Joan the Made (Throwbacks Series Book 1)

by Kristen Pham

The only person who doesn’t show up is Nic, and by nighttime, my sixth sense is tingling. Something is wrong.

  A message from Justus distracts me from my worry. Got time for me tonight?

  My response is instant. Hell yes.

  Meet me in our spot.

  We have a spot. My grin grows even bigger.

  “I need some fresh air,” I tell Harriet.

  “Make sure you don’t cross the headmaster’s path,” she warns. “Sun wants to make sure that your pitch to sell your virginity on Circe Night is perfect, and you need to rehearse the speech.”

  “I’ll stick to the Lab.”

  Harriet gives me a knowing grin. “Say hi to Justus for me.”

  I go to the basement level of the Chrysalis to enter the Lab, almost whistling in anticipation of seeing Justus. I hope that he brings his turntables again. The thought of his arms around me, the music pounding in my bones, makes me run faster.

  I’m not thinking about Nic when I trip over him not far from the entrance to the Little Theater. He’s passed out, leaning against the wall with his legs sprawled out in front of him.

  I turn on the light on my phone and force his eyelids up. He flinches away from me, but not before I see the gold in his eyes.

  “Joan, Joanie, Joan,” he sings, his words slurred.

  “This isn’t cute.”

  “Lemme guess. This is disappointing,” he says with mock seriousness.

  “This isn’t disappointing. It’s expected,” I reply, though it’s unlikely he’s hearing anything I’m saying from inside his personal Amp bubble.

  I try to haul him to his feet with no success. He’s too heavy and too high for me to get him home by myself. Instead, I shove him deeper into a crevice in the wall and tuck his feet under him so he won’t trip anyone else.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Nic is humming a tune, and he doesn’t acknowledge my words.

  I race deeper into the Lab, to the room where Justus is waiting for me. He smiles when he sees me, and I briefly consider leaving Nic stewing in his dark corner until his high wears off. It’s what he deserves.

  “Thought you might have changed your mind,” Justus says. “Ready for another music lesson?”

  “I wish. How strong are you?”

  Justus flexes his muscles in a mock show of strength. “Why? You want to touch them?”

  His joke catches me off guard, and I laugh. “You have no idea how much I wish that was why I’m asking.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  One of Nic’s arms is slung over my shoulder and the other is over Justus’s when Nic pukes. Some of his vomit spatters on Justus’s shoes, and Justus’s eyes meet mine. I expect to find annoyance, but instead, I see a spark of humor.

  “You take me on the nicest dates,” Justus says sweetly, and I laugh for the second time that night.

  “It’s not where you go. It’s the company you keep. And now I owe you big-time.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Justus says. “Nic, however, owes me a new pair of shoes.”

  “You two are adorable,” Nic groans, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  We’ve made it to the dorm. Thank God, because Nic isn’t getting any lighter. At Nic’s door, I reach for his hand and press his thumb to the pad. He manages the retinal scan on his own and almost falls over when the door opens.

  “Let’s get him to bed,” I say to Justus.

  “You don’t have to tuck me in,” Nic says, stumbling to his bed. “Get away from me, the both of you.”

  “You’re welcome, pal,” Justus says, yanking off Nic’s shoes.

  “She tell you yet?” Nic asks Justus, his words slurring again.

  Justus raises his voice. “Tell me what?”

  “That she’s the reason why I’m like this,” Nic says, his eyes drifting closed.

  “It’s your own fault you’re like this,” I growl.

  “Your fault,” he mumbles. “You think I can watch you go through with your crazy plan when I’m sober? It’s asking too much. Too much, Joanie.”

  “Come on,” I say to Justus, pulling him out of Nic’s room.

  “What’s he talking about?” Justus asks.

  “Let’s get the puke off your shoes first.”

  We take the elevator to my floor, and as soon as we’re inside my room, Justus turns to me, his eyes burning.

  “Tell me. What dangerous scheme have you dreamed up this time?”

  “She’s selling her virginity to the highest bidder,” Sparkle says.

