Disruption

by Jessica Shirvington

  ‘That’s nice,’ I responded, still distracted by my guilt.

  ‘And my family expect that you will be my date.’

  My eyes widened. ‘No. Take one of the girls who rated well with you tonight.’

  ‘No,’ he replied, sounding somewhat disgusted by the prospect. ‘None of them rated well enough to justify not bringing you, and anyway … I can’t go through a whole night …’

  ‘Being nice?’ I jabbed.

  He didn’t laugh. ‘Lying to someone like that.’

  ‘How else is it going to be, Quentin? Even once we get you enough supply of the disruption, you’ll still question it.’ Would he really never let himself get close to someone because he believed he was giving off fake ratings? My stomach churned as I realised just how much damage I was doing to this guy.

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve thought of that. I won’t lure someone into a false relationship. Using the synthetic chems is one thing, but that’s to protect my family and keep me out of one of those communities. I won’t lie to someone I’m supposed to love.’

  I bit down on my lip and blinked back the sting in my eyes. Was he saying he’d never have a real relationship again? Because of what I’d done?

  ‘Maggie.’ His voice softened, causing me to look up at him just as his shoulders dropped. ‘Like it or not, you’re the only one in the world who knows the true me.’ His nose crinkled with a thought. ‘Well, you and Gus, and I’m not taking him.’

  I forced a small laugh, trying to pull myself together. ‘Gus loves a ball, you should ask him.’

  When he didn’t respond, I felt myself sigh. Then something else occurred to me, something selfish and awful, but something that also helped to clear my head. ‘You said there was a mainframe computer at your house?’

  He nodded. ‘There is.’

  I made a quick decision. Even though I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure it was for the reason I told myself it was. ‘Okay. I’ll go with you, as long as you get me five minutes on that computer.’

  If I could get Gus to hack that computer, we might be able to get a lot of the codes and passwords we’d need to break into the core junctions. It would save us a small fortune. Plus, if my father’s location was recorded anywhere … I might just hit gold.

  ‘Deal,’ Quentin replied.

  Since I didn’t have a suitable dress, or any dress for that matter, Quentin insisted that part of the deal included a trip to the mall.

  It seemed strange to go to the mall for any other reason than breaking into the underground. Not to mention, it was very unsettling to be ball-gown shopping with Quentin Mercer. To start with, you couldn’t be inconspicuous with him anywhere. The moment we entered a shop, the assistants were all over him, offering him refreshments – basically laying themselves out on the table for him to peruse.

  To his credit, he didn’t. And, after hearing his words last night, I gathered that was part of the reason why. The worst thing was, I didn’t know if I was more proud of him for his morality, or ashamed of myself for my lack of it.

  ‘Mr Mercer, are you buying a suit?’ one shop assistant crooned at him.

  He shook his head. ‘My friend Maggie will be my guest next week at out annual ball. She needs a gown.’

  ‘Any requirements?’ the assistant asked him, not me.

  He glanced at me. ‘She can have any gown she chooses and whatever else she needs.’

  I pulled him aside. ‘As much as I appreciate your help,’ I pulled one of the vials out of my pocket, ‘maybe you should take this and go catch up with your friends. We could meet up in an hour or so.’

  He eyed the vial and took it in his hand. ‘You don’t want me around?’

  ‘I’m not a shopper at the best of times and having you here feels a little –’

  He put up his hand, cutting me off. ‘Call me when you’re done. I have an account here so just put whatever you get on that.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ I mumbled.

  He was already walking out, tipping the vial into his mouth discreetly.

  ‘Wow, he’s like the catch of the century,’ the shop assistant said, returning to my side.

  I turned to glare at her, but then I realised I needed this girl to help me find something that wouldn’t make me the social laughing stock of forever, so I smiled slyly instead. ‘Balls do seem to be the theme of the day. His, in particular.’

  She giggled and I held back an eye roll. Whatever made her happy, I guess. ‘So, dresses?’ I pushed on, desperate to get this torture over and done with.

