by Julia Karr
“I’m shopping for a party dress.” I wished I’d worn my new sweater. Even if I didn’t have enough credits to look at anything full priced, I was not going to let this jerk of a salesgirl make me feel like, well, like what those girls had called me—a sludge.
She arched a brow. “Evening gowns are on the second floor. Elport is there and elsteir over there.” Giving me one last derisive look, she stalked off to pounce on a more worthy customer.
Convinced that she was still watching me, I took the elsteir up, and then, without so much at a glance at clothes I’d never be able to afford, I took the elport to the basement. A knot of high school girls were picking over the dress remains, pulling them off the rack and making fun of either the quality or how “ridiculously expired” they were. When I glanced at the sale tag on one that didn’t look too terribly dated, I nearly passed out.
I slunk out of the store, defeated.
XXX
“You can’t wear that, Nina.” Dee dropped onto my bed. “Isn’t there something just a little more ultra in Mom’s clothes?”
I shut the closet door. “The only thing close to ultra is older than me—too old to be chic and too new to be vintage. I won’t go.”
“You have to go to this party. You told me you promised your boss.” When I’d gotten home from shopping, I told Dee my plans for New Year’s.
“I did. But I’ll have to tell him I don’t have anything to wear. And . . . I’m not taking any credits from him to buy a dress. It wouldn’t be right.”
“What wouldn’t be right?” Wei walked into the room.
I told her about not being able to find a dress I could afford at Mars 9. “So I’ll just not go.” I shrugged. I didn’t really mind missing the party. I did, however, hate to disappoint Martin and Percy.
“Oh, yes, you will. Come on.” She latched onto my arm. “You, too.” She hauled Dee off the bed and dragged both of us up to her room.
Sitting on Wei’s bed, I said, “I can’t fit into your clothes. We’re not built the same.”
She twisted her mouth over to one side as she studied me. “Wait right here.”
A few minutes later she returned, her arms full of dresses.
Dee’s mouth fell open. “Those are beautiful!”
“They’re Mom’s.” She laid the clothes on the bed. “Borrow anything that fits. And get this . . . Mom’s offered to fix your hair. I’m telling you. You’re getting the ultra-ultra Jenkins treatment. She is a galactic genius when it comes to styling. You will look light-years beyond ultrachic.”
“Like Cinderella—the one with the fairy-tale ending,” I said.
After trying on every single dress, I decided on a red silk Asian-inspired gown embroidered with a crane and lotus flowers.
“That’s Mandarin style,” Wei said. “Very traditional. Fits you perfectly, and it matches your tattoo.”
Twisting my wrist back and forth in front of the dress, I studied the reflection in the mirror. “Almost like it was made for me.”
“Wait till Mom’s done with the hair and makeup. You’ll be more ultrachic than Paulette. And that’s not easy to do.”
Mrs. Jenkins tapped at the door. “May I come in?”
“Look at Nina,” Dee said. “She’s beautiful!”
“Yes, she is.” Mrs. Jenkins ran her fingers through my hair. “I think a few twists, like so . . .” She deftly coiled a lock atop my head.
“Here.” Wei handed her mom a couple of two-pronged lacquered sticks.
Mrs. Jenkins secured the twist with the sticks. Then she feathered out a few strands on either side of my face and arranged my bangs. “There.” She stepped aside so I could see my reflection. “What do you think?”
“I love it!” I turned my head to different angles. “But it doesn’t look like me.”
“Yes, it does. It’s you in this dress and these ornaments. There are many different ways to look and to be. The essential Nina is still inside. It’s only when we allow the outer trappings to dictate our inner feelings that we lose sight of ourselves.”
“Nothing from Mars 9 would look that good,” Dee said. “You’re an original.”
I studied myself in the mirror. Original. A smile nudged the corners of my mouth. Even ultrachic wasn’t original.
“I’m going up to my greenhouse to water and prune the herbs,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “Would you like to help me, Dee?”
