Gotta B

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Gotta B Page 12

by Claire Carmichael


  David rolled his eyes. ‘Poor Petra, must be agony.’

  She sent him a scathing look. ‘What’s the latest with Rick?’ she asked. ‘Does anybody know?’

  ‘My dad asked Rick’s grandmother if there’s any way he can help out,’ Allyx said. ‘Rick’s seeing Dr Stein today. She’s hoping that he’ll be released tomorrow or the next day. But he’s still suspended from school.’

  Babbage, meaty fists on hips, confronted them. ‘Are any of you intending to grace a classroom with your presence? You’ve got one minute before I start handing out detentions.’

  ‘Great demo, sir,’ said David, giving him an approving thumbs-up.

  ‘This is your weak attempt to butter me up, is it, Segal?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said David, trying to look hurt at the accusation, but unable to hide a smile.

  Babbage, all sarcasm gone from his voice, went on, ‘It’s a pity you don’t take the issue seriously. I believe Renfrew’s research poses a grave threat to susceptible minds. The only way to call a halt to his experiments is to rally public opinion against him.’

  Struck by the science teacher’s obvious sincerity, Tal said, ‘What do you mean, susceptible minds?’

  ‘Kids with mental or emotional problems, often undiagnosed, such as feelings of hopelessness, disguised depression, misdirected aggression, violent mood swings, and so on.’

  Babbage’s attention was suddenly caught by another group of students who were casually heading through the school gates in the wrong direction. He set off after them, bellowing, ‘You kids there. I’ve got my eye on you!’

  Petra shook her head in wonderment. ‘You know, I think the Cabbage really, truly believes Dr Renfrew’s a menace.’

  ‘Okay, maybe he believes it,’ said David, ‘but that doesn’t make him right.’

  ‘Wait for me,’ called Jennie. They all stopped walking to let her catch up.

  ‘Where were you?’ said Allyx. ‘You missed all the drama.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Jennie, making a face. ‘The moment my parents saw the newsflash about the protest, they said I had to stay at home until it was over. Then Mum would drive me and Annie to school. I tried to tell them it was no big deal, but Dad said he didn’t want to see me arrested. As if!’

  ‘My mother made sure I missed it too.’

  ‘Don’t ask Petra why,’ David warned. ‘You’ll be sorry if you do.’

  ‘Red alert,’ said Allyx. ‘Mr Babbage is heading our way again.’

  ‘Speed up, dudes,’ said David, ‘or the Cabbage will be telling us more about how Renfrew is a big, bad doctor.’

  ‘You know,’ said Tal, ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to volunteer for Dr Renfrew’s research.’

  Dr Carter Renfrew, Dr Howard Unwin and Joe Villabona appeared on the school hall’s stage to address an assembly of senior years. Tal, who was seated near the front with Allyx, noted that Renfrew’s appearance had been spruced up with a well-tailored navy blue suit, crisp white shirt and red tie. Tal thought the doctor was probably wearing media make-up too, because at the barbecue his fair skin had been sunburnt and his nose peeling, but now his face appeared smooth and lightly tanned.

  Principal Constanza cleared his throat before introducing the two doctors in glowing terms, and then extravagantly praising Farront International for its contributions to teenage mental and physical health.

  Carter Renfrew was the first speaker. Tal was surprised to find his address to the students informative and entertaining. The doctor mentioned the demonstration that morning with self-deprecating humour, then spoke with disarming enthusiasm about his research and the positive results he expected to flow from it. In conclusion he mentioned that the medical building formerly known as The Carter Renfrew Centre would now be renamed The Farront-Renfrew-Unwin Youth Health and Counselling Centre, having as its patron Audrey Farront. ‘For convenience, the facility will generally be referred to as The Farront Centre.’

  Renfrew was followed by Dr Howard Unwin, smiling and affable, who explained how he had discovered and named communication withdrawal stress syndrome or CWSS.

  ‘For those unfortunate enough to suffer from it, CWSS is a very real and highly upsetting experience. Dr Renfrew and I will be working together to continue my detailed analysis of the impact CWSS has on the nervous system. This research will facilitate our development of effective treatments and, I firmly believe, ultimately a cure.’

