by Sarah Fine
Mom gives him an uncertain look. “Just be careful about what you say on the Mainstream, Marguerite. Right now that’s just speculation. Plus, the last thing we need is backlash toward technocrats.”
El nods solemnly. “We want them to stay right where they are.”
Mom frowns. “We have a strategy meeting later this morning, after the president has a chance to get briefed. If there are administration actions or policies that we want to publicize, we’ll let you know.”
“The one thing I can tell you,” El says, bouncing on his heels, “is that now Ron Gould is probably going to sail through his confirmation hearing. We’ll celebrate once the poor guy is out of the hospital. Because no one’s gonna want to block the president’s choice while he’s dealing with this.”
“I have to go, or I’m going to be late,” I say.
“Mar goes to school with Gia’s daughter,” El says to my mom. “They’re gonna be good friends.”
“Really?”
I shrug. “She seems nice. Serious, actually. Some of my classmates, though . . .” I roll my eyes, thinking of Bianca and Percy and Winston and all the rest.
Behind Mom, El looks triumphant. “She’s probably the one who matters most. Keep us posted.”
Stomach growling, I head for the conference room. If I’m going to survive this day, I need major caffeine.
Walking into school is different today. Even though it looks like at least half my classmates decided to stay home, there are twice as many security cannies at the doors, some of them Secret Service. El told me I’d be protected, and I guess this is what he meant, but once again, he can’t protect me from the stares. They’re different today, too. Since my first day of school they were accompanied by half-concealed snarls and nasty grins, but now they’re blank. Shocked. Or coldly hateful, as if all of them are the victims and I’m the terrorist. I pull my jacket tighter around my body and try to make a quick march from the security check to the stairs, but then I catch sight of Percy sitting with Anna on a memorial bench near the hallway to the cafeteria. He’s handing her a coffee and whispering into her ear. Both of them are wearing black like me, like half of the student body.
For a moment, I’m frozen midstep, because all I want to do is run up the stairs, but then I remember El’s confident grin. He’s counting on me to get closer to Anna as a back door into Fortin Tech, except . . . Anna’s with Percy, and that boy leaves me feeling flustered and irritated and intimidated like even Bianca can’t. Of course, at that exact moment, he sees me standing here like an idiot, and he smiles and gets to his feet. He’s wearing a tailcoat again, and for pity’s sake, this ruffled lacy thing around his throat just like the guy in that pic from last Monday’s history lesson. He sees me looking at it and flutters his fingertips along one of the edges.
“It’s a cravat. I have a weakness for French tailoring.”
Is he for real? I turn to Anna, who seems to be suppressing a smile as she moves in next to him. “How’s Kyla?” I ask.
Her gaze meets mine. “I haven’t talked to her. My mom’s been trying to com her mom, but they’ve got privacy settings on.”
“I totally get that,” I say. “For days after my dad died, all my mom and I could do was hold each other.”
Percy shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I get it, too,” he says quietly.
For a moment, we just look at each other. He gives me a fleeting, sad smile before looking away.
Anna puts her hand on his shoulder. “I know you do, Percy. We should get to class.”
She marches ahead, leaving me to walk next to Percy. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Anna told me about your parents last week. I had no idea.”
He sighs. “Sometimes a gorgeous facade belies a cracked foundation, I’m afraid.”
He actually sounds sad, so I don’t scoff at his cockiness. We walk across the atrium in silence, and then I stop and put my hand on his arm. “I really am sorry,” I say. “I think I might have jumped to one too many conclusions about you, and that was crappy of me.”
He gazes down at the place we’ve connected, and then, very lightly, traces a fingertip across the back of my hand. “I think I might have done the same,” he murmurs.
“There she is.” Bianca is standing at the base of the steps. Her eyes are wide.
“Bianca, darling, I’m not sure Marguerite is ready for her close-up,” Percy says. When Bianca doesn’t move he adds, “Stop recording.” He doesn’t sound nearly so breezy this time.
