Wired

by Francine Pascal

  “Good, then,” Dr. Rodke stated, effectively ending the conversation. “I should get back to work. Skyler’s coming by later, and we have some reports to go through. So may I suggest that you close the door behind you as you go?”

  Chris was used to being dismissed Closing the door behind himself was par for the course.

  Typical High School Experience

  JAKE WOVE HIS WAY ACROSS THE crowded pavement of Spring Street, gracelessly sidestepping the tourists lined up the length of a city block for entrance to Lombardi’s. He shook his head, annoyed. True, as one of the oldest brick-oven parlors in Manhattan, Lombardi’s had earned its reputation, but Jake wouldn’t stand on line for any restaurant in the city. Given that there was always another equally authentic, innovative, or just plain good and cheap place right around the corner, it wasn’t worth it.

  Besides, all of these people were in his way.

  Pushing past an overweight, frizzy blond posing in front of the restaurant’s awning, he pulled the rumpled e-mail printout out from the back pocket of his jeans and smoothed the paper as best as he could. New information has been procured, the e-mail read. Meet me at 121 Canal Street.

  Jake hadn’t known that Oliver was maintaining an outpost on Canal Street. Of course, to say that there was a lot about Oliver that he didn’t know was an understatement. But it was clear that Oliver wanted to involve Jake in uncovering the threat against Gaia, and that was pretty cool. On a primary, superficial level, of course, Jake was totally worried about his girlfriend. If someone was after Gaia, he was going to go after the bastards and stop them, whatever it took. But even more than that, he liked being singled out by Oliver, liked feeling like he was a part of something bigger than the typical bullshit high school experience. Oliver was playing for real, for keeps, and Jake was glad to be on his team. So when he’d gotten the e-mail, he’d made a break for the Lower East Side without thinking twice.

  “Excuse me.” Frizzy was tapping his shoulder, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. Damn. That was what he got for standing still. He regarded her index finger with as much distaste as he could muster but to no avail. “Excuse me, are you from around here?”

  “Uh, yeah” Jake admitted reluctantly, extending no sign of kindness or interest in helping.

  “So you know the neighborhood?” She waved a guidebook under his nose, which he ignored.

  “A little, yeah.”

  “Well, how long is the wait here usually? The book says it can be up to an hour, but that doesn’t seem right.” She laughed nervously, willing him to agree with her about the impossibility of it all. Her husband—or a guy Jake assumed to be her husband, judging by the matching his-and-hers Rob Me, I’m a Tourist visors perched on their heads—clapped a beefy arm across her substantial upper torso.

  “Yeah, well, it’s probably not right,” Jake agreed, squinting over her shoulder. He thought he could make out familiar Village School figures in the distance—this was prime shopping territory, and the chicks from the Village School were champion shoppers—and he was utterly disinterested in running into anyone from school right now. He had more important things to think about.

  “Right, that’s what we thought,” breathed the husband with a sigh of relief. “An hour. That’s crazy.”

  Jake was already striding south and east, done with the couple. They had their guidebook, after all. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be longer than an hour,” he called as the light at the crosswalk changed abruptly. “More like an hour and a half.”

  He decided to chance it and darted across the street. Cars tended to travel down these side roads more slowly, anyway. If he hadn’t been so single-mindedly focused on his mission, Jake would have seen the tourists’ jaws drop in dismay. As it was, he pushed down the street briskly, completely unaware.

  Spy Game Interludes

  JAKE CUPPED HIS RIGHT HAND OVER his eyes to deflect the sunlight and glanced again at the female figure across the street. In her hands she clutched a large, glossy shopping bag embossed with the BCBG label in addition to a few smaller bags from Fresh, Mavi, and a couple of other downtown boutiques. “Guys,” she called, waving her bounty in Jake’s direction. “Guys, is that Jake?” It was Megan, and right behind her was Laura, sucking down the final dregs of her overpriced frozen gourmet premium blend greedily and absentmindedly tossing the plastic cup into the closest garbage can with aplomb. “Uh-huh, I think so.” Even over the New York traffic, he could hear their screeches loud and clear.

