“Busted,” said Milo.
Neither David nor Milo bothered to turn in her direction or pause their game. The lights glowed steady blue above their right ears. She didn’t hate Pilots like her ma did, but it did make it impossible to surprise David. The snake slithered forward into the room.
“I mean it, Softserve. We don’t need any distractions.”
She sat, a cobra. “But I’m not a distraction. You aren’t even pausing to talk to me.”
“Just because I can play without pausing doesn’t mean you’re not a di—on your left, bro—distraction. Left! Left! You know which is your left hand, right? The weaker one?”
Milo took his left hand off the controller for a second to punch David in the arm. “Maybe if you didn’t let so many get past you I wouldn’t be back here cleaning up your mess.”
The snake slithered from the room. His Pilot wouldn’t let her distract him, but David and Milo kept talking in that weird aggressive zombie-hunter-speak. She didn’t like when David’s friends were around; he was different with them than he was with family.
Julie rounded the corner. “Sophie! Are you okay? What are you doing on the floor?”
She sighed. “I’m fine, Mom. Just playing.”
Mom gave her a weird look but seemed to take her word for it.
“Are you bothering your brother? Why don’t you go read a book?”
The snake formed legs. Evolved. Rolled its eyes in its most obvious fashion. She would be the most well-read kid in the history of fifth grade. That was all they ever wanted her to do, read books. She couldn’t get hurt reading a book. Actually, she probably could, if the Big One came out to play. It could make her gash her head on the spine of a hardcover, or fall while she reached for a high shelf. If the Big One had its way, she would sit in the middle of a room full of pillows for the rest of her life. Her mothers would probably breathe relieved sighs, too. Maybe she was the only one who cared if she ever got to do anything.
She went to her room, trailing her hand along the smooth coolness of the wall as she walked. She wouldn’t read; she had better things to do. David chased fake monsters in his video games, but she had a real one to kill.
She pulled her sketch pad and colored pencils from her desk. The Big One, as always, needed to be drawn in gray, graphite, 4B soft pencil. It took different shapeless shapes each time. When she figured out what it looked like, it changed again; that was how it kept ahead of her. She drew herself standing on top of it, stabbing it with a sword.
She rummaged in her desk, this time for her geometry compass. She used the sharp point, the one that was supposed to be the circle’s center, to prick her pointer finger. One dot of blood welled up.
She couldn’t remember ever having been squeamish about blood, though she didn’t know which came first, the acceptance that she was a human pincushion or the fact of being a human pincushion. She’d heard other kids screaming and wailing, but it didn’t do any good. They still got poked and prodded; might as well cooperate and earn a reputation as a good trouper.
She stared at the beading blood, trying to see where it ended and medication began. The doctors and nurses and moms always talked about titers and blood levels. They had done it for so long she’d begun to understand some of it. The medication she took every day by mouth somehow found its way into her blood. The right amount of the right medication would banish all her seizures forever, the Big One and the Small Ones and the Ones That Shall Not Be Named, but they hadn’t found the right medication yet, or the right amount, or something.
She smeared blood into the graphite on the page, the skin and the fur and the sword wound, until the Big One was reddish-gray. Someday her blood would kill it dead, just like this. She tore the drawing out of her sketchbook and hid it in her secret box under her bed.
Back to the sketchbook, this time to draw a boy sniffing a rose with a bee in it. She tried to make the boy look like David, and the drawing look like a normal drawing her parents would laugh about if they went snooping. Nothing like the monsters under her bed.
* * *
• • •
“Dinner!”
First call meant the food was almost ready, but the first kid to appear got stuck setting the table. Normally Sophie would hang back and hope David beat her to the kitchen. She preferred cleaning afterward, so if she had a seizure and dropped something, she wasn’t wasting any food or making people cranky. Today, because she’d been home all day, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to look conscientious.
She considered slithering all the way downstairs, but she was starting to feel less snakelike, and any points she got for prompt arrival would cancel out if she acted weird. They’d decide she shouldn’t help, and then David would get annoyed with her when he had to do it all. She missed their old chore chart, but David skipped so many dinners these days they’d abandoned the system. She also missed the old David who didn’t get irritated, but her parents said he was just being a teenager.
“Dinner!” Val made the second call.
Sophie bounded into the kitchen before she lost the advantage of volunteering instead of being drafted. “I’m here! Four or five?”
“Four.” Val was transferring pasta from the colander to a serving bowl and didn’t look up. “Milo went home, I’m pretty sure.”
Sophie took advantage of her ma’s inattention and stepped on a chair to reach the plates. For days after a seizure, even a minor one like at the mall the day before, they always got extra protective. No standing on chairs. No reaching for heavy things. If her ma hadn’t been concentrating on the food, she might not have even let Sophie carry plates or glasses to the table.
She did those first, plates and glasses, before anyone said she couldn’t. Then the water pitcher from the fridge, then napkins. She did full silverware, in the proper order, just to show off, even though it was silly to put knives on the table when they were eating penne and salad.