  I jump in surprise because I didn’t see her curled up in the corner of her bed.

  “Not funny,” Justus says, scowling.

  “Not kidding,” Sparkle replies, glaring at me. “I told you that you’d make things worse, and you have. Look what arrived for us today.”

  She kicks a brown box across the floor to me. It’s full of vials of Amp.

  “The headmaster sent it so we’ll be ready to service our Evolved customers,” she says.

  When I pick it up, the vials rattle in the box because my hands are shaking. I expected this. Sun had pointed out that the headmaster would expect me to be high so that I didn’t die from contact with my customer’s saliva . . . and other fluids. Ick. Luckily, Marie knows where she can get me some gold contacts, since being an “Amper” is apparently a popular Halloween costume.

  Holding the Amp in my hands drives home the fact that my plan for Circe Night is real.

  “Please leave,” Justus says to Sparkle.

  His voice is soft when he speaks to her, unlike the tone he used with me.

  Sparkle grabs her jacket and pauses beside me before she leaves. “He didn’t send all that Amp for you. It’s a message to me. You didn’t save me. You just condemned yourself, too.”

  Sparkle’s body sags as she leaves, as if the usual energy that powers her is draining away.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I jump in before Justus can start yelling. “Sparkle doesn’t know that this is all part of a controlled mission that Crew is personally overseeing. I’m going to get the video I need to ensure that the headmaster is locked away for his crimes. Once I upload it to a site where it can be streamed to the world, I’ll confront him.”

  “What if your plan fails?” Justus asks, every muscle in his body tense, like it requires all his concentration to keep from blowing up.

  “I have a team backing me to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I assure him.

  “Not good enough,” Justus replies. “How could Crew let someone as inexperienced as you are take such a risk?”

  My temper flares. “It wasn’t his call, and it isn’t yours, either. This is why your father’s little movement always fails. You have to take big risks to achieve great gains. Where has tiptoeing around the Evolved ever gotten you? It’s time to make a statement that no one forgets.”

  “If your plan goes even the tiniest bit wrong, you could wind up raped or in jail for the rest of your life. Think of your family and friends. They can’t lose you. I can’t lose you,” Justus says, more softly now.

  The pain and fear swimming in his eyes is for me, and my anger mellows into something warmer and brighter.

  “You’re the one who told me that I have a responsibility to make things better for all Throwbacks, not just myself. That’s what I’m doing.”

  He pulls me into a tight hug, and I bury my face in his soft shirt. His heart is beating fast, like mine.

  “I want a future with you, Joan. More than I’ve ever wanted anything,” Justus says, squeezing me even tighter.

  His words open a door inside me that I’ve kept shut and locked for a very long time. I’m free and alive and afraid all at once, and I wouldn’t trade that feeling for all the safety in the world.

  “I want a future with you, too. But I want it to be in a better world.”

  Chapter 35

  “You’re sending us home? Now?” Elizabeth barks at Crew, her back straight, imperial.

  “I
know how essential you think you are, but in reality, the rebellion functions fine without its most junior members,” Nic snaps, rubbing his temples.

  Good. I hope this is a hangover that makes him think twice about binging on Amp again in the near future. Especially when it sounds like I’ll be gone for the Fourth of July holiday weekend like the rest of the students at our school, unable to babysit him.

  Crew smoothly steps in. “Now is not the time to raise suspicions. Normal first-year students are eager to visit their homes after weeks away. Strand and Headmaster Hunter are already watching us closely, and it is unacceptable to attract their attention further. No slipups when we’re this close to Circe Night.”

  After Crew’s pronouncement, most of the students leave. Everyone has too much jittery energy to be contained inside Crew’s classroom today. Nic and I aren’t free, however. It’s the last rehearsal at Strand before official taping begins after the holiday.

  As we wait for Strand’s car to come for us, Nic mutters something.

  “Speak up. I prefer to be able to understand the insults thrown at me so I can properly respond.”

