Joan the Made (Throwbacks Series Book 1)

by Kristen Pham

  At some point, I lose control of my bladder, but any reaction from my classmates is covered by the sound of my own moans. How is it possible to endure this much pain and survive?

  “Please, please, I’ll do anything. Stop,” I beg, my face covered in tears and snot.

  “You will obey my orders in the future and respect me and my authority over you. Swear it now, in front of everyone,” he demands.

  I wish there was at least a tiny part of me that considered putting up a fight, but that would be a lie. Any pride I had was shredded along with my back.

  “I swear,” I say. Speaking the words is like scraping out my insides and throwing them in the trash.

  “Louder!” he shouts, his face so close to mine that his spit flecks my cheeks.

  My heart’s about to beat out of my chest, terrified that he’ll strike me again.

  “I swear!” I say, desperation giving me the strength to shout the words.

  The metal wire snaps back into its case, and the headmaster returns the whip to the clip on his belt. An overwhelming gratitude to the universe that this horror is over at last makes my head swim.

  “Thank you,” I say before I pass out on the ground.

  I have the hazy sense that someone tall is carrying me into my dorm. I hear him barking orders and try to squirm away when I recognize the gold and brown eyes of the person holding me. Why would Nic help me? He lays me carefully on my bed, facedown, and cuts off the tattered remains of my shirt. Then he sprays my back with a disinfectant mist, and I scream as my back is lit on fire.

  “The worst is over,” he promises.

  My mouth won’t cooperate with me to form words, and I lose consciousness again.

  When I wake up, my head is fuzzy, and my back still burns.

  “Addie,” I whimper, only half-awake. “Make it better.”

  “Hush, hush, bow beneath your burden. Do not break,” a voice says softly.

  Do I know that voice? I turn my head and see that it’s Sparkle kneeling by my bed, gently sponging my back. Nic is gone, and I’m glad that she is the only witness to my weakness.

  “I think I need to go to the hospital,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from all the screaming.

  “I’m sorry, Joan. It doesn’t work that way,” she says. Her face is close to mine, and I see tears pooling in her eyes. “I knew you were naive, but I didn’t understand how completely sheltered you were from Throwback life until today. I should have protected you better.”

  “No one could have stopped him. He would have whipped you, too.”

  Remembering how I begged him to stop whipping me makes me sick. I hate him, but I hate myself, too. I should have been stronger.

  “I should have taken the time to explain what can happen when a Throwback breaks the rules,” she says. “You can’t go to a hospital or a doctor. Dr. Hunter is empowered under the law to punish you for your insubordination. You are forbidden to take painkillers. Nic sprayed your back with medicine to keep it from getting infected, and there’s some over-the-counter lotion you can use in a few days to minimize scarring, but that’s all.”

  “You have to call Addie for me. I need her.”

  Sparkle doesn’t ask questions. I give her Addie’s number so she can send her a message.

  I’m ashamed of the big, babyish tears that drench my pillow as I accept that I’ll be living with this pain for a while. Sparkle pushes my hair away from my eyes and bandages my back as I cry, occasionally wiping her own tears with the back of her hand.

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t like me.”

  “I do like you,” she says. I release a snort of disbelief, and she lets out a breath. “It’s obnoxious how you’re always showing off that you’re from money, raised by Evolved. That’s why everyone is always trying to cut you down.”

  I’m too weak to tell Sparkle that I never intentionally showed off my wealth. I’d grown up lower middle-class among the Evolved, but compared to my Throwback classmates, new clothes and a nice makeup kit make me seem rich.

  “Thank you for being here now,” I say, and Sparkle nods.

  “It’s what we do for each other in times like this. Someday, you’ll probably do the same thing for another unlucky Throwback.”

  After a while, she begins to sing. She has a high, sweet voice that perfectly captures the haunting melody of the song she chooses. Her voice soothes me enough that I slip into sleep.

  The next time my eyes open, Sparkle is gone. Instead, Addie is in the chair next to me, keeping watch. I’ll have to remember to thank Sparkle when she comes back for finding the one person I need the most.

  When Addie sees that I’m awake, she turns on a low light and shifts my pillows so I can sit up. Then she puts a tray in front of me with the dinner she always makes from scratch when I’m sick—chicken soup. Eating is a painful process, but it eases the cramping in my stomach.

  “Better?” Addie asks, speaking for the first time.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, reaching for her hand and holding it in my lap.

  Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, my baby. There is so much that I never wanted you to see, never wanted you to experience.”

  “How will I get through this, Addie?”

  I don’t just mean this whipping. How will I face the rest of my life as a Throwback in this horrible country?

  “Bow beneath your burden. Do not break,” Addie says. It sounds like a Throwback cliché that everyone says and no one believes.

  I press my fingers against my eyes, but my tears still leak out. Where is that badass biker girl attitude that I pride myself on? I’ve never been one to turn to mush under pressure.

  Addie’s eyes crinkle as she forces a smile for me. “Only a few more weeks of this life. Then you’ll live the life that you are meant for.”

  But though Headmaster Hunter beat the confidence out of me, he ignited something else. Everything has changed. I’ve changed.

