by Kristen Pham
“Rank amateurs! You and that drug addict are idiots!” hisses the Sofia who greeted Nic and me on our first day at Strand.
“What do you—”
“Save it,” she snarls. “If it was anyone else who saw you trying to log into that tablet, you’d be reported to the Darwin herself. What are you after?”
I follow my gut and decide to take a risk. “I’m after Strand’s organizational chart.”
The Sofia stares at me so long that I’m sure I made a mistake by revealing my agenda. “Why?”
“First, tell me why you said that you’re the only one here who wouldn’t turn me in.”
She relaxes the tiniest bit. “Anyone who’s not blind can see that you and the fellow who comes with you are skulking around like detectives in an old vid. I’m assuming that’s because you’re here to damage Strand in some way. Hopefully a big way, but I’ll settle for anything.”
“Why?”
“Because there is no punishment too horrible for these people. Your plan could be blowing this building to smithereens with everyone inside, including me, and it would be a blessing.”
Her gory image sends a chill up my spine. “All we need is Strand’s organizational chart, with the names of the top executives. No one will get physically hurt.”
She taps something on the tablet she’s carrying under her arm and shoves me back toward the restaurant set. “You’ve been gone long enough. I’ll make sure that you get what you need.”
But there’s no sign of the Sofia for the rest of rehearsal. I drag my feet, hanging around the set until Blake dismisses us. I heave a disappointed sigh as Nic and I walk toward the car that will take us back to Seattle Secondary.
“You tried to do something stupid, and it didn’t work. Am I right?” Nic asks with a smirk.
I climb into the car to avoid answering him, and something in my back pocket crinkles. My fingers brush a folded square of paper. My heartbeat speeds up. I didn’t put that paper there.
“Actually,” I reply with a significant glance at the car’s camera. “Today’s rehearsal couldn’t have gone better.”
The car ride back to campus has never seemed longer. I leap out of the car with Nic on my heels, jogging to Remedial Acting. It takes every ounce of self-control not to touch the paper until I’m safely within the walls of the classroom. Only then do I yank it from my pocket and unfold it with shaking hands.
Crew is delivering a lecture, but he stops when he sees that Nic and I are back. The entire class turns as I read the printout the Sofia has slipped me. I scan the names and titles of the Strand executives.
“It’s Strand’s organizational chart,” Nic says, his voice full of awe as he reads over my shoulder.
“You have it? The whole list?” Crew says, swiftly moving to my side.
He snatches the paper from me, and his eyes greedily absorb every name and title.
“I didn’t know if I’d live to see this,” he breathes.
Crew’s smile is giddy, out-of-place on his usually solemn face. Then he surprises me even further by slapping Nic on the back and releasing a sound that is either a laugh or a sob.
“How long have you been trying to get your hands on this thing?” I wonder aloud.
“Decades. You have accomplished something that has been in the works for more than twenty years. Today, the Throwback rebellion truly begins.”
The rest of Remedial Acting class is more celebration than strategy. Even Elizabeth gives me a grudging nod of approval. I don’t share that getting ahold of the list had nothing to do with my super spy skills and everything to do with luck.
The light in Crew’s eyes is almost manic, mirroring the energy in the room. Harriet stands next to me as Crew leads the class in envisioning how the city will run when Throwbacks and Evolved are equal.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Harriet says quietly.
“It’s a list of names, not a map to salvation,” I agree.
I shift on my feet, uneasy, watching Nic laugh loudly at Rob’s suggestion that Evolved should have to clean Throwback bathrooms for the next decade as restitution.
Instead of lingering behind with Nic and Crew, Harriet and I are the first two out the door when class is over.
“There’s a lot of work ahead of us, but today’s still a victory,” I reason.
“It is,” Harriet agrees, but the hesitation in her tone mirrors my own.
There’s only one person who can chase my uneasiness away. I haven’t heard from Justus, and I’m not going to text him again. But if we happen to bump into each other in the Lab, that’s coincidence, right?
“Want to take some treats to the kids?” I ask Harriet.
She gives me a grin that lets me know she’s aware of my true motive. “It’s Mason’s farewell party tonight before he moves into the dorms for his training. It would be rude to skip it.”
My grin matches hers, because Justus is bound to be at any party in honor of his best friend, and Harriet knows it. I practically pull her along as we hurry down the street and enter the winding tunnels of the Lab.
The party is in full swing when Harriet and I join it, dumping the candy in our bags on the table.
“The contraband is here!” Harriet calls, and the kids scurry to the table.
Maverick finds me right away, his eyes the brightest thing in the room. “I was hoping you’d come!”
I tackle him, grabbing his waist and turning him upside-down while he roars with laughter. When I put him back on his feet, he retaliates by tickling me in my ribs.
“You little monkey!” I cry, and chase him around the room.
A bunch of the younger Lab rats join in our game, and I’m running top speed across the room to escape them when I smack into a hard, muscled chest. Justus’s amused gaze meets mine, and my heart trips in my chest. Which version of him will I encounter tonight? The angry one? His dad’s recruiter? The man who has feelings for me? Or the guy whose last words to me were his text, Not tonight?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Justus says, rushing his words and pulling me away from the crush of kids who are still trying to tickle me.
