by Kristen Pham
“I know the rumors about the acting program you’re in, and if you’re thinking of fighting the Evolved outside of the law, it’s not the answer,” Justus says.
“This, coming from the guy who talked me into staying instead of running?”
“Of course you should fight for change. I sure as hell plan to. But do it the right way, with us. As soon as I told my dad there was a clone of Joan of Arc at my school, he told me that convincing you to join our movement could be a game changer for us. You will dazzle Throwbacks on the fence about whether they should speak up for change.”
My mind tries to absorb all this new information at once. “Did you get your job at Seattle Secondary in order to recruit me?”
Justus doesn’t meet my gaze.
“Maybe even get some introductions to other rare clone types? Screw you, Justus.”
I’m horrified to feel tears pushing their way into my eyes. Has every interaction between us been an effort to win me over to his dad’s cause?
Oh God, it was. I fell for a beautiful pair of eyes, like an idiot. The biker girl in me shudders at how far I’ve fallen.
“Goodbye, Justus.”
I make it out of the room before the first tear escapes. He doesn’t follow me.
Back in my dorm room, Sparkle is thankfully asleep. I know my broken heart pales in comparison to some of this shit she’s been through, but I want to wallow in my own misery.
I change into my most comfortable PJs and curl up in bed, stuffing my face in my pillow to muffle my tears. What happened to the tough, strong girl who was able to handle anything life threw at her on her own?
If only it was possible to banish the memory of how good it felt when Justus’s fingertips brushed mine or how his words inspired me to try harder to be a better person. Eventually, I cry myself to sleep.
I am yanked out of restless dreams by a pounding on the door.
“Open this door, or we’ll kick it down!” a loud voice shouts.
“What’s happening?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.
Sparkle leaps out of bed and hurries to open the door. As soon as it’s unlocked, the door flings backward so hard that it slams into the wall, the doorknob leaving a dent.
“Against the wall!” a police officer yells, shining a light in my eyes.
I’m still groggy, but my eyes move to the whip on his belt, and I do what he says—for now. Sparkle has already placed both her hands flat against the wall and spread her legs slightly, like she’s ready to be patted down. I stand next to her and follow her lead.
“Raid,” Sparkle whispers under her breath as the two police officers rip through our room, slicing open our mattresses and pulling out all the drawers of our desks. “Do whatever they ask; don’t fight. Trust me.”
Adrenaline and terror pump through my body as the reality of our situation sets in. What if they find the false bottom in my desk drawer where I hide Jo’s tablet?
The officers tear through our closets, throwing our clothes on the floor, and even dumping out my box of tampons.
If they find Jo’s tablet, they’ll arrest me. But they’ll beat the living shit out of me first. My fear spikes. It takes a monumental effort to take slow breaths and not give in to the panic.
Through the curtain of my hair, I watch the officers lift our mattresses. The badge of the policeman closest to me identifies him as Officer Boer. His name tickles my memory, and I recall the Evolved officer who refused to help me after I was mugged. He catches me looking at him.
“Face the wall,” he snarls, and I follow Sparkle’s advice and do what he says.
She heaves a sigh of relief at my compliance. Finally, almost every crevice of our room has been explored, but the false bottom of the drawer with Jo’s tablet is secure.
“Guess all that’s left is the pat down,” says the other officer, who’s younger than Officer Boer, with red hair that is rare in the Evolved.
“My favorite part. The Marilyn’s mine,” Officer Boer says.
Sparkle squeezes her eyes shut. Her mouth is closed in a hard line. Officer Boer stands behind her and slowly runs his hands down the curves of her body. He tucks a strand of Sparkle’s hair behind her ear and laughs when she flinches away from his touch.
I barely notice as the other officer pats me down in a decidedly more professional manner. He’s finished quickly, and he clears his throat.
“Let’s check their IDs and move on to the next room.”
“Don’t rush me, Ben,” Officer Boer says, now sliding his hands up Sparkle’s bare legs. Her breathing is short and panicked.
“You like that?” Officer Boer whispers to Sparkle. A tear makes its way down her cheek. “If I had some Amp on me, I would make you come so hard. Maybe I will, anyway. You’ll die happy, baby.”
That’s it. I’m going to kick him in the balls. The whipping afterward will be worth it. But before I make my move, Ben puts his hand firmly on Officer Boer’s shoulder.
“Enough.”
His voice squeaks the tiniest bit, giving away his fear of the older man. But I have to give him credit; he doesn’t back down, even when Officer Boer turns red and his hands clench into fists.
“I’m watching out for you,” Ben says, his eyes darting between Sparkle and Officer Boer. “Another incident, and you’ll be out on your ass.”
Officer Boer releases a huff of frustration, but he steps away from Sparkle. “We do have another twenty rooms on this floor to inspect. I’ll need my strength.”
Sparkle sags with relief as the officers take our tablets and inspect them for suspicious content. After confirming our identities, they head toward the door.
Officer Boer looks back at Sparkle before leaving. “Next time, I’ll bring Amp.”