  “Addie,” I say softly. “I can’t go. You know I can’t. I’m needed here.”

  Her whole body slumps, as if I’ve utterly defeated her. She knows me too well to try to change my mind.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, picking up her hand and holding it in mine.

  “I knew that this could happen,” Addie almost whispers. “I should have put you on a plane as soon as you graduated from high school.”

  “Maybe it’s conceited, to think that I could make a difference—” I begin, but Addie interrupts me with a shake of her head.

  “I know that you will have a greater impact here than you could anywhere else, even as the talented doctor I know you would become. But choosing this path will be hard, not for a little while, but for your entire life. There will be other nights like this, and new kinds of pain that you can’t imagine yet. And more than anything, I want you to be happy.”

  Her words make my heart pound, but not with fear. I’ve always wanted to be a part of something greater than myself. By joining Crew’s rebellion, my life will be filled with something more powerful than personal happiness—it will have meaning.

  Addie is watching me, and she gives me a wry smile. “I know that look.”

  “I’m going to make you proud, Addie,” I promise.

  “It would be impossible for you to do anything else.”

  Chapter 15

  It’s twenty-four hours before I can go to the bathroom without help. Even then, I am basically confined to my bed—at least my room. I’d be bored out of my mind if it weren’t for Sparkle and Harriet keeping me company in between their classes. On the second day, Mav comes by, but he won’t tell me how he found out where I live. He feeds me chocolate and makes me laugh by telling me tall tales about people he’s spied on in the Lab.

  Later, Harriet arrives, full of stories about class to distract me from my pain. But my mind is full of very different questions about my new purpose.

  “Why have Throwbacks put up with this life for so long?”

  “You say that like we hav
e a choice,” Harriet replies. “The Evolved outnumber us, and they make the laws. Any whiff of trying to change the status quo is punished. And after what you experienced at the headmaster’s hands, can you honestly see yourself marching in the streets for Throwback rights?”

  I turn her question over in my mind. Even the idea of encountering another whip makes me flinch, but someone will have to take big risks and fight to overthrow this evil system.

  Harriet continues. “I believe that before we die, we have the ability to bring a tsunami of change to this country, maybe within Crew’s rebellion. But for now, we have to hide our abilities and opinions.”

  “Not flaunt them, like I did. Basically, I asked to be punished.”

  “Don’t say that!” Harriet shouts, and she presses her lips in a hard line. “No one asks to be treated worse than an animal. I remember my first whipping. I accidentally used an Evolved drink dispenser at a public park. I was seven years old. Even though I was a kid, I knew what that police officer did was wrong, and that things had to change.”

  Harriet pulls down the collar of her shirt, and I see a thick pink scar where the laser whip marked her. The thought of someone cruel enough to beat a child for such an innocent error gives me chills.

  “You were so little, and you made a mistake. I’m an adult, and I should have thought about who else might be hurt besides me for mouthing off. I know Leo’s going to be in trouble for trying to protect me. And what if the headmaster guesses what Crew’s up to because of me? I’m an idiot.”

  Harriet’s voice returns to its normal volume. “I think this incident can work in your favor, actually.”

  “Please, tell me how. I need a good laugh.”

  “Play the humbled Knockoff stereotype. The headmaster will eat it up. Evolved like him love examples of Throwbacks realizing the error of their ways.”

  I nod slowly. “There might be things I could learn if I got closer to him.”

  “Exactly. And that’s how you’ll bring him down,” she says.

  Her quiet energy fills in the empty places inside me that were scooped out during my beating.

  “I think we’re going to be best friends.”

  Harriet nods, like our friendship is obvious. I don’t smile, but the fact that I want to means that I’ve lifted myself out of the pit I fell in when I begged the headmaster to stop hurting me.

  “Someday, I’m going to make sure he never holds a position of power again,” I promise myself, as much as Harriet.

  Harriet gives me a wide smile of approval. “I like you much better like this. There may be times in the future when you have to fake groveling before the Evolved, but I never want to see you do it for real again.”

  And I never will, for anyone.

  By the third day, I’ve begun to feel like a caged animal. I’m escaping my prison, even if the pain in my back is still excruciating.

  It’s late, but there’s another hour before curfew, so I decide to visit Crew’s classroom to grill him on exactly what his plan is for advancing Throwback rights. I’ve made up my mind to devote my life to fighting for change, and I’m determined to start now.

  The walk through the Lab to the underground entrance of the Little Theater is painful. The wounds on my back rip open in a couple of places, and it’s all I can do to bite back a moan by the time I reach the darkened theater.

  At first, the theater appears to be empty, but I hear a distant noise coming from the hidden library. Is Crew holding another secret meeting about world domination?

  Creeping down the hall without Mav to guide me is a mistake. A clothes rack appears out of nowhere, tripping me. Whoever is in the library has heard me for sure. But the wounds on my back make it too hard to run, and I’m done hiding.

  It isn’t Crew or Nic or any of the other kids in my class who stares at me when I reach the library.

  “What are you doing here?” Justus asks as I limp closer.

  “Looking for Crew.”

