Joan the Made (Throwbacks Series Book 1)

by Kristen Pham

  My head spins from all of the new information.

  “I don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified by all of this,” Harriet says to me after we’ve left the Chrysalis and are making our way through the tunnels of the Lab.

  “Why terrified?”

  “Because if we have this kind of technology, think of what Strand is developing in their top-secret labs, with dozens of Einsteins instead of one, and billions of dollars instead of millions.”

  “We’ll have to hope that their Einsteins aren’t as driven to help Strand take over the world as our little team is to stop them.”

  Harriet nods. “I hope you’re right. I have to believe our time has come.”

  I look at the scar on her collarbone from her first whipping. “I know it has.”

  Chapter 31

  Pounding on my door snaps me out of sleep. I leap up at the same time Sparkle does.

  “Another raid? So soon?” I ask, rubbing my eyes as Sparkle reaches for the door.

  But it isn’t Officer Boer bursting into our room. It’s a smaller but no less formidable force of nature.

  “Alison, what the hell?” Sparkle asks.

  Alison ignores her. Instead, she walks up to me and smacks me across the face, hard. My head snaps to the side, and I emit a decidedly girly squeak that only escapes out of sheer surprise in the moment.

  “Why did the police just drag Harriet out of our room in the middle of the night, saying they had a warrant for her arrest?” Alison shouts. “You did something. I know it! Harriet always keeps a low profile. Is she covering for another one of your stupid mistakes?”

  It has to be Lexi White, punishing Harriet for taking pictures of her inside the club. My phone is in hand, and I’m halfway out the door when Alison yanks me backward so hard that I stumble into my bed.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To get her out of jail, you idiot! I’ll post her bail.”

  Sparkle and Alison stare at me.

  “She’s that dumb? Really?” Alison asks Sparkle.

  Sparkle releases a sigh. “Yes, she is.”

  “They’ll imprison you, too,” Alison says, speaking slowly as if she’s talking to a child.

  Her words barely register as I frantically search on my phone for the nearest police station where Harriet might have been taken.

  “That won’t stop her,” Sparkle says to Alison. She takes the phone from my hands so I’m forced to look up at her. “If you go to the station, you’ll only make things worse for Harriet.”

  Now she has my attention.

  “I don’t know what the two of you did, but if the police think that Harriet has coconspirators in her crime, they’ll try you both for treason.”

  Even I know the punishment for Throwbacks found guilty of treason. Retirement.

  “Something must be done. I’ll tell a teacher or the headmaster—”

  “Our teachers are all Throwbacks,” Alison interrupts. “And the headmaster will dismiss her from this program, guilty or not. What’s it going to take for you to see that your bad behavior only leads to pain?”

  Alison’s face twists. She’s terrified of what might happen to Harriet. My tone softens at the sight of tears filling her eyes.

  “I’ll find someone Evolved to set things right,” I promise her.

  “How?” she chokes out.

  “Your parents are Evolved,” Sparkle suggests, pulling Alison closer so she can rest her head on Sparkle’s shoulder.

  “Then help her,” Alison says, her body slumping now that she isn’t charged with anger. “Harriet never makes a mess, lets me play my music as loud as I want, and she doesn’t borrow my clothes. Plus . . . she makes me laugh. No one’s done that for me in a long time.”

  “I’ll fix this.”

  Part of my brain is freaking out that my best friend is in a Throwback prison cell, but I shove those useless thoughts down. I have to act, not panic. I leave Alison crying in Sparkle’s arms as I go outside and send a message to my mom to meet me at a coffee shop outside of the Throwback jail.

  I take the bus so that my bike doesn’t attract too much attention, but even with all the stops, I beat Mom there. The coffee shop is open, and I send messages to Mason and Justus as I wait for my coffee.

  My mom comes in the door just as I take my first sip, scalding my tongue. Immediately, I jump up and hug her. Mom grips me back fiercely.

  “You came.”

