by Kristen Pham
I have bigger worries. Tonight is Parents’ Night, and my mom, my dad, and Addie have all sent me messages assuring me that they’ll be here. For different reasons, I’m nervous about seeing them. Keeping track of all my secrets is exhausting.
But as much as I’m dreading it, Sparkle is even more anxious. She chooses and then discards outfit after outfit.
“Want to borrow something of mine?” I ask her when the entire contents of her closet are on her bed.
“What do you want in return?” she asks, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Her words sting. Admittedly, she hasn’t been her usual sarcastic self in a while, coming home pale and silent after curfew most nights.
“You need to relax, diva,” I tease, trying to lighten her mood. “This is a friend helping a friend, like you helped me.”
I toss her a red dress that will undoubtedly look better on her than it ever could on me.
“Thanks,” she says, without meeting my eyes. “I want my mom to think I’m successful here, even though I have a long way to go.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” I say as she shrugs off her shirt and steps into my dress.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve already landed a part in a major Strand promo. Your future is secure,” she says.
“Let me zip you up,” I offer after an awkward silence. I wish I could tell her about the rebellion, but Crew would have my head.
“Wait—” Sparkle starts to say, but it’s too late.
My hand freezes as I reach for the zipper. Her back is covered in welts that mirror the ones on my back from my whipping, except that she has many, many more.
“Who did this? The headmaster? I’ll kill him.”
Sparkle yanks the dress from my grip and awkwardly zips herself up. “They’re old scars, from before you ever knew me. It’s normal—lots of Throwbacks have them.”
“You’re making that up,” I say, and I read the truth of my words in her downcast eyes. I soften my tone and step closer. “Tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”
Sparkle shakes her head and turns to the mirror, applying a final coat of mascara. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”
I keep silent after that because I have secrets of my own that I’ll never share with Sparkle. Still, a sliver of ice lodges itself in my heart at the thought of the pain she’s endured.
We leave the dorm and go to the school’s cafeteria, which is located in a squat building a couple of blocks away. Most of the students use the food and drink dispensers in the dorms and theater, so I’ve only been here a few times.
Someone has decked the cafeteria out with flashy displays projected on the walls and ceiling, but all of the lights in the world can’t blot out the nauseating odors of cleaning fluid and old food that cling to the furniture.
Sparkle immediately leaves my side when we step inside. Lots of parents have arrived already. Most are Throwbacks, but a group of parents who aren’t wearing the telltale lavalieres are clustered around one table, listening to my parents talk animatedly.
My parents look older than their years due to all the time they spent on Amp, but they are as charismatic as ever. Even though a part of me is still furious that they kept my Throwback status from me, a smile tugs on the corners of my mouth at the sight of them.
“There she is!” my dad says loudly when he spots me. “Our little star, who already landed her first major acting role one month into her program!”
The other Evolved parents examine me, probably trying to guess why I’m so special.
“Hi, guys. Where’s Addie?”
My parents’ faces fall at my cool greeting.
Mom recovers first and smooths out her expression. “She’s coming after dinner, darling. Have you been yearning to come home as much as we’ve been wishing you were still with us?”
“No,” I say with relish, though I don’t mean it. I’ve just missed using my favorite word on my parents.
“You will treat us respectfully—we’re in public,” Dad admonishes.
I try to dismiss the pang of guilt at how quickly I erased my parents’ smiles, but my usual reminder to myself of what they put me through rings hollow. How long am I going to hold their Amp addiction against them, after seeing the evidence of a much darker childhood on Sparkle’s back?
“I missed you,” I admit, giving Mom and Dad hugs.
I’m rewarded as their faces light up again. They love the attention, but they love me, too. They chatter brightly as the rest of the students arrive. The three other Evolved couples at the table are the parents of Elizabeth, Cesar, and a second-year acting student who is cloned from Abraham Lincoln.
Eventually, we all get in line for the “home-cooked” food prepared for Parents’ Night. Unlike Addie’s magical concoctions, the taste is bland, like what comes out of the cheap food dispensers in the other building. To their credit, my parents smile and force down the soggy french fries and overcooked hamburgers.
I’m relieved when my parents are finished questioning me and cover their half-full plates with their napkins.
“Try to call more often, won’t you?” my mom says, pulling me into another hug.
“I’m busy, but I’ll call you,” I promise, distracted.
“She’s an adult now, Adele,” my dad says, his eyes a little misty. “We have to let her enjoy the world on her own terms.”
“As long as she comes home eventually,” my mother sniffs.
I propel them out the door, scanning the crowd the entire time for Addie. After they’re swallowed by our autonomous car, which is waiting for them by the curb, I make my way back toward the cafeteria.
I tense when I hear Sparkle talking in a subdued tone. “I’m doing my best.”
“We need you,” a woman who must be Sparkle’s mom replies. She’s dressed in a maid’s uniform. “Your sisters are wearing clothes two sizes too small, and they haven’t had a full meal in ages.”
“We’re fine, Sparky,” says a girl who’s about thirteen years old. “Mom, stop making her feel bad.”