  Normally Jake would have tried to elude them, possibly pretend he didn’t see them, but it was way too late for those kinds of shenanigans. So instead he turned to face them. He knew whatever expression he was making must have betrayed the fact that he was less than thrilled to be running into them, but they didn’t seem at all deterred. In fact, it was with great determination that Megan led the pack across the street to where he stood. And he waited, as if without choice, tapping his foot impatiently and peering intermittently at his watch.

  “I thought that was you!” Megan exclaimed triumphantly once they were all gathered on the same corner. “How random to run into you!”

  Jake had been thinking the same thing but was much less pleased about it than Megan seemed to be. “Doing some shopping?” he asked, simply because he couldn’t think of anything more interesting to say.

  “Totally. I saw this really cool dress the other day and knew I had to have it for prom.”

  “Actually” Melanie cut in, “they had a ton of cool stuff there. At the store. Some dresses that would look amazing on Gaia. Do you know if she’s picked out anything yet?” She gazed at him pointedly.

  Jake blinked. Melanie obviously thought she was being discreet, but he couldn’t be bothered either way. He had no idea whether or not Gaia had started looking for a dress yet. If he had to guess, he’d say no, given that she practically had to ransack her closet anytime he took her anywhere fancier than Gray’s Papaya. But they hadn’t even talked about prom yet. Jake had sort of forgotten it was coming up, now that he had bigger things on his mind. And Gaia … well, Gaia wasn’t the type to work herself into a State of neurosis about something like the prom. Or at least, she hadn’t been when he’d first fallen for her. Lately he wasn’t so sure. “I, uh, don’t know, to be honest,” he admitted. “If she has, she hasn’t shown me yet.”

  “Ooh, maybe she wants it to be a surprise,” Megan offered. “You know, like the groom not seeing the bride’s dress before the wedding.”

  “Yeah, just like that,” Melanie said witheringly. “Except this is the prom, not a wedding.”

  “Well, you know Gaia,” Tammie oozed in a tone that could possibly be construed as less than sincere. “Whatever she wears, she’ll look fabulous.”

  Jake grinned. “That’s definitely true. I’m not too worried about it.” He stole another peek at his watch. It was getting late. He couldn’t waste any more time with these girls and risk making Oliver wait for him. He knew timing was everything with these little spy game interludes.

  “Oh, do you have somewhere to be?” Melanie teased.

  “Actually, yeah, I do,” Jake replied, struggling not to reveal his impatience. “I’m in kind of a hurry. But if I talk to Gaia, I’ll mention that you guys wanted to take her shopping.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Melanie cooed. “You should definitely do that.”

  But whether or not she was kidding, Jake was already gone, headed down the street at practically a jog.

  A Pathetic Project

  “WELL,” MELANIE EXCLAIMED, ONCE Jake had disappeared down the block, “it looks like we won’t have to bother with Operation Revenge after all. I guess Gaia’s relationship is falling apart without us even having to interfere.” She grinned nastily. “Whatever. I told her Jake was a total player.” She didn’t look at all sorry to be proven right.

  “You think so?” Megan looked genuinely curious. “I mean, yeah, he’s a flirt, and yeah, I definitely wouldn’t mind if he was interested in taking a brea
k from Gaia, but I don’t know…. I mean, like we said, she has a way with guys, and he didn’t act like they were on the skids.”

  “Why would he tell us if they were?” Laura pointed out.

  “I bet they’re not done yet is all,” Megan said. “And to be honest, after the way she was acting in calculus, I kind of hope they’re not. I actually feel a little bad for her. It looks like being a freak has finally gotten the better of her. It’s like… she finally cares what we think or something. Which she should,” she hurried to add. “I mean, it’s about time. But I still say there’s something to be learned from hanging around with Gaia Moore.”

  “Please,” Melanie replied. “She’s a total loser and completely hygienically challenged. I mean, really.”

  “If she hangs with us, we can help her out with that,” Tammie mused. “Anyway, like Megan said, maybe it’s worth a shot. She was being a little pathetic in class today. Come on—boyfriend trouble sucks. We’ve all been there.”

