by Tessa Clare
His hand quickly moves a hand to his Mobiroid. “I’m calling security. As regional chairman, I am invoking Article 19. I hereby place you under arrest –”
But I’m not done talking. “I still have your computer files.”
His hand freezes in mid-air.
“If you throw me in prison, all those files are going to be in the hands of April McIntyre,” I say, growing more confident by the look of horror on his face. “I can tell you right now: she can’t even figure out what she wants to major in, much less how to bring down a government agency. But you’ve brought this upon yourself. You took away her father, her mother, and – hell – even her sister. Take away the man she loves...” I hope that statement is true. “And, well, you know what they say about people that have nothing to lose. Throw me in prison, and I guarantee that there will be nothing stopping April from getting those files.”
Gideon evaluates my claims for a moment. I’m mentally prepared to go to prison, but at least I’ll have done everything I could.
He glowers at me. “Get out.”
My eyes widen, positive that I’m hallucinating. “What?”
“You’re fired,” Gideon says coldly. “Get your things and get out.”
I don’t need to be told a third time.
CHAPTER TWENTY
APRIL
“W orst. Hand. Ever.”
“I agree,” says Tate, tossing his Mobiroid onto the plastic picnic table. “I’m folding.”
Roman rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, you two. Don’t be sore losers.”
In the weeks that followed Roman’s unceremonious sacking, he’s been learning to make the most of the situation; and that means spending his new influx of free time with me, Autumn, and Tate. Today, it’s a Saturday afternoon that we decided to spend at a lakefront park. The weather report has promised us record low levels of pollution. Combined with sunny days and warm temperatures, it’s the perfect day to be outside. All of us left our face masks in my car so that we could enjoy the feeling of fresh air.
I’ve managed to convince Darcy to let us take Autumn for a few hours; which Darcy agreed to under the condition that Autumn was home at dinner time and that I didn’t corrupt my sister in those few hours. I figured that downloading Texas Hold ‘Em on her Mobiroid and teaching her how to play was harmless enough.
“Forget it,” I say, closing out the screen on my Mobiroid. “I’ve already had to lick a light post, tell a homeless woman that I loved her, and ask a bicycle cop if I could ride in the basket. I don’t understand why we can’t place bets with real money.”
“Because you and Autumn have enough money to buy the Eastern state,” Tate reminds me, as though I need reminding. “This evens out the playing field.”
“Your boyfriend’s unemployed,” Autumn points out. “That wouldn’t be fair, would it?”
Roman turns red. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Thanks to my newly regained access to my trust fund, I’ve been able to cover Roman’s rent while he looks for another job. It’s the least I could do, considering he got fired because of me.
“You,” I say, directing the conversation to Autumn. “You don’t have access to your trust fund yet, so don’t even talk. Until you turn eighteen, that’s been given to Darcy.”
“And I doubt Darcy would appreciate you teaching her how to gamble,” Tate says dryly.
“It’s better than drinking and smoking. I was doing all of that when I was Autumn’s age.”
“And you wonder why Darcy didn’t want you taking her for a couple of hours.”
“I’m not telling her to do it!” I say defensively. I turn my attention to Autumn, who’s staring at her Mobiroid in concentration. The app is projecting a two-sided image: one that simulates the back of the card, and the other simulates the number and suites. “What kind of cards do you have?”
I’ve been giving Autumn pointers throughout the game, so I’m surprised when she turns off the screen of her Mobiroid. “None of your business!”
“Are you kidding me?”
Autumn flushes. “Sorry. I just don’t want anyone to see them.”
“Oh, come on! I’ve been helping you throughout this entire game!”
Tate gives Roman a sideways glance. “You might as well fold. Autumn’s poker face is as obvious as a mime’s.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I say. “I don’t want to lick another light post.”
“You know, the rules of this game are unclear,” Tate points out. “I get that if we all fold, we’re all stuck doing the same dare. We make bets on atrocious and embarrassing tasks, and raise the stakes with tasks that are even more atrocious. But what if Roman loses? Do we all need to lick a light post?”
“It doesn’t matter,” says Roman. “I’m not going to lose.”
“In your dreams, Irvine.”
“I think you should fold,” Tate suggests. “It’d be embarrassing if you lost to a twelve-year-old.”
“Name your price, Miss McIntyre,” Roman says, ignoring Tate and turning his attention to a smirking Autumn.
Autumn glances between Roman and me, before she decides, “You’ve got to kiss a stranger.”
“No freaking way!” I protest. “Pick another one.”
“It’s okay,” Roman says, winking in my direction. “I’m not going to have to kiss anyone except my beautiful girlfriend.”
“You sure as hell aren’t kissing anyone!”
He turns his attention back to Autumn. “And if I win?”
Autumn raises an eyebrow. “What do you want?”
“I want you to ask Danny Lundell out,” Roman responds without hesitation. “By the end of next week.”
I glance between the two of them. “Who’s Danny Lundell?”
Autumn turns red. “No way.”
“Who’s Danny Lundell?” I repeat.
“He’s a boy at Autumn’s new school,” Roman answers, grinning at the sight of Autumn’s red face. “He’s got golden hair, bright green eyes, and all of the girls adore him – especially Autumn.”