“Oh, shut up. It has nothing to do with you, right?” she replies, keeping her gaze fixed on me. “So, Marguerite, how’s the president? Did you give him a massage yesterday after that tough day he had, pretending to care about all the people who died?”
Percy moves in front of me, but I step around him. “We’re all upset about what happened, Bianca,” I say.
“You didn’t answer the question,” she says, all singsong. “Does he pay you, or is it enough that he rescued you from that slum you came from?”
“Bianca,” Percy snaps.
“Oh, what’s wrong, Percy? Are you still trying to get into her bulletproof pants? Don’t you know where she’s been?” The few students who have gathered around us snicker.
“Dirty little girl,” murmurs Winston, then waggles his eyebrows at me.
“Cut it out,” barks Anna, who is behind Bianca on the stairs. “You’re just being mean for the sake of being mean, Bianca. You’re not helping anyone.” Anna comes down the stairs and steps around Bianca to stand next to her. Bianca keeps her eyes trained on me.
“What about Kyla’s dad, Anna?” Bianca says. “What about Drew Phillips? His older brother was interning at the department. She got him killed, too.”
“I know, Bianca,” says Anna. “I read the list of names this morning. But you’re not going to bring the dead back by attacking Marguerite. It’s not like she wanted this to happen.”
“Or maybe she did—what better way to make the prez look like a victim?”
“How does this help him?” I ask. “It only makes his job harder!” Of course, then I remember El saying his nominee for secretary will sail through confirmation, but that seems like a tiny consolation prize given the state of panic across the country right now.
Not to mention the growing panic I’m feeling right here. There’s a huge crowd now, like every single one of my classmates is pressing in on me. I’m outnumbered and surrounded. And then Bianca does something that I understand only later. She slides her finger along her Cerepin nodule and then taps it, and all the students around her, including Anna, go still.
Winston is the first to start laughing. “Oh my god,” he says between guffaws, tears leaking from his eyes. “Is this real?” He whistles. “If it weren’t for the fat old dudes, this would definitely be on repeat. Mar-gerr-eeeeeeeet.”
Laughter echoes through the atrium.
“Share it with everyone you know,” Bianca says loudly. “It’s a billion times more interesting than her other videos—that’s for sure.” She glances over to see Mr. Cordoza coming our way, then waves cheerfully at me and bounces up the stairs. Everyone else is still laughing and tapping at the black nodules on their temples, some making surprised Os with their mouths.
Anna’s eyes meet mine, but then she quickly looks away. “We’d better get to class.”
I look around at my classmates, too close to me, too many of them. They’re clearly watching some vid; I just don’t know which one. I don’t know why they’re all laughing. I glance at Percy, whose gaze is riveted on Bianca’s back. I can’t read his expression. Then he curses under his breath and looks down at me. “Perhaps you’d like to talk to Mr. Cordoza about skipping our group discussion today,” he suggests gently.
Oh, god. It must be bad. I know better than anyone how things go viral. “Just tell me what vid they’re watching. I’d rather know,” I say, then glance at his temple. And I remember he doesn’t have a Cerepin.
Some tiny connection is made just the
n in my overloaded brain, but it’s drowned out by the rest of the chaos.
“Apparently,” he says, drawing me back to the present, “there is now a vid in existence that . . . appears to document . . . your”—he clears his throat—“with the president. And some of his personal security detail.”
“What? But that—wait, how do you know?”
He glances up the stairs. “I may be able to help you, but Bianca is really quite skilled with vid fabbing, and I think—”
“I need to get out of here,” I say as my stomach shudders and pitches. Ignoring Mr. Cordoza as he asks me if I’m all right, I head for the one place where I can have a moment of privacy. But as I burst through the door of the bathroom, a half dozen girls look up from their Cerepin trances, and when they recognize me, they dissolve into a fit of giggles. I back out as the sound echoes off the walls and run, just needing to get away from the sound of their gleeful hatred. The lights brighten as I fly past and hook a right into the first empty classroom discussion space I find. Panting, I press myself against the wall and sink to the floor.