“It’s okay, Sunshine,” Sparkle says quietly as she strokes the long, dark hair of her sister, a Sofia clone.
“I’ve always taken care of you,” Sparkle’s mom says, ignoring the interruption. “It’s your turn to take care of me. Of us.”
“I’ll land a part soon. I promise,” Sparkle says, blinking back tears. “My acting teacher says I have a lot of promise.”
“You’ll be a star. I know it. But until then, we’ll be okay,” Sunshine says, her eyes wide and trusting.
Her words are kind, but Sparkle’s shoulders sink farther, evidence that the burden she carries has grown.
“You were born with potential. Do whatever it takes to bring home some money, if not for me, for the girls,” Sparkle’s mom says.
Before Sparkle can reply, she sees me. I’m ready to charge in and give her mom a piece of my mind, but Sparkle gives me a little shake of her head.
“Leave them be,” Addie says, pulling me away by the arm. “That’s family business, and you must give them privacy.”
I hug her tightly. Her arms are as warm and soft as always.
“I was scared you weren’t coming.”
“Then you are foolish,” she replies, squeezing me back just as hard.
“I have so much to tell you. I’ve found a real purpose for myself, a way to make the lives of Throwbacks better,” I say, and finally tell her about Crew and his plans.
The wrinkles by Addie’s mouth grow deeper as she listens. “This vid for Strand that your parents told me you are a part of . . . is it part of this rebellion of yours?”
“Yes! It’s my first mission for the Throwback rebellion,” I say, unable to keep the pride out of my voice.
Addie slowly shakes her head. “You are inside a viper’s nest, my Joan. If the viper notices you, it will strike. You could die.”
“I’m smart, and I’ll be careful,” I promise, deciding not to mention that I’
m okay with dying in order to be a part of making real change.
Addie’s gaze is soft, but the worry lines around her mouth don’t disappear. “There will be a price for making the world anew. Do not pay it with your blood. It’s too precious.”
Shortly after Addie leaves, a message from Justus appears on my phone. It’s the first time he’s ever texted me, but he keeps it casual, like we’ve been sending each other messages for weeks.
Want to learn how to spin records tonight?
An intensely girlie part of me wants to release a little scream of excitement, but I swallow it, even as my heart speeds up at the thought that Justus wants to see me. Is this a date?
I’m about to reply with a big “YES” when I see Nic pass in front of me with something clenched tightly in his fist. He’s almost running, and I know exactly what he’s holding, even if I can’t see it from here.
My jaw clenches as I run after him, half planning to beat him senseless when I get my hands on him. Nic moves fast, slipping into the dorm and speed-walking down a long hall on the bottom floor.
He’s so absorbed by the all-consuming need for his fix that he doesn’t hear me as I sprint after him. I wedge my foot in the door of his room right before it slams shut behind him.
“Leave me alone, Joan. I’m not kidding,” Nic growls when he sees me pushing my way into his room.
I smack his arm as hard as I can. A vial of liquid Amp falls to the ground. I crush it under my boot before he has a chance to react.
Nic falls to his knees, like he’s going to try to lick it up or something, before rocking back on his heels and dragging his fingers through his greasy hair.
At the sight of his hollow cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes, an unwelcome feeling of pity spreads through my body. “You need a shower. My parents said the water helped ease the itching.”
Nic nods and shuffles into the bathroom. When I hear the water turn on, I go up to my room and grab my makeup kit, which is where I also keep my painkillers.
Back in Nic’s room, I open it. It’s been a couple of years, but my hands remember exactly how to grind up the pain pills and mix them with hand cream. The minty smell makes me tense, reminding me of a time when I had to constantly be on watch to make sure my parents had their addiction under control.
Nic comes out of the bathroom in an old T-shirt and worn, gray sweatpants, drying his shaggy hair with a towel. He stops in his tracks when he sees me.
“Come here,” I say, and he sits next to me on the bed.
This defeated Nic is so much worse than the irritable one the other day. I rub my painkiller/lotion concoction on the palms of his hands, which are pink and raw. Mom told me it felt like ants were running around under the skin of her palms, biting her, when she was going through one of her withdrawals.
When I’m done, he’s watching me. “Do you hate your parents?”
“No. But I’m not sure I completely forgive them, either.”
“You don’t know what it’s like, especially since they’re Evolved. The high of Amp is more powerful in the Evolved than Throwbacks, a side effect that Strand didn’t anticipate, since the drug was created for another purpose,” Nic says.
“What does Strand have to do with Amp?”
“They created it to repress a Throwback’s immune response when in contact with a high amount of an Evolved’s fluids.”
But I’m thrown to learn that Amp can repress that immune response. I never dreamed that it could be used for any reason other than a good high.
“I don’t understand. It’s against the law for Throwbacks to swap spit with Evolved. They don’t even let Evolved kids have romantic relationships until their Status is Confirmed.”
Nic snorts. “You really think you can have clones of Marilyn Monroe or Denzel Washington or Catherine Zeta-Jones without some rich Evolved insisting on fucking them?”
