My muscles ached in my shoulders and all the way down my back. For the first time in months I was growing instead of deteriorating. Sweat dripped down my forehead and nose and I licked it up with my tongue. I could feel toxins seeping out, and sunshine flowing in. It was the best medicine I’d ever been prescribed. It was a relief to use my hands and legs and muscles for a purpose. I loved the ache and the burn in my arms. Why have a body, why have this collection of muscles and tissue, if you don’t put it to use?
I wiped the sweat from my forehead with dirty gloves and we took a break to drink lemonade before we planted the tree.
He handed me a pair of shears and showed me how to cut the rope and remove the burlap bag. I tugged the bag free and there was a tight mound of roots held firmly together. I handled it delicately, like a surgeon transplanting an organ from one body into another. I lowered the roots into the ground and Justin helped me mix fresh soil and fertilizer with the rest of the dirt we dug up. I filled the hole slowly and carefully like I was wrapping the roots in blankets and pressed my feet around the base to pack it down. I couldn’t escape the idea that I was planting a piece of myself that day.
We stuck two stakes into the ground and attached them to the trunk using rubber chains, to keep the tree steady in wind gusts. I stood back and studied my first planting project.
“You left your mark,” he told me.
I leaned my arm on the shovel.
“We just have to water the soil so the roots can settle in and we’re done,” he said. I arched my eyebrows in surprise. This wasn’t so hard. A little time-consuming, but not in a bad way. My fingers were gritty with dirt and my arms and face were flushed from the sun and I felt more of a sense of accomplishment in that afternoon than I’d felt in all my years in digital school.
“That’s it?” I said. “Why don’t people plant trees more often?” I wondered.
Justin shrugged and reminded me it took time. “It takes ten or fifteen years for them to grow up,” he told me. “That’s like five thousand years in digital time. There’s no instant gratification.” He pointed to the trunk. “There’s nowhere to hang a wall screen or plug in a cord. Makes it pretty useless to most people these days.”
We pulled off our shoes and Justin stretched a hose from the side of the house and we sprayed the ground until the soil was dark and saturated. I stood back and admired it. I liked the idea it would get stronger every day.
I lay down on the warm grass and I stared up at the tiny dark leaves, like little hands waving to the sky. Justin flopped down next to me and held my hand against his chest.
“Thanks for the present,” I said.
“You like it?” he asked.
I nodded. It was the best gift anyone had ever given me. “I love that you show these things to me.”
“I love showing you.”
I asked him why.
“Because you absorb it. Most people let experiences bounce right off them. But you soak it all in. And that’s the only way it stays.”
***
We sat in Thomas’s basement for our last conference call. The wall screen projected several scenes: one was of Gabe and Clare talking to us from a flipscreen in the basement of the detention center. She’d stayed in Los Angeles to help Gabe, since he didn’t know how to use the computers to contact us.
Another screen showed Molly and Scott sitting around an apartment with a roomful of recruits, all young kids in jeans and T-shirts. Pat was on another screen, in his apartment in Hollywood, with a few more volunteers.
Riley and Jake sat in the basement with us. Riley and Justin would fly a plane down to L.A. tomorrow afternoon to transfer half the students. I’d drive down separately with Jake.
Clare had organized the hideouts in three different sites: one outside Santa Barbara, one at a retired airport on the coast, and one in a valley south of Sacramento. We separated ourselves into teams responsible for transporting groups of students.
“You think they’re ready for this?” Molly asked Gabe.
“You kidding?” he said. “It’s a zoo in here. Eight staff members can’t handle eight hundred squirrelly teenagers. One kid already figured out a way to hack through elevator security. He got about thirty guys onto one of the girls’ floors before they broke it up.”
“And the staff meeting is still scheduled?” Justin asked.
Gabe nodded. “Vaughn flies in tomorrow morning. I heard some doctors talking. Rumor is he’s introducing a different drug in this place. He’s caught on that the current one isn’t working anymore. They’ve suspended all the counseling sessions.”
Gabe and I discussed the details of how to move around in the DC, since we knew the layout. I dictated who I wanted, where, and when. I showed them how to make our move inside and how I wanted people situated. I told Gabe how I needed him involved. No one questioned me; everyone was busy taking notes and listening. It wasn’t until a half an hour into my speech I realized I was calling all the shots.
Justin did a final recap to make sure the counter-drugs were ready and the transportation was set.
“I think we’ve covered everything,” Scott said to wrap up the call. “If there are any more questions, Maddie will be the one to touch base with.” He caught himself and looked at Justin. “I mean—”
“No,” Justin said. “She can handle this. She knows this place better than any of us, and Gabe will be in the staff meeting.”
There wasn’t a single objection to this.
“See you all tomorrow,” Justin said. “Los Angeles.”
Everyone nodded. “Los Angeles,” we echoed together.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Come on,” Justin said when he walked into the kitchen. “Field trip.”