  “Great, just what we need. A project—a pathetic project.” Laura shook her head. “It’s like we’re in some bad eighties movie where we do a makeover on the uncool girl and suddenly she’s gorgeous and steals all of our men. I mean, cheerful dressing-room montage? No, thanks.”

  “Sweetie, I’ve got news for you,” Megan responded. “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s already stolen all of our men. We might as well bring her over to our side.”

  Crime-Stopping

  GAIA STRODE PURPOSEFULLY UP Seventh Avenue, headed toward St. Vincent’s hospital. After the emotional roller coaster that had been her day at school, she needed some downtime, and she couldn’t think of anyone more qualified to help her achieve a state of semi-Zen than Ed. She was crawling out of her skin, second guessing her every thought process, and if there was one person in her life who could calm her down, it was Ed. Ed would never mince words or play games, and she might even be able to confide in him about her newly reconfigured genetic makeup. If she didn’t tell someone soon, she was going to burst.

  Bursting was bad.

  She paused outside Two Boots, contemplating a thick slice of Earth Mother Sicilian. She could get one for herself and something disgustingly meaty and greasy for Ed, something no doubt banned by his health care professionals. After all, she’d practically been the one to put him in the hospital—it was the least she could do. Though their friendship seemed shakier than it had once been, their mutual interest in junk food had lasting power. The ties that bind, Gaia thought, only semi-cynically.

  As she dug into her bag to check out the money situation, though, she saw something suspicious. Nothing obvious, just a slight movement from out of the corner of her eye. Someone with less finely honed peripheral vision, someone less inclined to go about her daily business on high alert might not have noticed a thing. Gaia, however, was too well trained to play dumb. She’d had too many close encounters of her own not to know that something that looked fishy probably was fishy. She whirled around and backed up slowly, her well-worn Chucks moving soundlessly across concrete.

  There. In the alley.

  A young girl, probably about Gaia’s age but more firmly built and solid, leaned against the brick wall of an abandoned building. The structure had probably at one point served as a corner deli, but it was obvious that the store had been vacant for a while. The pavement of the alley was littered with broken glass, cigarette butts, shredded paper, and stamped-out wads of gum. Lovely. Gaia’s new friend was hunched over, her stout frame bent in such a way that her long, dark hair hung in straggly clumps over her shoulder. She was shrouded by a thick cloud of menace that was only enhanced by dark, droopy clothing and a chain connected from a loop on her belt to the sagging pocket of her torn cords. It didn’t take x-ray vision to make out that the girl was leaning over someone else. Someone smaller. Someone pressed nervously against the side of the building. Someone afraid.

  Gaia’s throat caught. This was it. This was the type of moment that she lived for. Someone gross and greasy was threatening someone weaker. It could be a standard mugging; it could be some kind of small-potatoes drug deal. It didn’t look like there was a weapon involved: the would-be assailant was clearly relying on her size advantage to overpower her opponent. But one couldn’t be sure.

  The blood rushed to Gaia’s ears and her heart began to pound. Her fists suddenly felt clammy. Was she going to go all Pink Ranger, or was she going to freak out? Each second that passed felt like a tortured eternity. I have to do this. I can do this, she reminded herself. I am trained for this. This is my job. God only knows what’s going to happen to the smaller girl if I don’t step in. This reaction I’m having, it’s normal. It’s just jitters. I can control it. She tried to reason with her psyche, to call upon all of her training to reinforce confidence in herself that she was more than prepared for this moment. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared, she repeated, mantralike, in a hoarse whisper. She had to talk the fear down if she wanted to get through this and do what had to be done.

  Screw that. I ‘m terrified.

  She heard a muffled yelp from the alley and saw the larger girl bend farther forward. Based on her stance, Gaia could see that she had the smaller girl’s wrist in her meaty hand and was twisting. That was it. That was the final straw. Gaia’s indignation overpowered her fear.

