by Julia Karr
My jaw dropped. As if I would lie to some guy I’d risked my life to help? And the slam about the suburbs? It hadn’t been my choice to go from our tier-five apartment in the city to our tier-two existence in Cementville. Any compulsion to help him flew right away like a swirl of autumn leaves.
“Seems like you’re fine now.” I stepped around him “Keep the napkin.”
A tiny part of me wanted to kick him, too, not because he was homeless, but because he was a judgmental asshole.
“Hey,” he called after me. “Sorry. I’m not usually . . . well ... the circumstances, you know.”
That stopped me. I did know. Sometimes when Ginnie’d come home beat-up, she would lash out at me. Not ever physically, but she’d say mean things. She needed to share her pain, so I took some of it. I’d do anything for her, no matter how much it hurt. I turned around.
I sat on the ground across from him. “Where do you stay? Is there someone I can call?” I pulled my PAV receiver out of my pocket. “Do you need—”
“I’m not homeless. I live over there.” He jerked his head to the west. “Ow!” He grabbed his neck and rubbed it. “I’ll be fine, it’ll just take a sec.” He wasn’t homeless? I started to ask him why he looked like he was, when he said, “What about you? Where do you live?”
My cheeks reddened, remembering his earlier slam. “I do live in the suburbs.” I held my chin up. “But I used to live here, on Wrightwood.”
“What’s your name?”
“Nina.”
“Nina what?”
Why did he want to know? I wasn’t sure I should tell him my last name. The earlier terror I’d felt had subsided, but this interest in me made me nervous. I shook it off. What would it hurt for him to know my name? It’s not like he could get my PAV number. (I shoved the receiver back in my pocket, just in case.) “Oberon.”
“Oberon?” He dropped his hand from his neck. “Nina Oberon,” he repeated, scrutinizing my face, which made me even more uneasy.
“What’s yours?” I felt the heat rising up my neck again. Damn blushing. I averted my eyes.
“Sal Davis.”
I glanced back at him, and he looked away. A bit of napkin clung to the blood that had dried on his lip. Even though he was sitting, I could tell he was taller than me, and he was skinny, but not in an unhealthy way. Thick dark lashes rimmed his eyes. His longish black hair was wavy and there were leaf bits randomly sticking out of it. He’s kind of cute, I thought, which didn’t make me any less uncomfortable.
“You’re a mess.” I pointed to his head. As he reached up, I took a deep breath and asked, “How come you’re dressed like that if you’re not homeless?”
“No one notices me that way.” He brushed the leaves off his head.
“Why don’t you want to be noticed?”
Sal leaned back and looked at me. “You sure do ask a lot of questions. What’s up with that?”
Me? He’d asked just as many questions, maybe even more. Whether it was his attitude again or the stress of the whole situation, a stupid tear chose that moment to trickle down my cheek. I wasn’t fast enough to wipe it away before he noticed.
“I’m hurt and you’re crying?” He started laughing.
“You know what?” I jumped up and jabbed my finger at him. “I came down here to help you. I was trying to be nice.”
I marched to the top of the mound, and looked over my shoulder, at not-homeless Sal Davis, leaves stuck to his ratty clothes, eyes shaded by a hand that was still clutching the tattered, bloody napkin. “Thanks, Nina Oberon.”
I kept on walking until I got to Michigan Avenue. I was almost glad to hear the verts, “Celebrate Moon Settlement Day on the Dark Side. Only Four hundred and fifty round-trip . . . ,” “Maria Corcoran fashions, straight from the runway in Milan ...,” “. . . Stacy’s latest hit, ‘City of Tears’ . . .” They drowned out Sal’s voice saying my name.
VI
“You gotta listen to this one, Neens.” Mike dragged me toward a sporting-goods store. “They’re talking about how balls feel—it’ll crack you up.”
I pulled my arm away. “Cut it out.”
“First you stomp off and now you’re acting all weird. What’s gotten into you?” Sandy gave me a sideways look.
“Nothing,” I said. Everything, I thought.
“Here.” Derek handed me a little box. “Maybe this’ll help.”
