Back in the game room, I glared at my so-called friends’ ordinary faces.
“Go ahead. Play your game. I’m done.”
With that, I retreated to the turret room to await my new life.
Chapter Thirty-Two
June 25, 20X5
Truth: I’ll do anything for love.
This will be my first and last entry, the final secret I share. It’s strange, knowing this is goodbye. What will be my final words to my so-called friends?
Setting down my new, blank journal, I sipped my coffee, savoring it. Alone on my balcony outside the turret room, I watched the cobalt water glistening against the distant snowcapped mountains. The air was crisp that morning—my last morning as an Influencer—hinting of the pine trees that dotted the shore. The view was void of augmentation; the natural landscape didn’t need it.
Will I miss this? Adjusting my fluffy robe, I breathed in the coffee’s nutty aroma. I don’t know how to make coffee… I don’t know how to make anything. I guess I’ll learn…
Sparkles pricked the corner of my eye, the sun reflecting off my shimmery vintage Balenciaga dress hanging in the window. And I might miss the dresses…
Laughter bounced up to me off the water. Down below, my friends were headed to the beach, huge sunglasses and floppy hats obscuring their faces from the relentless sun. They’d apparently survived a night with a vampire, but they were moving slowly.
…But I won’t miss them. At least not all of them. Adam kept me awake most of the night, everything he’d said running repeat in my mind. Once I was certain everyone was asleep, I’d crept around until I found the house’s Network center. The Myrna-bot was still auto-posting for me. My parents weren’t taking any chances with this weekend, and I was still cut off from my own feed.
Pulling up the Network on the house account, I scrolled through my feed, going back months—realizing I didn’t miss the Network at all—until I found the post where I accused Adam of forcing me to sleep with him in exchange for him pretending to like me, for wielding his Influence. The Myrna-bot had pulled images from my Life Stream to dub a confessional video where I went on and on about how terrible he was and the courage it took for me to finally speak out.
It was my parents’ attempt to save my numbers—paint me as a victim to get people on my side and give Deena what she wanted by making Adam hate me—but all it did was make me hate my parents even more. At least it proved Adam and Deena weren’t gaming me all along. I still didn’t understand why they were hooking up, but it reopened the possibility that what Adam and I had was real.
On the beach below, Jax and Bryce put on running shoes and took off in the direction of town while the girls slathered themselves with thick sunscreen and lay in withered piles on the blanketed sand. They all had their own version of sweating out last night’s sins.
Wreck and repair… Before I wreck it all.
“So, where did he sleep?” Lil’s voice drifted up.
“I don’t know.” Deena rubbed her eyes. “But if it was with her, we’re done. This is war. She can’t waltz in here and win him back just like that.”
I raised an eyebrow. He didn’t stay with her last night?
Beyond the girls, Adam dove into the water and swam toward a pontoon floating over the sandbar past the dock, his back muscles flexing with each stroke. He deserved to know my feelings were real and I never meant to hurt him. I couldn’t bear leaving with him believing the lies; I needed to talk to him.
Having nothing to lose, I tossed the journal on the rumpled bed someone else would make and put on my bathing suit. Winding my hair into a knot at the top of my head, I didn’t bother with a cover-up or a hat to shade my face, my mother’s voice ringing in my head that I was risking my youth. Purposely forgetting sunscreen was like giving my mom the finger. Hurrying to the beach, I marched straight past the girls and into the lake, splashing cold water up to my knees. Ignoring Deena’s snide “good morning to you, too,” I plunged forward, careful not to let my chin dip, paddling toward him.
I was out of breath when I reached the pontoon.
He lay on his back, staring at the sky, the sun soaking his golden skin.
“I didn’t post it. I know what you were talking about now.” I panted, struggling to heave myself onto the pontoon.
Sitting up, he hoisted me next to him. We sat facing the shore, knees nearly touching, our feet dangling in the water.
I couldn’t read his expression, but I kept talking before I lost my nerve. “My parents had a robot running my feed. I never said those things. Please believe I liked you—liked you more than I’ve ever liked anybody—I never would have hurt you like that.”
Looking at me sideways, he sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe, Ella. This whole thing is messed up. I’m starting to think I should stay away from all of you. Maybe I’m better off alone or starting over.”
“You’re probably right. You’re better off alone than with Deena. That much is true.” Sadness rippled through me at the thought of them together, and even at the risk of sounding like a jealous girlfriend—which I had no right to be—I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “How could you?”
“I never wanted to hurt you either, Ella.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “But I didn’t know why you said those things. I felt like you were using me to get at Deena, like I was a pawn in your drama game. I know it’s not a good excuse, but she’s oddly powerful. She gave me two options: she and Lil and Kylie could all release stories saying I abused them, too, or I could pretend to be her boyfriend and they’d all stick up for me, swear that you were lying. As pathetic as it sounds, I need my numbers. I figured I’m better off with her than against her.”
“I don’t blame you.” I sighed, sick to my stomach. “I promise my feelings for you were real. But now everything is ruined. We can never go back to the way it was.”