“Do you?” I ask, biting back a smile at this new Justus I’m meeting, a nervous one.
“My dad took my phone. He found me texting you, and he made me promise I wouldn’t see you as long as you’re involved with Crew’s rebellion. When I said no, he took my phone.”
“No problem. I didn’t think anything of it.”
His eyes gleam with his usual confidence, his earlier nerves gone. “Liar.”
“Maybe.”
“How could you ever doubt—” Justus begins, but Mason chooses that moment to throw his arm around Justus.
Doubt what? What shouldn’t I doubt? Damn it, Mason!
“Thank God you made it. Justus has been pacing the room like a restless panther since my party started,” Mason says, and I instantly forgive him for his interruption, especially when his eyes meet mine, and there isn’t a trace of gold in them. Mason is still clean.
“You were waiting for me?” I ask Justus with a cocky tilt of my head.
“Maybe,” he says, echoing my response from earlier. He follows it with a slow smile that matches my own.
Someone turns on music, and Justus grabs my hand and pulls me to the small crowd of Lab rats who are dancing with their entire souls.
I could stay close to Justus all night, but a little hand finds mine and pulls me away from the gyrating bodies.
“I know you have the list of people at Strand,” Mav says, his voice serious. “I was hiding under the trapdoor of the stage when you told everyone.”
“I don’t have it with me now. And I’ve been thinking, Mav, maybe we should try to find the addresses on our own first, and you can get them for us only as a last resort.”
My explanation is mostly to preserve his ego because I couldn’t live with myself if he gets hurt trying to get the information, no matter how hard it is to find.
“I knew you’d back out,” Mav says, but his eyes glimmer with mischief. “That’s why I took a picture of the list with my phone when everyone was passing it around the classroom today. I’ll have those addresses for you soon. I’m going to be a hero in the rebellion, like you!”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Justus says, shouting to be heard above the music. “You’re involving a kid in your rebellion? You could get him killed!”
“Stop yelling at Joan!” Mav says, standing in front of me protectively. “She never wanted me to help. I made her.”
Justus pulls me by the arm down one of the tunnels until I kick him squarely in his backside, making him stumble.
“I come and go on my own terms,” I inform him, my face still.
“How could you let Mav get involved? You are the adult! He is a child! Letting him into your rebellion is child abuse!”
“You need to take a breath, Justus. I considered taking Mav up on his offer to help because I know what it’s like to be eight and to want to do something to make the world better. He’s so alone, and he wants to be a part of something.”
“Then help him find a hobby!”
I take a step closer to him, and every muscle in my body is tense with barely restrained irritation. “I would never put a child in danger, especially one I love, like Mav. I’d already decided to keep him away from the rebellion, and I might have convinced him to delete that list if you hadn’t inserted yourself into a conversation you don’t belong in.”
“What list?” Justus asks, but I seal my mouth.
“I’m keeping you out of this. It’s too dangerous for you.”
Justus’s eyes widen, and his cheeks flush. When he speaks, his tone is entirely new, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re protecting me.”
My body hums with something other than annoyance. I give into my urge and touch his face, running my fingers down his rough cheek. “Yes, you idiot.”
Justus gives me the smile that changes his face, the one that I dream about. “Then we’re a pair of idiots, trying to protect each other. Do you think I wouldn’t be by your side in whatever crazy scheme you’re hatching next? You need me.”
Chapter 28
It’s a hazy dream world that surrounds me after Justus leaves and Harriet and I return to the dorm. The ever-changing patterns in Justus’s eyes play on repeat in my head. My fingers tingle from brushing his face, which was a little rough from the hint of stubble.
My earlier exuberance vanishes when I go in my room and see Sparkle’s empty bed. Is the headmaster pimping her out already? Is that where she’s been every night? My only comfort is that I haven’t seen any signs that she’s on Amp, which she would have to be in order to have sex with Evolved men.
After pacing the room for a while, I remember that I haven’t tried to open Jo’s tablet in two days. Guilty, I try three words, and they all fail Jo’s password test of the most powerful word in the world. I’m starting to doubt that I’ll ever open the damn thing, and whatever Jo wanted me to know will go unread.
The door opens softly, and a weary Sparkle stops short when she finds me awake.
“Where have you been? You have to tell me,” I plead. “Were you with the headmaster?”
Sparkle stares at me while she lets down her long hair from its tight bun. “It hasn’t come to that yet. I got a job waitressing to help my family with the bills.”
It’s illegal for Throwbacks to work before graduating from their official training programs, though it happens all the time.
“You have to keep your big mouth shut about it,” Sparkle insists. “I could get kicked out of this program if the headmaster finds out, and he’s looking for an excuse to punish me.”
My relief that Sparkle is exhausted from waitressing instead of entertaining Evolved creeps is so profound that I laugh.