  Following him, Joe Villabona spoke briefly. He noted Farront’s support for the doctors’ important work. For any student thinking of applying to be a test subject, he recommended attendance at one of the small discussion groups scheduled that afternoon. Villabona himself would also be available to answer any questions.

  While the principal bustled forward officiously to thank the speakers and wrap up the assembly, Allyx said to Tal, ‘You’re not really serious, are you?’

  ‘About being a test subject? Maybe. I’ll tell you for sure after the group meeting this arvo.’

  ‘But Tal, you were totally down on the idea. What changed your mind?’

  ‘Not sure,’ he said vaguely.

  He couldn’t explain it to Allyx without sounding like an idiot, but it all came down to Joe Villabona. The guy had manipulated Audrey into backing Renfrew’s research, and now he remained closely involved in establishing the program. Why? What was the advantage to him? And were Victor O’Dell and Babbage and the others right to accuse Renfrew of dangerous experiments on kids’ minds?

  Underneath it all, the real reason had to do with Villabona being a threat to his mother’s career. She used to love her work – now she was stressed and unhappy. Tal felt he had to try and do something, even if it were only turning up some extra bit of evidence to help discredit Renfrew. Damage to the doctor’s reputation would reflect badly on Joe Villabona, and almost certainly undermine Audrey’s confidence in Villabona’s professional judgement.

  Tal had to smile at the idea of being a knight in shining armour galloping to the rescue, but that was close to what he hoped to be.

  Tal was last into the room where his discussion group was to be held. It was made up of eleven others, including David and George Everett – the latter completely absorbed with some weird-looking gadget. Yvette Sarno was cheerfully informing anyone who’d listen that she now had well over four thousand friends on MySpace, and was closing in on five thousand.

  ‘They’re not friends,’ said David, ‘they’re just names. And half of them probably don’t exist, anyway.’

  ‘Like you’d know,’ said Yvette. Seeing Tal, she smiled invitingly and patted the seat beside her. As it was the only spare in the semicircle of chairs, Tal was forced to take it. Yvette gave his arm a squeeze and told him he was looking extra cute today. ‘Like, seriously.’

  ‘Extra cute?’ David sniggered. He was about to go on, when Dr Renfrew strode through the door.

  ‘Sorry, I’m a little late. Now, who do we have? Let me check …’ He consulted his iZod, then glanced up with a look of pleasure on his face. ‘Talbot Blair. I’m delighted to find you here.’

  ‘True, he is extra cute,’ said David.

  Renfrew frowned at the ripple of laughter. ‘And your name is …?’ he asked David.

  ‘David Segal.’

  Renfrew tapped away at his iZod for a moment, studied the screen for a few moments more, then said to David, ‘You’re excused.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Please don’t take this personally, but I’m afraid you don’t meet the criteria for a test subject. Please leave.’

  Stunned, David got to his feet. ‘You backgrounded me?’

  George, whose attention had been dragged away from his electronic device by the mini-drama, said, ‘More likely an analysis of personality parameters, I’d say.’

  ‘David doesn’t actually have a personality,’ said Yvette.

  Fingers poised over his iZod, Dr Renfrew said to her, ‘And your name is …?’

  SEVENTEEN

  Rick
wasn’t released until Thursday afternoon. Thelma came to pick him up in the lovingly maintained brown sedan that had been his grandparents’ vehicle for as long as he could remember.

  When they got into the car, Thelma gave him the welcome news that his grandfather was showing some improvement and had opened his eyes and tried to speak.

  ‘What do the doctors say?’

  ‘You know what they’re like – they hate to commit themselves. “Cautiously optimistic” is the most Dr Morris would admit to, but I had a chat with one of the nurses – Eric, who’s there most times we visit – and he said the swelling in Les’s brain is going down and that’s a very good sign.’

  She squeezed Rick’s hand. ‘Things are looking up, dear. Soon we’ll all be back to normal.’