  She pats my back twice before pulling back. “Always.”

  I’m not too choked up to notice that Mom is well dressed, and her hair and makeup are perfect, considering it’s three in the morning.

  “I need to make the right impression,” Mom explains when she sees me examining her. “Your dad is calling up our lawyer to see if he can talk to the police about your friend’s case.”

  A tear escapes my eye, and Mom brushes it away.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m . . . I’m glad you came to me,” Mom replies, her voice trembling a little. “This is how it’s supposed to be, the parents taking care of their child. I’m sorry it was the other way around for so long.”

  “You’re here now. What do I do, Mom? It’s my fault that she’s there. She took some pictures inside an Evolved club for me for a—uh—class project. We didn’t know it was illegal.”

  Mom’s posture straightens. “Your dad and I will sort this out. It’s a misunderstanding, and when the police understand that Harriet has Evolved friends, they’ll release her immediately.”

  I nod, unable to speak without more tears spilling.

  Mom gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “But your classes—”

  “Can wait.”

  Mom nods, not arguing for once. She makes her way out of the coffee shop, across the street to the station. She doesn’t wring her hands once. The strange twisting of my heart isn’t only from fear for Harriet’s well-being. It’s something else, too. Something that I’ve never felt for my parents before. Gratitude.

  Mason charges through the door, his face hard and angry, with Justus jogging behind him to keep up.

  “How could you?” Mason shouts at me, and the owner of the coffee shop narrows her eyes at us.

  Justus pulls Mason back outside, with me in tow.

  “It was a mistake, man. It’s not Joan’s fault,” Justus says.

  “Shut up! You’re on my shit list, too!” Mason turns to me. “But you! I’ve known Harriet and Justus for most of my life, and they’ve never been troublemakers. But a few weeks in your company, and Harriet’s in jail, and Justus is lying to his dad.”

  Justus’s eyes cut down when I glance at him.

  “I’m sorry, Mason. You’re right to be mad at me.”

  Mason deflates, and his eyes go glassy. “Neither of you has ever been inside juvie. It’s a hellhole. There’s never enough food, and the kids inside are cutthroat. Lots of kids never come out. And Harriet’s not in juvie now that she’s eighteen. I can’t imagine how much worse it is locked up with grown adults. And . . . she hates to be locked up. She needs her own space.”

  “I’ll bring her back, Mase. I swear.”

  Justus’s fingers intertwine with mine, and the warmth of his hand contrasts my icy cold one. He gently squeezes my fingers.

  I rest my forehead on his shoulder. “I wish there was someone I could punch.”

  “Let’s go back inside,” Justus says, gently tugging me toward the door.

  Mason follows, and we crowd around a little table, drinking cup after cup of coffee. Three hours goes by, and Mom doesn’t emerge from the station or call my phone. Dad doesn’t respond to my texts, either.

  Whether it’s all the caffeine or nerves, my heart speeds up so fast that it’s hard to breathe. Next to me, Mason has his head buried in his hands.

  My fault.

  The edges of my vision get dark. I make a noise, and Justus kneels in front of me. H
e tilts my chin up so my eyes meet his. Even now, in my panic, I notice the beauty in the marbled pattern of his eyes.

  Justus rests his hands on my knees. “Deep breaths, Joan.”

  I follow his lead as we breathe together, and my vision returns. At first, I think it’s wishful thinking when three figures emerge from the police station. But as they cross the street, I recognize Mom, Dad, and Harriet.

  Harriet walks stiffly.

  “They whipped her,” Mason says, his eyes glued to Harriet.

  As soon as he says that, I know he’s right. I walked the same way after the headmaster’s lashings, trying to minimize movement.

  Mason and I lunge for the door, but Mason beats me to Harriet’s side. He presses his forehead to hers.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” he chants over and over, like it’s a magic spell.

  “I’m okay,” Harriet finally whispers, and Mason visibly relaxes.

  She pulls back and meets my eyes. “Thank you, Joan.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Harriet.”