This is stupid. It’s just so high school. Not national security–level stuff. But that doesn’t keep me from putting my mouth close to my comband and saying, “Com El.”
He accepts the com instantly. “Amazing. I was just about to com you.” His face falls as he looks at mine. “Are you all right? I had security doubled!”
“They can’t stop what goes on inside people’s heads.”
“What happened?”
“I think one of my classmates is a pretty talented vid artist. One who thought it would be funny to . . .” I can feel my cheeks turning red.
“Do I want to search the Mainstream for this work of art?”
“I’d say no, but . . .” I swallow hard. “I don’t want Mom to see it.”
His eyebrows are halfway up his forehead. “How bad?”
“I haven’t seen it. I don’t want to. But I’m guessing it’s as bad as it possibly gets. And if it spreads, it’s going to be a mess.”
Now El has a cold glint in his eyes. “Who did this?”
“Her name is Bianca Aebersold.”
“Oh, god, that’s not a surprise. The daughter of Simon Aebersold? Since her dad’s the CEO of Parnassus and the father of your favorite AI, I guess that makes little Bianca Aristotle’s sister?”
“Yeah, Anna Fortin told me who she was.”
He nods. “Lovely family, am I right? Wouldn’t you love to take them down?”
“At the moment? Hell yes. She’s so freaking awful.”
El just smiles. “But so is karma, Marguerite. And I have a feeling it’s going to come back to bite Ms. Aebersold. Trust me on that.” His face goes serious. “Hey. Hey. Chin up. I’m going to fix this for you. I promise.”
I lean my head on my knee. “Why were you going to com me at school? It seems important.”
“Hmm? Oh.” He lets out a weary breath. “Yes. We’re in a state of emergency, and I think you can help. I need you to let me know if any of your new friends let slip any information about the bombing, any detail, even if it doesn’t seem important. It all might help. I also need to know if any of them have plans to leave town. Any shady behavior at all, you com me directly.”
I just blink at him. “You think some of my classmates are involved?”
“Not just me. We’ve been over the school roster with the FBI. You’re there with the children of the most powerful technocrats in Washington. I’m not making any accusations, but if someone bankrolled a terrorist group, it would have to be an individual with a lot of cash, right?”
“Okay, but I’m not a spy, El. I’m not sure—”
“Just as a favor to me. I know you want the president to get through this unscathed. We all want him to be able to do his job getting this country back on track. Catching whoever is responsible for this slaughter would help. The FBI believes asking for tips in your vid, too, might be very effective.”
He leans forward so his face is close to the screen. “You’re our face. Our voice. Our connection to the young voters counting on us for change. Now we just need you to do work in person instead of with a screen between you and your audience. That’s all we’re asking.”
“I want a raise,” I grumble.
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll give you what you really want.”
“And what’s that?”
Congress should make a law against El’s smile. “Just trust me.”
“Okay,” I say, getting to my feet. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”
Chapter Eight
Marguerite
When I walk out of the classroom, Anna is leaning on the wall just outside. My heart races as I wonder whether she heard any of my conversation with El. But she simply looks at me with solemn concern. “I told Mr. Cordoza you needed a mental health break. He said I could come make sure you’re okay.” She pushes herself off the wall. “And if it helps at all, the vid is obviously fake.”
“I wish that mattered more than it does.”
“I guess you would know.”
I can’t tell how she means that, but I let it go, too tired to fight. “Yeah. So. Is it viral yet?”
Anna taps her Cerepin. “It’s gotten about three thousand views so far. Lots of shares. But plenty of megavirals die quickly, and this one . . . it’s probably going to get content restricted. I’ve already reported it.”
“Thanks, but all that means is that it’s harder to search.”
“I had to try. That was a pretty classless move, even for Bianca.”
“What’s her deal?”
