grabbing the ladder. “Why did you do this?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’re not interested, why are we here?”
I’m sure it’s the wrong thing to say, but I tell her the truth. “Your mom.”
“Oh gods, could this be any more embarrassing?” She turns away so I can’t see her face.
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