“I’ve always been pretty forgettable,” he said. “My parents, then my sister.”
Kit’s comment made me sad. “I’m going to help you get her back.” I swallowed. “One way or another,” I added in a whisper.
Kit nodded. Then he said, “I know.”
Late, late into the night, when my eyes began to get heavy, I went to the door of the cottage and stepped outside. The winter sky, now clear of all clouds, winked with a million stars.
I thought about the tattoo on Kit’s shoulder.
So beautiful.
Like Kit.
I turned around quickly and went inside.
This thought was only the tiniest of whispers.
But my heart, for some reason, could still hear it.
The morning of my departure was sunny, just like every other one since the storm had ended. A sunny sky in winter was different from one in the fall or the summer. The blue of it clearer, the color somehow colder, to match the temperature. The App World was so full of sameness. The standard settings of virtual selves, the weather, the routines of the day. But even the ever-present downloads had a peculiar sort of sameness to them, or at least a predictability. Everything was so controlled there.
Here, everything was so beyond our control.
I glanced at Kit, who’d passed out last night on the couch and was still sleeping.
Or maybe it was just that I felt out of control.
And maybe I didn’t mind the feeling. Maybe I actually kind of liked it.
I took a deep breath and let it out.
By the time Kit roused I’d spent an hour outside, looking at the sea, standing at the edge of the road where it met a dip just above the sand and rocks. Today the water was tame, like it was taking a nap. The bare tree limbs and tiny thin branches were still covered in a layer of ice that shined where the light hit. The mansion where Rain was, where Adam was, where everyone else was, sat on the edge of the ocean and backed up into a thick forest of trees, but I wondered whether I’d find it as beautiful as this place once I returned.
I watched the sun rise higher in the sky.
Soon it was time to go.
I returned to the cottage and went straight into the bedroom without looking at Kit, who had his back to me anyway, making coffee in the kitchen. His black-and-white checked scarf lay draped across a chair. I picked it up and wound it through my hands. Then I wrapped it around my neck, tucking the end of it away as I’d seen Kit do so many times. I wanted a memory from this place, from this time. If someone had asked a week ago if I would feel such nostalgia about what began as a kidnapping, I would have laughed in their face. But a lot can happen in a week.
When I walked into the kitchen, Kit’s eyes went to the scarf, but he didn’t say a word. When it came time to leave, I didn’t take it off, didn’t move to return it, and Kit didn’t ask for it.
He wasn’t looking at me when he spoke. “Are you ready to go back to your friends, Skylar?”
I nodded. Kit’s bike was waiting for us out front. I followed him out of the house, watched as he held the handlebars while I got on. Before he started the engine, he reached out and retucked the end of the scarf that had come loose around my neck, eyeing it and eyeing me. Then the bike roared to life and we were off, speeding away along the coast just like before, except that now, everything was different.
The cold stung my skin and my eyes.
I didn’t look back.
Not at the cottage or the ocean.
I couldn’t bear to see it disappear behind us.
13
Rain
party
THE SNOW STOPPED two days before, but I’d barely noticed.
I couldn’t tear myself from the weapons room. Zeera managed to hack in to another video feed, and now we had a view of the Body Market in addition to the girl in that beautiful room.
But even so, we hadn’t learned much.
Until this morning, the market had been closed because of the storm, the glass cases taken to another location, the Body Tourists nowhere to be seen, probably still hiding out in the hotel, staying warm. But now the market was a flurry of activity, mainly of New Capitalists trying to clear out the snow, and returning the bodies, one by one to their displays.
No sign of Skylar though.
I sighed. I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head, and if I was honest, the reason I couldn’t stop watching the screens was that a part of me kept waiting for her to appear on one of them.
“Why the big sigh?” Zeera asked.
I’d almost forgotten Zeera was with me. “I just wish we could see things from a new angle,” I lied. Well, I had wished this, but I hadn’t been wishing it at the time of Zeera’s question. “This feed isn’t giving us much to go on.”
Now Zeera sighed. “I know. I’m working on it.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re great, Zeera. I didn’t mean to criticize.”
“But you’re right. We’re not going to get far with such a narrow view.”
The two of us turned back to the monitors. “You’ve given us far more than we had before these two feeds, so I consider it a win. We’re getting greedy.”
“We’re running out of time,” Zeera said. “It won’t be long before the market starts accepting bids.” She shuddered.
The door opened and Lacy appeared. “Can you, like, leave here for a few minutes, or is this your new permanent home?”
“This is important,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t everything?”
“Lacy,” I said, trying not to sound as impatient as I felt.
Zeera glanced at her. “Hi, Lace.”
Lacy sauntered over to the monitors and stood between us. She pointed up at the screen that showed the girl. “Well, isn’t she just adorable.”
The way Lacy said it told me she thought otherwise. “Whoever she is, she’s Jude’s prisoner.”
“Whatever.” Lacy turned to Zeera. “Any sign of Sylvia, sweetie?” she asked in a much kinder tone.