  Nic faces me, his usual expression of superiority absent. “Thank you. For helping me last night and for getting me clean in the first place. I don’t know how long I’ll last sober, but I’m glad I am for now.”

  “As thank-yous go, that one sucks. I’ll take brooding Nic over weak Nic any day.”

  “I know you want to hear that I’ll take responsibility for my life and stay clean, but—”

  “But you can’t. It’s too hard,” I cut in, remembering what my parents used to say.

  “But I don’t want to lie to you,” Nic finishes. “Off Amp, everything is in such clear focus. It’s been so long since I’ve been clean, I forgot how intensely beautiful life can be. But I also didn’t remember how painful it is. I need the Amp to dull the edges.”

  “Stay clean until after Circe Night. I don’t want you messing anything up because you’re high.”

  “I will,” he says, his eyes searching my face.

  Strand’s car pulls up, and I get in without another word. The ride to Strand’s studios is excruciating as Nic and I make polite small talk in case anyone is monitoring our conversation.

  It’s a relief to step onto Blake Green’s sets and rehearse my scenes for the billionth time.

  “You two, I’m not worried about,” Blake says, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on Nic’s. “If only the rest of these Knockoffs could follow simple cues.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from scowling at the director. Sweet Lil’ Joanie never scowls.

  “We’re so thankful to be a part of your great work, sir,” Nic says, and Blake gives him an approving nod.

  “There’d be far fewer problems in this country if all Throwbacks behaved like you two. Which reminds me.” Blake picks up his tablet and quickly taps on the screen. “I’ve sent passes to each of your phones that will provide you and one guest access to the screening of our film. You may bring guests like yourselves, who are respectful to Evolved superiors.”

  “It’s like we’re real stars,” I simper.

  Blake smiles at me indulgently. “Enjoy it, my dear.”

  My phone buzzes with the notification that Blake’s passes have been added to my phone’s contents. I scan the details, and my eyes freeze when I see the date for the screening.

  Our film will debut on Circe Night.

  “The headmaster will never allow me to skip the screening of this film, even if it’s to put big money in his pockets,” I complain to Harriet that night after curfew.

  Harriet’s roommate Alison is making out with the Tupac clone in the lobby, so we have her room to ourselves.

  “This isn’t a showstopper,” Harriet insists. “Maybe we can pitch it to the headmaster as an after-party—with benefits.”

  “You’re right. Maybe it’ll make my case more convincing. The headmaster can tell his clients that they can take the virginity of one of the stars of Strand’s latest vid.”

  Harriet shakes her head. “Leave it to you to find the perfect marketing tool for your own deflowering.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  I catch sight of a tattered duffel bag that is half-filled with Harriet’s clothes.

  “Where are you going for the Fourth?”

  “Curling up in a cool corner of the Lab with a good book.”

  “No, you aren’t. You’re coming with me,” I say, and am rewarded with one of her rare smiles. “We can visit the Lab rats every day if you want, but you’re sleeping in a real bed.”

  “I can’t pass up an offer like that,” Harriet agrees. “But first, we have to pass our midterms.”

  We leave for the Little Theater, and Harriet goes to her Music exam while I enter Lady Cleo’s classroom. It’s set up so that there are makeup stations lined up by the mirrors.

  When everyone is settled, Lady Cleo bursts into the classroom with her usual flair.

  “Welcome, darlings,” she says. “Today, we shall see if some of my genius has rubbed off on you over the past few months.”

  Sparkle and her group of teacher’s pets send wide smiles to Lady Cleo, who beams back at them.

  “Today, you will show me if you have what it takes to be exceptional,” she says. “Prove that you are the best of your classmates, the best of your clone type!”

  Leave it to Lady Cleo to make a test sound like a training ground for gladiators.

  “Your assignment is to transform yourselves into the thing that terrifies you the most. When you are done, I will await your result on stage. The spotlight is yours. You have one hour.”

  “An hour? Lady Cleo, we need more time!” Alison exclaims, her voice high and panicky.