  It turns out that big is back, in terms of gown skirts. And colour is key. I’ve never had so much colourful material lugged out and shrugged on top of me. It was a wonder I didn’t fall under some of them. I had a new appreciation for my shopping trips to Target where I could dash in and out, collecting four pairs of the same jeans and a few black T-shirts to last me until they were either ripped or stained irreparably.

  Finally, I’d had enough. ‘Mia,’ – because half an hour ago we’d crossed the first name threshold – ‘I can’t wear any of these dresses. They’re beautiful, really, but I’m just not one of these girls. If you send me home with one of these, I’m going to embarrass myself by falling over it, or knocking someone out when I turn around, or worse, suffocating them by simply sitting in their vicinity. Please tell me there are dresses that won’t look out-dated and embarrass Quentin, but that don’t have skirts as large as a small house.’

  Mia gnawed on her lip for a while, looking me up and down. Finally she smiled conspiratorially. ‘How brave are you?’

  I straightened. ‘Depends what you mean by brave. I’m not afraid of much, if that helps.’

  ‘How do you feel about black?’ I could tell she was worried, since everything currently fashionable seemed to be dripping with colour.

  I overlapped two fingers. ‘Black and I are like that.’

  She smiled. ‘Be warned, it might cause a bit of a stir, but I think I have a dress you’re going to love.’

  I gotta give it to Mia. She was right.

  By the time shoes and bag were taken care of, and I’d finally made Mia accept that I wouldn’t be adding to the Mercer tab by buying jewellery to go with the dress, an hour and a half had gone by.

  I lugged the large bag with me and headed for the escalators down to the ground floor. I decided not to call Quentin, as I didn’t want to intrude on his time. But when I stepped off the escalator I saw him sitting around a table with friends. They were laughing at something. I couldn’t help but stare at the way his legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankle, so casually, as he tossed his head back and laughed. He seemed so relaxed. He was never like that around me. I’d made sure of that.

  I dropped my head and stepped towards a nearby shop window. What had I done? I could feel the panic building up in me. The worst part was, knowing him the way I did now, how decent he was, how … uniquely Quentin he was, I couldn’t even say with certainty I wouldn’t do it again. The drive to find my father had been all that had powered me through the past couple of years. It was a terrible reality to regret my choices and yet at the same time know I was the kind of person who’d probably do it all again.

  ‘Find a dress?’ his smooth voice said from beside me.

  I didn’t flinch, but he’d snuck up on me all the same. I hadn’t even realised he’d noticed me.

  He gently wrapped his hand around my arm. ‘Come and sit with us for a minute,’ he said, already tugging me towards their table.

  I sat beside him, nodding my head in greeting to his friends. Morris was there and gave me a warm smile, which helped me to pull myself together. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get my game face on. It was more that, after shopping for ball gowns, I couldn’t have felt less like myself. It just took an extra moment. Or two.

  Two girls approached the table around the same time. They were both carrying trays with drinks and proceeded to hand them out.

  ‘Oh, hi, um …’

  ‘Maggie,’ I
jumped in. ‘And you’re Nerida. We have English together.’

  She looked at me blankly. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ I deadpanned.

  The other girl, Holly, put her drinks on the table and grabbed a nearby chair, wedging it in on the other side of Quentin, taking the time to register her rating with him before sitting. I could sense Quentin’s surprise and couldn’t help but steal a glance at his M-Band.

  Seventy-three per cent was high.

  Holly, looking smug, leaned forwards to talk to me, and to give Quentin a good look down her top. She was beautiful, of course, and had plenty more than I had to flash. Not that I wanted to flash anything anyway. Not that I even cared.

  ‘I heard you don’t keep your tech on?’

  I shook my head. ‘No need.’

  ‘Why?’

  I knew she was expecting me to say it was because of Quentin, that I was dedicated to him or something. While there he was using his tech whenever he liked. So I shrugged and leaned forwards, taking a sip of Quentin’s drink, just to show I could.

  ‘I don’t believe in it,’ I said when I leaned back.