  “I’m taking her home tonight. Her real home. I’ll take care of her,” Mason says, his fierce tone not allowing any disagreement.

  “I’ll send medicine,” Justus says.

  “Mr. Fasces—” Harriet begins.

  “Blaise,” my dad gently corrects.

  “Blaise brought me a painkiller and antibiotics.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mason says, and shakes Dad’s hand.

  Dad’s eyebrows briefly rise. “Take good care of her, young man.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Harriet passes by me and briefly squeezes my hand. At her touch, the tears that have been hovering behind my eyelids begin to fall. Mason and Justus gently support Harriet as they lead her back to the Lab.

  I bury my head in Dad’s shoulder, and Mom strokes my back.

  “She’d received the full three lashes by the time we talked to the chief of police,” Dad says. “We found her hungry, dirty, and tired, but she was released without a formal write-up on her permanent record.”

  “You guys did it. You saved her. Thank you.”

  Mom’s face is pale and drawn. “I don’t know if we would have succeeded in getting her a fair trial, never mind getting her out, if Lexi White, Strand’s CEO, hadn’t called the chief.”

  My body goes still. “What are you talking about?”

  “We don’t know what she said to the chief,” Dad says, “but she told your mother and me that Harriet would be released—if we passed you a message.”

  Mom’s hands tremble as they cup my face. “Harriet’s punishment was a warning. She has eyes everywhere, and they are trained on you. If either you or Harriet steps out of line again, the result won’t be incarceration.”

  “Retirement,” I say, so Mom doesn’t have to.

  She nods. “But not for you. For Harriet.”

  My breathing stops for several seconds, and it’s an effort to bring air back into my lungs. Lexi White knows that all it takes to get to me is to hurt the ones I love. And now she knows exactly who they are. I’m under her thumb, at her mercy.

  Chapter 32

  Harriet refuses to discuss her time in jail, but she recovers her usual stoicism quickly. She even returns to the dorm after two nights back in the Lab with her friends.

  Harriet joins me the next morning on the walk over to the Little Theater.

  “What’s the plan to get evidence against the headmaster after our last plan failed?” she asks.

  I’m quiet for too long, and Harriet purses her lips in annoyance. “We’re not giving up on our mission because of last week’s setback.”

  “Setback? You were in jail! You were beaten! You could have died!”

  “Fear is not my master,” Harriet says. “Don’t let it be yours.”

  “If it was just my life, that would be one thing. But Lexi White has proven that she’ll go after you or maybe my parents or our friends. I can’t risk that.”

  “You can make choices for yourself, but do not make them for others. They will not thank you for it.”

  Harriet’s words are true. It would infuriate me if Harriet or Justus tried to keep me safe, when I yearn to make a difference.

  “If Lexi’s this upset about those pictures, we must be close to something important,” I admit.

  Harriet smiles. “We think alike.”

  “If we’re going to do this, we have to be smart about it. We follow the headmaster only and stay far away from Lexi.”

  “Agreed. Let’s take shifts following him and see where he leads us.”

  “I’ll take the first shift.”

  Harriet gives me a brief, small smile. “Of course you will.”

  Staking out the headmaster’s office is excruciatingly boring. Instead of clandestine meetings with actresses he’s planning to pimp out, he stays in his office with the blinds shut. I could be watching his window while he jerks off inside, for all I know.

  The headmaster yanks up his blinds and stares out the window. The tree beside me wreathes me in shadows, but my heart thumps hard in my chest anyway. What if he can see me? I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to see in the dark, like a blood-sucking vampire bat. He turns away from the window, and the lights in his office go off.

  A short time later, he leaves the Little Theater, striding into the darkness with purpose. Tailing him is easy. Like most Evolved, he assumes that no one would ever question where he goes, and any threat can be handled by a call to the Evolved police.