He stood there watching while I lifted off the lid. Inside was a little silver horse charm nestled in a bed of fluff.
“Wow, Derek! It’s beautiful. Why’d you do this?” I looked up at him. “My birthday’s weeks away.”
He shrugged. “I was playing music in front of a store the other day. The guy said I was good for business and filled me—twenty whole credits. This was in the window. I knew you’d like it. No big deal.”
I should have given it back. I could tell it meant more to him than just a token of friendship, but it was so beautiful. I didn’t have many beautiful things.
“Thanks.” Sitting down on the curb, I took off my necklace and laced the horse between my other two charms. One was the number seven, which Gran had given to me on my seventh birthday. The other was from Pops, the letter T for “Truth.” He says that the truth can’t stay hidden. Derek’s true feelings sure weren’t. Not anymore.
Sandy sat down next to me and admired the little horse. “Cute! Good call, Derek.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets, grinned at me, and shuffled over to Mike, who was busy looking at travel posters and listening to their verts.
“Here.” I handed the necklace to Sandy. “Hook this for me, okay?” I turned my back to her and held up my hair so she could clasp it around my neck.
She fastened the necklace and I sat for a moment longer, people-watching. Two girls walked by, one had her view wrap on and was giving the other a blow-by-blow description of whatever it was she was watching. A kid on a zoom board careened around the corner, nearly hitting some guy. I thought for a second that the guy who dodged him was Sal. He wouldn’t have followed me, would he? I hadn’t told anyone what had happened—I didn’t want to hear it from the guys. But I also didn’t want to keep it to myself.
“The weirdest thing happened at the park.” I proceeded to tell Sandy what happened on the mound. I had hardly finished the story when she pounced on me.
“Are you crazy!?” she asked, her eyes big as Chrometers. “Helping homeless?”
“Sandy, I’m fine. And he said he wasn’t homeless.”
“You don’t know that for sure, do you? What is the matter with you, Nina? You want to get arrested?”
She was right. He could’ve been lying. It didn’t matter now; I’d already helped him. “They can’t arrest you for talking to someone.” Could they? I wondered. “Besides, he was hurt. You know how I am about people getting hurt.”
She knew. She’d been over after Ginnie and Ed’s fights.
“But you could have . . . those ’letes ... they could’ve—”
“But they didn’t.” For once, Sandy was the protector and I was the reckless one. She was right, though. I could’ve ended up like Angel, maybe even worse. I shuddered, staring at the little veins trailing greenish blue right under the skin on my wrist. “If I was sixteen, they could’ve done whatever they wanted, and no one would have cared.”
“It’s not going to be like that, Nina.” Sandy hugged me. “You just need to not do stuff like helping homeless anymore. Sixteen will be fun, you’ll see.”
“I hate that we have to get tattooed.” I rubbed the imaginary Roman numerals off my skin.
“Nothing we can do about it. We’ll get ’em and then we can have sex—”
“I thought you wanted to go into FeLS. Besides, how can you worry about what some guys might’ve done to me, when it’s exactly the thing that you can’t seem to wait to have happen to you?” Sometimes I didn’t understand her at all.
“Of course I want FeLS. And I don’t want some guy, or three, forcing me
to have sex. I just can’t wait to have all the guys wanting to have sex with me. Can’t you see it now? Just like in the verts. Me, surrounded by Orie and Brek and Jude, all looking at me like . . . oh, you know.” She tilted her head back, eyes shut and a big smile on her face. “What’s cool is that when you’re sixteen you can do it, if you want.”
“It won’t be Orie, Brek, or Jude if you’re off on some space station learning how to be a diplomatic specialist.”
“I mean after getting out of FeLS.” Sandy bolted upright. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Even though he’s a galactic-sized skiv, I bet your mom could get Ed to find out who the Chooser is and they could pick both of us! Then we could go to training together.”
“I’ve told you a gazillion times, there’s no way Ginnie would let me be a FeLS. Besides, I have to be around to take care of Dee.” I had never been completely honest with Sandy about FeLS, never told her that I really didn’t want to go. If FeLS relied on some guy like Ed, a former GC spy, to choose girls . . . well, anything that he’s involved in couldn’t be something I wanted to be in, no matter what.
