by Kristen Pham
The woman is absorbed into the mass of bodies, and my gaze lands on one bleak expression after another. I wonder if everyone has a story like mine or the woman whose account was hacked. There are even kids here, some with bruises, and that hurts my heart the most.
It’s my first taste of the sheer volume of misery that the Throwback population bows under. It’s stuffy inside from all of the bodies jammed together, and I give up on justice and get out of there as fast as I can.
I’m ashamed as I untie the jacket from my waist and put it on, tugging on the sleeves so they’re stretched long enough to cover my lavaliere. I’m a coward, but for a little while, I want to pretend I’m Evolved again. The advantage of being a rare clone type is that I can pass as Evolved—at least for a bus ride. I want the other passengers to smile at me and muggers to be too afraid to touch me.
I get inside the cool bus and lean my head against the glass, watching the city I’ve loved my whole life pass by. But now I see past the coffee shops and indie bookstores. I see the run-down stores Throwbacks are forced to shop in, and the way that so many clones in the city are a little dirtier, thinner, and more tired than the Evolved population.
These people—my people—are suffering. Am I really going to choose a sanctuary in Paris over fighting on behalf of the miserable Throwback kids I saw tonight?
I don’t bother to hide the bruise the mugger left on my face when I come to school the next day. I wear it as a badge to remind me of the new world that I now belong to.
“Joanie!” Ava cries when she sits down next to me in the grass where we eat our lunch. “What happened to you? Everyone’s been saying that you were smacked for mouthing off to an Evolved.”
I shake my head at the inaccuracies of the rumor mill. Before I can launch into my tale, someone comes speeding toward us. It’s Justus. I quickly wipe off a smudge of peanut butter from the corner of my mouth.
He kneels in front of me, and his rough fingers gently skim the bruise on my cheek as he assesses my injury.
“Who did this? Was it Jeff?” he asks, naming a bully at our school who has a reputation for cornering Throwbacks and beating the shit out of them.
I jerk my face away from his touch. “Sorry, no damsel in distress for you to rescue here.”
“I’ll tear him apart,” Justus says, his deep voice quiet but serious.
His concern simultaneously pisses me off and makes my heart speed up. Why is he acting like we’re friends?
“I hate to be the one to spare that dickhead the beating he deserves, but I was mugged by someone else,” I tell him. “If you’d like to hunt down the Mac who did this, go for it, because the police are no help. He reeks of piss and has a mean backhand.”
Justus’s face changes back to the immobile, tough expression he usually wears. “Of course, one of the Throwback rabble. I’m sure this confirms everything you believe about us.”
“What are you talking about?” I shout at him. “I’m one of the Throwback rabble!”
“You’re Joan of Arc. You’re above us Macs and Mollys, right?” Justus says, shaking his head as he turns to go.
“Wait—” Ava starts to defend me, but I interrupt her.
“He can think whatever he wants; I don’t give a damn.”
Justus doesn’t look back, like I half hoped he would, but he pauses, and I know he heard me.
Chapter 7
The final weeks of school are surreal, especially when Mom and Dad squeal over every acceptance that arrives in my in-box from the various acting programs Mom applied to on my behalf. They have no idea that those acceptances won’t matter in a few months.
The day I receive my acceptance to the Paris-Sud University School of Medicine undergraduate program with a big scholarship, I want to burst with relief and pride. It’s a huge honor, and a big part of me wishes my parents could celebrate with me.
I send my acceptance to Paris-Sud on the same day I send my acceptance to Seattle Secondary’s theater program. Not that I’m going to join Crew’s risky rebellion. Still, the summer months I have to spend in Throwback acting school might as well be interesting.
On graduation day, I get ready with more care than usual, and even wear the stunning dress Mom bought for my birthday. When I descend the staircase, my dress shimmers subtly from embedded electric strands stitched into the fabric. Mom’s face lights up. I’m trying to give them some happy memories of me before I disappear from their lives forever in the fall. Will she and Dad understand why I left this life behind?