“Not yet,” Zeera said.
Lacy silently put an arm around Zeera and gave her a squeeze.
I shook my head. Lacy was a cocktail of contradictions.
She watched Zeera, whose attention was still glued to the monitors, and her eyes got a gleam in them. But not a cruel one. “The snow has stopped, and people around here really need a break. We should all do something fun.” When no one said anything, Lacy gave me a pleading look. “You’re the one who’s always planning parties to keep people happy, Rain. I think it’s time for another.”
Then she grabbed my hand.
The three of us stood there, connected by Lacy.
A tear rolled down Zeera’s cheek. She’d been working nonstop, hoping to find any sign of Sylvia, and still there was nothing.
“You’re absolutely right,” I finally said. “Everybody needs a break.” I looked at the time. “Lacy, can you get everybody out on the west side of the house by two p.m.?”
Her brow furrowed. “But there’s nothing out there aside from . . .” She trailed off as understanding dawned. A smile appeared on her face. She beamed. “Definitely! Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” With her other hand she grabbed Zeera and tried pulling us both toward the doorway.
But Zeera stayed put. So did I.
Lacy let go, defeated. “Come on, guys.”
I waved her away. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
Lacy pouted. “It’s not like anything interesting is going to happen in the next hour, if it hasn’t already.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” I turned back to the screens.
There came a great huff and a sigh from Lacy.
Zeera went to her. “I’ll go with you,” she relented. To me, she said, “We’ll see you in a few.” Now it was Zeera leading Lacy out the door.
I stared at the monitors, waiting, but honestly, I had no idea what I was waiting for. Aside from that single occurrence when Jude had appeared in the room with th
e girl, we’d seen nothing other than the girl pacing, sleeping, and sitting, and the bodies being attended by Keepers at the market. It was good we had a view into Jude’s world, but there was little to see. And for the last hour, the Body Market had been quiet. Even the New Capitalists had left.
Then, in the very corner of the screen, I saw movement.
At first, I thought it must be one of the New Capitalists. I shifted the view so it amplified just that spot, like Zeera showed me.
“What?” I said, incredulous, to no one. “That can’t be . . . that’s impossible. . . .”
I got closer to the monitor, as if this would alter what I was seeing.
Or at least, what I thought I was seeing.
“Holy . . .”
The screen showed a closeup of a boy. He was maybe twelve. Like everyone else around him, he was in the typical case of the plugged-in, on display at the market.
But unlike everyone else, his eyes blinked open.
Then, I watched as he turned his head toward me and placed his palms flat against the glass.
14
Skylar
real, beautiful things
THE FIRST THING we heard was singing.
The bike’s engines were quiet now, and faint voices traveled over the waves and up across the dunes. They came through the trees at the edge of the parking lot. Kit and I stilled, listening. The notes grew stronger and louder. They were haunting one moment, mournful and low, before rising higher until they crested into something happier, joyful, even. At first I thought there must be ten or eleven voices, threading themselves together and dispersing depending on where the song led them, but eventually I realized that there were only three.
Somewhat abruptly, they stopped.
There was clapping, and laughter, and some happy shouts.
I let out a breath. “I’ve never heard real singing before.”
Kit and I got off the bike. “My sister used to sing.” He watched me steadily.
“What?” I asked, trying to read his eyes.
He reached up and brushed a thumb across my cheek. “You’re crying.”
I nearly stepped away, then pulled myself together and shook my head, as though to deny what Kit had said. But I could see that his fingers had come away wet. “Maybe I’m crying a little,” I admitted. “The ride,” I said with a shrug. “The wind,” I added, though I wondered if he knew as well as I that it wasn’t either of those things.
The happy voices floating down the beach were like warnings.
Or reminders.
Even though they held joy, hearing them meant that I’d returned—to this group of seventeens, to Rain’s plans, to the people who wanted to use me, or who at best thought I should become a seamless member of this rebellion against my sister.
The thing was, despite all that Jude had done, I still loved her.
And for months now, I’d had no sign of my mother. I couldn’t help worrying that in a rebellion, a real one, she might get caught in the crossfire. I closed my eyes, pressing against the thought that maybe she hadn’t made it out alive the night of the fire. Maybe my tears were about all of these things. Maybe they’d been waiting this whole time and returning to this place drew them out.
I looked at Kit. Saw the way his face seemed to fight all expression. “You’re good at hiding your emotions,” I said, then thought:
Or maybe my tears are about not wanting to say good-bye.
Kit locked his bike and retrieved the small pack he’d strapped onto it. He hooked it over his good shoulder. “Not always.”
“Let’s take the back way,” I suggested, wanting to get my return here over with. We crossed the parking lot and stepped between two tall pine trees. A bed of needles was just visible under the snow and ice. Someone had shoveled recently. The sun had gone behind the clouds, so the light was gray and filtered by the branches overhead. The shouts and laughter got louder, closer.
Whatever was going on, it was likely Rain’s doing.
