by Barnes, Vivi
As we turn into the school parking lot, Liv’s arms tighten around me. I pull into a space and take my helmet off to look at her, but she’s buried into my back, not moving.
“What’s wrong?” I gently unfold her arms from their grip around my waist.
“Hey!” A shout echoes across the parking lot. The devil himself, Derrick Carter, is standing outside his car, pointing at me. Unlatching Liv’s trembling hands from my jacket, I slide off the bike, ignoring her faint protests. My focus is only on the asshole who doesn’t know what’s about to hit him. I can barely hear Liv shouting at me as I first walk, then run to my target, my anger breaking over me like a storm. The bastard’s eyes get wide as he backs away, just making it into his car when I reach him. He locks the door and shakes his head as I pound on the glass with my fist.
“Get out, you son of a bitch!” I back away a couple feet and stand to watch him with my arms crossed, daring him to step out.
He rolls down his window an inch. “I’ve called the police,” he says, holding his cell. “You have no legal right to her. I’m her legal guardian, so she has to come with me.”
Ha. I shake my head and walk back to Liv. Perfect. Let him figure it out. Let him explain to the cops why the system shows she’s emancipated, why there’s no record of them being her guardians. Then let him find out that he’s now a registered sex offender who’s in the parking lot of a high school. Yeah, let’s see you squirm out of that one, scumbag.
Liv is still sitting on the bike, her wide eyes focused on the car. I put my arms around her trembling body. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you anymore.”
I expect her to start crying, but she shrugs me away and slides off the bike.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m not dealing with this anymore,” she says, her voice shaking but her face set. “I’m sick of being scared.” She heads toward Derrick’s car.
“No, Liv, wait.” She ignores me, instead walking faster toward Derrick, who is still in his car. I can hear sirens growing louder as they get nearer. Shit, he really did call the cops.
I get on the bike and start it up, riding over to stop in front of Liv. “Get on. Cops are coming.”
Her face is a storm cloud. “Z, get the…” She stops, staring as a police car pulls into the parking lot.
“Get on. Now.”
She slides behind me and I pull away just as Derrick gets out of his car to wave the police down. Her grip around me is like steel, though it loosens as we get farther away from the school.
Liv is visibly calmer once we reach the waterfall. She doesn’t say anything about what happened in the parking lot, but at least she’s no longer angry. I flip on my side in the grass to face her, brushing her arm with my fingertips. She flinches, then relaxes. I hate when she flinches. It’s like there are secrets so deep that I’ll never be able to uncover them. “Tell me about your past.”
“My past? You already know.”
“No, I don’t.” I look her straight in the eyes. “I only know what’s on record. I know Derrick wasn’t the first person who abused you.”
She jerks away from me, standing up and walking to the edge of the pool. I wonder if I’ve gone too far.
“Derrick was the worst, but there was another time with a foster brother. He used to touch me. A lot.” She shivers and crosses her arms. “Most of my homes weren’t as horrible as that. I just wasn’t in them long enough to get to know them. And some really sucked. I remember at one place, the kids thought it was funny to pull pranks on me. They drove me out to a haunted cornfield on Halloween and left me there. I could hear them laughing as they drove away. The last straw was when they locked me out of the house in my thin pajamas in the middle of winter. A neighbor called the police for me. Julia moved me every time there was a problem, but the problems never seemed to end.”
She sighs. “To be honest, I’ve never really loved anyone or trusted anyone since my mother died. Bernadette’s the only one I got even a little close to, but I didn’t love her, either.” She pauses and her forehead wrinkles. I know she’s not telling me the whole truth on that one, which makes me dislike Bernadette even more for leaving her and breaking her heart.
“It’s funny, you know?” Liv continues, walking back over to sit next to me. “I’d see all these kids with their parents and when I was little, I’d wish that were me. And I was pretty angry at my mother for getting hooked on drugs and running away from home to live on the streets. But that’s the weird thing. When it was just the two of us living on the streets, that’s when I felt the most loved. When I got older, I figured I didn’t need love, just a place to sleep and eat, really. That’s all I felt toward most families, like the Carters.”
Her story isn’t unusual. At Monroe Street, there are too many stories like this, though the kids who eventually find their way to us are the lucky ones. But it still breaks my heart. I can’t believe she’s made it this far without getting mixed up in the trouble that typically plagues kids with that kind of past.
I touch the gold locket just under the hollow of her throat. “What would you do if you ever found out you had family? I mean, say you had an aunt or an uncle or something.”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the circumstances. What would you do?”
“I’d probably run the other way.” I say it without thinking.
She laughs. “You realize you left me with the perfect opening to ask you now, right?”
“I guess. What do you want to know?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Really, you have to ask? Okay, so let’s start with how you came to Monroe Street. What made you decide to start doing, you know, what you do?”
What I do. She can’t say the words, a red flag that I decide to ignore for now. “I came to Monroe Street when I was around eleven. I’d been in a lot of trouble before that, even got sent to juvie. But Nancy found me when I ran away. She took me in, then told me she was starting up a home for kids who needed a place to stay. I’d have to earn my keep, but I’d like the freedom of the place. I was skeptical at first, but she was good on her word. It started out as simple jobs until I really got involved. I guess you could say I founded the online division.”
