Unleashed

by Amy McCulloch

  ‘Goodnight, Lacey. And don’t worry. I’ll get in touch with Eric and talk to him while you’re at school.’

  School. Profectus. I’d almost forgotten. I’m excited to go back and see my friends, to get back to normal and to focus on my goals. It will be different without Jinx, but I hope he’s somewhere safe. I won’t have to worry about him reading my thoughts any more. I won’t have to hear his cheeky voice in my head, disrupting my train of thought. I won’t have to keep getting into trouble because of things he did, not under my command.

  I try and convince myself that is a good thing.

  Who am I kidding? With Jinx gone, I feel like I’m missing a piece of my heart.

  How am I supposed to live without him?

  WHEN I WAKE UP THE next morning, relieved to find that I am in my own bed. It’s still pitch-black outside. ‘What’s the time, Slick?’ I ask my baku.

  >>It’s 5:05 a.m.

  Oof, that’s early. But I can’t go back to sleep. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, dwelling on snippets of dreams that seem more like memories. I take myself back to Moncha HQ and the fight with Carter. I can picture that much more clearly now: the large room where Carter was holding a caged Jinx, backed up by the fearsome security panthers. I had back-up too: Tobias, and the rest of my Baku Battle teammates Kai, River and Ashley.

  I remember Slick helping me to free Jinx by removing the black mark on his paw – a device that disabled Jinx’s movement. I remember holding Jinx in my arms and preparing to run away with Tobias and the rest of the team. But then he wriggles out of my grasp, and runs away.

  The next memories don’t make much sense. Running through twisting hallways. Then, I’m standing on a street, in front of a house, but I’m indoors.

  Then I’m outside again. I have an image of cats – not baku cats like Jinx, but real ones.

  I wish I could understand what it all means.

  At half-past six, I drag myself out of bed.

  >>Want to know the plan for the day, Lacey?

  There’s no quip from Slick. No gag. No snark. Just my companion, my little level 1 beetle baku, doing exactly what he was programmed to do, obediently awaiting my commands, ready to help me – not only to tell me about my day, but to help me navigate my way through the world at large.

  I give the slightest nod to Slick and he buzzes around me, projecting my calendar and scrolling through my messages and social media.

  There are a bunch of overdue homework alerts, automatically sent through by Profectus, that threaten to overwhelm me; a notification about a single-line update to the baku terms and conditions; several news alerts about the latest antics of a celebrity which I’d previously subscribed to. I brush them all away, feeling an overriding sense of sadness. I miss Jinx’s familiarity. I would take his quips and personality over Slick’s efficiency any day. Jinx never laid out my schedule or reminded me about a Maths test. Those things might be useful, but they aren’t what I want. I know I shouldn’t be judging my new little baku. He’s doing exactly what he was designed to do. He’s making my life easier.

  But I don’t want a personal assistant. I want my friend.

  >>With the bad weather in the forecast and traffic ahead, I suggest you leave for school twenty minutes earlier than usual.

  I groan, but roll out of bed. I don’t want to be late – in fact, I want to get there early so that I can meet up with Tobias and the rest of the team before school.

  They’re the only students at Profectus who know the truth: that Jinx was something more than an ordinary baku.

  When I ask Slick to reveal the messages from Team Tobias, I’m bombarded by voicenotes and texts.

  ASHLEY: Hi Lacey! Tobias said you might not pick up these messages for a while but I hope you’re okay . . . I was so worried when I heard you were in a coma. I’ve organized someone to take notes in all your classes so you won’t miss a thing. Message me as soon as you’re able!

  KAI: Lacey! OK, so, we didn’t win the Baku Battles but thanks for making my last year at Profectus hella exciting. Catch ya when you’re back.

  River doesn’t leave me a message, but instead sends me a series of videos of him running around, performing silly tricks with his frog baku, Lizard. He’s letting me know he cares, but in his own unique way. My heart swells.

  They’re still my friends. I know that there are going to be a lot of questions left to answer, and I’m going to need their help if I’m going to survive the upcoming scrutiny at school. Not only did I mess up the Baku Battles, but I’ve spent the last month in the hospital. Way to keep a low profile . . .