“You’re beautiful,” Dad says, holding his new prized possession, a second generation holo-camera, to capture my big day in 3-D.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, but I give him a grin so he knows I’m not really annoyed.
“This time next year you’ll be a star,” Mom promises, and the smile falls from my face. I put on my cap and gown to hide my expression.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, and we all pile into the autonomous car.
At school, we join the three hundred other kids who are here with their families. Mom straightens my gown, and Dad flicks off a caterpillar that has crawled onto my cap.
I hug Mom tighter than I have in years and then squeeze Dad. If my eyes are a little wet when I pull away, I tell myself it’s because the sun’s so bright.
I wave as I leave them to join my classmates, who are piling into the school auditorium. Inside it smells like floor polish and cleaning fluid, and the scarred old stage at the front of the room gleams. Once I’m seated, I scan the crowd for Addie, who promised to be here, but I can’t see her. She’s probably sitting with the mass of Throwback parents in the back rows of the auditorium.
The speeches start, but it’s hard to pay attention.
Ava is three rows ahead of me, and she turns around and gives me an excited wave. I mime putting a rope around my neck and being hung from boredom, and she giggles.
Something pings the back of my head, and I know it’s Fletch. I turn around as he throws another tiny paper airplane at the back of my head. I duck and give him the finger. My eyes catch on Justus, who is seated nearby. He’s staring at me, and for once, his expression isn’t hostile. I give him a smile, and he returns it. Maybe we could have been friends, if I wasn’t leaving in a few months.
Suddenly everyone throws their hats in the air, even though the principal specifically forbade us to do so. I shout and throw mine up with the rest, catching it neatly when it comes down.
Ava, Fletch, and I converge, laughing and hugging. I imagine how it would feel if my Status had been Confirmed as Evolved. Saying goodbye would be so much less final before we all went off to fulfill our dreams.
Ava’s mom and Fletch’s parents join us, and I decide to search for Addie. Most of the Throwbacks are crowded outside the school’s gates.
Bypassing the crowd, I decide to cut through one of the school buildings. It’s quiet inside, and the hallways have already been cleaned of old gum and plastic food wrappers. It’s sterile, more like the set of a vid than a real school.
Adding to the surreal atmosphere is the knowledge that all of my memories here as an Evolved teen are more privileged than I understood. That version of myself is gone. What will Throwback Joan, the real Joan, be like?
My mind is buzzing with possibilities, but they all vanish at the sound of Justus’s voice.
“You have to trust me on this, Brie,” he says, and I stop myself from turning the corner where he’ll see me. “You’ll be a freshman here this fall, and you can achieve so much if you try. This is a good school.”
“You sound like Mom,” Brie says, her voice too bitter for a kid her age. “What’s the point in trying so hard, wasting so much time on homework, when I’m going to grow up to be a Molly like Mom? She doesn’t need advanced calculus or American history to clean toilets.”
When Justus replies, his voice is low and clear, and I find myself holding my breath so I won’t miss a word. “You’re right, the Evolved can take a lot of choices from yo
u, and they will. They’ll take your choice of career, they’ll take your choice of where to live, and they can even take your choice to have children someday. But they can’t take your inner life. That’s yours to own. No one can dictate who you are inside your own head.”
It’s like he’s putting words to something that I could only feel until now.
Two bright blue eyes peek around the corner. I’m caught. Brie’s eyes widen when they meet mine.
“Who—” Justus begins, stopping when he rounds the corner and sees me.
I turn on my heel, hurrying down the hall toward the exit.
“Slow down,” Justus calls.
“Not now,” I reply without meeting his gaze.
He grabs my wrist, and I turn to face him, pulling my arm out of his grasp. His eyes travel down my body, taking in my dress. I blush, and he shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear his thoughts.