“You didn’t do any hacking before Monroe Street?”
“Well, not like I do today. I did a lot of malicious stuff, though. Viruses, bots, things like that. Nancy made me stop when I came to live here.” I frown at the memory. “Poor Nancy. She had a seriously angry kid to deal with while trying to start up the business. I can never repay her for everything she did for me.”
“Why were you so angry?”
“It doesn’t matter. Life just sucked. But like I told you, Monroe Street saved me. Saved all of us.”
“Is Nancy a computer genius, too?”
“No. Nancy got her start a different way. Very different. She was a pro.”
“A pro at what?”
Her innocent, wide-eyed expression makes me laugh. “A pro—a prostitute.”
Liv gasps, throwing her hand over her mouth. “Nancy—a prostitute? What the hell?”
“Well, more of a high-class escort. Not on the streets like you’re probably thinking. That’s how Bill…” I stop for a minute, my thoughts going back to Maggie. Escort or prostitute, I can’t understand why anyone would choose that life.
“So have you ever been caught?”
“Nope. It’s not like we pick pockets. Cyber crime is totally different.”
“Like how?”
“Well, it’s not like in the movies or on TV. Actually, what they do isn’t even close. And we don’t go into banks dressed in our best suits to get a briefcase full of money or have cool holograms projecting into vaults.”
I smile at the thought. It’s one of the first things I have to tell new kids—our way of hacking accounts usually consists of password cracking, SQL injection, or social engineering. Maggie actually thought we’d be going all Bonnie and Clyde on banks. I think she was disappointed when she f
ound out how unglamorous the business is.
“So you go after easy targets. Do you prey on little old ladies with cats, too?”
Her tone drips with sarcasm. I can’t believe that she would even think that about me. “No. I’ve told you this before—we’re not evil. We go after big targets, not people who can barely afford to feed themselves, let alone their cats.”
“Ah…okay.” Her lips twist and I know she’s not convinced. I’m not sure what else to say to make her understand. It was never this hard to convince the others, not even Cameron, who thought we were being watched all the time. Although he’s still pretty paranoid. Maybe that’s why Sam flinches at the idea of dating him.
Liv takes my hand and draws idle circles around my knuckles with her thumb. Her hands are small, her fingers so slender. I’m caught up in staring at them, which is probably why her next question, “How did your mother die?” takes me off guard.
I jerk away from her. “What?”
She stares at me. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t…”
“My mother died when I was seven. It was pretty bad. She just…” I yank on the grass next to me, throwing it aside. It doesn’t make me feel any better. “She just couldn’t handle life.”
It’s the main thing I remember about my mother—the bleak depression that eventually led to her suicide. I shove the memory behind the wall in my heart.
Liv takes my hand again. Her touch is warm. “What happened to your father?”
Anger washes over me with the other memory I never let surface. I don’t say anything this time.
“He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
She’s too perceptive. But I can’t tell her. Can’t tell anyone. I’m sweating now, though it could just be the heat of the sun. I want to crawl to the edge of the pool and sink into the cold water, swim away from this girl who asks too much.
“It’s okay,” Liv says quietly, as if reading my mind. “You don’t have to tell me.”
I take a deep breath and stare into her soft brown eyes. This is it, the ultimate test. Do I open myself up to her and bare my most painful truths, or do I blow her off and lie?
“I’ve never told anyone. No one except Nancy knows about him.” I manage to keep all emotion out of my voice. “He’s a hedge fund manager. He’s a billionaire, living the life in New York City.”
Her mouth drops open in shock.
“Yeah, I was pretty surprised myself,” I tell her.
“How did you find out?”
“My mother told me, right before she died. She gave me a letter he once wrote to her, telling her how much she meant to him, promising to leave his wife for her. He had an affair with her while he was married and refused to claim me as his son. Yep. Dear Daddy is still alive.”
It’s hard to talk about him without using every possible curse word I can think of. His denial of me, of us, was the reason my mother was so depressed.
“Did you ever try to contact him?”
I thread my fingers behind my head and concentrate on the needles of the pine trees, my heart constricting. “Yes, three years ago. He acted like he didn’t know me, but I could tell he was lying. I look exactly like the son of a bitch. It’s okay. He’s unknowingly been providing more than enough payback for abandoning us. I’ve seen to that.” Although money will never, never make up for what he did.
We sit in silence for a while. Then she asks, “Have you ever wished your life was different? More honest?”
I look away. “No. I like my life the way it is. I’ve never thought twice about it.” Until now.
“Really?” Liv’s eyes reflect doubt, but she still smiles—sunshine piercing through my dark clouds. Being with her is like being with the best part of myself, a fragment remaining from my innocent childhood. She makes me want to go out and give all my money to the homeless, feed stray dogs, kiss babies, and all sorts of stupid shit. Sometimes I feel like riding my Ducati away from Liv as fast as I can; at the same time, I want to hold her and never let her out of my arms.
“Z?”