“I could have my mom talk to her,” Sandy offered. “It would be so much fun! ’Cause you know I’m going to miss you when I go.” She squeezed me.
“You don’t even know if you’ll get chosen. Think of how many girls in our school are turning sixteen.”
“Yeah, but I bet less than half of them are virgins.” Sandy scrunched her eyebrows and nodded. “Yep, I’m sure to get chosen. I’m still a virgin and I look like a FeLS.” She pushed up on her breasts and then smoothed her hands down her torso. “Just like on the cover of XVI Ways, right?” She studied herself in the store window, turning and twisting around like a model.
“Right.” A part of me had dreamed about being chosen for FeLS once. The FeLS graduates who came to talk to us at school were all tier five or above. They got good jobs after their FeLS time. I’d figured when I was out of training and making lots of credits, I’d have enough so I could move Ginnie and Dee back to Chicago into a higher-tier place. Ginnie wouldn’t have to see Ed anymore and we’d be happy, like we’d been when I was little.
Sandy was right—there were strings that could be pulled. If she wanted to, Ginnie could get Ed to make sure I was chosen. But after I turned twelve and was eligible for the extra-credit FeLS prep classes, Ginnie told me outright that she’d never allow me to go. Even if I did get chosen, Ginnie said she’d buy out my contract, somehow. She enrolled me in a Creatives’ art class instead. I don’t know that I was ever that disappointed to not go the FeLS classes—I loved art, and sketching came naturally to me. I was just like Ginnie in that way.
I glanced over at Sandy, who was still prancing and preening. “That’s the other thing, Sandy—I’m not pretty enough to be chosen.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a smaller bag filled to overflowing with makeup. “I can fix that!” She sprayed something on my hair. Teasing out some strands, she styled away, patting and combing. Then she said, “We could stuff your bra, no one would ever know.” She jammed her hand back in the bag and produced a handful of tissues. “Here.”
Fortunately, Mike and Derek interrupted us at that moment. I pressed the tissues back into Sandy’s hand and ran my hands through my hair so it was back to normal. Glancing in the window, I checked to make sure I looked like me again.
“Ready? To the zoo,” Mike announced, pointing northward.
We tromped down the street, and on the way, I glanced down every side street and alley, half expecting to see Sal. They were mostly empty except for a few homeless who melted into the alleyscapes like ghosts.
VII
Since Mike volunteered at the zoo, he had a digital code by his ID that allowed him access to restricted areas. He let us all in, then took Sandy to the cow barn to see the baby calves while Derek followed me to the horse barn. We both grabbed a handful of treats from a dispenser and got into the petting line.
“I hope you like the charm.” His eyes got a kind of dreamy look and his arm brushed up against mine and he stayed close.
“I love it.” I stepped back, glancing down the row of waiting people. “Not too busy today. It won’t be long before we get to the front.”
He moved closer again. “I know how much you like horses, and—”
“Yeah, you do, too.” No way was I going to let him say something stupid if I could help it. “Hey, look, it’s Pepper.” I pointed to the horse being petted by a couple and their little girl. “Cool! She’s my favorite.”
Derek reached for my hand. “You’re my fav—”
“Derek—” I pulled my hand away and stuffed it into my pocket and faced him square on. It was not the time to be subtle. “We’re friends, right? Like Mike? We’re best friends.”
“But I—”
Pepper bumped me, demanding her treats. I gave her some grain pellets, barely noticing her velvety nose nuzzle my hand, which was always my favorite part.
Looking up, I spotted Mike and Sandy through the open doorway. “Hey, let’s go.” I ducked outside, narrowly missing a head-on collision with someone. “’Scuse me,” I muttered, keeping my head down, intent on escaping any more one-on-one conversation with Derek.
“What’s your hurry, Nina?”
