by Kristen Pham
“I’ll do you one better,” I mutter, yanking a stumbling Justus to my bike. “Get on, now.”
“Go,” the Mac urges Justus. “She’s right.”
I straddle the bike, and Justus settles behind me. The engine revs up smoothly, and we speed off into the darkening twilight.
Thirty minutes later, I’m still driving, telling myself it’s for our safety and not because Justus’s warm chest pressed up against my back feels so good.
“Over there!” Justus shouts above the scream of the wind rushing by us.
We can’t ride forever, so I follow his instructions and take the off-ramp. Justus guides me where to turn by gently pressing against my sides. I’m hyperaware of where his hands touch my body. My breath catches when he whispers in my ear.
“Here.”
Justus gets off the bike. My back is too cold without his heat. I shiver, taking in my surroundings. We are off the beaten track, by an old bridge made of greenish metal streaked with rusty brown that reflects an aura of history.
Some of the metal appears warped by time, wind, and rain, and the roots of a nearby tree wind around the far side.
“What is this place?”
“Liberty Bridge,” Justus says, watching me as I pull off my helmet. “It used to be called Snohomish River Bridge until Throwbacks staged a huge protest here twenty years ago. The police turned their laser whips on the crowd, and more than fifty people were wounded. But as a result, we won the right to have Throwback minors attend the same public schools as the Evolved.”
Another piece of history that never made it into my classes at school. Throwbacks have been fighting hard for their rights since before I was born. At least I’m a part of that fight now, too.
My hair is damp and sweaty, and a breeze coming across the water beneath the bridge is heaven as it cools my skin. I feel Justus’s eyes on me as I run my fingers through my tangled hair.
“See something you like?”
Instead of the grin I’m expecting, Justus scowls. “You had no right to interfere back there. I had things under control, like I always do.”
“Fuck your control. There’s no way I’m watching you get carted away. What if the police do to you what they did to Harriet? Do you want to kill me?”
The crease on Justus’s forehead disappears. “I don’t think anything can kill you, Joan.”
I take a step closer, and he backs up. “You’re mad? Really?”
“I know you’ve got a hero complex, but I’m not your damsel in distress, got it?”
If only he knew how hot he looks when his eyes flash like that.
“And you can’t talk to my dad and his friends that way!” Justus continues, his hands trembling with his barely restrained rage.
“Your dad?”
“He spent weeks organizing that rally! And you swooped in and made it look pathetic.”
“It was pathetic.”
“No, it was heroic. That’s what heroic looks like, Joan. Not a beautiful girl on her black motorcycle hauling a guy away over her shoulder. Heroic is doing what’s right, even if you look stupid. It’s risking your freedom at rally after rally, pushing a giant boulder forward in hopes that one day, it will gain enough momentum to crush the unjust society we live in underneath it.”
“You and the rest of your dad’s group took a risk today, and that took guts,” I admit. “But if that risk was for nothing, what is it really worth? Your peaceful Throwback protests have no teeth, and until they do, the Evolved will never take you seriously.”
“At least we’ll sleep at night. Can you say the same for what your rebellion is planning, with Genghis Khan at the helm?”
“Nice, taking a potshot at Crew’s clone type.”
Justus takes a slow breath. “You and I are on the same side. We have to work together, respect each other.”
“Respect doesn’t begin to cover how much I—”
Justus’s face stills. A slow smile, my favorite smile, spreads across his face. My own face goes red. I’ve practically admitted how much I care about him.
“Come on. It’s almost curfew,” I say, more to change the subject than because I care about following the law.
My helmet covers my still blazing cheeks. But my embarrassment vanishes as Justus’s arms cocoon me on my bike.
For the first time, I admit that sometimes it’s better to ride with someone at your back than it is to ride alone.
Chapter 33
The next few nights are uneventful. The headmaster stays in his office late and then walks home. Harriet, Sun, Marie, and I decide to follow the headmaster in pairs, so that one of us can run for help if anything goes wrong. Marie is with me tonight, and by the way her eyes dart around the darkened street, I can tell that she’s praying for an uneventful night.
I have the opposite wish. My desire to take down the headmaster has only grown after he almost threw Justus in jail. Never mind the information Harriet and Justus uncovered about his work with Lexi White. The idea of an alliance between those two makes my stomach twist, and I worry that waiting until Circe Night to confront him is a mistake.
“I hate waiting,” Marie confesses.
“It’s okay if you want to go back to the dorm.”
She steels her jaw. “No way. We’re in this together. It just reminds me of the nights me and my mom would sit waiting up for my dad to come home, hoping he’d be sober.”
“That’s awful.”
Her eyes connect with mine. “Sorry. I overshare when I’m nervous.”
“It’s refreshing to talk to someone with nothing to hide,” I say, and I mean it. “My parents were addicts, too.”
“Did they hit you, too?”
I pause before responding. “No.”
Marie nods and looks away. I reach down and give her hand a brief squeeze, which she returns.
A figure exits the Little Theater, and a glance to the headmaster’s window reveals that his lights are turned off.