Liv frowns, maybe because I’m staring at her like an idiot. I smile and curl a stray lock of hair around her ear, letting my fingers trail along her jawline. She closes her eyes at the touch and tilts her head up for the kiss I won’t give her.
Not yet.
“Jack.” The word feels strange coming from my mouth.
Her eyes flicker open. “What?”
I brush my thumb over her parted lips, craving the taste of them. “My name is Jack.”
It’s a relief to finally say the name I’ve hidden for years, ever since Nancy found me and helped me get rid of my identity. She knew Bill would never stop using me against my father if he knew about my association. And once I picked the name Z, Nancy never called me Jack again.
Liv stares at me, wide-eyed, those lips I desire curving up slowly. “Jack,” she whispers.
I close my eyes. “Say it again.”
Her soft hands lightly press against my cheeks, igniting fire inside of me. “Jack.”
I slide my hands along her arms to the hands touching my face, tugging them around my neck. My lips skim hers at first, just enough so I can breathe in the softness of her.
“Jack,” she whispers through a sigh, the word falling so naturally from her lips. Why the hell did I wait so long to tell her? I press my lips to hers again, coaxing them apart to taste her mouth, then pulling away to tease her into saying my name again. “Jack,” she says, smiling softly without opening her eyes.
This time, I don’t hold back. I let my mouth consume hers as my hands slip down her waist and over her curves.
We slowly lie back on the grass, never breaking the lock on our lips. God help me, she tastes of sunshine and roses. She tilts her head back as I explore the lines of her jaw with my kisses, then the length of her neck. I want to dip farther, to know every inch of her. But as my hand moves over her stomach, I can feel the muscles underneath tense. I glance up to see her eyes squeezed tightly closed.
I sigh and press a kiss just above the V of her T-shirt, mentally shouting every possible curse against Derrick. Liv’s eyes flicker open and a mix of relief and disappointment flashes through them as I tug her shirt down.
“You’re not ready for this,” I tell her, caressing her cheek. “It’s okay.”
“I want to, Jack. I’m just…I just have to deal with what’s in my head first.”
“Totally understandable.” I kiss her lightly and rest back on my elbows, watching her. She’s got something on her mind, the way she’s staring at the sky, biting her lip. I hope she’s not overanalyzing this. “What are you thinking about?”
“Maybe we should just run away together. We could be on our own, start a new life, put all the demons behind us.”
I wasn’t expecting this answer. Run away to start a new life? The thought is exhilarating, tempting, and scary as hell. Possibilities that aren’t possible for me. Still, I ask, “What would you do if you left here?”
“Well, college, for one. I’d love to go to Princeton. Have you applied to any schools yet?”
I shake my head and cringe inside as she keeps talking about what life outside of Monroe Street could be for us. It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. She’s made me think about it. But hearing her talk about college makes me feel sick. Possibilities that aren’t possible.
I shake that thought off. She hasn’t even started yet. She’ll come around once she gets that first paycheck. Everyone does.
…
Liv
“So what exactly are we going to do with this account?” I ask, my hand poised over the keyboard.
I can’t bring myself to hit enter. It’s my first transfer, and I can’t do it. I know I’m frustrating Jack, who’s morphed from the sweet, sensitive boy who opened his heart to me at the waterfall into the hacker who’s all business. I can tell he’s trying to maintain his patience, but it’s not that I don’t know how. When it comes down to it, it’s really not that hard. Once yo
u’re in, it’s almost scary how simple it is to transfer money into the ghost account. But I can’t get away from the biggest problem here: this is major, throw-your-butt-in-jail theft.
Jack takes a deep breath, his eyes focused on the blinking cursor. “Not we, Liv. You. This one’s easy enough. The password cracker got you in; now you just have to complete the transaction. It’s not a large enough amount to raise an alarm, especially from this company. You never want to transfer a huge amount of money at one time unless you’re planning to do a dump-and-run. It’d alert the authorities right away.” He speaks so casually, like all I’m doing is looking up my account balance or something.
“What’s a dump-and-run?”
“It’s Bill’s term for taking a huge sum and cutting ties after. He does it sometimes with large accounts. The rest of us don’t.”
“Oh.” I drop my hand to my lap and stare at the monitor.
Jack groans. “You have to do it, you know. It’s required if you live here. And you’ll be given your own accounts soon.”
“I know, but…”
“Look, don’t you want to be here?” His voice sounds desperate, almost pleading now, strange from someone like him. I can’t help thinking his question isn’t if I want to be here, it’s if I want to be here with him. Obviously, I want to be with him more than anything, but…damn it.
He runs his hands through his hair and tries a poor attempt at his old easy smile. “Just type in these numbers and click here. Easy enough. Then you get a piece of that.”
“Where does the rest go?”
He hesitates for a moment, not meeting my eyes. “The home, things, you know.”
Yeah, I know—Bill. He’s the one pulling all the strings here, like a pimp. You just don’t want to admit it. I try a different tactic. “So these people who work for this money never notice it’s gone. But doesn’t it ever bother you that everything you have is bought with stolen money? Or do you always do whatever Bill tells you to do?”