  He opens the door of one of the autonomous cars in the lot, and I scurry to my motorcycle, hoping he won’t disappear too quickly. For once, luck is on my side, and I switch the bike to its manual settings. At the last minute, I pull my helmet on as a quick disguise, in case the headmaster spots me.

  The headmaster’s car is swift and silent, merging onto the traffic grid with a smoothness that only comes when a vehicle is on its autonomous controls. There is a lot of traffic on the road, considering curfew is only an hour or so away, but my bike zips between cars and buses with ease.

  When the headmaster’s car stops in front of the Evolved police station, my stomach drops into my shoes. Did he notice he was followed? Is he here to provide evidence against Harriet?

  My mind is still processing the possibilities when I notice a small group of Throwbacks carrying digital signs to protest some recently publicized abuses by the Evolved police against Throwback citizens. The turnout is less than impressive.

  The headmaster doesn’t go inside the station. Instead, he weaves through the crowd, shouting something. Easing my bike closer to the group, I can make out the chants of the Throwbacks and the angry voice of the headmaster.

  “Justus Macson! Step out!”

  My heart accelerates in my chest. First Harriet, now Justus. I won’t let the headmaster take him away, too. After illegally parking my bike in a fire lane, I dive into the crowd, following the sound of the headmaster’s shouting.

  “Here, sir.” Justus’s clear voice rises above the sounds of the street and the chanting.

  The headmaster’s face is red, and he clenches his jaw tightly. “You will leave this public display of indecency at once. No one in my employ is permitted to participate in such vulgarity.”

  The headmaster shoves Justus away from the crowd, probably expecting that Justus will follow like a docile sheep. But Justus yanks his arm back, and the headmaster stumbles.

  “No. I quit,” Justus spits. “Get out of my way.”

  “You will never work again, young man,” the headmaster says, a little of his tight control slipping.

  “I don’t think he’s used to hearing the word ‘no,’” a redheaded woman stage-whispers to the Mac next to her.

  “Who said that?” the headmaster roars, but the Throwback crowd is silent.

  His gaze lands on an old woman who is so wrinkled that it’s impossible to tell what her clone type once was. The headmaster pulls her to his side.

  �
��If no one speaks up, I will take her into the station, and she can pay for your insubordination.”

  “That’s enough,” Justus says loudly, gently disengaging the woman’s wrist from the headmaster’s grip. “If you have to take someone in, take me.”

  The headmaster nods, a little of the tension easing from his face. “I accept that bargain.”

  He moves to grab Justus again, but Justus evades his grip. “I said I would come. I honor my word.”

  As the headmaster and Justus make their way toward the entrance to the police station, I launch myself through the crowd. I shove the headmaster as hard as I can, and he falls. The stumble seems absurdly awkward in comparison with his usual precise movements.

  His head whips around to face me, but I’m wearing my helmet, and my dark hair is tucked up inside of it.

  “If you touch him, I will beat you bloody,” I shout, my entire body shaking with rage. “I might just do that anyway.”

  An older man, who appears to be an aging Mac clone type, pulls me back. “This is a peaceful rally. You need to leave.”

  “You’re a bunch of cowards! Stop acting like sheep, or the Evolved wolves will pick you off one by one. This piece of shit only has as much power as you allow him. Fight back! Refuse to go in! He can’t stand against all of you.”

  Justus’s eyes narrow. He knows it’s me, and I know that he’ll never leave this madness willingly. He’ll be the martyr for this bunch of losers, and for what?

  My fist flies through the air and lands square on Justus’s brow, knocking him backward.

  Damn it! I release a grunt of pain. Did I crack a knuckle? If my fingers feel this bad, how does Justus’s face feel?

  There’s no time for sentiment now. That can come later.

  Instead, I haul a stunned Justus over my shoulder, but he’s too heavy to carry. My moment of heroism is going to land us all in jail for a very, very long time.

  But before the headmaster can snatch us both, the Throwback crowd that I just insulted closes in around us. We’re absorbed into the group and pushed backward toward the street.

  “Run,” whispers the aging Mac.