  ‘It won’t be normal until I’m not a disconnect.’

  Discomfited by the whiny note he could hear in his voice, he said more positively, ‘Of course it’s sure to happen soon.’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘It’s been a week. You haven’t heard anything, have you? The Facilitation and Support provider promised to notify you and the school the moment I was reconnected.’

  ‘They haven’t been in touch yet.’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘Until all this happened, I hadn’t realised how important it was for you to be connected.’

  ‘I’m nobody if I’m not.’

  ‘Of course you’re somebody,’ she said stoutly. She released his hand to pat his cheek. ‘You’re Rick Lawrence and Les and I love you very much.’

  Wriggling with embarrassment, Rick said, ‘Thanks, but can we get going?’

  Thelma double-checked everything around the vehicle before she pulled out of the parking lot. As usual, she drove very slowly and with great caution. Also as usual, this made Rick burn with frustration. When he had a car, he’d be a fast and decisive driver.

  ‘A nice man from Farront International, Mr Villabona, came to see me this morning, just when I was leaving to visit Les. He said that because you were using an iZod from his company when you were disconnected – although Farront denies liability – he’d been authorised to offer you treatment absolutely free at The Farront Centre.’

  Rick folded his arms and slid down lower in the seat. ‘I don’t need treatment.’

  ‘Sweetie, I think you do. You weren’t yourself when you got involved in that fight at school.’

  ‘It wasn’t a fight. I admit I lost my temper, but I didn’t push Maryann. She made it look that way.’

  ‘It’s not normal for you to completely lose control, whatever cruel things they’d said about you. Mr Villabona told me behaviour like yours can be related to depressive illness.’

  ‘He isn’t a doctor, is he? I’d listen to Dr Stein, but not this guy. Anyhow, I’m not sick.’

  A blast of horns indicated the traffic light had turned green. Thelma puttered into a snail-slow start, causing more horn blowing.

  ‘Can’t you go faster?’

  ‘I’m not going to dash madly about like people do these days. It’s just not safe.’

  Rick groaned to himself as his grandmother went on to repeat a saying he’d heard her use at least a million times: ‘Remember the tortoise and the hare. Slow and steady wins the race.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ he muttered.

  ‘What, dear?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  As she turned into their street, she said, ‘Mr Villabona said he’d call by this evening to answer any questions you might have about the counselling his company is offering. He emphasised it would be free.’

  ‘If I needed counselling, I’d go to Dr Stein. And you don’t have to worry about the money, because my trust fund will pay.’

  Thelma frowned at him. ‘You know how I feel about your inheritance, dear. Apart from your monthly allowance, every cent of your parents’ estate should remain untouched until you’re twenty-one.’

  Knowing that the lawyers controlling the trust fund would listen to Thelma before him, Rick sank further into the seat. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t need any treatment. I keep telling you, there’s nothing wrong with me.’

  ‘Mr Villabona –’

  ‘I don’t even want to meet him!’

  ‘Manners, Rick! He’s a guest in our house.’

  ‘He’s your guest, not mine,’ he said sulkily.

  ‘Please, dear, for my sake?’

  Rick groaned aloud. ‘Oh, all right. I’ll listen to what he has to say, but that’s all I’ll do.’

  By Thursday afternoon Petra was completely fed up with being an artificial disconnect. She’d never realised how much her time had been taken up by her iZod. Everyone was moving on without her. She was shut out of interactive games and, infuriatingly, David had pointed out that the team was doing perfectly without her input. She was missing out on her favourite blogs and gossip posts – in-jokes and references were going straight over her head. She hated having to rely on snippets of overheard information.

  The only time she held the familiar shape of her comm in her hand was when her mother supervised her boring homework assignments. That sucked!

  This morning she’d caught her parents early, before they left for Garden Stuff. She’d tried pleading, even turned on quite convincing tears, but her mother had remained totally unmoved. Petra had then tried to persuade her father of the unfairness of it all, but he’d been just as unsympathetic.

  In a final effort, she pointed out that if this went on much longer, there was a good chance she’d begin to develop symptoms of CWSS. ‘Actually, I think I’m showing some signs of communication withdrawal already.’