The door closed behind them, and Wei said, “Your sister is so great. Between Chris’s cooking lessons and my mom’s herbals, she’ll know how to do all those things that I’m afraid I’ve disappointed my mother by not wanting to learn.”
“Dee loves to do things with her hands,” I said. “I have to figure out something she can do to get her Creative designation. She doesn’t like to draw.”
“Cooking,” Wei said. “She’s a natural chef. And with Chris’s tutoring, she’d pass with flying colors!”
“You are brilliant. Now help me out of this dress. I have to tell you what I found out today. The Sisterhood is going to have to move. Fast.”
Wei removed the hair sticks while I shimmied out of the dress and into my regular clothes.
“Joan is in danger. You heard that Alert about the GC looking for girls who got away from the fake FeLS training? Well, I overheard a couple of women in the group of homeless that Joan hangs with. One of them wants to turn Joan in for the reward.”
“Skivs!” Wei scooted the pile of dresses aside, and we sat on her bed. “I guess I shouldn’t ask what you were doing that put you in a position to hear these women.”
“I’ve been taking them food. Joan’s cold and hungry all the time. Svette, who lords all over them, took the scarf I gave her. I don’t like Svette.”
Wei gnawed on her lip. “Okay, let’s call everyone. We need to take matters into our own hands.”
In a few minutes all the girls were projected on Wei’s wall. I caught them up on what I’d heard.
“The first thing is to get Joan away from those women,” Brie said. “Do we have any safe houses in town where she can go for a night or two? My uncle can usually help, but if we involve him, the guys will take over the whole scheme.”
“That won’t do,” I said. “She’s terrified of men. She barely allows women to help. The only man I know she tolerates near her is the doctor who’s been helping her. If a strange guy came up to her, it might push her over the edge. She’s come too far for that to happen.”
“I overheard my dad talking to one of his friends after that Alert,” Dorrie said. “He said maybe it’s best for some of them to be treated. At least they won’t remember the horrors that happened to them.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “Joan’s had some help from that doctor—he gives her meds and basic care on the sly. She’s so much better than when I first saw her. It’s not right to wipe away all of a person’s past, even if some of it is bad. The GC’s doing this only so that no FeLS girl will be able to identify her abusers.”
“I’m not afraid of a fight.” Brie rubbed her chin. “It’s just that, well, we’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I say we figure something out,” Paulette said. “We can do it.”
Paulette supporting me? I kept my expression as bland as possible, to hide my shock.
“It wouldn’t be much of a sisterhood if we didn’t stick together.” Mag nodded. “I’m in.”
“All right,” Brie said. “It’s going to take a day or so to find somewhere to put her until we figure out how to get her out of town.”
“Why out of town?” I asked.
“She won’t be safe here,” Wei said. “Not with that group of homeless knowing about her, and not with so many B.O.S.S. agents around. Out of the country would be even better. I wonder . . . Let me ask my mother about our relatives in Japan.”
“She’ll tell your father. We’ll be stopped,” I said.
“Trust me. She won’t tell Dad.”
“How would we ever get her to Japan?�
� Mag asked.
“Someone will have to go with her,” I said. “She’s not capable of making it on her own. Even though she’s getting better under this doctor’s care, she’s still really fragile.”
Everyone looked at Wei. “I guess it will have to be me,” she said. “Oh well, I haven’t seen those relatives . . . yeah, ever. I’m sure they won’t mind me popping in for a surprise visit.” She pursed her lips. “You know, it will be good research for Sociology. I’ll set it up as a school project. Dad can’t object to that.”
“I think I know how we can do it, too,” Brie said. “Uncle Alfonse has a veljet he’s been tinkering with for a couple of years. It’s robo-controlled, and if Mag can map out a flight plan, Dorrie can program the controls. Right?”
“Uh-huh,” Dorrie said. “As long as I have the coordinates.”
I was already envisioning Joan on her way to freedom. “Can your uncle fly them there?”
“He’s on the Dark Side for the next month,” Brie said.