“There’s something I have to say,” he says, his voice low and intense.
“What?” I ask, but my voice has lost its edge.
“I wasn’t fair to you,” Justus says. “You are more than a show-off. Even when you thought you were Evolved, you always spoke up in class, fighting and debating whenever you thought something was unfair. And that’s what you were doing that night at the coffee shop when you helped Brie. I should have seen that.”
“I was living with my eyes closed then. They’re open now.”
Justus steps closer to me. “Sometimes I think I’ve got you figured out, and then you turn it all completely on its head. I don’t know which way is up when I’m around you.”
I’m caught off guard by his words, and even more by how glad I am that he’s thought about me, even if most of his thoughts were probably about what a bitch I am.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Justus says. “I won’t know where I’ll be training until I have my birthday at the end of the summer and get my lavaliere, but it might be somewhere near you.”
“No, this is goodbye,” I say.
He can’t be a part of my new life in Paris, as surely as if I had been confirmed as Evolved. I try to shake Justus off as I leave, but he follows me out of the building.
Addie is standing near the door, and her shining eyes meet mine.
“Do you know how proud of you I am, Curious Joan?”
I throw my arms around her. It’s hard to believe this might be one of the last times I can do that.
Addie pulls back so she can get a good look at me. “Have you decided? Will you go to Paris at the end of the summer and live free?”
“You’re running away,” Justus says, and my body tenses. “It must be nice to be rich enough to escape your Knockoff fate.”
“Don’t take that tone with her,” Addie says, stepping in front of me. “Wouldn’t you do the same thing if you could?”
Justus’s eyes drill into mine. “Never. You have a right to achieve your dreams here, in your country. And a responsibility to make things better for all Throwbacks, not just yourself.”
I think of the woman at the Throwback police station who couldn’t feed her son, and Addie cringing away from the cop when I was a kid, and Brie being threatened by Mr. G, and Officer Boer and his sneer, and . . .
“She has brighter plans for her future,” Addie says, her voice sterner than I’ve ever heard it.
She’s only voicing thoughts I’ve had myself, but hearing them out loud makes me cringe.
Justus keeps his fathomless eyes trained on mine. “Fine, run. It’s what I thought you’d do. It was stupid to hope you were better than that.”
Chapter 8
The rest of the week is filled with nonstop activity as I prepare to leave home for Seattle Secondary. Throwbacks aren’t given the summer off after they graduate, like Evolved students are entitled to before starting college.
I have a week to pack my entire life into a couple of suitcases and buy the required supplies for the Seattle Secondary Theater program. Mom is in heaven, purchasing my makeup kit, downloading the required reading, and updating my wardrobe—while I fight her all the way, since I know it’s out of our budget, and I’ll leave all this stuff behind in a few months when I board a plane to Paris.
My parents and Addie cry when the autonomous car from my new school comes to pick me up on Sunday evening. I’ll have one night to settle into a brand-new life before training begins.
“If you need anything, call me and I’ll bring it right over,” Mom says, her voice cracking a little.
“We love you,” Dad adds, his eyes briefly flickering to mine, like prolonged eye contact would be too painful.
At the sight of my parents standing side by side, hoping for some scraps of my affection, the hard ball of anger in my chest softens.
“Thanks.”
A slightly shabby car pulls into our driveway, and the door and trunk pop open. I give Addie one last hug and then lug my bags into the waiting car.
Inside, the nav screen next to my seat displays my route to a building in Capitol Hill. At least the school is in a decent part of Seattle, away from the filth of White Center. I confirm the destination, and the car silently slides out of the driveway. Mom and Dad wave until the car is out of view, but it’s Addie’s beloved face that holds my attention until we turn the corner and my old house and life are out of sight.
Several miles later, the car stops in front of a four-story concrete building in an architectural style that was probably popular around the time that the wheel was invented. The sides are pockmarked with deep gouges, and a spiderweb of cracks in the concrete makes the shaky structure look like it could be blown down with one good huff by the Big Bad Wolf.