My jaw drops. “You’ve got a crush?”
Autumn throws Tate’s Mobiroid at Roman. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone!”
“You’ve got a crush? On an actual human being?”
“Hey, don’t throw my Mobiroid!”
“Why did you tell Roman and not me?” I ask, offended.
“Because he’s a guy!”
“I’m the better candidate!” Tate chimes agitated at being excluded from the conversation. “I’m a guy, and I’m gay!”
“Oh, please! You haven’t gotten any action since Armando moved!”
Autumn looks as though she wants to crawl into a hole. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She glances at my boyfriend. “Roman, I accept your offer.”
Roman grins. “Sounds like you’ve got a date next week.”
Autumn shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She presses a button to reveal her cards. “I’ve got two tens. There’s one on the board, thus bringing me to a three of a kind. Think you can beat that?”
“That’s cute,” Roman says haughtily. The virtual cards turned over. “I’ve got a nine and a seven. Both are clubs. There’s a six, eight, and a ten on the board. I’m not sure how familiar you are with poker, but a straight flush has officially beaten you.”
Tate raises a hand to give him a high-five. “Nice!”
I glance between Roman and Autumn. Roman is ready to rub his victory in her face; Autumn is beet-red and looking around for any excuse to get out of the date. But before either of them can say anything, a meek voice cuts them off: “Excuse me?”
The four of us turn our attention to the source of the sound: a skinny short-haired girl that’s standing at the foot of our picnic bench. I assume that she’s no older than sixteen. The girl is alternating her gaze between me and the ground.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the girl says, her voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear her. “But you look a
lot like April McIntyre…”
What?
Did I hear her correctly?
“That… that would be me,” I say slowly. Everyone is looking just as shocked as I am. “I’m sorry, but have we met?”
The short-haired girl’s eyes widen in amazement. “So, it is you!” She turns her head and calls out, “Madeline, come over here! It’s April McIntyre!”
I watch as a red-haired girl practically skips to our table in excitement.
“I saw the speech you gave in front of the bureau,” the girl goes on as the red-haired girl joins the conversation. “And from that moment on, I had a whole lot of respect for your activism work.”
Activism?
I’ve never considered myself an activist of anything. Rather, I thought I was just opinionated.
“Madeline and I are members of your discussion group,” the girl continues. “Although, I guess we can’t consider it a discussion group since we’re all basically on the same page. I guess you can call it a fan club…”
My mouth nearly falls to the floor. “I have a fan club?”
“When will you make your next public appearance?” the girl asks, oblivious to my bafflement. “It’s been a few months, right?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well, when you do make another appearance, can you let the group know?” the girl asks. “You can probably just search for your name on the net. We’re on the second or third page, once you get past all the news articles. And we’d love to come out and show our support!”
The red-haired girl named Madeline presses a few buttons on her Mobiroid. “Can we take a picture with you?”
“Yeah, of course,” I reply quickly, attempting to recover. "Do you two have names?”
“I’m Veronica,” the short-hair girl says. She points a finger to her red-haired friend. “That’s Madeline.”
Madeline is scrolling through the prompts to turn her Mobiroid’s camera on, shaking out of nervousness.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shooting a look of pride towards Tate and Roman. I can’t wait to rub this in their faces.
“Alright, the camera is ready,” says Madeline. She glances at Veronica and me. “I guess we should probably get close.”
Both look like they’re about to get close to a king cobra.
“I don’t bite,” I say jokingly, even though I’m mostly serious. A second later, I pull the girl’s arms and close the distance between us. Before the camera finishes taking a photo, I decide at the last moment to plant a kiss on Veronica’s cheek. I’ll never forget the resulting grin.
I send them on their way with hugs and a promise to get into contact with the “fan club.” By the time they leave the table, I’m smiling from ear-to-ear. Unfortunately for me, my best friend, boyfriend, and sister are sitting at the table – and they’re ready to bring my ego back down to earth.
“What was that?”
“Do they not realize that they’re idolizing a girl that burns everything she cooks?”
“And used to call me a ‘stupid jerk face’ on a regular basis!”
“Can I get your autograph and sell it on the internet?”
The last comment comes from Tate, and I can’t tell if he’s serious. I have a feeling that he is.
“It’s probably nothing,” I brush off, but my cheeks are flushed, and my heart is pounding. I have supporters. Lately, I’ve felt like I was in this alone (‘Well,’ I think, glancing over at Roman. ‘Not entirely alone.’). Would they stand behind me if I were to be elected? Would I daresay hope that they’d help me bring down the Divinity Bureau?
“Oh no,” Tate says, cutting me off from my thoughts.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You have that look on your face,” Tate observes. “The one that says you’re thinking of a crazy plan.”
“I am not!”
Roman is in the middle of resyncing our Mobiroid’s when he turns to give me a warning look. “April, whatever you’re thinking – don’t do it. I narrowly escaped prison last time. If something happens, I can’t protect you.”
I scoff. “I’m not thinking of anything. I was just thinking how I’m going to kick your ass next game.”
Roman laughs. “Are you challenging my title as Poker Champion?”