  I throw on my school uniform after brushing my teeth and running a comb through my hair. I’ve given up attempting to make myself look any more presentable than that – everyone knows what I look like: my face has been emblazoned on the video screens in the arena, sweat dripping off my brow. But it still gives me a thrill to wear the Profectus Academy logo on my blazer. Profectus is the key to fulfilling my dream of becoming a companioneer. The state-of-the-art classrooms are ten times better equipped than at my old school; the professors are all Moncha employees imparting their knowledge; I can take classes in companioneering and coding and product design alongside normal ones like Maths and English and History and French. Almost every new companioneer hired at Moncha is a graduate of Profectus. Students vie from all corners of the globe for a place there.

  And here I am, wearing the uniform.

  ‘Mom?’ I shout from my room. Then I turn to Slick. ‘Slick, can you get a coffee brewed for me?’ Everything in our Moncha-branded kitchen connects to our bakus – he could even make me some toast if I asked for it. But I’m not hungry just yet.

  There’s no answer from Mom – she must be getting ready in her room. I walk into the kitchen and grab my steaming hot coffee, prepared with an extra swirl of cream (just how I like it in the morning – Slick is good) and take a sip. Then I frown. Normally I can hear Mom bustling about in her bedroom, but it’s so quiet, I could hear a hairpin drop.

  ‘Mom?’ I rap my knuckles against her bedroom door. No answer again. I push it open, but the room is empty.

  ‘Slick? Send a message to Mom asking if she wants me to meet her outside.’ Maybe she popped out for a minute.

  >>I’ve just had her automated reply. She’s at work, but she’ll get back to you as soon as she’s on a break.

  At work? Already?

  That doesn’t make any sense.

  Slick vibrates his iridescent wings.

  >>I’ve just had another message through from Mom. It says: Sorry honey, gone in to work early! I’ll see you after school.

  Maybe she’s gone in so early to try and talk to Eric Smith before her shift starts. ‘I guess, send her a reply, telling her OK.’

  >>Done.

  ‘Then send a message to the Team Tobias group that I’ll be arriving at school a little early.’

  >>Done.

  I hope my friends will show up and walk through the doors of Profectus with me. A show of solidarity. I feel very alone right now, with no Jinx by my side.

  Outside, I see that snow has settled on the sidewalks, turning slushy. Living in Monchaville means we rarely have to deal with the normal hassles of living through a Canadian winter. Monchaville is the nickname we give the part of the city that is funded and maintained by Moncha Corp. Monica Chan always wanted to give back to the city she was raised in, and to provide support for her growing number of employees. What started out as her buying her old condo tower turned into having Moncha-sponsored schools, a hospital, even a police force. It took the burden off an underfunded city council and promoted a sense of company love and loyalty that other big tech firms could only dream of.

  >>On your left.

  Slick warns me, and I step out of the way of a squirrel-type baku who sweeps over the sidewalk with his hard-bristled tail, brushing away the fallen snow and salting any ice below. The squirrel bakus (level 2s) are issued free of charge to work crews in charge of city maintenance.


  Monica Chan seemed to have an instinct for how to build a community. It’s one of the reasons she’s my idol.

  Monica Chan.

  I have a jolt of memory and the strangest image pops into my head of a long-limbed, languorous creature draped around my idol’s neck. The strangest looking baku. But how could that be right? Her baku is a cat model. I shake the image from my head. Right now, I’m concerned about how to get through the first day back at school after a month off and without my witty companion.

  My feet carry me towards the Academy while my brain is in this daze. As I round the corner to the school, I see the familiar tail of Jupiter, Ashley’s friendly spaniel baku, wagging at me. Ashley’s fingers swipe furiously, seemingly in thin air – she must be playing a game projected by Jupiter. I grin widely. She’s come to walk with me.

  An alert from Jupiter makes her look up and she catches my eye, giving me a huge smile. When I get close, she links her arm through mine. ‘I’m so glad you’re okay! We were all so worried about you. How are you feeling?’