  The entire table stared at me in shock. ‘Why?’ she shrieked. ‘Aren’t you the one who rated high with Quinny?’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘According to a gland that I cannot see or feel and that cannot talk on my behalf, Quinny and I show the world of potential.’ I held back the gag reflex at calling him that. ‘I’m not interested in a match.’

  ‘Then what are you interested in, Maggie?’ This question came from across the table; Morris had jumped into the fray.

  I was about to open my mouth and tell them the truth, but I felt Quentin’s eyes on me, burning a hole right through all my bravado. Instead of blurting out that I wasn’t the relationship type, I remembered the façade we were supposed to be keeping up. I smiled. ‘I just prefer to make my own decisions.’ I stood then, desperate for escape. ‘I gotta get going. Nice to … see you all.’ I glanced at Quentin quickly and mumbled, ‘I’ll catch you later,’ before I spun around and started powering out of there. Give me a real fight any day, but girls? Girls, I could do without.

  The worst thing was, there was a part of me that wanted to march right back and tell her to get her fake orange claws away from him. A thought that just infuriated me even more. It was none of my business. His love life was not my concern. Now or ever.

  I headed for the exit, for once resenting my deactivated Phera-tech. Maybe I should just turn it on. Yeah, right. I picked up the pace, more desperate than ever to get out of there, but Quentin surprised me for the second time by simply appearing by my side, keeping easy pace with me.

  Neither one of us spoke. I couldn’t look at him, scared that I wouldn’t be able to hide the elation trying to break free. Not even when he reached down and took the heavy shopping bag from my hand.

  I really hoped he wasn’t looking at me.

  But my surge of happiness was quickly squashed beneath the heavy realisation that Quentin would never have been by my side if he actually knew the truth. He’d walked with me because he believed he was a neg. I was just his way out of it.

  Fifteen

  On Monday night I hit the tunnels again, desperate to eliminate the possibility of Dad being held in a community we’d discovered was scheduled for a ‘clean-up’ in the coming week. I knew there was only a tiny chance, but as with every other community I’d checked, if there was any chance at all, I had to do what I could.

  This time though, the failed trip stung.

  What I wanted to do more than anything was have it out with my kicking bag in the garage, but it was Monday and that meant Mom would be expecting us to have a family meal, and I was already late.

  I raced into my room, dumping all of my gear and slipping into a pair of comfy jeans and an old football jersey before I headed into the house.

  ‘Hi, darling. I was wondering if you’d gotten caught up.’

  I smiled at Mom and let her pull me into an embrace. ‘No, just lost track of time,’ I said, hoping not to have to elaborate further. The lies were starting to leave an increasingly bitter taste in my mouth.

  She brushed the hair back from my face. ‘I forget you’re still so young,’ she said.

  I stepped away from her awkwardly. ‘I don’t feel very young. Haven’t for a while.’

  She sighed and started dishing up the casserole. ‘I know, Maggie. You do so much, it’s like you’re on this mission to prove something.’

  I froze, unsure what she was saying.

  She continued, heaping rice onto the plates. ‘You study so hard and work such long hours and when you aren’t doing that you’re at the gym. You don’t stop and I’m worried you’re going to burn out and affect your Phera-ratings.’

  My stomach turned. It always came back to the ratings for Mom. ‘I’m fine, really.’

  She passed me my plate and we settled into our chairs at the small dining table. ‘I know you are, it’s just … I’d like to see you going out with friends and having a bit of fun. See you smile more. Maybe then you would consider turning on your tech.’ The silence felt heavy. I leaned against the back of my chair, watching Mom load rice onto our plates.

  When she put down my plate and sighed, I bit down on the inside of my cheek. ‘I know what happened with your father was … it was terrible. He wasn’t the man we thought he was, but Maggie, you’re nothing like him. You won’t have the same problem that he did. Negative ratings are not hereditary.’

  She’d given me this spiel before and I wasn’t up to it after the evening’s failure below ground. I forced the corners of my mouth up. ‘I’m going to a ball this weekend, if that helps,’ I offered, hoping to placate her.

  Mom’s eyes lit up. ‘A ball? Where?’