“No. We can’t, can we?” He frowned. “If I could go back in time, I’d run away with you before this mess happened—hide away somewhere so we could get to know each other. We didn’t get to explore what we had, but I know it was special.”
Every ounce of me wanted to believe him, to believe what we had could still exist. It was our f-ed reality that kept us apart. But I can fix that… My heart pounded. I shouldn’t tell him. It’s dangerous, but maybe he could come with me…
“What if you didn’t need your numbers,” I said, watching little rings of water pooling around his toe. “What if we could hide away. Would you do it? Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically? I’d be intrigued.” He met my eyes, and electricity shot through me. “But it’s impossible.”
The sun glinted off his hair, bleached blond against his tan, and admiring the strength in his lean torso, I sucked in my breath. “What if it’s not impossible?”
Whoever my escort is will just have to deal with two of us.
He raised his eyebrows.
Back onshore, there was a splash off the edge of the dock. Jax and Bryce’s heads popped up in the water, bobbing toward us. I had to hurry. “Tonight. You have to decide tonight,” I whispered. “If you want to come with me, it’s your only chance. Be at the yacht by ten o’clock. You can’t bring anything but the clothes on your back. No screens, no AMPs. Nothing. I’ll be waiting.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and in it was everything about the Adam I knew and trusted.
“I’ll be there,” he said.
Jax reached the pontoon, and, plugging my nose, I jumped into the water, dunking my whole head. Breaking the surface, I swam for shore, Adam’s answer singing in my ears.
Chapter Thirty-Three
June 25, 20X5
Truth: Death isn’t an end; it’s a beginning.
The party was everything it was supposed to be. The drinks flowed through a DJ-fueled dance party on the deck while a sunset clambake on the sho
re faded into s’mores, firepits, and moonlit skinny dipping. It was all over-the-top augmented, though it didn’t matter to me. Without AMPs, I couldn’t see the fantasy my parents had spared no expense creating. Tonight, nothing could cloud my vision. I had to watch for my contact and Adam.
Nine o’clock rolled around, and I still hadn’t glimpsed either of them, so I dutifully slipped beyond the velvet rope and boarded the boat that would take Lil, Deena, Kylie, and me to the yacht. Jax and Bryce stayed back, happy to curate the private party attendees from the already-growing line.
Once I was on board, even without AMPs, the yacht appeared to be floating in a water-filled crater on the surface of the moon. Surrounded by a galaxy of shooting stars, in the distance the earth emerged from the black unknown, slowly rotating.
For a while, it was just the girls and me on the magical boat. They stuck together, picking at the dessert bar, pouring champagne, posing pretending to steer the ship at all of the Network-bait photo ops scattered around the upper deck. No longer caring who was watching me, I kept to myself, hugging my arms across my chest, watching for Adam’s boat to emerge from the stars. Slowly, other guests arrived, but there was no Adam and no contact. As the yacht filled with partygoers, I had to keep up appearances, and I reluctantly joined the girls in a roped-off corner next to the dance floor.
“Hey birthday girl,” Lil said as I slumped down next to her. “Smile. You’re finally seventeen!” Clearly her feed was live—there was no other reason for her to be nice to me.
“I don’t care,” I said. “In fact, you should all stop caring about rankings. It’s freeing.”
Ignoring me, she expertly kept her expression neutral. “That dress is everything. And those earrings. Birthday gift?” Leaning in, she touched the beads dangling from my ears and muttered so only I could hear, “Careful, Ella. You still have everything to lose. We wouldn’t want any secrets to spill.”
She purposely knocked a glass of champagne into my lap. The cold liquid seeped between my thighs, and I leaped up.
“Oh no,” Lil said. “I’m so sorry.” Grabbing a napkin, she dabbed at my skirt.
“Don’t be,” I said sweetly. “I have dozens of other dresses. I’ll go change.”
Leaving them, I found a quiet corner of the boat and stared into the universe.
Where is Adam?
“Hey,” Deena said, joining me.
Chilled despite the balmy summer breeze swirling off the lake, I rubbed my arms. “Hi.”
We watched the earth rotate in silence, having everything and nothing to say to each other.
“Can we snap a pic?” A pretty girl I didn’t know wedged herself between us.
“Sure,” Deena said.
Fake-smiling, we sucked in our cheeks, putting our arms around one another like we were friends.
“Chill party,” the girl said, walking away. “I’ll tag you.”
“I can’t live like this,” I said as soon as she was out of earshot. “Pretending to be happy. Pretending this is real so we can make other people feel small. Do you ever feel that way?”
Deena’s eyes were saucers. “Yes.”
“Yes?” I gripped her meager arm, my fingernails piercing her skin, trying to grab hold of the fleeting glimpse of my old friend. “Deena. Do you remember when we were little girls? Are you still in there?”
The fragment of emotion was gone as soon as it came.
“Calm down, babe.” She smoothed her fingers over my hair. “I have everything I’ve always wanted.”
I searched her dead eyes, wanting to smack her, to get a rise, any kind of reaction. “Deena?” I pleaded. “We used to be friends. I wish we could go back to the way it was before Intersection.”
“Ella, when are you going to learn that living in the past is pointless? We’re in the game now, and personally, I came to play.”
