by Julian North
Nythan was prattling on about some ancient film—something about apes and buried statues. His lips moved and made sounds, but I focused on his face, his expression, his eyes. Nythan didn’t seem to have any guile in him. Or he was so full of it he could hide it better. Did he know about Mateo also?
“What do you do in your other lab?” I asked. “You mentioned that you had two.”
Alissa finally looked at me, her gaze as sharp as a knife. Lara watched everyone, her countenance brooding.
“Where did that come from?” Nythan asked.
“J-Just curious,” I stammered. “I was thinking if I could squeeze in another lab. I want to do genetics.”
Nythan’s eyes flipped towards Alissa, just for a moment. But that was all I needed. He might not know what had happened with Mateo, but he was part of this. At least in some way. Alissa’s frown turned deep enough that she might need an alterator to get it off her face.
“You’ve got to have a reason for a second lab,” Nythan explained. “A good reason. Like humanity is wasting precious resources by putting you in ridiculous classes like Script, when you could be changing the world.”
“You still have Script,” Lara noted.
“Like I said, you need a really good reason to get extra labs.”
They kept talking, but I barely heard the rest. I wanted to get back to the safe house. Dr. Willis had arranged for my car to depart at six fifteen. The day passed at an agonizing pace. I forced myself to go to practice afterwards.
My spider-sense prickled as soon as I left the locker room to join the team on the track. The underground cavern that held our practice track felt cold and sterile, despite the false azure above us. With all that had happened since Saturday, I had forgotten about beating Drake at the meet. I had forgotten about Alissa’s comments afterward. Drake hadn’t forgotten, though. The memory was etched into his face, his features smoldering with hate. That kind of loathing did not dissipate on its own. One did not work through hate that reached into your soul. People like Drake would strike out, or be consumed by their own darkness.
Coach strode onto the track fingering his whistle; such an aggrieved little man. His eyes swept over the team onto me. I wondered what he’d try next. Alexander jogged out to meet the coach before he reached us. Alexander spoke quietly to Nessmier; the coach’s frown soured as he looked over at Drake, then his viser. Alexander jogged back to rejoin the team, standing as far away from me as the cluster of runners allowed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let me first congratulate you on a fine meet on Saturday. We took six out of eight events, including the conditioned events,” the coach announced to a round of cheers. “Due to forthcoming festivities for the Allocators’ Ball and security considerations, no meet is scheduled for next week. But that doesn’t mean we can relax if we want to qualify for the City Championship. Therefore, after everyone has run their eight hundred meters of warm-ups, we’re going to break up into event teams for practice and drills, with team leaders taking their assignees through the exercises.”
My stomach clenched. The bastard better not put me into a drill team with Drake.
He started reading names. “Reves-Wyatt team leader. With her: Titan-Wind, Hester-Jobs, Killian-Red…” I kept waiting, expecting the worst. My fists were balls, my palms white.
“You’re with me today,” Alexander said over my shoulder. I convulsed in surprise. For a big guy, he could be terribly quiet.
“How do you know?”
“I asked for you. I hope that’s okay.”
I didn’t answer, but it was okay.
Whatever he might have thought of me off the track, we pushed each other hard on it. There were four of us on his mini-team, and we all ran hard, but really it was only Alexander and me competing. I beat him off the starting block on two fifty-meter sprints. He took me on the third. We ran hidden hurdles against the wind along the east side of the track. Alexander beat me all four times, but my reaction time was faster and more efficient over the hurdles than his—he just had better acceleration after the jumps. I saw him watching my stats on the board after every run. Not that I wasn’t watching his as well. We pushed each other on a one-hundred-meter sprint. I’m not sure who won, since the electronic tracking system wasn’t active for that one. He might’ve had me with his lean in. His eyes met mine as we both doubled over catching our breath. There was approval there, where I would’ve expected resentment from anyone else on the team.
I felt an ugly chill as I pulled myself back up. I turned to find Drake looking across the track at me.
“Keep away from him,” Alexander warned.
“Why?”
“He is like the rest of his family, an opportunist. One without boundaries…and for other reasons.”
“Your sister told me he was among the best of us,” I huffed.
“His kind is drawn to Kris like a moth to flame. His family seeks to be close to ours. There are debts to pay.” Alexander’s jaw clenched. “Nor is Kris one to waste an opportunity. Drake is best avoided.”
“I can take care of myself. You just worry about trying to keep up with me.”
We kept up the frantic pace throughout the rest of practice: incline runs, heel kicks, burst and reflex drills. Coach walked over a few times, shouting about form, angle, and positioning. At least for the other runners. He never spoke to me.
When Coach called an end to practice, Alexander and I both knew what had to come next. We went through our usual cool down routine, just much slower. Once everyone else had slogged off to the locker rooms we took our positions on the starting line. When he turned his head towards me, I saw a grin that reflected my own.
“You call it,” he told me.
“Go,” I said instantly, taking off at a sprint.
Usually I hold back just a bit at the start, saving something extra for later. But this wasn’t an official practice, and I just wanted to run. I hauled flat out, as if I were doing a hundred-meter sprint. I wanted to dust him, to show that I could. I was drenched, exhausted and hurting, but still I pushed. My legs churned in a blur. I pulled away. But not for long.