The door slams shut behind them, and Sparkle curls into a ball on the ground, shaking. All of the fear that was eating me up transforms into a tidal wave of rage that is powerful enough to swallow the world. I’ll hunt that fucker down and beat him till he can’t walk before I let him touch Sparkle.
I kneel next to her and put my arm around her shoulders, but she jerks away.
“I’m fine. I’m being dramatic; nothing happened this time,” she says, but her teeth are chattering.
“The things that creep was doing can’t be legal. Let’s go after him. I’ll back you all the way.”
Sparkle releases a bark of laughter and then hunts around on the ground until she finds a tissue and blows her nose.
I think back to what Sparkle said as my temper cools. “You said nothing happened this time. Did something happen other times?”
“You’re not my therapist. There’s a price to pay for wearing this body. But if I can get cast in vids and make some real cash, all the pain will be worth it.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Sparkle stays silent and begins to methodically clean up the room, like she’s done this a hundred times before. Which she probably has.
Chapter 23
The school allots us half a day to recover from the raid. I’m amazed by how efficiently the mess gets cleaned up. Our destroyed mattresses are carted away before lunch, with promises that new ones will be delivered by dinner. It’s obvious that the school has established a process for how to handle raids because it’s such a common occurrence.
“This school must have some major cash in the bank to replace so many mattresses,” Sparkle says, shaking her head. “My sisters and I slept on the ground for half our lives because every time Mom could finally afford a new mattress, it’d get ripped open in the next raid.”
The unfairness of it all makes my anger rise until I think it will choke me, but I swallow it down in front of Sparkle. I have to wait to unleash my growing rage until I’m safely in Crew’s classroom, where I can do something about it.
Life as a Throwback is darker and more dangerous than I ever imagined. If the police had found Jo’s tablet, and Sparkle and I had to make a run for it, how would we evade the police? We couldn’t escape to the Lab and lead the polic
e there. On foot, the police would close in on us in minutes. We’d never make it off campus.
Maybe it’s not logical, but if my sleek black motorcycle was nearby . . . at least there’d be a chance to make a speedy getaway. The idea of asking my parents for a favor makes me shudder, but I pull out my phone and send them a holo-message anyway. A parking spot on campus for my bike isn’t cheap, but the peace of mind is worth it.
It’s a Tuesday, which would usually mean I’d have my least favorite class in the afternoon, Movement. Instead, Nic and I are pinged on our tablets to attend a second rehearsal at Strand. This time, an autonomous car is sent to pick us up so we don’t have to take the bus.
“We’re moving up in the world,” Nic mutters as we climb into the sleek black car.
“Why would they—”
“Nicely decorated, isn’t it?” Nic interrupts me, and he deliberately looks from me to the front of the car and flashes a wide, fake smile. “We’re so lucky that Strand is this generous.”
Nic’s message is clear. The car is bugged, so we have to watch what we say. Lexi White must want to keep a close eye on us. The rest of the ride to Strand’s studios is quiet, since I can’t stomach making fake conversation about how great the Evolved are after the raid we endured the night before.
Inside the studio, the director is talking with a group of good-looking actors whose arms are unmarked. These must be the Evolved actors we will have the “privilege” of meeting.
I notice that the other members of the Throwback cast are nervous, straightening their clothes and patting down their hair. Do they buy into this story Blake Greene has told us—that we’re lucky to be in the hallowed presence of the Evolved? Really?
I turn my attention away from the actors and assess the room instead, searching for a tablet that I could steal to get on Strand’s intranet and find the information we need. There are a couple of Sofia clone types on set who carry tablets, but they don’t let them out of their grip.
Blake has a larger holographic tablet near him that he’s less possessive of, but it’s unlikely that I would get away with grabbing the director’s flashy tablet without anyone noticing.
Nic talks with one of the Evolved actors, his demeanor cool but respectful. I grit my teeth and mingle with the other actors as well, but most of my attention is on scoping out the technology in the room.
“You seem distracted,” a low voice says.
I almost step on Blake Greene’s foot.
“Sorry, sir,” I say, widening my eyes and making my voice as sweet as I can.
He chuckles. “That’s fine, my dear. I know how intimidated you must feel to be working alongside so many of your Evolved superiors, but we didn’t hire you for your social prowess or your brains. You’ll do fine if you follow all my instructions. Your reading the other day was entirely acceptable.”
I give him what I hope is a bland smile. If I try to speak right now, nothing will come out but curse words, so I choose silence.
Blake ends the meet and greet, ushering the Evolved away like the privileged guests they are. Nic and I go back outside, and I keep my mouth clamped firmly shut for the car ride back to our school.
Nic tramps straight to Crew’s classroom, even though all classes for the day are over, and I follow him.
The Little Theater is dark and empty, until we get to Crew’s room, which is packed with people. All of the students from my Remedial Acting class are present, along with a dozen other Historical students that I recognize as second-years in the program, like Nic.
Everyone falls silent as Nic and I make our way to the front of the classroom, where Crew is sitting on the edge of the stage.
“What’d you find out?” Joseph calls out impatiently.
“Nothing today,” Nic replies loudly enough for everyone to hear him.
There’s a little grumbling after his reply, which pisses me off. “It’s our second rehearsal! Give us time.”