  I dug into my dinner, realising I hadn’t actually eaten all day. Well, unless you counted the doughnut I’d had for breakfast, but that was mostly chocolate icing.

  ‘The Mercer Estate,’ I answered around a mouthful of food.

  Mom dropped her fork.

  ‘The Mercer Ball? Who are you going with?’ Her eyes were still alight, but now they were also ridiculously wide.

  I shovelled another mouthful of casserole in. It was bland, and way too healthy, but after a good slathering of salt, it was really hitting the spot.

  ‘Maggie!’

  I groaned and took a gulp of water to wash down my food.

  ‘Quentin Mercer,’ I said quickly.

  ‘I’m sorry, say that again. It sounded like you said Quentin Mercer.’ Mom laughed.

  ‘I did.’

  I waited patiently as her jaw basically hit the floor. Her reaction was no surprise.

  Wide-eyed, she finally snapped out of her stupor. ‘Is it Friday or Saturday? I’ll get the night off so I can be here when he picks you up. Oh my God, Maggie. The house. What are we going to do?’ Her rambling halted with a sharp gasp. ‘Maybe we could rent a house for the weekend and you could give him that address.’

  ‘Mom, stop. Seriously, he doesn’t care about the house.’

  ‘Oh, I know, darling. I’m sure his sole focus is on you, but you know …’ Then her eyes narrowed in on me. ‘Why is the Mercer heir taking you to a ball hosted by his family?’

  ‘Mom,’ I pleaded.

  She gasped again and threw in some kind of all-body jolt. ‘You rated with him, didn’t you? You must have for him to justify it.’

  ‘Justify it?’ I said, raising a brow.

  ‘Oh, come on, Maggie, look around. His family aren’t the type to ever let the likes of us near them. The only way into that world is through the rating system.’

  Sadly, this was true.

  I picked up my fork, keen to get back to dinner. ‘Just tell me yes or no?’ she pushed.

  I suppressed another groan, knowing she wouldn’t let it go. ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘High?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answered.

  ‘Maggie, high enough?’ I knew what she was asking. Was the rating high
enough that if Quentin chose me, the rating would support the match? If the rating supported the match that was all society cared about.

  ‘Mom, drop it.’

  ‘Come on, Maggie. It’s my last question, I promise.’ Her voice was getting pitchy and she was all but bouncing out of her seat.

  I stared into Mom’s eyes, the one person I always hated lying to the most – until recently. ‘High enough.’

  Tired as I was, my night was hardly over. Back in the garage, I changed into a pair of work-out clothes and got to it, grateful that I had my makeshift gym area, which saved me from crossing town to the Muay Thai centre every time I needed a work-out. I still had to go there for sparring – although memories of my work-out with Quentin reminded me that there were now some alternatives … much nicer than Master Rua.

  I made my way through a long list of drills, working up a decent sweat before noticing it was past midnight and I still had study to do.

  It was after 2 a.m. by the time I allowed my head to hit the pillow.

  I was at Mitchell’s Diner. Dad and I sat at the back in what had become our usual booth. Thursdays were now my favourite day of the week.

  I watched myself, this time from a bird’s-eye view. I took a moment to marvel at how innocent I looked in my flannel shirt and jean shorts, but my attention quickly fixed on Dad.

  He seemed distracted, not joining in like he normally did, and I watched as he quietly excused himself from the table and headed in the direction of the bathroom. Just before he reached the bathroom doors, he paused at the cash register and quickly tipped something into a glass of iced tea. When he glanced over his shoulder and caught my eye, he simply winked and carried on to the bathroom.

  When he returned, I leaned over the table and whispered, ‘What did you put in her drink?’

  Dad just put a finger to his lips, motioning towards the unpopular waitress, Beth, who was now drinking from the glass. When I looked back at Dad, he smiled. ‘Just a little experiment, Maggie.’

  I watched the waitress carefully. Dad was no doubt trying to help her and his enthusiasm was contagious, but I also worried something might go wrong. As time passed and nothing happened, my concerns drifted away.