“A month! We can’t wait that long. It could be too late.”
“Besides, the veljet holds only two people,” she said.
“It won’t need a pilot,” Dorrie said. “The preprogrammed coordinates and robo-pilot will take care of that. The only thing we’ll need is to get Joan to it, or it to Joan. I’m guessing it will be easier to get her to the hangar. It’s at Sal’s aunt Rita’s place.”
“I knew we could do this.” I was pumped.
“Won’t work.” Wei was shaking her head. “There’s too much security. We’ll be spotted the minute we set foot on Rita’s property.”
“Well, then . . .” Dorrie said. “We need to bring the veljet to her.”
“Right.” Mag stared pointedly at Dorrie. “Where are you gonna park a veljet in Chicago without the authorities being all over it in light speed?”
“Much as I’d love to know the answer to that,” Paulette said, “call me when you have it figured out. I’ve got to go help my mother with this party.” She clicked off.
“I’ve got to go, too,” Brie said. “Don’t worry, Nina. We’ll figure it out. Your friend deserves to be safe.” She clicked off.
“Sorry, Nina. But I know we’ll think of something.” Mag’s image disappeared.
Dorrie just said, “Bye.”
Wei and I stared at the blank wall for several seconds. Then she said, “I’m going to talk to Mom about Japan. And don’t worry. She won’t tell Dad. She doesn’t agree with him about keeping girls out of the fray. Your mother and mine were taking on the government as far back as when they were passing notes written in invisible ink in grade school. She understands.”
Half an hour later, Mag sent a message to the rest of us: “Brie, Dorrie, and I were talking. We came up with an idea.”
XXXI
I was busy cataloging a shipment of early twenty-second-century performance-art chips when Martin joined me. “Are you all ready for New Year’s Eve? Have you found a dress? Percy has been pestering me mercilessly, don’t you know? He’s so excited about your being there.”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t want to tell him how uncomfortable I felt about spending the evening in the same space as Paulette. And I also didn’t want to disappoint Percy and him. Besides, there was all the trouble that Mrs. Jenkins was going to to make me presentable.
“I know it can be a little overwhelming, your first top-tier event, but with you working at the Institute, I promise it won’t be your last.”
I smiled, a whole lot more enthusiastically than I felt.
“Don’t stay too late. Sleep in tomorrow morning and nap in the afternoon. Well rested is the best makeup. Oh, by the way, we’re sending a stretch trannie for you. I promised Mrs. Gold I’d come early to bless the decorations. And”—he leaned forward, conspiratorially—“to rearrange them if need be. She is, after all, from New York, where people still labor under the illusion that they live in the center of all things fashionable.” He rolled his eyes and sniff-snorted before straightening up. “I sound like such a snobbitch. I’m not, really. And I do like Mrs. Gold, she’s––” He was interrupted by an insistent beep from his chronos. “Oh, dear. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late. Remember, home early, lots of sleep.” He patted my cheek. “I know you’ll be the belle of the ball.”
As soon as he was gone, I took my receiver out of my bag and uploaded a message from Dorrie. Transferring the digi to a piece of paper, I had in front of me a map of all the hidden passages in the Art Institute. Turning on my PAV’s GPS recorder, I stepped through one of the doors and into the corridors behind the exhibit halls.
Having no idea who, besides Martin and myself, used the passageways, I left my LED off and navigated by the dimly lit wall sconces that flanked the doors to each exhibit space. In between those I was on my own.
I was recording the route, making excellent time, when one of the doors in front of me swung open. Plastering myself against the wall, I sucked in my breath, possible excuses for my presence racing through my brain.
“Can’t you read?” a man’s voice asked. “Employees only.”
“Sorry, I was looking for the men’s room,” another voice said.
“I’ll have to run a scan on you first. Security procedure when a door is breached. If you’ll just stand over—” Something banged up against the wall, and I heard a shout. “Stop that man!