  In a flash she leapt halfway down the alley, landing, Jackie Chan style, just behind the assailant. She stepped one foot in front of Large’s right leg and reached her right arm out, grabbing hold of the intertwined hands. Using all of the force of the right side of her body, she jerked her hand forcefully, causing the thwarted criminal to let go of her victim and flipping her over in an instant.

  As soon as Large hit the ground, Gaia stepped squarely over her. “Back off,” she growled, hoping like hell that her rapid-fire heart palpitations weren’t actually audible. Inside her head, the sound was deafening.

  The diminutive victim—a mousy, washed-out blond who couldn’t have weighed more than ninety-five pounds—took the opportunity to bolt. She dashed down the alley at warp speed without so much as a thank-you to her savior, who was doing her best at the moment to avoid turning pale.

  Gaia was used to passing out after a massive physical exertion. This didn’t qualify. The waves of blurriness that danced before her eyes could only be attributed to her fear, she knew. This hadn’t been a fight, had barely been more than a scuffle. She wasn’t having a blackout, she was having a spaz-out, like a typical girlie-girl scared out of her wits. Be careful what you wish for, she thought fleetingly, unamused by the irony of the situation. She squelched the spaz urge as best she could, managing to squawk in what she hoped was a vaguely threatening tone, “Pick on someone your own size.”

  Large responded with an unimpressed grunt but didn’t make the mistake of trying to move or otherwise overpower Gaia. She turned her head to one side, looking away and obviously willing Gaia to be off, finally. The crisis had been averted.

  Gaia’s heartbeat finally slowed. The immediate threat had passed. This girl wasn’t going to fight back. She could do this. She was prepared for this. It was a calculated risk, and it had worked. She exhaled deeply, relieved.

  She turned on her heel to leave, to resume the day’s events as though they’d never been briefly interrupted by superhero crime-stopping pursuits. As she stalked out of the alley, though, she couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder. Thankfully, Large was making no attempt to rise from the pavement. But Gaia noticed something she hadn’t seen before. A glint of color against the black-and-gray asphalt.

  Slowly, cautiously, she edged back toward the scene of the crime. Leaning forward, she could now make out a colored piece of paper flattened against the ground. It almost looked like the tattoo prizes that could be found in the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. She knelt down and peeled the paper up into her hand with her fingernail, studying the image more closely. A strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail during the scuffle dropped into her line of
vision and she pushed it impatiently back. The illustration was unmistakable. It was a small square of white paper, and just in the center, gleaming brightly at her, were four perfect renderings of a bright, vivid polka dot. Instantly Gaia realized what she held in her hand, what she was looking at. And instantly a feeling of dread overtook her.

  Oranges.

  gender dynamics

  Ed had no idea who this hot-and-cold mannequin was.

  The Order of the Day

  FOR THE THIRD TIME THAT AFTERNOON Jake retrieved the crumpled e-mail printout from the back pocket of his jeans, smoothed it out as much as was possible at this point, and squinted at the address. 121 Canal Street He stared again at the simple white door that stood before him. One twenty-one, no doubt about it. He inhaled deeply. The air was heady with exhaust fumes, exotic cooking spices, and ripe garbage from an overflowing trash can that stood at the corner of the sidewalk. All in all, the location was thoroughly unimpressive. But Jake knew enough about Oliver by this point to know that nondescript was the order of the day. The door before him was shabby and splintering and looked like something that would have crumpled at even the slightest tap, but there was a reason that Oliver had provided him with a door code. Jake knew it would have been literally impossible to infiltrate the rickety-looking walk-up without it.

  Carefully Jake punched a set of numbers into a touch pad that had been installed in the outer doorway. He had a moment of wavering doubt, but when he jimmied the doorknob and shoved lightly against the door with his hip, it gave way with only slight resistance. He stepped into the entryway of the building, which was no more impressive on the inside. “Hello?” he called out.

  There was no answer. Of course. Oliver’s instructions had been very specific: he’d been told to proceed directly to the third floor. Jake made his way up the warped, unsteady staircase, taking pains to avoid the odd glue trap that had been left out. Thankfully, the traps were all empty. Small favors and all that. Though he was fairly certain mice would be the least of his concerns today.