“Oh yeah. I went easy on you last time, but I’m about to show you how it’s done…”
I wasn’t lying when Tate caught me thinking of a crazy plan. Most of my stupid decisions don’t involve any planning whatsoever. I go with my gut; and so far, it’s been working well.
But this time, my gut is telling me to investigate. To my knowledge, I’m not anything special. Once, I had believed that I’d be able to change the world; but that dream died with my father. I’m not an elected politician. I don’t know the first thing about saving the world. All I know is that I’m cursed with an overactive mind and a few strong opinions. I’ve been adamant about making them heard. Before my encounter with Madeline and Veronica, I’d been content with that. I could sleep well, knowing that I’ve done everything in my power to change the world. But I’m not sure if that’s going to be the case for much longer.
“Roman,” I whisper into the darkness of Roman’s apartment.
It’s four o’clock in the morning. We’re sprawled out on Roman’s futon, but I’m not sure if he’s asleep. Ever since he lost his job, our schedules have become sporadic. Sometimes, we ate our breakfast in the middle of the afternoon and didn’t eat dinner until the early hours of the morning. There’s a chance he’s awake, but I assume otherwise when I hear nothing but silence.
“Roman, I can’t sleep.”
Roman opens his eyes at those words. He shifts his arm around me and pulls me closer.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do if I’m elected,” I whisper. “I know it’s coming up. I feel like I should be doing something; because right now, it just seems like all I’m doing is waiting to die.”
Roman’s eyes flutter, but he remains quiet.
“I want to see what this group is about,” I admit. “I know you’re probably going to tell me that it’s egotistical. You probably think that I’m just interested in having a group of teenagers put me on a pedestal – but it’s more than that. Maybe they know something. Maybe they can help me figure out why the bureau is so interested in my family and me. Hell, perhaps with their help, we can even bring down the Divinity Bureau…”
“Don’t do it,” a sleep voice mumbles.
I’m startled out of my thoughts. When I turn my head towards Roman, a pair of deep brown eyes are looking back at me.
I roll towards him. “I feel like I have to. That could be my one shot to leave my mark in the world.” I pause, waiting to see if he has any input. When I’m met with silence, I continue, “You don’t understand. I’ve spent my entire life thinking that there was something wrong with me. I could never understand how my family – or anyone’s family, for that matter – could idly stand by as someone they cared about was sentenced to their deaths. It’s not like death row, where people are sentenced to die for committing crimes. No, they’re sentenced to die to make room for other people. It’s sick.”
“Most of those people have already lived long lives,” Roman murmurs. “Your family was just the unlucky exception.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Roman is quick to interrupt.
“I know it sucks,” Roman says, caressing my face softly. “But I think we might be best leaving this alone for now. You weren’t on the last election report. Will you be on the next one?” He bites his lip. “I don’t know. But if something were to happen to you, I can’t protect you. The only thing we can hope for is that this whole thing will blow over and the bureau will find other fish to fry.”
“I don’t care about me,” April insists, her increasing volume a stark contrast to the silence around us. “But what if Autumn’s next? Or you? They already know I’m with you…”
“We’re at a stalemate,” Roman says. “Remember, I ha
ve Gideon’s files. Pissing off the bureau will only ruin that.” He pauses. “Besides, maybe instead of trying to save the world, you can focus on a more manageable issue first.”
“Like what?”
“Like trying to regain custody of Autumn.”
My face flushes. “Oh.”
“She asked me about it today,” Roman says. “She wanted to know how long it would be before she could come home.”
I look away, shame threatening to overtake me.
“I told you that you were still in the beginning stages,” Roman continues. “I told her that you had an application to fill out. I didn’t tell her that it’s been sitting untouched on my hard drive for weeks.”
I blink away tears. “I was starting to think that it might be better if Autumn stayed with Darcy.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Look at us, Roman,” I say. To me, the answer is obvious. “I’m a twenty-year-old trust fund brat on the verge of election. We’re both unemployed. I don’t think I’m able to raise a twelve-year-old.”
“You love her,” Roman says. “I think that’s the most important thing. Though she won’t feel loved if you break your promise to her.”
My father’s image comes to mind. I’m all too familiar with the betrayal of broken promises.
“Okay,” I agree, hesitating but knowing that I need to try. “I’ll fill out the forms. I think I should probably wait until after the election, though.”
Roman kisses my forehead. “Go in the morning. Are you going to be so afraid of death that you forget to live?”
No, I think. I won’t.
True to my word, I use our neighbor’s internet to fill out the application and submit it to the courthouse. I need to have it notarized, though. I leave in the morning to go to the courthouse. I expect it to be a seamless process – show my ID, sign a few documents, get a date in front of the judge that’s hopefully sooner rather than later. It takes twice as long as I anticipated, though. I need to show my ID to two different clerks. One makes me redo the application when I accidentally sign the form with the wrong date (and I have to pay a small penalty for the waste of paper). I need to fill out paperwork to serve Darcy with a notice that I intend to obtain custody, another to certify that the information is correct, another to confirm that I don’t want a lawyer… by the end of the day, I could have signed my soul to the devil, and I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea.