Tracker220

by Jamie Krakover

  I flipped my bangs out of my face and turned away from the poem before it gutted me. At the far end of the hall, Troy barreled past three upperclassmen headed in my direction. I rushed to intercept him, channeling my pent-up emotion into the impending encounter.

  I reached for his wrist, but it slipped between my fingers.

  “Troy!”

  He spun in the direction of his name, never missing an opportunity to bolster his popularity. But the minute he saw me, his face sank as if saying, Oh, it’s just you.

  “Hear me out. I’ve got a question for you.” I knew misleading him to think it was about Lydia was the only way to get his attention.

  “Sure. I’ve got half a second.”

  “Not out here. Somewhere more private.” I motioned to the janitor’s closet.

  He puffed out his chest and followed me into the closet. The stench of wet mops overwhelmed me.

  “A dark closet. Wow, Kaya, I never knew you felt this way about me.” Half his mouth curled into a twisted smile that contained a hint of deviousness mixed with flirtation. But not the kind that made me giddy.

  “Seriously? This is not the best way to win over my best friend.”

  “Oh, have a little fun. You don’t always have to have a stick up your butt.”

  I didn’t have time for his games. I grabbed his face and whipped it directly in front of mine.

  “Damn, Kaya,” he said. “You don’t have to be so rough.”

  I instantly dropped my grip. I was in way over my head and Troy knew it. “Answer a couple questions for me and I’ll help you out with Lydia.” Bargaining with him appeared to be my only option.

  “Who says I need your help?”

  “Who says you don’t?” I knew he didn’t, but if I could put a shred of doubt in his mind, he might answer my questions.

  “Fine, but I want some premium intel.”

  “Deal.” It was too easy.

  “Intel first. I want to make sure it’s good.”

  Okay, maybe not so easy. “One now and one after.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Lydia loves symphony music and is a sucker for cheesecake.” Lydia had once told me a concert followed by cheesecake for dessert was her idea of a perfect date. If that didn’t seal the deal, I don’t know what would.

  “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  He really was that dense. “Ask her out. Take her to—”

  “Right, I got it. Now what’s your question. I don’t have all morning.”

  “Tell me about that radio wave generator you guys were messing with the other night.”

  “What do you mean?” A blank expression crossed his face.

  “Don’t play dumb. Where’d you get it?”

  He rolled his eyes, as if I’d asked the most moronic question ever. “My cousin.”

  “Where’d he get it?”

  “Why does that matter?” He stepped toward the door, an indication I was running out of time.

  “It all matters.” I paused, unsure if I wanted to tell him. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Four authorities showed up at my door last night.”

  “So? Who cares? It’s not like they don’t do random checks.”

  I gritted my teeth to avoid losing it. “This wasn’t a random check. My tracker went offline. They wanted to run diagnostics.”

  “You get hauled off by the authorities and you think I had something to do with it? That’s thick, Kaya, even for you.” He reached for the door but paused before opening it. Whatever came next, he didn’t want the whole world to hear it. “I know you hate me, but I had nothing to do with this.”

  “It has to have something to do with your device. The authorities had one just like it. How do you explain that? And I never said I hated you.” Hate? No. Strong dislike was more accurate. I only tolerated him because of Lydia’s crush.

  “You don’t have to say it. It’s obvious.” He turned to the door. “Just because you had a little visit from the authorities doesn’t mean my device had anything to do with it. You’re the only one who had authorities at your door last night, so get over yourself.” He stormed off before I could respond.

  My tracker blinked in the lower left-hand corner with the initials TA. Maybe he did have answers. I maximized the note.

  T.A.: Question me again and I’ll turn Lydia against you.

  What an ass!

  Not the answers I was hoping for. He was such a waste of skin.

  The red light flashed three times. Class was starting. I bolted out of the janitor’s closet toward art class. My worthless encounter with Troy had made me late. One more thing to resent him for. I’d have to find a redeeming quality if I was going to be supportive of Lydia’s crush.

  As I rushed through the halls, a blue light blinked in the corner of my vision. I opened the pending message.

  LOW BLOOD SUGAR. YOU SKIPPED TWO MEALS.

  Great. I was so worried about getting answers, I’d rushed out of the house without eating. I minimized the message, but the blue light kept blinking. That would be an annoyance until lunch. At least it wouldn’t be as bad as Yom Kippur fasting. Just about twenty-four hours of blinking. I could have stopped for snacks, but I’d lost my appetite with everything going on. And I refused to miss any more of art class.

  Because of Tracker220, painting and drawing were dying forms of expression. Despite all the wisdom and connectedness of my tracker, I’d grown to cherish art class. Drawing let me express myself without people judging me. For one hour, I didn’t have to worry about breaking rules because there weren’t any.

  I plopped onto a stool across the table from Harlow, who was flicking paint from his brush at the back of Wes’s head.

  “Why do you take this class if you don’t enjoy it?” I asked.

  Harlow shrugged. “It’s an easy A. It’ll help me get sports scholarships. Plus, Mr. Marcus doesn’t care if we actually do anything.” He nodded to the corner of the room, where Mr. Marcus had his cowboy boots propped up on his desk and quietly dozed with a Cardinals baseball cap pulled low. He was only good for two things—playing yenta, which was how Harlow and I had gotten together, and supporting my love of art with an endless amount of supplies. If Mr. Marcus wanted to sleep on the job, I wasn’t going to turn him in.

  “Well, if you aren’t going to do anything, at least stop wasting precious resources. Art supplies are an expensive commodity.”

  He spun on his stool. “What’s bugging you?”

  Busted. Harlow knew as well as I did that my mood wasn’t about the art supplies, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it with him. At least not yet.

  I reached for a clean sheet of paper and the colored pencils sitting across the table and began to draw. The strokes calmed my frazzled nerves, but the drawing was far from perfect. I reached for an eraser and scrubbed out some of the lines I didn’t like and tried again. The image still wasn’t right.

  Woods. I blinked twice and several images popped into my view. I scrolled through and found one with a clearing that matched what I was envisioning. After making my selection, I closed the other images. I did the same for an image of a bonfire then superimposed it onto the picture of the woods already on the right side of my vision. There. That was what I wanted. I positioned the picture in my line of sight so it sat next to my piece of paper.

  I tried again, but for some reason my hand wasn’t doing what my brain wanted it to. I huffed and positioned the image from my tracker over the paper and resized it to match. Normally, I would never trace lines from an image, but I was sick of messing up. And the blinking blue light wasn’t helping, either. Maybe I should have gone for snacks.

  As I fixed the lines, I caught Harlow staring at me out of the corner of my eye. He was waiting for an answer.

  Without looking up from the paper, I blurted out, “The authorities showed up at my door last night.”

  “What? Why?”

  I took a few more deep breaths. “My tracker…” I said. “This stuff is so
messed up.”

  “What is?” His tone was even. I admired his ability to keep calm despite the crazy nonsense spilling out of my mouth.

  “They can just burst into your house and probe your brain like that?” My body trembled. My breathing grew ragged. “It’s not right.”

  A message with HG blinked. I opened it and my vision filled with cute baby animals and little hearts. There was a baby panda and a tiny giraffe with its tongue out. Normally, I’d laugh, but no amount of cyber goof would fix what had happened.

  Harlow stroked the top of my left hand. At his touch, my shoulders clenched before relaxing. My right hand kept rhythmically swooping across the paper as I continued drawing.

  In time with the scratching of the pencil, I recounted every horrifying detail of what the authorities had done. By the end, my mouth was so dry, I could only whisper. We sat in silence, Harlow squeezing my hand.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I dropped the pencil in an attempt to focus on Harlow. He scanned the room, but most the class was sleeping or zoning out on the tracker network.

  “I never meant for anything bad to happen to you,” he said.

  I slid off my chair and rounded the table. I leaned into him, resting my head on his chest. Even sitting on the stool, he was taller than me. He wrapped me in a hug.

  “I don’t blame you for this. It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but…”

  I cut him off, pressing my finger to his lips. “I don’t blame you,” I repeated in a firm tone before giving him a peck on the lips. “I just wish I knew more about Troy’s device.”

  “You think his radio wave generator had something to do with this?”

  “It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

  “But you didn’t even use it.”

  “I know, but when I tried to stop you—” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “I don’t know what happened. None of this makes sense.”

  “The technology isn’t perfect.”

  “I know, but the chance of malfunction is so rare. I just thought…” I stopped as three red lights flashed. Damn, class is over. I reached across the table and stacked up the art supplies. “I have to go, or I’ll be late. You know how Mrs. Perkins is about tardies.” I picked up my purse and my drawing.

  Harlow grabbed my hand as I spun away from the table. “Wait, you’re coming to the game tonight, aren’t you? I need my good luck charm. It’s going to be brutal.”

  “Of course.” My hand slipped from his. Before I hurried off to English, I said, “I wouldn’t miss it.” After everything, I could use a distraction.

  Six

  “Uh, Earth to Kaya? Hello. Anyone home?” Lydia’s voice ripped me from my haze.

  The soccer game, if you could call it that, was in full swing on the field below. Huge freestanding lights illuminated the massacre in progress. Our team was down four goals, and two guys nursed injuries on the bench.

  Even the roar of the crowd didn’t disrupt my train of thought. I’d been carefully constructing a series of searches on how trackers functioned. I hoped to find clues, but half the time, I hit blocked searches. I was quickly nearing my flagged searches limit for the day. Any more and I’d ensure another date with the authorities.

  I blinked to close the search boxes. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re a little pale.”

  “It’s this whole tracker thing. It’s really bothering me.” I’d told Lydia all about my terrible night on our way home from school. Between Lydia, Harlow, Troy, and my searches, I kept coming up empty. I’d even sent a message to Jake earlier, but he’d ignored it like the previous twenty billion before it. I’d kill for that three-word message now. But what if there was more to that note I’d found? I hoped he was over trying to prove how cool he was to his AEΠ frat brothers by ignoring me.

  Jake was my last hope.

  Without his help, I’d have to question Dad when I got home. That was a conversation I was hoping to avoid. I didn’t want him to worry about me anymore than he already was.

  “Are you sure Troy didn’t mention anything about the radio wave generator to you?”

  “Kaya, I think it’s just a fluke. I wouldn’t worry so much.” She twisted me toward the field and pointed. “Watch the game. They’re putting Harlow in.”

  I minimized all my tracker functions to avoid temptation then turned my attention to the game. Even from the last row of the bleachers, I could make out his sweaty hair and muscles as he ran onto the field. He high-fived Wes and Troy. The whistle blew. At the sideline, Wes threw the ball into play. Harlow took possession and started down the field with Troy keeping pace. “They do look good out there. Don’t they?”

  Lydia let out a laugh. “Damn good.”

  Harlow outmaneuvered a defender and passed the ball to Troy, who spun around a second approaching player. Troy kicked to Harlow, who shot it into the high right corner of the goal. It sailed over the goalie’s hands into the net.

  I blinked twice as I thought about compliments. A big flashing WAY TO GO image popped up. I thought of love and Harlow and sent it on its way. Harlow pivoted toward the stands and waved at me then ran at Troy. They chest-bumped midair.

  “Why can’t they get along like that off the field?” I asked.

  “It’s all about teamwork on the field. But off the field, there’s that competitive edge. They have to show off for their women.”

  “They all have ego-itis.”

  Lydia raised her eyebrows.

  “You know they love to play mine’s bigger than yours.”

  “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t find it hot when they show off.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” I started to say more, but I didn’t want to start an argument I knew I couldn’t win. I’d let her have this one.

  Harlow wasted no time stealing the ball from the opposing team. As he headed toward the goal, the crowd cheered. The sound of unicopters in the distance caught my attention. Please don’t be coming here.

  Harlow drove at the goal, weaving in and out of players. As he lined up for a shot, the roar of the unicopters grew louder as they appeared over the treeline—at least a dozen followed by a large, black semicopter. The silver authority shield adorned the side of the rectangular shipping container, which attached to the back of the unicopter on a flatbed. Shit! They’re here.

  Spotlights focused on the game as the vehicles descended onto center field.

  The two sets of overhead blades on the semicopter slowed as the rectangular container crashed to the ground with a bang.

  The players stopped the game and headed toward their benches, anticipating what came next.

  A voice boomed from the speaker. “Nobody move. There’s a tracker malfunction at this location.” Whispers erupted in the crowd, but everyone obeyed. They stood in place, scanning the sea of people for the culprit.

  Please don’t be me. I blinked twice, frantically trying to open a mental pad.

  Nothing.

  Damnit!

  After the vehicles landed mid-field, twelve agents from the unicopters fanned across the field. A couple more released the door on the semicopter to create a ramp and dozens more agents poured out. They formed a line stretching the length of the soccer field and marched as one toward the bleachers.

  I tried my tracker again hoping it reset on its own.

  Still nothing.

  Why is this happening to me again?

  The line of agents had reached the base of the bleachers. I couldn’t let them haul me off. I wouldn’t give them another chance to jam needles into my arms and carve into my skull.

  I searched the field for a quick exit, but I was trapped, nowhere to run. I leaned over the back of the bleachers. It was my only chance.

  I turned to Lydia. “It’s me. I have to go.” I gave her my best “I’m sorry” expression.

  “Kaya, wait!” she yelled, but I had already launched myself over the top
of the bleachers and climbed halfway down. The height didn’t bother me. When I was ten, I’d figured out how to climb out my bedroom window and across the ledge on the side of our building. The quick climb took me right to Lydia’s bedroom window. The height of thirty-five stories never fazed me. The descent was like stepping off a sidewalk in comparison.

  When I reached the grass below, I ran toward the woods behind the school. It was only fifty yards away. I could make it, but then what? If my tracker restarted, they’d find me instantaneously because of the jump from one location to the next while being offline.

  My heavy breaths echoed inside my head as my feet slid on the wet grass. The woods grew closer, and I pushed on harder. With each frantic breath, I caught a whiff of pine. The scent grew with my anticipation of escape. I was almost there, but I needed a plan.

  My vision went white. Unable to see, I skidded to a halt. Great! Now my tracker is rebooting? If it fixed itself, then maybe I was off the hook. I strained to listen for footsteps, but the blood pulsing through my ears drowned out all other sound. Holding my arms out, I inched forward, each step in time with the blood pumping through my veins.

  “Kaya Weiss,” a deep voice yelled from far behind me.

  I whipped my head in the direction of the voice. My vision slowly blurred into focus. Agents marched toward me. They know it’s me. The agents were closing in from the woods as well cutting off my escape route. How did they catch up so quickly? The giant lump forming in my throat made it difficult to breathe.

  A buzzing like wind in my ears rang through my head. My mind screamed to flee, but I stood frozen as the swaying trees taunted me with their effortless movement. The authorities had a lock on my tracker. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  A blue light blinked.

  ALERT.

  INCREASED HEART RATE.

  BREATHE DEEPLY.