“If we go with my plan and torture an employee for information, we could have the intel we need by tomorrow,” Rob says, and my mouth falls open.
“Are you still pushing that crazy idea?”
Not everyone shares my reaction. Some of the students are muttering that something needs to happen, no matter what it takes. I search the crowd for Harriet and find her standing with her arms crossed. Her eyes meet mine, and a little of the weight on my shoulders lifts, knowing that she’s as disturbed as I am by Rob’s persistence.
“We have time before we need to take more drastic measures,” Crew says, and the muttering stops. “But we need the names well before Circe Night.”
“What’s happening on Circe Night?” I ask.
Circe Night is a big deal in Seattle, a citywide celebration of the arts. All of the theaters have new plays, and the museums and art houses are open all night. It’s supposed to be a night of culture and creativity, but mostly, it’s a night of heavy drinking and partying.
Crew raises his voice as he speaks to the room. “On Circe Night, our rebellion will burst onto the public stage for the first time. The first impression of our campaign will be one that demonstrates our power and our mission.”
“With all the activity, it’s the perfect night to confront the executives at Strand with whatever damning information we dig up,” Nic agrees.
“The Circe Night campaign is about more than taking down a few corrupt individuals,” Crew clarifies. “For the past twenty years, our rebellion has gathered resources, developed plans, influenced embryo selection. Every victory has been paid for with Throwback blood. The blood of people we love, blood we share. At last, we are ready to make change happen. Circe Night is not about petty revenge. It is the beginning of a new Seattle, an equal Seattle.”
No one speaks when Crew is finished. Electricity buzzes through me at the implications of these words. What an incredible time to be alive. I’ve never been more sure that I made the right decision to fight for change than I am right now. The faces of my classmates, my equals, reflect my awe and excitement.
“First Seattle, then the nation. Then the world,” Crew finishes.
Before I can burst into a literal cheer of approval, Crew’s tone changes, turning brisk and businesslike. “I need everyone in this room identifying possible problems and how they can be mitigated when the Strand executives are confronted on Circe Night. I want Plan A, B, C, and D. This is more than a school assignment. I, along with other leaders of our rebellion, will use your input in our decision-making process.”
Almost everyone in this room is cloned from an outstanding leader, and it shows as students immediately group together and begin debating tactics and using the ancient chalkboard to draw up plans.
Harriet and Sun make their way over to where I’m standing with Nic and Crew.
“Security is bound to be looser on Circe Night,” I say, thinking out loud. “But why confront the Strand executives in person at all? Let’s make any information on illegal activity public.”
“No major media station will air that kind of information,” Crew says. “But if we secretly film the executives when we confront them with evidence of their crimes, they may incriminate themselves. That kind of information will go viral, even without major media coverage.”
“And with public outrage on our side, the executives will be forced to stand trial,” Sun agrees.
Crew and Nic exchange glances so quickly that I almost miss it.
“A public trial would be a powerful weapon,” Crew agrees smoothly. “If it can be arranged.”
“I don’t think anyone is going to put Strand executives in jail, no matter how much evidence we find,” Harriet says.
“If they aren’t punished, Strand will continue to see the Throwback rebellion as harmless. Without teeth, this plan will yield no true change,” Sun says.
Crew stares at Sun for a long time before he speaks.
“Then we must show them we have teeth.”
Chapter 24
My motorcycle is parked o
utside my dorm. Emotion rises in my throat at the awareness of how quickly my parents helped me. My baby is freshly washed, and the slick new paint job Dad gave it a few months ago is still perfect. The sight of my favorite mode of transportation has me releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Safety. Escape. Freedom.
“We have to go now,” Harriet says, interrupting my reunion.
“What is it?”
“Mason called. A couple of the kids in the Lab hacked a food dispenser at a local bakery downtown. The police got called.”
“What are the cross streets?”
Harriet and I straddle my bike, and the sound of it revving to life is the best kind of music. Harriet yells directions in my ear as we speed away. She knows every side street and shortcut in the city, so between her mental map and my ability to zip between the autonomous cars on the grid, we make it to the bakery in seven minutes.
It’s in the fancy part of town, a few blocks from Strand’s headquarters. The awning is white and gold, and the name of the bakery, Sweetness, is written in elaborate script on the window.
“What were those kids thinking?” Harriet mutters.
“They were hungry,” I reply, remembering the nights my parents didn’t come home from their latest binge, and I’d scrounge our empty cupboards for scraps over and over again, even though I knew there was nothing inside them.
“They’re always hungry. They could have at least attacked a less high-end place where they wouldn’t have been as likely to get noticed.”
A bulky officer pushes through the doors of the bakery, and Harriet and I hurry to follow him. Inside, the bakery displays elaborate cakes, glittery pastries, and perfect truffles on glass shelves. Seeing so much abundance makes my mouth water and my gut churn.
A red-faced woman who seems too skinny to be the creator of these masterpieces stands with her hands on her hips in front of a shiny, top-of-the-line pastry food dispenser. In front of her, with their backs to us, are two of the kids from the Lab, with their heads hung low.
But it’s the third figure who I stare at.
“Thank God, Justus is here,” Harriet says.