Right around one hundred meters, Alexander’s footfalls echoed to my right. I pushed harder, urging myself forward. My arms and legs pumped with frenzied speed. It didn’t do any good. Alexander didn’t move an inch back or forward. I took it down a gear, slowing almost imperceptibly. He did the same. Bastard was toying with me.
I reached for the cold, my store of power, my secret weapon. I drank it in—not too much, but enough to show Alexander that I could still take the fight to him. I felt the weight I had been dragging lift, my legs surged. He fell back, but only for a few seconds. No matter how hard I pushed, he kept on my shoulder. My lungs began to burn. He drew even. We turned onto a straightaway. We never agreed on the distance of our impromptu race, but we both knew this was the final stretch. I drew on more of my inner self than I should have, particularly for a practice run. Cold pulsed through my veins, banishing pain and bestowing strength. My feet flew, my arms raced. I put on enough speed to beat any other person in the Five Cities. Except Alexander. He pulled ahead of me ten meters before the finish line. Not by a lot, but enough that we both knew he won. Deuces.
I sucked hard for air once I finally stopped moving. My feet burned, my calves were furious. I forced myself to walk, letting my lungs take in as much oxygen as they wanted. Alexander looked harried for once; his hair hung like a wet mop down to his eyes, his face was flushed red, his chest heaved. I’d barely seen him break a sweat before. It was small consolation for losing, but it was something.
“How do you do it?” he asked.
“One foot in front of the other. You seem to know how as well.”
No grin for that. Serious Alexander had returned. “You know what I mean. There aren’t many people who can keep up with me. Only Drake, and, well…” Alexander shrugged. I got the impression that accusing a competitor of cheating without direct evidence wasn’t his style. It wouldn’t have
been honorable.
“How do you do it then? Why can’t anyone else keep up with you?” I asked him.
“It’s who I am. How I was made.”
“Alexander the Great,” I said, regretting it.
He flushed, and it wasn’t from the race. “Contrary to myth, I didn’t make that up. Kris did. For reasons quite her own. A complicated person, my sister.” His eyes turned dark.
“I shouldn’t have said it.”
“It’s your turn to answer the question.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot before steadying myself before Alexander’s too serious face. “I get…angry. When I run. Other times too, but especially when I run. And when I do, there’s something inside me. It gives me something extra, something no one else can match.” I swallowed. “Until now. Until you.”
His eyes were like tunnels leading up to a clear sky, intense as the mid-day sun. They revealed nothing of what was behind them though.
“Anyway, thank you,” I said. “For speaking to me this morning, and for what you did today.”
“What did I do?” Alexander asked. “We both ran hard.”
“You spoke to the coach. Again.”
Alexander bowed his head, ever so slightly. Even soaked with sweat, his hair gleamed gold. I could see over him just for a moment as he bent down, to the time display on the wall. My car would be there in ten minutes. I’d forgotten all about Mateo, and my ride. Selfish. Stupid.
“Listen, Daniela, would you…”
“Alexander, sorry…” I was already backing away. Just like this morning. “I have to be somewhere…”
I ran into the locker room, grabbed my bag, viser and a skin, then dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I race-walked through the halls, twisting and turning through the corridors to the security vestibule. We don’t run at Tuck, even when the school is empty. I jumped down the front stairs, then jogged through the streets of Manhattan. The requisite black sedan was waiting at the designated corner. I slid inside, my damp rear squeaking against the fabricated leather interior of the vehicle. Nothing for the drones above to take notice of. Just another rich girl headed somewhere glamorous. If they only knew.
Manhattan passed me on the other side of the tinted windows. I tried to focus on Mateo. I needed to convince him to go to Lenox. But I’d never persuade him without leverage. What did my brother need or fear that I could use? My mind balked. I couldn’t get the picture of Alexander Foster-Rose-Hart out of my head. Specifically, his shocked expression as I dashed away from him, mid-sentence, for the second time in a day. After he had gotten me on the track team, after bailing me out of a torture session with Drake that might’ve gotten me kicked off the team, and after treating me better than anyone else at this place. He hadn’t tried to hide who he was. Better than Alissa and Nythan could claim. Alexander might be cold, but he had treated me far better than I had him.
The vehicle passed into the Vision Quad, bringing me back among the monuments of innovative commerce, of economic disruption. Light had almost faded from the sky. Soon great machines and greater mountains of rock and dirt appeared around me. Almost there. I wondered what Mateo had been doing all day. It wasn’t like him to sit around, even if he was hurt, even if Dr. Willis had pumped him full of meds. That seemed obvious now. So when I saw the dark outline of a person hugging the roadside, I knew who it was even before the sedan’s headlights flashed on his surprised face and disheveled black hair. Damn my brother.
“Stop here,” I commanded, already wiggling the door handle. It didn’t budge.
“We have not reached the destination. For your own safety, please remain—”
“Safety override, puta,” I yelled at it, banging on the window.
“I am sorry. i do not understand your request.”
I jumped into the front seat, yanking the steering wheel to the left as I slammed on the brakes. Once, twice I pounded on the pedal. The car kept humming along.