My heart broke for her, for me. For us. “There’s got to be more to life than influence.”
“This is as good as it gets,” she said. “Everyone wishes they were us, and you would, too, if you were an outsider. If this all went away, you’d miss it.”
I frowned.
Over her shoulder, a boat appeared. The riders were silhouetted against a meteor shower, so I couldn’t make out faces, but I recognized one of the figures as Adam. The other guy was a mystery. Probably someone handpicked from the line.
My eyes swept over the rest of the pretty people on the yacht. How am I supposed to know which one is him? What if Allard didn’t set it up?
Fear leaped in my chest, stalling my heart, and everything happened at once:
“Jump!” I heard a voice, clear as day, and it was almost like a furious wind physically threw me overboard.
The last thing I saw was Adam, his boat drawing up to the yacht, his blue eyes searching out mine—before—
Boom.
Chapter Thirty-Four
March 20X6, San Francisco
“Are you nervous?” Rayelle asks, gluing the last silver rhinestone to the collection gathered under my left eye.
“I feel like an alien is going to punch its way out of my stomach,” I reply. “So, yes.”
“Same. I can’t believe our heists start today.” She exhales. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. I hope I don’t screw up.”
“Me, too. What if the cameras recognize me as a Maker?” I take a sip of mint tea, hoping it will calm my uneasy stomach.
“No chance. Look at you!” She turns me to face the mirror.
A glittery silver stripe runs down the center of my face and is smeared across my right cheek, and my long, pale-blue hair is braided with ribbons, but no matter how hard I squint, Ella stares back at me. I look too much like me. Closing my eyes, I breathe Betsy into me—picturing how I’ll affect her mannerisms, her slight limp, her frailty. I will draw on every ounce of acting ability my mother drilled into me. It’s all I can do. Opening my eyes, I wipe my damp hands on the skirt of my silky dress.
“Thank you for helping me,” I say. “You did a great job. Hopefully I blend in.”
“You’re a total Betsy. Don’t worry. I can’t wait to see what Garrett thinks.” Rayelle grins.
“I can.” Frowning, I lower my voice, grabbing her arm. “Hey—what was that with Kyran last night? I’ve been dying to talk to you. The bedroom thing. Have you lost your mind?”
“I know.” She groans. “He never talks, so I feel like I have to talk for both of us, but he makes me so nervous that randomness comes out of my mouth. I can’t control it.”
“I can relate to the word vomit, though Garrett doesn’t make me nervous, just irritated.”
“Boys.” She sighs. “It’s probably for the best I’ll never see Kyran again after he gets initiated. I’m sure he’ll forget all about me—not that I want him to”—she pauses, adding to herself—“actually, it would be okay if he forgot the babbling…”
A pang slices through my chest at the thought that this could be it for Garrett and me, too. “You’ll see him again.” I squeeze her arm. “Garrett says partners have an unbreakable bond.”
Rayelle smirks. “Maybe you two do, but Kyran’s different. I keep thinking I need to tell him how I feel before he disappears on me—you know, just in case there’s a chance.”
“Rayelle. I’m pretty sure he knows.”
“You think so?” She presses her hand to her rosy cheek.
“Yes.” I laugh. “Without a doubt.”
“Do you think there’s a chance he feels the same way?”
I don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. “Maybe? He’s hard to read, but anything is possible.”
“Yeah.” She exhales. “There’s always hope. And maybe you should tell Garrett how you feel about him.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Garrett knows exactly how I feel about him.”
“D
oes he? Do you know how you feel about him?” she asks. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
“Like I want to kill him?”
Bang, bang, bang. A fist thumps against the door.
“Are you ready yet?” Garrett calls before I can further deny Rayelle’s assumption. “I was hoping to get there before all the kidneys are gone.”
Rayelle giggles, and I swing open the bathroom door. “You’re not funny—”
He’s stands with his hair perfectly mussed, his signature three black bars in place under his left eye. My heart stalls. Oh. My. God. I clamp my mouth shut. Dressed in a fitted charcoal suit reminiscent of what the thieves wear in Ocean’s 22—one of the most-watched films in the Vault—he’s my dream thief.
His eyelids flutter rapidly, like he’s trying to focus. “Those shoes are a dead giveaway.”
My heart ticks back to life, and blood rushes to my cheeks. “What’s wrong with them?” I look down at my black boots. “I think they give me an edge.”
He shakes his head. “Heels. Betsy is all about heels. Think about everything when you get into character. What would you carry in your pockets if you belonged here? It’s all about the details.”
Feeling like a child who has just been scolded, I grit my teeth. “But I can’t tie heels with paracord.”
“Don’t worry about that. I have enough for the both of us.” He opens his jacket and unzips the lining, revealing everything we could possibly need—paracord, lock picks, a pocketknife, bobby pins, a Zippo, a tape recorder, a tactical pen. “And this jacket is made of bulletproof fabric. We can use it as a shield if necessary.”
“But what if we get separated? I need to be prepared, too. I have a tactical pen and lock-picking kit.” I raise the hem of my dress, exposing the tool garter strapped to my thigh.
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