With a deep breath, I get out of the car and sling my vintage leather backpack over my shoulder. There are two more heavy suitcases in the trunk that Mom packed for me.
As soon as I grab the bags and close the trunk, the car takes off, presumably to pick up the next student.
Inside, the lobby of the dorm is buzzing with energy. I’m not one of those girls who goes ape shit at celebrity sightings, but I’m a little starstruck as I recognize face after face. The students attending Seattle Secondary are not typical Throwbacks. Common clone types like Macs and Mollys are given jobs as housekeepers, janitors, and construction workers—tasks that the Evolved population think are beneath them.
But when it comes to entertainment, the Evolved like to be dazzled by the best entertainers and most fascinating figures from history that can possibly be cloned for their viewing pleasure.
Mozart and John Lennon clones have a heated debate in one corner, and a Tupac Shakur begs his mom to leave. A Bruce Lee goes red in the face as he struggles to drag his stuff over to the elevators.
A tablet is embedded in the far wall. It’s the one nod to modernity in a room filled with a couple of ancient couches, a broken vending machine, and some rickety wooden desks. The tablet asks for my fingerprint and retinal scan, and then displays my room assignment. After my identity is confirmed, my phone pings, displaying my class schedule.
The Bruce Lee is gone by the time I’m ready to take the elevator up to my room, but another girl with dark skin, neatly braided hair, and searching brown eyes evaluates me as we wait for the creaky elevator to return to the lobby.
“I’m Joan. Looks like you’re nearly as thrilled to be here as I am.”
She’s stony-faced as she reaches for the hand I’ve stuck out for her to shake. “I’m Harriet.”
I mentally scroll through any celebrities that she might resemble, but come up blank. It’s rude to ask someone their clone type if you’re Evolved, but is it okay since I’m also a Throwback? There should be a handbook on the etiquette that goes with my new Status.
The elevator dings, and we pull our stuff inside. Harriet carries only one ratty suitcase. When she sees me looking, she sticks her chin up defensively. She’s waiting for me to judge her or pity her.
“I think the Bruce Lee who was in here before us farted.”
Harri
et’s eyes meet mine.
“I wanted to say it, so you didn’t think it was me,” I continue, deadpan, and she smiles. Victory.
The elevator is moving up now, but it’s slow, the kind where you have to push a button instead of scanning your phone and having it take you automatically to your destination.
“Raised Evolved?” Harriet asks.
“That obvious?”
“Kinda. Your nails are too clean, and your stuff isn’t secondhand,” she says.
“I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m not a bitch, I promise,” I say, unsure why I want this girl to like me so much after having known her for two minutes.
“Maybe we can get lunch sometime,” Harriet says when we stop at her floor. “There’s a possibility that you have two brain cells to rub together, something that might be scarce in this place.”
She steps out of the elevator and gives me a nod before the doors close. I wish that I was getting off with her because I think Harriet would make a great roommate.
The elevator takes me up another two floors, and the doors groan open, revealing a dingy hallway. The concrete floor shows through in spots where the carpet has worn away, and the flickering overhead fluorescent lights are technology from another century. It’s the opposite of the sleek college campuses I toured when I thought I was Evolved. If I’d been Confirmed, I would never have known about the dilapidated, second-rate world that Throwbacks inhabit.
Halfway down the long hallway is an open door. Inside are a few showerheads with thin curtains between them. Is everyone on the entire floor supposed to share three showers and two toilets?
“What are we, animals? This place belongs in the Middle Ages.”
Someone laughs, startling me into dropping my bags. Inside the bathroom are two guys in frayed blue uniforms, on the floor by a leaky sink, surrounded by tools. They’re probably Macs hired as janitors or handymen. One is slumped against the wall with his eyes shut, but the other pushes the hair off his forehead and meets my gaze, still chuckling.