“The table looks lovely, Soph. Thanks for helping.” Ma carried the serving bowl to the dining room herself, before shouting “Dinner!” for the third time.
“For real!” Sophie added, to be helpful.
Julie came in from the living room. Sophie wasn’t allowed to bring a tablet into the dining room, but Mom put hers on the floor in the corner before Sophie had a chance to point it out. David still hadn’t come down.
“I thought the Pilot was supposed to make him able to pay attention to more things at once,” Sophie said.
Ma sighed. “He’s eighteen. Just because he can hear us doesn’t mean he thinks it applies to him. Sophie, I’d love it if you skip past the whole teenager attitude phase.”
“I’ll try,” Sophie said. She was serious, but both her parents laughed. “I’ll go get him.”
“Be careful on the stairs,” Ma said.
Sophie knew how to show teenage attitude. She could have said, Thanks for the concern. I was going to climb the stairs on stilts, but now I’ll walk. Instead, she pretended she hadn’t heard. She took the stairs two at a time, since nobody was looking, holding the railing as a small concession. Attitude or no attitude, she tried to remember they were looking out for her. If the Big One came for her when she was on the stairs, she really would get hurt, but she didn’t feel it lurking.
Before she even knocked on his door, David said, “Come in.”
She peeked her head in. He was playing a different game. No zombies, but warrior angel things.
“How did you know I was here? I was quiet.”
“There’s a creaky floorboard.”
Maybe that was how he’d caught her sneaking earlier; she’d have to figure out which one it was for future reference. “Dinnertime. It looks pretty edible.”
He punched a couple of angels, then paused the game and smiled at her. “Okay, let’s go, Softserve.”
The smile made up for his use of her least favorite nick
name. She never realized how much she missed him being nice to her until he was nice to her.
They ate dinner and chatted about everyone’s day. Nobody mentioned Sophie’s suspension. She said she had read more of Johnny Tremain for school and part of Powers for fun. They were encouraging. Way to read your life away, Soph.
When everyone had gotten a turn to talk, Julie said, “I have something else to discuss.”
They all looked at her and waited.
“I’m getting a Pilot.”
Sophie wished for one second she had a Pilot herself in order to take in everybody’s reaction at once. She was watching Mom because Mom was talking, so she missed David and Ma. When she turned to them, David looked curious but not surprised, and Ma’s face was guarded, with no surprise showing, either. Mom said it was a discussion, but she also said “I’m getting,” not “I’m thinking of getting,” so they probably had talked about it already, and this was the formal Telling the Kids.
She remembered something her ma had said to her once, that someday she and Sophie would be among the only ones without Pilots. She didn’t think Ma had meant this soon, but it was already pretty true. Most classes at school were divided between Pilots and non-Pilots, with the non-Pilots being mostly kids like her, with seizures or intellectual disabilities or autism or other things that made them “unlikely candidates,” and one or two with religious objections. There wasn’t even a rich-poor divide since the company covered them for kids unable to afford the procedure; the divide was between approved brains and unapproved brains and degrees of acceptable neurodiversity.
Nobody had said anything yet, so Sophie asked the only question that came to her head. “Why?” She understood the reason for kids, but didn’t get what was in it for a grown-up.
Her mom looked grateful that somebody had said something. “It’ll be useful for work. There are a lot of people in my office who have them now and I’d like to keep up.”
Val looked at her, and she added, “Not that I couldn’t do the work without a Pilot.”
Sophie knew that last part was for her benefit.
David looked up from his pasta. “It sounds like you’re telling us, not asking us. I’m okay with it either way. Just remember what a hard time you both gave me when I wanted mine.”
Julie nodded. “Noted.”
David cleared the table after dinner. Both parents had gone to the living room, but Sophie lingered. “Do you want me to dry?”
“Sure,” he said, smiling as he turned on the tap. She grabbed a towel and stood on one leg while she waited, like a flamingo.
David eyed her. “That’s not some weird new seizure, is it?”
She shook her head, trying to keep her balance.
“Y’know, Soph, if Mom is getting a Pilot it’s going to mean some changes for both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
He handed her the colander to dry and lowered his voice. “You know how I can play a game but know where you are in the room? Imagine if Mom can do that. No sneaking. It’ll be harder to get away with anything.”
“What do we get away with?”
“That’s the thing. You don’t know how much you get away with until suddenly somebody is watching and listening all the time. If she had a Pilot she’d look like she was reading but she’d be listening to us at the same time.”
“If she had super hearing. She’s two rooms away.”
He splashed her. “True. I’m just saying things might get stricter, even if that’s not her plan. I know they’re already strict with you.”
Sophie swatted David with the towel to make up for the splash, then nodded. What he said made sense, but more important, for the first time in ages it felt like he was taking her seriously.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SOPHIE
Kevin Boatman caught Sophie after English on the day she went back to school. “What was it like?”
Sophie shrugged. “My mom worked from home and made me sit on the couch and read. Not that different.”
“Why would they think suspension is punishment? I’d rather be anywhere than school.”