“He’s coming,” Marie whispers, though there is no way he can hear us from where we’re standing, in the shadow of the dorm building a fair distance from the Little Theater.
Instead of taking his usual route to his penthouse a few blocks away, the headmaster walks in the direction of downtown Seattle. After giving him a good head start, Marie and I follow.
“Maybe we should ask one of the senior students to come with us, like Nic,” Marie says, her hands shaking again. “We have no experience spying on powerful people.”
Actually, I have some from the past few weeks, but I doubt Marie will find my spotty track record very comforting.
“If we take the time to find someone else, we’ll lose his trail.”
As we slip through the shadows, dogging the headmaster’s steps, Sparkle rounds the corner in her waitress uniform. I whip out my phone to call her and warn her to turn around, but I’m too late. The headmaster yanks her by the arm, and Sparkle stumbles.
“I thought perhaps you were out fucking some boy, but I see the reality is more serious. You’re breaking the law by working without a license,” he says, his voice ringing in the nearly empty streets.
“You have to understand, sir—” Sparkle begins, but the headmaster smacks her across the face before she can finish her sentence.
Marie releases a surprised yelp, and his head snaps in our direction, trying to see who is watching him. Both of us escaping his notice is impossible, so I shove Marie behind a tall tree and step into the light.
At the last moment, I remember Leo’s lesson and adopt a smile that’s worthy of my Sweet Lil’ Joanie persona. Nonthreatening. Passive. I feel like I’m taming a snake.
“Everything okay here?”
The headmaster fingers the whip on his belt. “Who’s with you?”
“I’m alone, sir,” I say, as Sparkle spits blood onto the pavement. “Please, my roommate is dressed in a costume for a scene we’re rehearsing. It isn’t what you think.”
The headmaster isn’t buying my hasty l
ie, but it distracts him from considering whether he saw another person with me. I won’t escape this encounter unscathed, but, with luck, Marie will.
“You would lie for this Marilyn?” he asks me, and his skeletal fingers tighten on his whip. “I thought you’d learned your lesson.”
I hang my head, but my body is tense, ready to run or throw myself in front of Sparkle. She’s had more whippings in her lifetime than anyone should have to endure.
“I understand if you need to punish me again.”
When the headmaster scans the darkness for witnesses, I mouth “run” to Sparkle. She doesn’t move.
“Shut up, Joan,” Sparkle says, her voice flat.
The headmaster’s eyes flick between us. “I see. You two are friends.”
“With this Historical?” Sparkle asks. “Just living in the same room as her is a punishment.”
Sparkle is a good actress, but the trembling in her hands gives her lie away.
“I promised that you wouldn’t be the only one to suffer if you didn’t reconsider my offer,” he says. “Perhaps you’ll take a beating or even risk being kicked out of Seattle Secondary to avoid my proposal. But will you allow your friends or your sister to suffer for your stubbornness?”
Sparkle’s flare of defiance flickers out. “Please, no.”
“What do you want from her?” I ask.
“It’s not your place to ask questions,” the headmaster growls, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Sparkle, who is shrinking into herself.
“Is it to meet one of your friends, and show him a good time?”
I’ve finally turned his predatory attention away from Sparkle. He looms over me, scowling.
I fight my instinct to back away. Instead I widen my eyes and lean a little closer to him.
“Sparkle is a prude, but some of us are willing to cut some corners for the right reasons. Am I not pretty enough to work for you?”
It’s satisfying to watch the rage on the headmaster’s face morph into shock. I force myself not to lose focus. If my mask slips even the tiniest bit and he sees through my act, I might not live through the night.
“What do you know about working for me?” he finally asks.
I cast my gaze down shyly. “Girls talk. You’re so powerful, and I heard that you only pick the most beautiful girls to be by your side. I know you pay them very well for their . . . work.”
The headmaster releases me and takes a step back, his eyes scanning my body. “Perhaps I was wrong to overlook you. Many men like girls who are particularly enthusiastic.”
“I would be, for the right price,” I breathe, hoping I’m not overselling it. “There’s dozens of Marilyns, but only one Joan of Arc. Take me to your clients instead.”
“Instead?” he asks, and his eyes narrow.
I have to shock him into abandoning the growing suspicion in his eyes. “Would you give me a big bonus if I let you sell my first time with a man? I’m a virgin, just like the original Joan.”
My tactic succeeds because the headmaster’s eyes glaze over, as if he’s counting the dollars he could make off me in his head. Before he can respond, someone moves out of the shadows, into the circle of streetlight pooling around the headmaster, Sparkle, and me.
“It’s too late for a walk, ladies. We don’t tolerate breaking curfew at this school. Throwback laws exist for a reason,” Crew says.
I shoot Crew a meaningful glance. “Actually, we were—”
“Leaving,” Sparkle says, dragging me away by the arm.
Crew steers the headmaster down the street, and I know any further conversation is over. For now. But I’ve planted the seed of a plan that is beginning to flower in my mind, a plan that will be the leading story of every major webcast.
In our room, Sparkle doesn’t yell at me, like I thought she would. Silently, she changes into her old pajamas. Her entire body shakes, even when she crawls under her covers.
“I’ll protect you,” I promise her.