That was the last thing I heard before the door slammed shut. My heart was still racing and my knees trembled, but I eventually got myself together and pressed on. With no further scares, it took me maybe an additional two minutes to get to the roof. I knew the door code from the list Martin had given me. All the codes needed to be memorized in case of fire or other disaster. I held my breath as I keyed it in. Success. I walked out onto the roof. A few yards in front of me was a helipad, more than big enough to land a tiny veljet.
Back inside, I locked the door and retraced my steps via the recorded route. It took three minutes and fifteen seconds to get from the roof to the storeroom. I stepped into the office foyer and quickly sent the route information to Dorrie, then erased it from my receiver. The last thing I needed was to be stopped on the way out and have my PAV checked. Security occasionally ran random searches on employees, and after that incident with the guy earlier, I wasn’t taking any chances.
***
When I got home, the house smelled like cookies. Following my nose into the kitchen, Dee and Chris were busy whipping up a batch of something delicious.
“Macaroons,” Dee said. “You want one?”
“Sure!” I reached for the baking sheet.
“Be careful,” Dee said. “I just now took them out of the cook center.”
“The ones on the back row are cooled,” Chris said.
I selected one that was exactly the right side of warm. “Yum!”
“Chris knows everything about cooking.” Dee gazed up at him.
“I know just enough.” He tousled her hair. “You’re a good student. Listen, I’d better get upstairs. I promised Mom I’d cook dinner tonight.” From the doorway, he turned and said, “Don’t forget, Dee. We’ve got a date tomorrow night. Dinner and vids—your choice. See ya.”
“Date? I thought you were going to Maddie’s?” I snuck another macaroon.
“I was, but she’s sick. Her mom thought it would be better if I didn’t come over. I might catch what she’s got. Anyway, Chris is staying home and wondered if I wanted to watch movies with him. It’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course.” Staying home with Dee would’ve been a perfect excuse for me to get out of going to the party. Gah. I was still thinking of backing out. I had to stop that. The wheels were in motion, and I couldn’t get off the express if I wanted to.
Tomorrow night. I wrapped my arms around myself. The only thing keeping me from being absolutely abysmal was knowing that Mrs. Jenkins would make me look good. Small consolation. I trudged down the hall into my room, where I took out my art supplies and spent the next hour sketching wh
at I planned on being the start of my next vid interruption.
XXXII
Between Wei, her mother, and Dee, I didn’t have much of a say in how I spent New Year’s Eve day. Their excitement was contagious, and I didn’t even have to fake a smile when Wei took the digis of me.
“Ultragorgeruso,” Dee exclaimed. “You look like a vid star. Can I have your autograph, Miss Oberon?” She held out an imaginary rapido and paper.
I was afraid I would stab myself with the Kanzashi sticks in my hair, or that I’d topple over in the heels I was wearing. I did have to admit, as I surveyed the final product of Mrs. Jenkins’s ministrations—I looked hot. Not like myself, but ultrahot. Or maybe it was a part of me I was afraid to explore. That part that wanted to be attractive and sexy. There was no time to think about that further, because the stretch arrived.
“Have fun!” Dee carefully hugged me.
“Happy New Year!” Wei gave me air kisses on either cheek.
“Be careful,” Mrs. Jenkins said.
Even behind the dark windows of the trannie, I felt exposed. Which I most surely would be when I walked into Paulette’s. The dress, the hairstyle, the shoes—none of it mattered if my brain kept calling me an impostor.
“Are you ready, miss?” the driver asked.
I tore my eyes away from the steady stream of top-tiers being admitted to the building. “Uh . . . I, um . . . give me a nanosec. Please?” Was I being a snob, asking him to wait? I opened my borrowed clutch and took out a mirror, pretending to adjust my hair—which I dared not touch for fear of messing it up.
My PAV beeped. “Are you here, Nina? Percy’s going to pull a neck muscle looking for you.”
“I’m downstairs, Martin. I’ll be right up.” At least I knew he and Percy wanted me to be there. What Paulette’s reaction would be was anyone’s guess. “I’m ready,” I told the driver.