Yet again, I feel helplessly naive as my mind reels with this information. “So Throwbacks take Amp to have sex with the Evolved?”
“She can be taught!” Nic smirks, a little of his attitude returning. “Most of the time it’s Throwback prostitutes, but sometimes, it’s stupid, horny kids who want to hook up and don’t know what they’re signing up for. Once you start taking Amp, quitting is almost impossible.”
“Why’d you start?”
Nic’s mouth tightens.
“Come on. You know my sob story. Now tell me yours.”
He releases a breath. To my surprise, he answers me. “I fell hard for a girl in high school. I would have stolen for her, killed for her, died for her. Taking Amp to be with her was an easy decision.”
“What happened?”
“She slummed it with me for a while, but once I got my lavaliere and my Throwback status was official, she dumped me. Now, she’s studying to be a fashion designer in New York. I’m a smudge in her memory, but she left me with an addiction that made sure I wouldn’t easily forget her.”
It’s disconcerting to feel a flash of connection, even friendship, with Nic. “That’s a hell of a story. All you can do is move forward and be strong enough to return to who you were before Amp.”
“I wouldn’t take it back, even if I could. Loving someone so much that sharing the same air they breathe is a privilege, believing that they love you back just as much, is the greatest feeling I’ve ever experienced. Even though she turned out to be different from who I thought she was, being that happy, loving someone that much, was worth all the crap that came after.”
Nic’s explanation reorients my entire perception of him. I never guessed he was capable of experiencing such intense emotions.
“Maybe next time, you can fall in love without being high on Amp, with someone who deserves you.”
Nic’s eyes meet mine. Without Amp turning them gold, they are a rich brown. “I used to think that kind of love was lost to me forever because there was no girl in existence who’d deserve it.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m not sure.”
Chapter 22
After leaving Nic’s room, I rapidly reply to Justus’s text about learning how to spin records. My curiosity about sexual contact is exploding after hearing Nic’s story. Unlike Nic, I waited like a good girl for the official stamp of approval before engaging in a relationship. And thank God, because I thought I was Evolved, and hooking up with an Evolved guy would have killed me. But I know my Status now. There’s no reason to wait. Six years of teenage hormones threatens to overwhelm me all at once.
Underground, I pause, unsure where to go. Justus hasn’t sent any more messages. Maybe he gave up on hearing a reply from me. But in case he didn’t, I decide to search for him. The Lab kids’ common rooms and dining room are empty. The usual echoes in the tunnels are muted, as everyone prepares to sleep.
Before giving up I check one last place—the room I visited with Harriet when she took me to my first Throwback party. I don’t hear any music beating in the hallway, but somebody is inside the dim room. I get closer and find Justus wearing headphones and nodding to a beat only he can hear as he mixes his music. His smile transforms his face, lighting it up. If his text made my heart speed up, his smile positively stops it now.
Justus takes off his earphones. “I thought you were busy, likely saving the world, one Throwback at a time. How’d you know I was here?”
“Lucky guess.”
“This room has the best acoustics I’ve ever heard, so I like to practice here when it’s empty,” he explains. “Come here.”
When I’m next to his turntables, his arm is close enough that the heat radiating from his skin warms me.
His gear is ancient but carefully maintained. He’s using real vinyl records, the kind I’ve only seen in old vids. Connected to the turntables is a scratched tablet.
Then Justus’s music lesson starts. The combination of the heavy beat and the vinyl under my fingertips is immersive.
I’m in love with spinning, or at least with how it feels when Justus stan
ds behind me and guides my hands, showing me what buttons to push and how to scratch the record. I’m in a trance, my skin hypersensitive to his touch and my whole body warm from the nearness of his.
Finally, he pulls off my headphones, and the music is gone. The intense beat is replaced by Justus’s quick breathing behind me. I turn around, and his face is closer to mine than it’s ever been. I know exactly how far apart our lips are, down to the millimeter. It’s illegal for us to kiss, since Justus hasn’t turned eighteen and received his lavaliere yet. That only makes me want to do it more.
Justus’s eyes focus on my mouth, but instead of closing the distance between us, he sucks in a breath and takes a step back.
The space between us makes me aware of how cold the room is, and I rub my hands up and down my arms. Justus notices, and he takes off his jacket and puts it around me. It smells like him, and I slip my arms into the sleeves.
“My dad wants me to give you a message,” Justus says, and my brain won’t process his words at first.
“Your . . . dad.”
Kissing must officially be off the table.
The light is dim, but there’s enough to see Justus’s cheeks turn pink as he continues.
His words come out in a rush. “If you want to make a difference in the lives of Throwbacks, like you said, he’d welcome any advice you have. He knows the movement is stalling, and he’s not sure how to make it more effective.”
It’s like opening a beautifully wrapped present and finding a turd inside.
“Is that why you invited me here? To sweet talk me into helping your dad’s little ‘movement’?”
“Hold on—”
“Let him know that I’ll pass on his offer. His current strategy of begging like a dog for table scraps from the Evolved and spying on someone he ought to be helping is doomed. Just hope that someone a lot smarter and stronger comes along to make some real change happen.”