“You think you can outwit him, but you’re wrong,” she mutters. “Now he’s coming for both of us, instead of just me.”
“I have a plan; you can trust me.”
Sparkle’s voice is toneless. “There were always only two options. Run, and give up my dream of making a decent living forever; or stay, and be the headmaster’s whore.”
“Please believe in me,” I whisper, but Sparkle rolls over so her back is to me.
I want to tell her about the rebellion and the Chrysalis and how the headmaster is going to be taken down from his throne, but Crew would never approve of me taking such a risk. Instead, I watch Sparkle shaking, wishing I knew how to comfort her, and terrified that she might be right.
At dawn, I slip out to tell Crew my plan. For once, I’m the first one to arrive in his classroom. I scan the books on his shelves, pulling down The Art of War to examine it again. A quote catches my eye.
All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
“I heard what you said to the headmaster last night,” Nic says. “You’re an idiot, telling him you’ll sell your virginity to the highest bidder.”
Crew steps into the library, but unlike Nic, his gaze is steady, considering.
“Hear me out. It’s almost impossible to get a vid of the headmaster pimping out girls. But if I’m the girl he’s selling, I can get footage of exactly what happens, and my firsthand narrative will be a sensational interview.”
“You’d sell yourself to take down the headmaster and promote the rebellion?” Nic asks, and the anger in his eyes changes to something like disappointment.
“No! I’ll play along until the Evolved creep who paid for my time gets me alone, and then I’ll knock him out, stun him, or something.”
“The headmaster isn’t stupid! When he finds out you didn’t go through with screwing his client, he’ll turn your life upside down. Any proof you manage to extract will mean nothing because Strand will back him up! And you think he’ll let you meet with his clients without making sure you aren’t armed?” Nic shouts. “You didn’t think! You never do! You’ll end up raped or worse!”
“Calm down, Nic,” I say. “First, I’ll plant a weapon in the hotel room designated for my deflowering, so it will be waiting for me when I need it. Second, Strand won’t be able to back up the headmaster’s story if the night I take him down is Circe Night.”
Nic and Crew are silent. I cross my arms.
Crew speaks first, turning to Nic. “I told you she’d have a plan. You always underestimate her.”
“There’s no guarantee that the headmaster will let you pick what night he pimps you out on,” Nic says, but his tone is more sullen than outraged.
“I’ll make a good case. He wants me to be ‘enthusiastic’ when I screw his client, so if I make a logical argument that there’s more profit to be made on Circe Night, and also less chance of being noticed by the authorities, I think he’ll go along.”
“We’ll hire a good filmmaker to edit the footage,” Crew says, his gaze faraway as the wheels turn in his mind. “Think of the terror we can strike into the hearts of the Evolved when they see one of their own taken down.”
Not exactly how I would have put it, but hiring a professional is a good idea. “It will be key that we get the vid to one major news network quickly, so we’ll need a pro to get a polished story ready that fast.”
“Circe Night is beginning to take shape. This tale will become a legend. No one will be able to ignore our message,” Crew says.
I turn to Nic, giving him a triumphant smirk. “Admit it. The plan is brilliant. Better than anything you’ve come up with, Machiavelli.”
“It is brilliant,” Nic says, and I do a silly victory dance intended to make him laugh. Instead, he frowns as he brushes past me. As he leaves, I hear him mutter to Crew, “But I ab
solutely hate it.”
Chapter 34
Crew takes me to his office in the Chrysalis, where we begin developing the logistics of my plan for Circe Night. We work together with an easy camaraderie. Was this why he and Jo were such a good team?
Three hours later, I’m stuffing mediocre food from a dispenser into my mouth while scrolling through a news article about the headmaster when Marie knocks timidly on Crew’s open door.
“Come in,” Crew says, without looking up from the 3-D holographic map of Seattle that is open on his desk.
“Thank you,” Marie whispers as she sits next to me.
“Shouldn’t I be thanking you for getting Crew to help me out with the headmaster last night?”
“You protected me when I slipped up. It should have been me covering for you last night after I gave away our position to the headmaster, but I froze. I couldn’t think. It turns out that in a real emergency, I’m a coward,” she says.
“You’re a thinker, and I move on impulse. We work well together because we balance each other. I need someone to rein me in. If I’d listened to you last night, we would never have been caught by the headmaster.”
“We also wouldn’t have a plan to take him down,” Marie argues, the worry in her voice now gone.
“Maybe,” I agree. “But now I need you because I want to plan the takedown of the headmaster to the tiniest detail. Everything has to go exactly right, and I need someone who can make sure that it does.”
Marie smiles then, and we begin debating where I should hide the camera on my body so that I can video the headmaster and his clients. Harriet and Sun also show up at Crew’s office as the day progresses, and Crew puts us all to work developing a working draft of our slice of the plan for Circe Night for him to review.
We gravitate down to the science floor to consider our options for the technology we’ll need to make our plan work. Other students from both Nic’s class and mine join the discussion. Even Elizabeth participates, arguing that I should make a point to capture the headmaster’s clients on video, so they can be prosecuted for their crimes as well.