Sophie didn’t mind school, but she didn’t disagree. It hadn’t felt like a punishment, especially since her parents weren’t mad at her.
She glanced down the hallway and saw the girls from Monday at a distance. She fought the urge to run back into the classroom, but the tall girl—Tonya—had a cast on her arm, and that gave Sophie courage. Not that she would hurt anybody on purpose, but she felt proud she hadn’t let herself be pushed around.
“Hey, Slow Boat!” Tonya had spotted her. She and her friends strode toward Sophie and Kevin.
“That’s not my name,” said Sophie. Her heart beat faster. Hadn’t everyone said she wouldn’t have to deal with that anymore? Wasn’t Tonya supposed to respect her or be scared of her or something?
“You broke my wrist, bitch.”
Sophie had heard the word before, but nobody had ever called her one. It stung like a slap, but the slap reminded her of something. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You guys started it.”
Tonya stepped toe to toe with Sophie. Sophie wondered if the other girl was going to club her with her cast. She looked for a teacher, but didn’t see one. Figured.
“Slow Boat, I don’t care what you meant to do. You’re not even a person as far as I’m concerned. You and your friends in your slow class are so sad, trying to keep up with the rest of us. Why don’t you drop out? You’ll never get through school without help. We’re the new humans and you are unevolved.”
The word “unevolved” reminded her of her sneaking snake from two days before, and Tonya reminded her of the Big One. Not the seizure itself, which she never remembered, but the sensation of something looming, waiting, ready to bring her down. At least Tonya was here in front of her, a monster she could defeat.
Sophie wanted to take a step away, but she knew she’d better stand her ground. She swung her backpack off her shoulder and fished in the front pocket for her geometry compass without lowering her eyes. When she found it she dropped her bag to the floor.
She lifted her compass. Tonya stepped back, and Sophie smiled. “Who hasn’t evolved? You have a device in your head, that’s all. My brother has one. One of my moms is getting one. No big deal. You know what’s a big deal?”
She paused for effect, then jabbed the compass point into her left thumb. Blood welled. She didn’t flinch. She stabbed the next finger, and the next.
Sophie smiled. “I can’t feel pain. You said I’m not even a person. So ask yourself: Am I someone you want to pick a fight with?”
She dropped the compass back into her bag in case a teacher appeared and accused her of using it as a weapon. Blood trickled between her fingers. A little, but enough. She kept her hand in front of her.
Tonya turned to her friends. “Come on. She’s crazy.” She walked away without saying another word to Sophie; the others followed in her wake.
Sophie watched them leave. She smiled when they turned the corner, and dug in her bag for a tissue to wipe the blood off her hand. Would her mothers have approved? She hadn’t hurt anybody, and she hadn’t gotten in any trouble. She wondered what those girls were saying about her. Crazy? Freak? She preferred “warrior.” She might not be able to beat the Big One yet, but at least she had used it to her own benefit for once. She had to admit she liked the feeling.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SOPHIE
Sophie waved at the driver as the school bus drove away. It had taken her ages to convince her mothers to let her take the bus. She was supposed to go straight inside, but instead she walked to the end of the block and sat on the low stone wall that curved around the corner. A pair of mourning doves landed across the street and began pecking at the fallen chokeberries that stained the sidewalk. They were pretty birds, elegant and soft-looking. Her mom said they were basic
ally pigeons, but she liked them anyway.
A car sped by and honked at her. The doves flew off making sounds like squeaky wheels. She waved, though she hadn’t seen the driver. Her family had lived in the neighborhood for her whole life; even if she didn’t recognize the person in the car, they probably recognized her, which meant she should get home before she got in trouble. She didn’t want to get in trouble; she just liked carving out a few minutes where she wasn’t watched. A few minutes where a stranger might think she was a regular kid allowed to play on her street alone.
She dug in her pocket and found a button she’d pulled off her shirt during a seizure, thirty-five cents, and her house keys. When she let herself in, she found her mom asleep on the couch by the front window. There was a shaved patch and a bandage on the side of her head.
Sophie hadn’t expected this to happen so quickly. She took the moment to look more carefully than she usually could. Even parents found it odd when you stared at them too closely.
Julie looked tired and peaceful. She wore a checkered skirt that reached just below her knees, leggings, and a rumpled white blouse. Around-the-house clothes, not work clothes. Two dots of blood marred her shirt’s right shoulder, one small and the other smaller. A sun and a planet, or a planet and a moon.
Sophie found the two dots comforting, proof that a Pilot was not as easy as everyone pretended. It was an operation, even if a minor one. An operation involving drills and bone and blood and brain. People with Pilots weren’t so different from her; she wished they could see that.
“Hey, Soph. I didn’t hear you come in.” Her ma came around the kitchen corner. She spoke in a quiet voice. “How was your day?”
“Okay.”
Sometimes answering “okay” meant she had to answer follow-up questions, but Ma just kissed her on the head. That meant she was free to go upstairs. She surprised herself by lingering.
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