Sparkle frowns. “Everyone’s right about you. You’re a snob. Waitressing is honest work.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I was scared the headmaster was forcing you . . .”
Sparkle cocks her head to the side. “Spit it out.”
“Forcing you to be a prostitute to creepy Evolved guys with a Marilyn Monroe fetish,” I finish in a rush.
“It isn’t that simple,” Sparkle says, collapsing on her bed. “He doesn’t drag girls by their hair to a sex dungeon full of horny men. But he makes life difficult for you if you don’t do as he asks.”
“Difficult how?”
“He doesn’t let you audition for the best agents or allow you to participate in the performances next year to show off your talent for studios and scouts. Or he threatens to change your exam grades. He even altered the allowance given to me by the school for living expenses so I can’t buy things like shampoo and deodorant.”
“That’s sick.”
Sparkle shrugs, far more tired than enraged. “He’s trying to make an extra buck off Throwbacks, same as everyone else.”
“But that’s wrong! Evil! He should be in jail!”
“That’s reality, Joan,” Sparkle says, closing her eyes as she massages her temples. “It’s never going to change. And the longer you fight it, the more scarred your back will get.”
I want to keep yelling, but Sparkle is worn out, curled up on her bed in pajamas that are so old that they’ve turned gray and semitransparent from many washings. I clamp my mouth shut and turn off the lights.
Sparkle is lightly snoring in minutes, but I’m awake for a long time. She’s wrong. Things are going to change. Soon.
The next morning I’m up before Sparkle, for once. As I pass by her tablet, I pause. Quietly, I log into my bank account and withdraw some of the money that my parents scrounged up for my living expenses. It’s a relief to tap Sparkle’s tablet with my own to anonymously transfer the funds into her account. It’s not much, but it’s enough to buy a lot of shampoo and deodorant.
Feeling lighter, I hurry to the Little Theater to catch Crew before my morning Music class. I hope he’s an early riser. The classroom is empty, but light peeks through the curtain covering the passage in the corner of the room.
Crew is in his library with Nic, and they’re poring over an old-fashioned paper map on the table. Do these two ever sleep?
“Going after all of them is too ambitious,” Nic argues. “We should focus our energy on getting information on a few.”
Crew shakes his head. “They all need to pay.”
His words send a cold thread of worry down my spine. Crew makes it sound like we’re planning for vengeance, not justice.
Nic notices me standing in the doorway. “Good work yesterday. I was wrong. You were more capable of getting what we needed than I was.”
I hope he doesn’t quiz me on exactly how I got the list because I don’t want him and Crew to know how close I came to blowing our cover . . . again.
“Now that we have the names, what’s the plan?” I ask to divert the conversation.
“We dig up dirt on these bastards,” Nic says.
“How?”
“Most of the evidence against them can be found online,” Crew explains. “We can’t hack into Strand’s servers, but now that we know the identities of the top executives, we can hunt for information on less well-protected sites.”
“We’ll find where they’re investing money, where they’re spending it, their school records, any police records, and any mention of these individuals in the news,” Nic says.
“Then why do we need their addresses?”
“For when we confront them with the evidence of their crimes,” Crew replies, his face hard.
“It’s not enough to confront them. We need to make any incriminating information public, so the police will be forced to act,” I insist.
Crew nods absently, but his attention is back on the map. “We’ll break into teams and assign one of the top eight Strand executives to each team. They can conduct the basic searches, and then, Nic, you can follow up on leads that require deeper hacking.”
“I
t still makes sense to follow each of them for a few days if we can discover their home addresses. That’s how I discovered what Headmaster Hunter was up to.”
“You said you can prove it, but you have no actual evidence against him, do you?” Nic taunts.
“I’ll get it. I can’t wait to visit him in jail and witness his misery.”
“I guess we know who you’ll be researching,” Nic mutters. “Waste of time. He’s a small fry compared to the Strand executives.”
“Not for the girls he’s exploiting,” I counter, thinking of Beth’s vacant stare. Maybe if I told Nic it was someone he knew, it would change his mind. But it won’t be me who spreads Beth’s secret around the school.
“We discussed this,” Crew says to Nic, his tone sharp. “Let Joan follow her instincts. If they’re anything like Jo’s, they shouldn’t be ignored. And, Joan, you’re right. We should follow our targets, particularly the ones who have done a good job masking their online footprint. Sometimes, literal legwork yields the best results.”
I want to ask him about the comment he made about Jo, but a bell rings faintly from the other room, reminding me that class will start soon.
“Joan, you and Nic spread the word that all Remedial Acting students should make their way to the Little Theater every afternoon after class,” Crew instructs. “I’ve told Headmaster Hunter that senior Historical students are mentoring junior students to hone their acting skills.”
It’s hard to pay attention in class. It’s such a waste of time that could be spent getting a Throwback rebellion started. It’s all I can do to mask my impatience through my Music and Movement classes. By the time Managing Celebrity class rolls around, I’m ready to burst out of my skin.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,” Leo booms from the front of the room.