It was early in the morning; the sun had barely risen but I was already downstairs making coffee, too anxious to sleep. I was starting to get sick thinking about the risks involved with freeing the students in the detention center, but more than anything I was sick with the idea of going back. I was afraid I’d have a relapse, that I’d panic once I was inside and be worthless. I chewed every one of my nails to a stub.
Justin could tell I needed a distraction. He pulled a jacket on and moved past me and out the screen door to the back porch. I slipped my sneakers on in the hallway and caught up to him. We walked through the backyard, past the tree I planted. We headed down to the beach and turned south. The morning wind whipped at us and I fastened my hair to keep it out of my face. We walked for about ten minutes until we found an open path and I followed Justin up a dirt trail cut through the low shrubs. The ground steepened to a climb and we hiked up a winding trail. By the time we reached the top I was panting for breath but I was distracted as soon as I was met with the view.
Houses up and down the cliff were burned, all of them black and crumbling. A few were nothing more than piles of debris with some blackened support beams hanging on to scraps of roof that hadn’t caved in yet. One of the houses had only had its windows blown out, and the hollow spaces were boarded up, but the smoke and heat had warped the paint to a charcoal gray. The house that stood directly in front of us was gutted, like a decaying corpse. The rotting walls that were still standing were black from the soot and ash, but a few beams from the white porch were still intact. The contrast between the white porch beams and the black background was startling. I imagined the homes when they were living and breathing.
“How did it happen?” I asked.
Justin walked up closer to the white beams. “It was a group of arsonists,” he said. “They doused every porch on this block with gasoline and set fire to them all at the same time. They called the fire department and reported a fire in another town, twenty miles away, to create a diversion. By the time the trucks made it back, they were too late.”
“Clever,” I said, and picked up a pile of what could have been blue jeans that had been welded together in the heat. I tossed them back on the ground. “Were they caught?”
He nodded. He said the
y were convicted of twenty counts of attempted murder.
“Why did they do it?” I wondered.
“They don’t like the way we live. They don’t like that we build wood homes and that we burn fires at night and we hang out outside. They said we were a bunch of savages.”
I sat down on a flat rock and looked at the house. I focused my eyes on the white pillars of wood that survived. There was something beautiful about them. They stood out more than anything else. Then my eyes found more evidence of survival. A window intact. The trees around the house were still green and growing. Grass was growing around piles of debris. The graveyard of houses had turned into something living. I just had to adjust my eyes to see it.
The DC was doing the same thing as the arsonists, trying to scare me out of my mind, make me hollow and useless. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t go on. I just had to start over. I had to focus on the pieces that were still standing and attempt to rebuild.
“I know why you brought me here,” I said quietly.
“Yeah” was all he said. He sat down next to me on the rock. He told me they were tearing this all down soon. Time to start new.
“It’s not so much about moving on, is it?” he said. “It’s more about letting go. There lies the challenge.”
I put my face in my hands and took a long breath and then I was crying and I wasn’t embarrassed because I knew it was what my body needed to do. I still had a layer of soot on my heart. It was still hard and callused and charred, and I needed to push that heaviness out or it would always weigh me down.
I dried my eyes on my sleeves. “This probably wasn’t what you expected,” I said, and sniffed the tears away.
“Things never go the way I expect with you,” he said. “I learned that on day one.”
I already felt better. I could dwell on what life takes or focus on what it gives me. Now, looking out at these homes, I saw something beautiful in the destruction. I saw the potential for what could grow. It could be the same with me.
“They’re building a school here,” Justin said. “The families all got together and agreed to donate their land to the city. They’re calling it Bayview Alternative School. Their mascot’s a phoenix.”
“Isn’t it illegal to build a school?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not for long. The national vote’s coming up, to decide whether or not digital school remains a law. Things could change.”
“What if we lose the vote?” I asked.
“That’s not an option,” he said. “You only lose when you give up. That will never happen.”
I was quiet and I watched the ocean and I started biting my nails. Justin looked at me.
“Worrying about it isn’t going to make today any easier. Try to keep your head clear.”
“Fine,” I said. “Tell me something about yourself. Something personal. Five things you like, other than fighting DS.”
“Okay,” Justin said.
“What if I screw up today?” I asked.
“That’s not changing the subject.”
“Does it bother you that I’m leading this?”
“No, it impresses the hell out of me,” he said, and smiled. “Taking on the world is extremely hot.”
“Great,” I said. It only made me feel worse. “I didn’t ask to lead this.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s how it works. You fall into the role because people look up to you. It just happens. You earn it. People are always going to look up to you, Maddie. You’re confident. You carry an energy people gravitate toward.”
It was strange to hear him describe me like that, since confidence was always what attracted me to him. It’s what I fed off of when I was in the detention center to keep me strong.
“What if I don’t want the responsibility?”
“People are counting on you. I know you won’t let them down, you’re too loyal for that.”
I nodded but that was only part of my restlessness. I wasn’t just afraid of failing. I was afraid of winning. That would open up another world of responsibilities. Sometimes it’s scary to know exactly what you want. It can be easier not knowing; if you don’t know what you want, at least you’ll never worry about failing to get it.
