John tries to get used to all this entertainment and drugs and sex, but he can’t, so he kills himself, and everyone says, “Oh, what a shame he couldn’t adapt to our totally cool world” and they go back to their video games. (By the way, I think M. T. Anderson’s Feed was better than both these books, but it wasn’t a choice in the assignment.) My big comparison was about how Winston Smith was killed and Savage John killed himself, but they both wound up dead. I got an A.
Long story short, I guess what I’ll say to my interviewer is that being raised by a corporation is like a cross between Brave New World and 1984. There’s this big powerful thing with vast resources watching you all the time, but rather than torture you, it’s trying to figure out what you like, only it’s really too shallow and goofy to ever do that.
Thinking about all that megagoofiness got me thinking about those vast resources. NECorp had holdings in like a gazillion companies. It owned at least one of everything. So, a crazy idea jammed up my frontal lobe.
I raced out of my room, ran down the corridor, and hit the elevator button. I almost never hit it more than once. I hate it when people do that, even if they’re in a hurry. It’s like throwing rocks at your dog because he’s not running happily toward you fast enough.
Anyway, when the elevator didn’t come fast enough, I hit the steps and ran all the way to Nancy’s office and walked right in, since I’m allowed.
Nancy was at her desk, typing like crazy. It was all about the work with her. In fact, there wasn’t a single picture or photo in the room, just her.
She kept at it as I stood there, but did raise the index finger of her right hand. Her other fingers, even those on the same hand, kept typing, and she didn’t turn her head. This was Nancy-speak for, I know you’re there and will interface with you shortly.
Finally, she said, “Jaiden” and clicked a few more keys. “You’re supposed to be in the gym. We discussed how you can’t cut back on your workouts until after you’re on one of the school teams. Now…”
I waved my hands frantically in front of me, which is Jaiden-speak for Not now please, I have another subject I wish to discuss.
She looked at me. She loved the schedule like it was her best friend in the world, but at the same time she was smart enough to know working with me required flexibility. You could see her brain rifle through the possible things I could get excited about. When she picked the one she liked best, she said, “Did you pick someone from the files?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly. Do we own any houses?”
She raised an eyebrow. “We own factories, mansions, airplanes, helicopters, huge tracts of land in third world countries…”
I waved my hands again briefly.
“I mean, does NECorp own any normal houses that normal people might live in somewhere in this school district, preferably in this neighborhood?”
That got her curiosity up, one of her few emotions. “What’s this about?”
I stonewalled, which means I didn’t answer her question. “Do we?”
“There’s a house over on Westerly for visiting execs and transfers.”
I was so excited, I started shaking like a little kid. “Can I have it?”
“Define ‘have it.’”
“Okay, look, there’s a girl, Jenny Tate, who’s my partner for a bio project, and she wants to come over to see my house.”
“Ah,” she said.
“Ah” is Nancy-speak for I understand exactly where this conversation is going, but why don’t you say it out loud anyway to prove I’m right?
“And I really don’t want her to see this house,” I concluded.
It was a long hard fight to get NECorp to allow me to go to public school, something I’d wanted since I was eight. Early on, I had tutors. When my social development proved to be lagging, I was sent to very expensive but totally sterile private schools, where, more and more, I sucked at everything.
When I turned thirteen, a Psych Committee report indicated I had early symptoms of depression (like half the world). That was when they caved on the public school thing. If I wound up clinically depressed, NECorp could be held accountable by both the courts and the press. So, once I was ready for ninth grade, my biggest wish was granted, and I started attending Deever, making me, at least during school days, almost a real person.
Nancy, knowing all this, asked, “Is Jenny from one of the files?”
“No.”
She seemed disappointed, which I understood since compiling those files was hard work.
“So, is she someone you … want to get to know better?”
I rolled my eyes and shifted on my feet.
She tsked in annoyance. “Is she someone you like or want to be friends with? How do you want me to say it?”
I folded my arms over my chest. “I think the bottom line is I really don’t want you to say it at all, but now that you have we both know what you mean, so you can stop.”
“Fine. Look, Jaiden, it’s perfectly natural that at this time of your life…”
“Yes! Got it! I know the trends. I know where I fit on the bell curve. I even know the lyrics to ‘Teenage Wasteland.’ I just don’t want to feel like I’m in a nature show, okay?”
“Okay. How soon would you need the house?”
I gave her a double take. “You’ll get it for me?”
“I can check and see if it’s empty.”
“Really? What’s it like?”
She tapped a few keys and whirled her screen toward me. “Like this. A furnished three-bedroom colonial.”
“Perfect! What about parents?”
Nancy did a double take. “Excuse me? Parents?”
“It’d be pretty strange if I was living there alone, right?”
Nancy sighed and clicked a few more keys. “I was going to work Saturday anyway. I can bring my quarterlies and be there for maybe three hours. If I sat there and worked and said, hi, without actually claiming to be related to you, I don’t think we’d be open to any liability. I’ll have to run it by Legal…”
The bit about Legal should have told me right off there’d be trouble, but I was way too excited to really think it through. “Great! Thank you!”