Or maybe Adam’s. Or both.
Two tiny pangs dinged my heart at the thought of them, though the one for Adam was benign. Comforting. Those two boys were constantly scheming to come up with ways to make the seventeens forget they’d been cut off from their virtual homes, left behind like trash, providing some fun amid the very real and very sinister political situation that had caught us between worlds.
“Help me up, help me up!” came a shout.
The voice of Parvda.
I smiled a little. Parvda had become as close a friend as I’d made in the Real World. She was likely calling out to Adam, sounding half scolding, half kidding, but her tone with him was always loving.
A dense thicket of trees still blocked our view of whatever was happening.
“I guess they aren’t spending all their time worried about your absence,” Kit said from behind me.
For a moment I’d nearly forgotten he was there, his footsteps falling without a sound, perhaps the learned skill of a bounty hunter. I turned around to answer. “Having fun and playing around is part of daily life in this place, no matter what the circumstances,” I said, maybe a little defensively, then pushed on through the last of the trees into the clearing, one that was usually dusted with sand and dirt.
I halted at the very edge.
Kit stopped behind me.
Before us was a gigantic basin, a pond really, as big or bigger than the playground at the center of Main Park in the App World. This one had frozen over, the ice shiny and smooth in places, but it was also crisscrossed with sharp lines.
All the seventeens seemed to be on it.
“They’re skating,” Kit said.
“I know.” I remembered ice-skating from home, when Inara and I were little and we’d sometimes receive an invitation that would download us into a skating party with everyone from school. I’d never gotten the hang of skating, though Inara was talented from the beginning, twirling and twisting in the air like it was nothing, laughing and giggling with delight. If she were here, maybe she’d find that her talent would translate easily from our old world into this one, as so many skills seemed to do. “Well, most of them are skating,” I observed.
Some people simply took a running start in their boots and slid as far as they could go before toppling over. But just about everyone was wearing skates, either black ones for hockey or white boots that laced up past the ankles. There was Parvda, just as I’d thought, on the other edge of the rink, Adam holding her hand, his arm around her back. There was Surry flying around the far curve as though she’d been skating her entire life, and Jason, who stumbled a few steps, like he thought the blades were for walking not gliding, and the countless other seventeens I’d gotten to know since I’d moved out here after the night of the fire.
Kit stood to my right. “You’re crying again,” he said.
I wiped the back of my hand across my face. “I wish,” I began, then hesitated. “I wish I could join them sometimes.”
“You could. You can,” Kit said quietly. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“No,” I corrected. “I’ve tried before and I’ve never been able to. Not really. At least, not the way the others do.”
Kit and I fell silent again, sheltered enough by the trees that no one had noticed us yet. On the ocean side, where the dunes rose into hills, a series of thick fallen logs served as bleachers, the seventeens crowded around them, the snow still rising to their knees.
And Lacy. There was Lacy.
Her pale freckled cheeks were rosy from the cold, her hair bright against the white of the landscape behind her. She was smiling, sitting close to someone, another girl whose face I couldn’t see, their heads bent together in conversation. The other girl turned slightly.
Zeera?
For a split second I wanted to call out her name, to go running and shouting that I’d seen Sylvia, that we could still save her, that I’d already tried to start that process in motion, but Zeera’s presence next to Lacy startled and stopped me.<
br />
Since when did those two have anything to talk about?
I took a deep breath and let it out.
For Zeera to like Lacy, to talk to her like she might be a friend, said something, that maybe there was more to Lacy. I didn’t love the idea of having to admit this about her. The truth was I’d rather find out otherwise, that Lacy was less—less nice, less smart, less interesting. Just . . . less.
“There are a lot of you,” Kit said over my shoulder.
“There are a lot of them,” I corrected.
We stood there, watching, and I wondered if anyone would ever notice us. Maybe we could just turn around and walk back the way we came and leave here forever.
Then, “Skylar?” I heard called out from my right.
I looked toward the familiar voice.
Adam was skating our way. “Skylar, you’re okay,” he shouted gleefully.
Everyone halted then, wherever they were—in the center of the makeshift rink, having just fallen onto the ice, ready to throw themselves into a slide. Conversations around the fallen logs went silent. They turned toward the place where Kit and I were standing at the edge of the clearing. The moment was familiar, too familiar, like the first day Rain brought me here and we’d entered the gym, where everyone stopped what they were doing to take me in, the girl they’d seen on display up on the cliff.
But then I saw that Adam’s eyes were bright and smiling, and Parvda’s shined with relief as she made her way slowly in our direction, trying hard not to fall. I didn’t allow myself to look at Lacy. I didn’t want to know what her eyes said now that she knew I’d returned.
Adam expertly skidded to a halt in front of us.
Then he scooped me right off the ground and squeezed me so tight I nearly couldn’t breathe. “We thought you might be gone for good,” Adam said. “I’ve been so worried. Don’t ever do that again.”
The Body Market Page 9