  But Lady Cleo sweeps out of the room without a response, even for one of her favorites. I’ve learned enough about my most dramatic instructor to have a grudging respect for her, and I’m glad that she’s leaving us all at an equal disadvantage.

  I consider my reflection in the mirror as my classmates open their makeup kits and begin working. What am I most afraid of? The answer is important, and not just for this exam.

  Half an hour ticks by before I know the answer. After assembling my hair and makeup tools, I work quickly, efficiently. Next to me, the other students finish and leave to present themselves to Lady Cleo.

  Elizabeth has done a masterful job turning herself into a corpse with blood trickling from her nose. Sacajawea has made herself into an old, wrinkled woman. Ken has exaggerated the planes and shadows of his face, turning into an ugly, grotesque version of himself. Other students are creepy monsters, homeless poor, and fearsome creatures from nature.

  Sparkle and I are the last two in the room. My eyes widen at her reflection. She’s wiped off all of the layers of her usual makeup, but that isn’t what shocks me. It’s the deadness in her eyes as she stares at herself.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, moving to the stool beside her.

  “This is the real me,” she says, her voice dull. “There’s nothing between me and the world that will eat me up and spit me out, even mascara.”

  “The real you is beautiful. You can be strong without a mask. The world can only do what you let it.”

  “I wish I believed you,” she says softly before leaving me alone in the empty classroom.

  I don a nearly transparent white dress that clings to my curves and then search around in my makeup kit for the final touch. It takes me a few tries to get the gold contacts into my eyes, and I blink at the mild discomfort.

  I almost lose my lunch when I stare at my reflection. My hair is lightly curled and shiny, and my subtle makeup is simple and sweet. My lips are a deep cherry, accentuating my pale skin. For the first time in my life, I’m beautiful. I’m a sacrificial lamb, ready to be thrown to the wolves who want to give the headmaster money for the chance to devour me.

  I shudder, reminding myself that this is another part I’m playing and nothing close
to the truth of who I am. As I hurry to the main theater, where the spotlight and Lady Cleo await me, I see heads snapping to look at me.

  “Damn, Joan!” Mozart whistles.

  “I knew you’d be fuckable with a little work! Nothing to be afraid of, baby,” Ken teases.

  I know if I’m late, Lady Cleo will probably fail me, but I decide it’s worth the time to elbow Ken in the gut. I leave him gasping for air behind me.

  Finally, I’m in the wings of the stage. Rob is currently in Lady Cleo’s spotlight. His clothes are in tatters, and his face is dirty. He’s etched in his cheeks so they look gaunt.

  “Another Throwback afraid of poverty. Not original, Robespierre,” Lady Cleo says in a bored tone.

  Fear blooms in my stomach. Rob lied to me. Cloned from an American president, my ass. He’s cloned from the leader of the Reign of Terror in France, where thousands and thousands of people were beheaded in the name of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Why would his DNA be selected by Crew to be a part of our class?

  “However, your makeup technique is passable, and I like that you added a scent of garbage to really sell your costume,” Lady Cleo continues. “You get a C plus.”

  While Rob debates his grade with Lady Cleo, I check my reflection in a mirror on the wall for the last time. Nic steps behind me, his mouth open.

  “There is nothing you can say that won’t piss me off, so for once, keep your mouth shut,” I snap at him.

  Nic grins. “Not possible, princess. What’s your greatest fear then? Being the winner of a beauty pageant?”

  I take a step closer to him, letting the lights on the stage hit my eyes. Nic pales as he takes in their gold hue.

  “It’s contacts. Thought I’d better practice for Circe Night, so I tricked myself out in my full costume.”

  “I thought you were dying to face off with the headmaster and finally bring him down,” Nic says, his brows drawn together.

  “I am. But I’m also terrified that instead of turning him into the police, something will go wrong, and instead, he’ll turn me into someone I don’t recognize.”

  It feels good to be able to tell someone. Justus or Crew or Harriet or Addie might use my fear as a tool to get me to give up my crazy plan, but my instincts tell me that Nic won’t. He’ll understand.