  “He has dinner with the headmaster tonight, so he won’t be back,” Justus says. “He asked me to come by and replace a few of the light bulbs, but I didn’t know how ancient they were. I’ll have to special order them.”

  Justus is babbling a little, like I make him nervous.

  The thought makes me smile in spite of the pain in my back. “Whatever happened to Jeff? Did you make him pay for what he did to Brie?”

  Justus’s voice is harder than I’ve ever heard it when he replies. “I beat him hard enough that he’ll remember it when he’s on his deathbed.”

  “Good. Are you hiding from the police now?”

  Justus holds up his wrist, which has a fake lavaliere inked on it. “Technically I’m under age, and kids get into brawls all the time. But it’s going to be harder to protect her—protect all of my family—when my Throwback Status is official at the end of the summer. Any Evolved asshole like Jeff could have me in jail for life, or retired, for fighting back.”

  “It’s all so unfair. It makes me sick.”

  Justus swallows. “What scares me most is that one day, it won’t be bruises on Brie’s cheek and stolen lunch money that she faces. It’ll be something much worse, and there will be no way to fight back.”

  I shudder at his words, imagining Brie at the hands of someone like the headmaster.

  “Are you okay?” Justus asks, his head tilted as he examines me. “You’re walking funny, and you wince whenever you move your arms above your waist, so I can guess what happened. Was it your first whipping?”

  I nod.

  “Probably the first of many, knowing you,” he teases.

  “Right,” I reply, not yet able to find the humor in what happened to me.

  “How many lashes? The full three?”

  I shake my head.

  “More?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

  “Let’s not get into it.”

  “Tell me,” he demands.

  The shame of that day creeps up my spine. “I lost count.”

  Justus grabs my hand, and his touch is a paradox, simultaneously exciting and relaxing me. When I meet his eyes, he’s still frowning, but I can tell that his anger is directed elsewhere this time.

  “Three lashes is the legal limit,” Justus explains. “Any more is considered undue force.”

  “In that case, I’ll report the headmaster to the police. I’m sure they’ll have him locked up in no time,” I reply, summoning my sarcasm to hide how vulnerable I feel whenever I think about my whipping.

  “I hate that this happened to you,” Justus says, his voice low.

  He’s still holding my hand in his large, rough one. My heart speeds up from the physical contact until I see a bunch of physical books open on the table behind him. Next to them is Justus’s phone.

  “What did you say you were doing here?” I ask him, suspicion snuffing out the warmth growing between us. “Were you taking pictures of Crew’s private stuff?”

  “Joan . . .” Justus’s voice changes as he follows my gaze.

  “You’re spying on him.”

  “Yes, but for a good reason.”

  “Explain.”

  Justus’s words come out in a rush. “My dad has organized most of the Throwback protests in Seattle for the past decade. He’s lobbying the state legislature to change the laws.”

  “Okay,” I reply, wondering where this is going and vaguely surprised to learn this tidbit about Justus’s father.

  “His movement has stalled. We need new blood, new ideas. So when we heard about an underground group planning a rebellion, we were interested. Dad got me a job here so I can see if we might find new allies.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to Crew in that case?”

  “I did. He laughed at my offer.”

  “So now you’re stealing his plans.”

  Justus shakes his head. “No, we wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. Crew can’t be trusted. I could see from the micro expressions on his face that he was lying to me about the goals of his rebellio
n. I think he’s willing to break laws to achieve his aims.”

  “What proof do you have?”

  “That’s what I’m looking for now.”

  “Even if you’re right, maybe a willingness to work outside the law is exactly what Throwbacks need to do to advance our cause.”

  “Our cause?”

  “I’m not running away from this fight.”

  “Finally.” Justus gives me a smile that lights up his whole face. “Welcome to the good fight.”

  Chapter 16

  “Joan, please be careful and keep your head down,” Sparkle begs. She has to help me put on my shirt because my back is so stiff that I can’t raise my arms above my head.

  I nod, practicing the beaten-down act that I plan to wear in public so that I don’t draw the headmaster’s attention again. If I’m honest, it’s not only to get in his good graces so I can figure out how to bring him down. It’s also because I’m terrified of another encounter with that whip.

  I skip Costumes and Makeup and begin my day after lunch in Remedial Acting. Everyone watches me as I slink into the seat next to Harriet, who gives my hand a brief, warm squeeze.

  “Today we will discuss Stanislavski’s approach to acting and try some beginner’s techniques to get in touch with sorrow,” Crew says from the stage.

  Huh? Where’s my copy of The Art of War?

  “This bullshit is thanks to you,” Elizabeth, who is sitting behind me, hisses. “The headmaster will be keeping a close eye on you, which means three hours of this idiocy in case he comes into the classroom to observe today.”

  “Your breath reeks,” I reply, hoping to throw her off-balance.

  Next to me, Harriet stifles a laugh.

  “I will have your attention or your absence,” Crew says sternly, cutting off any more banter with Elizabeth.

  Crew launches into his lecture, and I find myself being drawn into his discussion on characters’ motivations in spite of myself. I realize that even though his lesson would appear completely innocent to an Evolved observer, everything he is saying can also be applied to human nature. The psychology of what makes people tick is fascinating.