  ‘A bit nervous.’

  ‘Aw, no need to be, Lace! We’re all here for you. And you’re so smart, you’ll catch up in no time.’

  ‘Thanks. But it’s weird not having Jinx,’ I say in a low voice.

  Ashley squeezes my upper arm. ‘You still don’t remember anything about that night?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m here for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I manage to stutter out.

  ‘We all are.’

  We round the corner to see the rest of Team Tobias standing at the bottom of the steps to the Academy: Kai, River and – of course – Tobias himself. I can’t help but grin as I see them.

  As we approach, River’s level 3 frog baku, Lizard, is doing somersaults on the wall. I sometimes wonder if River has altered Lizard’s battery life to give him even more energy – or maybe River just generates so much power through his fidgeting that he keeps Lizard powered up, no matter what.

  By contrast, Kai’s husky baku oka is much more still and calm. But strength is visible in every inch of Oka’s body, the same as Kai’s muscle-bound body. It’s amazing how much a person’s choice of baku mirrors their personality.

  No wonder Kai’s eyebrows lift in surprise as he spots Slick on my shoulder.

  ‘Lacey! You’re back! Ooh, I wonder if they’ll do a Baku Battle rematch now,’ River says, rubbing his hands together.

  Tobias gives River a warning look. ‘What?’ says River, throwing his hands up in the air. Then he looks at me. ‘Lacey doesn’t mind, do you?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Seems unfair that you didn’t get to participate in the final battle. There should be a rematch.’

  I shrug. ‘I think I’ve seen enough battles for now. I’ll try for the internship next year.’

  ‘As long as you’re not too poor to upgrade your baku,’ remarks Kai. His eyes slide over my beetle baku and he grimaces.

  ‘Don’t be so insensitive, Kai!’ Ashley exclaims.

  But Kai just grins. ‘Lacey knows I’m kidding around. And you know you love me,’ he says with a wink.

  Ashley huffs, but there’s a twinkle in her eye. Something has happened there in the month I’ve been away. My eyes drift over to Tobias, who I catch staring at me too. I look away, still unsure of what – if anything – is going on between us.

  But surely there must be something if he visited me in hospital every day? We did kiss, once – but it feels like a lifetime ago after everything that’s happened in between.

  ‘Let’s talk inside,’ says Tobias. ‘I’m freezing.’

  I look up at the imposing Profectus Academy building, designed to look like the front of a gothic castle. It might be perfectly modern inside, but the outside is designed to intimidate and inspire awe. It works.

  I focus my mind away from the cute boy and on to what classes I’ll have first. As we climb the steps, I wonder who’s taken over Companioneering now that Mr Baird is gone. Our principal, Dr Grant, fired him when she discovered he was a corporate spy for Moncha’s biggest rival firm BRIGHTSPRK. I won’t find out until this afternoon though. I have Maths first, then my coding class.

  Slam! My foot hits against wood. We’ve walked straight into the doors to Profectus.

  They won’t open.

  ‘Ummm . . . are we too early? Is school not even open yet?’ asks Ashley. She turns to Tobias.

  ‘No way, I’ve been here earlier than this a zillion times before,’ he replies.

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ River says.

  ‘In fact, isn’t it part of the school’s policy that the doors are always open in case we need access to the library or labs for our homework?’ asks Ashley.

  ‘Yup. Hang on, step back,’ says Tobias.

  We take a few collective steps down and then Tobias walks forward, Aero flying close behind him. The doors slide open for him and he walks inside.

  ‘Must’ve just been a glitch,’ says Ashley. She walks ahead of me, Jupiter trotting at her heels, and passes through the doors without difficulty.

  My stomach sinks, but I try not to think about it. As I walk back up the steps, my worst fears are confirmed. The doors won’t open for me.

  ‘Oh crap,’ says Kai.

  The doors open again as Ashley steps through to find out what’s happening. Her face goes ashen as she realizes what this means. It’s me.

  I’m no longer allowed into Profectus.