“Engage manual control,” I yelled.
“I am sorry. i do not understand your request.”
I reached for my bag on the back seat, grabbing the digiBook from inside. I slammed the electronic device into the sedan’s front dashboard. No effect. I hammered with the digiBook again. It crunched and crackled in a manner unintended by the manufacturer, but so did the sedan’s control display. Lights flickered. The speed and distance indicators turned black.
“Initiating emergency procedures. Please ensure your seat belt is securely fastened.”
The sedan slowed to crawl. The hum of the engine faded. All four doors clicked. The headlights remained on. I shoved my door open and raced towards my brother as he hobbled along the darkened road like a vagabond begging to be picked up by an Authority patrol. I didn’t see how he was going to manage to get to the end of the street, much less the nearest transport station.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I demanded. His body appeared damaged and weary, but there was nothing tired in his eyes.
“Back to where I belong,” Mateo said.
“To throw away your life trying to kill a few highborn?”
“To fight for people like us.”
I put myself in his path. “They’re using you. Your contact, Kelvin, whoever he is, is lying to you. He isn’t with California.”
“How would you know?”
“The Jammer-K’s you told me about. They’re special—new. California doesn’t have them.”
Mateo snarled. “How would you know? Your richie school teach you about drone exports? Or did one of your highborn pals tell you?”
His words stung. My anger boiled. I sucked in as much wind as my lungs would hold. “Use your head. Or look it up on the net. Anyway, forget the drones. What about that car you and Chris-Chris had? Hacking U-cab’s network? Drone jammers? You think California turned that kind of hardware over to the likes of you based on some connection they made through a minor Bronx City thug?”
Uncertainty flashed across my brother’s face. I laid my hand on his shoulder.
“You’re caught up in some highborn feud. Think about the girl who arranged the attack on Landrew Foster-Rose-Hart. They are using you.”
More hesitation. I thought I had him.
“Even if Kelvin isn’t who he says, better to die fighting. Doing some good,” Mateo said.
“Nothing good is going to come from killing,” I lowered my voice. “Let me help you. I know people who can do something about what you’ve got. That’s why I went to Tuck. There’s a place where—”
Headlights approached. I muttered another silent plea to whoever might be listening that it wasn’t the Authority. No one was going to save us if we got picked up here.
“You think you’re in any different position from me?” Mateo scoffed, not even glancing at the oncoming vehicle. “You think that doctor and whoever is behind her aren’t using you? You think a bunch of richies helped me because they are good people? What do they want, huh?”
“I don’t know.”
The car stopped beside us and switched off its headlights. I smelled gasoline and heard the churning of a turbine engine.
“Vamos, amigo,” called a barrio voice from the dark window. It might have been Inky. The vehicle’s back door opened.
Mateo limped away from me and towards his crew, his blood.
“Don’t go,” I told him, my voice barely carrying over the soft rumble of the engine.
Mateo turned back to me. His eyes were soft, like the brother I remembered taking care of me growing up. “Forget about me, Daniela.”
“Never.”
“Don’t trust those gringos,” he said. “That doctor. Whoever she works for. From us, los richos always take, they do not give.”
Mateo got into the back seat of the car, disappearing into the darkness of its interior. The engine became louder, but the door didn’t close. Mateo’s face reappeared. “Come with me, Daniela.”
I shook my head. My throat was so stiff it was hard to speak. “I’
m not giving up.”
Mateo’s eyes locked on mine. “No one has heard from Chris-Chris since he left this place. He might’ve gone to ground with Kelvin and his people. Or something else might have happened to him. Remember what I said: Don’t trust these people.”
The door shut. My brother was gone.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
My crippled sedan must have signaled someone. Less than five minutes after Mateo pulled away, while I was fiddling with my viser and wondering if I should ping Nythan, an electrocycle showed up. The bike was lit in an orange and blue trim, with an unfamiliar corporate insignia on the side. The thing looked like a clown face. The rider wore a technician’s outfit emblazoned with the same markings. He had a smooth face, tightly combed silver hair, and eyes shaped like eggs tipped onto their sides. His tone became hard once he saw the damage to the sedan.
“Get the hell back to where you should’ve gone, and wait for someone to collect you, little girl.”
I didn’t have much choice. I had no idea how to reach a transit station from here, nor did I have any plausible explanation as to what I was doing in the Vision Quad if an Authority patrol stopped to question me. My legs were heavy as I walked. The memory of Mateo’s gentle eyes as he got into that car lingered. His words echoed. Forget about me. But I couldn’t do that.
I recalled an old memory on my walk back to the safe house. It was from the time before I had Kortilla, those first days when we realized my mother would never be coming home again. I lived in the darkness then. Pain was my companion, and I had no intention of giving up its company. I remembered the corner in Aba’s apartment, with its little red table. My face was to the wall, my back to the world. I stopped talking so I could be alone with my hurt and emptiness. Aba had told me to come out to face the world, because it would not come to me. But Mateo came. I didn’t speak to him. When he tried to touch me, I clawed at him. I drew blood twice. But he kept coming. “Come outside with me, Daniela,” he said.