  It didn’t have the effect she intended – her parents had been amused.

  Her mother chuckled. ‘You’re trying to convince us you’re sliding into a clinical depression because you haven’t had the use of your iZod since Tuesday? Three days? Poor baby.’

  After all that effort, the result was still no iZod, and not even an indication of when she might get it back. Her parents were totally forcing her to do something drastic.

  Petra went in search of George. If he could get a phantom communicator for Rick, he could get one for Petra too. She was confident she could scrape up enough money to pay whatever it cost.

  George was hostile when she did locate him. ‘Oh, right! Like I’d want to do a favour for someone who dobbed me in to my dad. Get real, Petra.’

  ‘It wasn’t me, George. It was Ms Ingram. She got your name from other people you’d told about the website. Honest, I never said a thing.’

  George’s specs were sliding down his long nose. He shoved them back into place and glared at Petra. ‘Don’t give me that. It was your mother who called my dad. Now I’m grounded and Constanza has me on after-school detention for weeks. Thanks heaps.’

  ‘Why don’t you believe me? I never mentioned your name. I wouldn’t do that to you.’

  ‘Then why did your mum call Dad?’

  ‘When Ingram said you’d helped other students cheat, Mum said she knew your father, and she’d call him.’ Seeing George was wavering, she added, ‘I’m really sorry, George, but I couldn’t stop her.’ Petra raised her shoulders in an elaborate shrug. ‘Parents …’

  ‘Yeah, they can be the pits.’

  ‘So you believe me?’

  ‘I guess.’

  She looked at him with a hopeful little smile. ‘You got a phantom comm for Rick …’

  ‘Didn’t have a chance to give it to him before the cops took him away.’

  ‘So Rick can’t use the phantom now, but I can.’

  ‘Too late. Frank Arran has just been made a disconnect.’

  Frank, who spent hours tinkering with electronic devices was, in Petra’s opinion, George’s equal in geekiness. ‘Frank could build a phantom for himself, couldn’t he?’

  ‘Maybe he could, but Frank needed to be back online as soon as possible, so I sold it to him.’

  Petra’s heart sank. ‘How long before you can get one for me?’

  ‘Next week, maybe.’
<
br />   ‘Next week? I’m going mad without my iZod.’

  ‘Best I can do, and it’ll cost you.’

  He named a figure that raised her eyebrows. ‘Omigod! That much? How could Rick afford it?’

  ‘No idea. I don’t ask questions like that.’

  ‘For a friend, you could drop the price a bit …?’

  ‘Petra, this is business. That’s the going rate. Take it or leave it.’

  She sighed. ‘So much for Plan B. It’s back to working on my mother again.’

  When he got home from school, Tal was very surprised to see both his mother’s car and Rob’s little electric vehicle in the driveway. Tal had checked his iZod regularly during the day, and there’d been no urgent message from his mum, but even so a chill touched him. Something must be wrong.

  He found them in the kitchen, huddled together at the bench, mugs of coffee in front of them and serious expressions on their faces. Tal’s mother hadn’t changed from her workday tailored suit, and Rob wore his usual garb of jeans and T-shirt.

  They both looked up as Tal came in. ‘Is something wrong, Mum?’

  ‘My job may be on the line. Victor is scheduled to be on FinagleAlert’s live chat this evening. Audrey’s ordered me to persuade him not to appear.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Joe Villabona pointed out to Audrey that FinagleAlert has a huge, well-informed audience. And more importantly, a politically active one. He’s convinced Audrey that not only will Victor do irreparable harm to Farront’s reputation, he will also encourage social activists to demand an investigation similar to Tacitcomm’s audit. I argued that this was highly unlikely, but Joe won Audrey over by saying that further government scrutiny of the industry would mean we’d be looking at more government regulation down the line, something she’s fought against for years.’

  Tal’s slow-burning anger over how his mother was being treated went up a notch. ‘We’ve got to get rid of this Villabona guy.’

  She gave him a tired smile. ‘Amen.’

 

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