  ‘Come on!’ says Kai. He grabs me under one arm, River grabs the other, and between them they hustle me into the building. I get through the doors. They don’t slam shut. No alarm goes off. I wonder if I can breathe a sigh of relief.

  But it’s not to be. There’s a flap of wings and the sharp tap of heels on the rich mahogany flooring. It looks like my entrance back into school isn’t going to be as simple as I thought.

  ‘Miss Lacey Chu? Can you come with me?’ Dr Grant, our principal, does not sound pleased to see me. Last time I spoke to her, though, I was pretty rude. Maybe she just wants an apology.

  ‘See you later.’ I give Team Tobias a small wave, and they look at me with varying degrees of concern on their faces.

  ‘See you in Gathering,’ says Tobias, with a reassuring smile.

  But the look on Dr Grant’s face tells me that might be a long shot.

  Slick has been unusually quiet, and I reach up to my shoulder to make sure that he’s there. I follow behind Dr Grant’s neat beige block heels, shuffling along in my winter boots. Just a little longer, and then things will go back to normal, I think. You’ve been away for a month. Maybe they’ve changed the settings on the door . . . or they need to do a new orientation . . . there must be an explanation for all this.

  She leads me into her office, shutting the door behind her. None of the secretaries lift their eyes up to greet me. It’s as if they don’t even see me any more.

  ‘I’m sure you had difficulty getting into the school this morning.’

  Heat rises in my cheeks. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I stutter.

  ‘While your friends might find it appropriate to drag you into the school, I’m afraid there’s a reason that you weren’t allowed in. As you know, Profectus has very strict rules. And one of those rules is that no student can attend without a level 3 baku.’

  My chest tightens and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m transported back to the summer when my dream of getting into Profectus was dashed by a rejection letter.

  But this is different. Profectus isn’t supposed to discriminate towards its own students based on lack of funds – I should be offered a grant or scholarship or something. ‘I . . . I was hoping that I could get an extension until the end of the semester? I’ll try and get the money together to buy a level 3, I can talk to my mom . . . or maybe there’s some financial aid from the school?’

  I search Dr Grant’s face for some sort of understanding. I can’t be the only student to have run into financial trouble. Plus, Profectus gi
ves students money to buy new bakus all the time – for example, if they are destroyed in a Baku Battle. But there isn’t a trace of sympathy on her smooth features, and her owl baku looks down his beak at me with a stern, cold gaze. It sends a shiver down my spine.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be acceptable. You cannot attend Profectus without a level 3 baku,’ she repeats.

  ‘But Slick can still pick up the homework alerts and—’ There’s nothing really that I can’t do without a level 3 baku. The only thing would be the battles – which I wouldn’t participate in now even if I were being paid.

  She shakes her head. ‘This is one rule that we cannot bend.’

  The reality of what she is telling me is slow to sink in.

  She signals to her owl baku, who blinks at me. Slick pipes up, having received a message from the owl.

  >>I have your registration details for St Agnes. We had better walk quickly or we are going to be late to your first class.

  St Agnes? But that means . . .

  The Principal spells it out for me. ‘You are no longer a student at Profectus Academy, Lacey Chu. I have to ask you to leave the premises at once.’

  I DON’T EVEN HAVE TIME to go to my locker or say goodbye to my friends. Dr Grant’s owl baku makes sure that I am escorted out of a different exit, unable to return.

  I’m too shell-shocked to do anything remotely rebellious. It’s only when I’m back out of the door (another door that refuses to open for me) and in the frigid December air that I think of all the questions I should have asked. How is this fair? What about my course work? Is this even legal?

  ‘Slick, call Mom,’ I say, not wanting to waste any more time.

  >>Calling Mom.

  His happy-sounding voice irritates me. He’s not reading my mood at all.

  I wait on the steps, pacing to keep warm. After a few agonizing seconds, Slick says, >>I’m sorry, I’m only getting your mom’s answering service. I’ve left a message with Petal, asking for your mom to return your call as soon as possible. In the meantime, we should be getting to class. We’ve had an alert from St Agnes that you are in danger of getting detention if you don’t show up to school soon.