Sal. I spun around. I might not have recognized Sal in his regular clothes, but there was no mistaking the voice. Or the green-and-purple bruises. Was he following me? It must have been him I’d seen on Michigan Avenue. This was not a coincidence. My heart started pounding faster. I was actually relieved when Derek caught up to me.
“Nina—hey, who’s this?” he asked.
“Derek, this is Sal.” Glancing over Sal’s shoulder in the direction of the cow barn, I yanked on Derek’s arm. “Come on.” I nodded at Sal. “We gotta catch our friends. See ya.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Without waiting for an answer, Sal fell into step with us.
“Okay,” Derek said, looking at me.
I ignored both of them and walked faster toward Mike and Sandy. They were behind the barn, hanging on the fence, mooing at the pasture’s inhabitants, who were completely oblivious to them.
Sandy saw us coming and hopped down. When she spotted Sal, she shook out her hair. I thought she looked like a horse when she did that, but guys seemed to like it. At least XVI Ways, the most popular teen zine ever, said they do. There was even a vid showing how to shake your head properly, for maximum effect. Sandy’d rehearsed the move from the XVI Ways Nonverbal Cues guide every day. I thought it was stupid—but still I’d sit there watching while she practiced. It wasn’t nearly as impressive with my short dark hair.
“Who’s this?” she asked Derek. “Someone from your band?”
“No, he’s a friend of Nina’s.”
I could see she was about to say something else, so I stepped in before she had the chance. “This is Sal.”
Mike pointed to the bruises on Sal’s face. “What happened to you? Kiss a trans?”
“Might as well have.” Sal laughed. “I walked into a door.”
“Hey.” Derek had been staring pretty intently at him. “I know you. You go to Daley. My locker’s across the hall from yours.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mike said. “You’re the guy whose parents died in that leviton crash.”
Leave it to Mike to get straight to the heart of things, no matter how tactless.
“I am,” Sal replied.
“That’s awful,” I said. “I’m really—”
“My dad’s dead, too.” Sandy slipped closer to him, flashing her sweetest smile. She started twirling a lock of her hair.
More Nonverbal Cues guide. Sandy was acting so typically sixteen; it didn’t matter to her at all that her birthday was still a month away. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she brought up her father being dead to connect with Sal. She was so desperate for guys’ attention, for any kind of connection. That was the last thing I wanted to do, so I kept my mouth shut
about my dad.
I’d hoped Sal would leave, but it appeared he was staying. And I wanted to stop Sandy from looking like a fool, throwing herself at him. It seemed like small talk was my only choice. “So who do you live with?”
Sal’s eyes met mine. I hadn’t anticipated the effect those deep brown eyes would have on me. My pulse sped up and I felt my heart banging against my chest. I dropped my gaze to the ground and toed lines in the gravel.
“My brother, John, took me in after our parents died. I help him out repairing transports and city transits. My sister-in-law says it pays my expenses.”
“You work on trannies?” Mike said. “That is so cool. I saw one the other day that I really want. It’s an early-thirties cruiser; comet-tail red, with Orion pin-striping and chromax levelers. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have something like that.”
“Have you got your own?” Derek asked. It appeared he was as impressed as Mike. The pressure was off me, at least for the time being.
“I got my license last year. But John won’t let me buy one until I’m eighteen. He says young drivers have too many accidents. Sounds just like my dad used to. I do get to drive his 260G Perseids sometimes. Man, it’s as fast as a tri-leviton express.”
Almost instantly, the guys were deep into discussing the pros and cons of personal versus multitransits and what models were the best. Sandy tugged me over to the fence.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” She kept her eyes glued on Sal. “He’s really cute. You didn’t tell me he was really cute.” She cut her eyes at me for a second, quickly looking back at Sal.
“He’s okay, if you like tall and skinny. And what happened to my being in danger for talking to a homeless?” I didn’t say what I thought of his looks, and I didn’t dare confide the effect he’d had on me. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, least of all some guy who snuck around in rags and had a raging case of attitude. I did feel bad for him about his parents.
“Oh, he’s definitely not homeless.” She eyed him in a way that made me blush. “And I prefer to call it lean and lanky. Ultrayum!”