Justin was reading my thoughts. “You’re not going to screw up,” he said. “Don’t even think about it. If you don’t consider failing, you won’t.”
“What if something happens I didn’t expect?”
“Things never happen the way you plan. Take it a second at a time. Stay in the moment. It’s the only way to control it. Your thoughts can paralyze you. They make you second-guess and that’s when you lose. You mentally beat yourself. Believe you can handle anything. Look at something that’s bigger than you and take it all in, the enormousness of it. Drown in it. Then take a step back. Compartmentalize it. Remember, anything’s attainable. And take every risk you can, as long as you trust yourself.”
I felt a groan grumble in my throat and I buried my head in his shoulder.
“Basketball,” he said.
I blinked at him. “What?”
He grinned. “Five things I like,” he continued. “Basketball. Books. Chocolate. I like driving at night with the music loud and the windows rolled down. Music always sounds better at night.”
I nodded because I’d been there to observe it. He was always at his best when he was moving. “I like your skin,” he said, and slowly ran his fingers over the ridges of my knuckles.
“My skin?” I asked.
“It’s warm,” he said. “And I like the way it tastes. It’s sweet.”
He pressed his lips against my neck and pulled me closer. “I like all of you,” he said. I rolled my eyes because I had never felt more unattractive.
“I look like I just got released from a concentration camp,” I said.
Justin shook his head. “You’ll bounce back,” he said, and leaned over until his lips were almost touching mine. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Even now?” I asked.
“More than ever.” He pulled a strand of hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You told me once you didn’t think you were brave,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “I didn’t think I was.”
He moved in until his lips were just brushing mine. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” he said against my mouth.
“You’re rubbing off on me,” I whispered back.
“No,” he said. “I’m just showing you.”
Chapter Thirty
Later that afternoon, Jake and I pulled up to an abandoned loading dock about a mile away from the LADC. We met the rest of the group inside an empty warehouse. Scott was doing sound checks and Molly sorted equipment and stuffed syringes into a backpack. We dressed like a street gang getting ready to rob a gas station. We were a ragged assortment of kids, mostly teenagers and a few that looked older, just out of DS. Our version of uniforms was hooded sweatshirts, jeans, baseball caps, and tennis shoes. We were just a group of outsiders, a dissident society, and that connected us. We had one bond that brought us together: we believed in the same kind of life. We wanted to burn the rules, sweep them out, and start again.
Scott handed out equipment: scanners, tranq guns, and radio headsets that would keep us all connected but were encrypted so no one could pick up our signals.
“Ready to be the ringleader?” Scott asked as he handed me an earpod. I stuffed it in my ear and nodded. I looked out at a roomful of people who trusted me and I was still afraid, but not the kind of fear that’s limiting—the kind that’s empowering.
Justin seemed to be reading my mind. “We’re all going to be with you,” he reminded me. “This is going to be fun. Think of it as crashing a party.”
The staff meeting was scheduled for five p.m. At four o’clock, we headed for the tunnels. We moved underground, using old subway lines that had been closed and forgotten after the Big Quake. Justin had had recruits scout out the area and find a path t
hat would take us to the DC artery. Half of the tunnels were eroding; most of them had cracks and damage from the quake. A few had caved in and had so many rocks blocking the path that we were boulder-hopping to get through.
We threw down flare lights to guide our way so we wouldn’t have to bother with flashlights. We all stayed quiet; the only sounds were twenty pairs of feet brushing against concrete and twenty people breathing steadily. It took us almost an hour in the tunnels to find the detention-center entrance. As he’d promised, Gabe had left security keycards and a list of codes outside the door. We all huddled near the entrance. It was just after five o’clock. Gabe had also left us a note, scribbled in frantic writing.
The Eyes are back on. I will reboot them right before the meeting, at 5:00, to give you some time. It takes eighteen minutes for them to reprogram, and after that, any un- authorized movement in the DC will set off the alarms. You have until 5:18 to get out of there. Guards are doing rounds on all the floors.
I looked down at my watch. It was 5:07 and we couldn’t even make a move until we got the signal from Gabe. I frowned up at Justin but his face was calm. The time crunch didn’t seem to worry him.
“We’ll be fine,” he said, below a whisper. “They’re worried about protecting the ideas in this place, not the building itself. They aren’t expecting this.”
We waited in silence for Gabe’s signal that the meeting had started. I was backed against the door, between Justin and Pat. The only sound was a chorus of breaths. The only communication was passing nods of encouragement. The flare light was fading, and the faces around me dimmed until eyes became dark shadows. Time slowed down to a suffocating crawl.
At 5:11, the sensor on my wrist vibrated. The meeting had started.
Scott did a quick sound check to make sure all the lines were live. Justin did a final check with all the transportation drivers who were waiting at three different exit spots in the tunnels and nodded to me. Everyone was ready to go.
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