She pointed at me again with that index finger. “I’m not going to make you and your friend any snacks. I don’t do snacks. The results would be pleasing for neither of us. I’ll grunt pleasantly when you introduce us and then we leave each other alone. Agreed?”
“Perfect, that’d be totally perfect. What about a dad?”
She scrunched her face. “Don’t push it. It’s a single-parent household.”
“Really? I just think it would be more normal if I had…”
She cut me off with her hand. Then, all of a sudden, out of absolutely nowhere, she got this expression I’d never seen on her before. She looked … sympathetic.
“Jaiden, you don’t have parents. What you have is a multinational conglomerate charged with overseeing your development, and your adoption is a matter of public record. Anyone who wants to can figure it out. It’s great you’ve got a date, really, and I’ll try and make that as easy for you as possible, but you really have to start thinking about what you’ll do when the news breaks at your school, which will happen sooner or later.”
That was a bummer. No 1984, but close.
I looked down at my sneakers. “I know. I’m just kind of hoping it can be later.”
Then we had another first for Nancy. She smiled.
“Then worry about it later. I’ll make some calls and get back to you.”
4
A FEARFUL SYNERGY
Next morning when I reached the head of the breakfast line, Ben stopped cooking and looked at me funny.
“What?” I said, thinking my hair was messed up.
“There’s something different,” he said, cracking eggs into a bowl. “Something…”
He picked up a whisk and beat the eggs until they were frothy. “Not a haircut … and I know I’ve seen that T-shirt before. Wait
. Got it.”
He put down the whisk and snapped his fingers. “You’re smiling.”
I gave him a look. “You’re just torturing me, aren’t you? You already know about the bio project and the house and everything, don’t you?”
He laughed as he poured the eggs out on the grill, where they sizzled and bubbled.
“Yes, yes I do. All the same, nice to see you in a good mood.”
“I hope they don’t make me read any reports on dating ethics,” I said.
“So it is a date?”
“No! I mean, they think it is, and you know how they get and…”
He handed me my plate, home fries extra crunchy. “Relax. Have a nice time.”
On the bus, I saw Nate. Since I walk home from school, I hadn’t since yesterday. So, I told him, not about the fake house, but about Jenny. He actually turned off his PDA and spoke to me, in honor of the auspicious occasion.
“Wow! That’s manna from heaven! Karma. First I get Caitlin’s screen name, now Jenny’s your lab partner,” he said. “We should seriously buy some lottery tickets.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe we were entering a golden age.
“Did you look up beeswax29?” I asked.
“Sort of,” he said.
“Sort of?” I could tell he’d chickened out, but I wanted details.
That deep voice of his went down to a whisper. “I am so lame. I went to the chat room and she was there, but I just watched her name for an hour until she logged off.”
“An hour? Dude, that’s cyber-stalking!”
“I know. I didn’t plan it that way. I just froze. Tonight I’m going to ping her,” he said. Then his face went all funny. “You don’t suppose this ever gets any easier, do you?”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s got to.”
The bus hit a bump, and he was onto other subjects. “Jenny’s coming over, but I’ve never been over. Why don’t we hang out at your house sometime?”
My face must have turned chalky, because he laughed. “Not this weekend, stupid. I wouldn’t ruin it for you. Next week? I want to see that plasma-screen TV.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”
But I doubt I looked like I meant it.
That was my first indication this whole thing might not wind up so good. As far as Jenny went, I was hoping after Saturday I could make some excuse so we’d wind up at her house or the library for the remainder of the project, but what was I going to say to Nate? Sorry, I don’t really have a house? Why don’t you come to HQ sometime and we can raid the office supply cabinet? Need any paper clips? I’ve got lots and they’re free!
By the time bio started and Jenny walked into class, I was feeling better about all the filthy lies. You know I couldn’t care less about what I wear, let alone what anyone else does, but there was something about her that made me pay attention to the specifics. I think it was her hair and eyes, red and green, she was just so … colorful. I wonder if she had any idea what a great distraction she was.
Anyway, she had on this nice auburn sweater-shirt thing, and after the bell rang, I even managed to walk up and talk to her.
“So, Jenny, Saturday, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Where do you live?”
“47 Westerly.” I tried not to sound proud about having a street address, but I may have come across a little like a kindergartner reciting his phone number for the first time. “White colonial, blue trim. Not a McMansion, but it’s McHome.”
“Great. That’s only two blocks from my cousin’s,” she said. Then she made a face. “More not-coolness from me. My dad wants me to make sure your parents will be there.”
“No, that’s totally cool. My … mom will be. Good enough? She’ll be working…,” I said. It felt weird. It was the first time I’d actually, directly, completely lied to her. I mean, technically the house did belong to my parent-corporation, so it was mine, in a way, but Nancy really wasn’t my mother.
“Yeah, that’ll be fine. He’ll want to call her.”
I furrowed my brow, then realized I could give her Nancy’s office extension. Why couldn’t my mom work for NECorp?
“No problemo.”