Anna presses her lips together and lifts one shoulder, a half shrug. “You’re kind of a lightning rod.”
My eyes narrow. “Because I think the rich don’t have a right to ignore their fellow citizens?”
She laughs. “Look. This sucks, and I’m sorry. It’s been, like, the worst week ever.”
Suddenly, the fact that there is a fake scandal vid being passed around the Mainstream seems like a stupid problem. “It really has.”
She nods. “I’m just so grateful my family is all right. My mom used to have regular meetings with the secretary of AIR—Winston’s mom. What if . . .” She starts to walk back to the main atrium of the school.
I follow, thinking about how she basically just admitted to the cronyism we all suspected. “She must be pretty upset now that there’ll be a new secretary.”
Anna shrugs. “We’ll see. Mom’s pretty persuasive. But right now we’re just trying to keep a low profile.” She glances over at me. “In other news, Percy seemed pretty determined to defend you this morning.”
“I don’t know why he’s suddenly trying to be my friend. A few days ago he was totally happy watching Bianca pounce. What’s his deal?”
“Like I told you, I don’t know. I haven’t known him for all that long, and he’s kind of hard to read. He only came to school after . . . after the thing with his parents.”
“Who does he live with, then?”
“His aunt, who happens to be the French ambassador.”
“I guess that explains his love for fine French fashion.”
“Kyla’s a big fan of his,” she says. “I think he’s let her get as close as anyone.”
“Are they together?”
“No. Percy and Bianca dated for a while, though.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. It was right after he started here. She went after him. They were a couple for longer than I expected, considering how unhappy she was with him most of the time.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted to be the one to figure him out, and Percy isn’t about to let that happen.”
“You seem to have figured out quite a bit about him.” I glance at her, taking in the elegant curve of her cheekbones and the somber intelligence in her dark eyes.
Eyes that hold my gaze. “Maybe. But I’m not interested in boys. I’m not your competition. And I have a feeling Kyl
a isn’t, either.”
“I-I-I—” My face is blooming with heat. “Can we reach out to Kyla?” I blurt out, needing to steer this convo to a more reasonable, realistic place. “Maybe send her a message? I don’t know her well, but I know how it is to lose a dad.”
“We can try. Our parents were actually really good friends back in the day. Her parents were some of the earliest employees at Fortin, right when my mom was starting out. Brilliant, really. And they were a great team. I don’t know how her mom’s going to do without him.”
“What did they do for the department?”
“Evaluating safety and setting operation parameters for the industry. They were collaborating with Fortin on the new cog-link version of the Cerepin. No more voice commands or eye movements, just brain waves to control the display and activity.”
“That sounds pretty revolutionary. I hope their work wasn’t lost in the bombing.”
Anna snorts. “Right. Sorry, but you do realize who brought you to DC, don’t you? You guys don’t want Fortin to succeed. My guess is the cog link will die a swift death under a mountain of new regulations now. Why be excellent when you can sell mediocre technology for cheap?”
I give her the side-eye. “The president wants to make sure Cerepins are affordable for ordinary people—he doesn’t want to cripple the business that makes them!”
“Oh, come on. He’s an old tech mogul himself, and he seems more than eager to take control. We’re just waiting for it to happen.”
“Except that his company made beneficial technology normal people could afford!”
Anna scoffs. “Is that what you believe?”
“I guess people here in this little wealthy enclave are too good for neurostims?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“They make people’s lives better. People who can’t afford Fortin’s products.”
“Do they really, Marguerite? My mom says they could mess up people’s brains if they’re used the wrong way.”
“And Cerepins don’t?”
“No, actually. They . . .”
We make it to the atrium. Percy is at the base of the stairs with Bianca. Both of them are flushed, and his fists are clenched. We’ve caught them midargument, apparently. Suddenly, Bianca and Anna bow their heads, staring at the floor, and the telltale way their eyes are moving tells me they’re getting news on their Cerepins.