“What time’s good? Noon?”
Ack. Lunchtime. Remembering what Nancy said about snacks, I figured I could get some junk food from the vending machines, but that wouldn’t exactly be a meal …
“How about after lunch? 1:30?” I said.
“Great,” she said.
It was done. I whirled and walked off to math.
Okay, so my chat with Jenny wasn’t very deep, but you have to understand I was totally cool the whole time. Did you notice I told a joke? The McMansion thing?
I promised myself I’d talk to her a little more each day, but I wussed out and didn’t. That was our longest conversation all week. I did give Jenny Nancy’s number, and her dad called. Nancy said it went okay, but there was something about the way she said it that made me think she wasn’t telling me everything.
Meanwhile, the rest of the week went like molasses rolling uphill. Nate was expecting me to invite him over and, well, I didn’t. He also kept swearing he was going to ping beeswax29, but he never did. I hoped he wasn’t getting into stalking her.
I didn’t see the house until Saturday morning. Some visiting bigshot was staying there and wasn’t out until Friday night. I was nervous about that, but figured it might be better than having the place empty for too long. Houses with people have smells. Not that I wanted it to be full of body odors or weird cooking aromas, I just didn’t want it to seem totally unlived in.
After a sleepless Friday night, I got up early and put together a few posters, my laptop, some books, and a spaceship or two for atmosphere. Then I put on a hoodie, got my bike out of the parking lot, and headed over to inspect the place. Westerly was a cul de sac, pretty quiet, so I didn’t even pass any cars. Nancy wasn’t there yet, so I left my bike on the lawn and used the keys she gave me to open up the front door.
Not too bad—big center hall with a staircase, high ceilings. The furniture was a little hotel-roomish, but passable. There were even paintings on the wall. The biggest problem was that a cleaning crew had already been here, so it looked too clean. I tossed some pillows around, crumpled up some papers and tossed them around, too.
I went upstairs and examined the bedrooms. The master bedroom suite was nice, with a huge whirlpool tub in the bathroom, but I couldn’t make that my room. I found a smaller bedroom down the hall that looked about right and stood there at the door, smiling a bit, wondering if Nate had a bedroom like this.
I quickly realized he didn’t. No one my age would. The freaking place was spotless and the stuff on the walls was this classical crap with clowns and horses. I yanked those down and put them in the closet, ruffled up the bedspread then set about hanging my posters, plugging in my laptop, and generally trying to make it look like I’d lived in the place for years. I wished there’d been more dust, but what can you do?
I figured if I kept up my imaginary witty banter, Jenny wouldn’t notice a thing.
Right.
Nancy showed up at one. I met her at the door.
“Hi, ‘Mom’!” I said cheerfully.
She gave me a look, then eyed the papers on the floor. “I told the cleaning service to be done by ten.”
“They were here, but I wanted to make the place look more lived in,” I explained.
She gave me another look, then moved as if she were going to pick up the papers. About halfway toward the first piece she shook her head. “I’m leaving this all to you. I’ll be in the den.”
“Okay, great,” I said. She sighed and headed off.
“Nancy,” I said. She stopped and turned to face me. “Thanks for this, really.”
“You’re welcome. I hope it goes well. Sure you don’t want a file on her? Because, you know…,” she said, patting her laptop case.
“Absolutely positive.”
I went back to my room and waited. There w
as a TV, so I tried watching, but mostly I looked at the clock, then out the window at the long empty street.
At one twenty-three, two bicycles appeared. Jenny was riding one of them. A taller girl with blond hair tied in pigtails, rode the other. The cousin, I figured. Madge. They circled the cul de sac, like they were doing reconnaissance work for the army.
At last, Madge headed off. Jenny came up to the lawn, put her bike next to mine, and walked toward the door. I gave everything a final glance and raced out of the room.
I was sweating like crazy. Halfway down the stairs I realized this was probably because I still had on my hoodie. I ripped it off, threw it across the room, and yanked open the door.
It might’ve looked better if I’d waited until she rang the bell.
“Oh, hi!” I said. “I was just going … out … to get my bike.”
Quick recovery, I thought.
“Hi!” she sang back. No harm, no foul. She was holding her books over her chest in this really cute and girlish way.
“Come in,” I said. And she did. Like she was in my power or something.
“Madge, my cousin, was surprised you lived here. She thought it was some kind of corporate house,” Jenny said as she looked around.
“Ha!” I said.
I held her books as she took off her sweater. It was the same auburn one she wore during the week. When she handed it to me, I noticed it had a kind of sweet smell.
“Is that watermelon?” I asked, trying to sound suave as I hung up her sweater.
“Yeah,” she said, pulling out a roll of hard candy. “Want one?”
As I took the roll, I touched her finger for a second. I popped one in my mouth and nearly swallowed it. I hate watermelon candy, but what the hell.
Right on cue, Nancy stepped out from the den and stuck out her hand. “Hello,” she said, like a robot. “You must be Jenny.”
I couldn’t really blame her for not acting, you know, more human, but I did.
Teen, Inc. Page 3