by Kristen Pham
“Lexi knows about me. Maybe about all of us,” I tell Harriet because the part of my mind not numb with grief knows that this is important. “We have to do a remote wipe of my phone before she finds out what’s on it. Or finds my texts to you! Harriet, she’ll target you. You’ll be retired, like my parents warned me. Oh God, I’ve ruined everything.”
“Marie already wiped your phone, and I’ll stay in the Lab as much as possible to be safe, too,” Harriet says, and her voice is gentle as ever, even though I’ve put her life at risk for nothing.
She leads me away from the room, away from Sparkle. I stumble, zombielike, down the stairs after Harriet. She carefully scouts ahead, pulling me along after she’s sure that the headmaster isn’t lurking around the corner waiting to snatch me.
Outside the dorm, the yellow car is still waiting.
Harriet grips my shoulders. “I’m going to find a safe place for Maverick to stay. As soon as he’s secure, I’ll find you. Justus will take care of you until then.”
My eyes well with tears at her kindness. Harriet opens the door to the car, and I climb inside.
Justus is still at the wheel, and he speeds away as soon as the door closes behind me. I lose track of my surroundings as he slips onto the interlaced traffic grid. He stops in front of a shabby old apartment building and comes around to my side of the car.
“We’re here,” Justus says, and I hear no traces of anger in his voice for everything I’ve done today.
He takes my hand as we walk toward the building, and I clutch it back like it’s a lifeline. The tears flow then, fast and hard, like they’ll never stop. Justus pulls me to his chest and strokes my hair, his silent, warm presence anchoring me. I’m safe here, with Justus, and the effect of everything I’ve experienced in the past twenty-four hours overwhelms me.
Any other day, I’d shove him aside, embarrassed to be so helpless and needy, but today, I bury my face in his shirt and let him hold me. Justus leads me into the building, and we enter a tiny one-room apartment on the ground floor.
“This is one of my dad’s safe houses,” Justus explains. “It’s untraceable. Even the chip in your head is off Strand’s grid in here.”
“Thank you.” My voice is hoarse from all the screaming I did a few hours ago and barely audible.
Justus lays me on a small bed, and I curl on my side. He lies down next to me, his eyes intent on mine, and takes my hand in his.
“I’m so relieved you’re safe,” he whispers.
“I fucked up everything. While I was ruining any chance of ever getting proof of what Lexi and the headmaster are up to, Sparkle was hanging herself. It’s my fault she’s dead. I should have been at her side when she needed me.”
“Sparkle would have found a way to end her life some way, whether you’d been there or not. Eventually, you would have fallen asleep or left to get food, and she’d have done it then. Suicide is a choice, not an accident. And it’s no one’s fault—not even hers. She was traumatized.”
I don’t believe him. “You sound so sure.”
“Did you know that the Ram clone type is prone to suicide, too?” Justus asks.
I shake my head. All I know about Rams is that they are typically given jobs nursing the very old and the very ill.
“Depression is a genetic disease that they carry in their blood,” Justus continues. “Not every single Ram kills himself, but too many do. My uncle was one of them.”
My fingers tighten around his. “That’s horrible.”
“It was five years ago, but the look on my dad’s face when he heard the news will stay in my mind forever,” Justus says.
“Why would Strand keep cloning Rams if there’s a high chance they’ll kill themselves?”
“Population control, maybe,” Justus says. “Throwbacks are dead weight once they’re too old to serve the Evolved. If Rams kill themselves, it’s a few thousand fewer Throwbacks on welfare.”
My fists clench as Justus’s words settle into my mind, but Justus traces my cheek with his fingers, and the moment passes.
“Whatever your DNA, suicide isn’t inevitable,” Justus says. “Someone might be prone to a disease, like depression, but if it’s treated, that person might live a normal life.”
Clawing its way through my grief is a flame of rage. “And a disease like depression can also be triggered. In Sparkle’s case, I know who drove her to her lowest point.”
Not her crappy mother because Sparkle was strong when I met her a few months ago. It was the headmaster. That evil prick taunted her, stole her chances for success, and bullied her until she gave in to his demands. When he sold her body, she lost a piece of her soul. Maybe she thought suicide was the only way to get it back.
“I swear on my own life, and on Sparkle’s grave, that I will make sure he spends the rest of his life in a cold, dark cell for what he’s done to so many people,” I hiss.
Justus knows without asking who I’m referring to. “You’re not alone. Let me and Harriet and the rest of your friends help you destroy the headmaster.”
“Why would you want to help me, after I pushed you away and insisted I could do everything on my own, only to screw it all up?”
“Because you’re fighting for what’s right. And that’s a fight I want to be a part of, at your side, if you’ll let me.”
“You’ve always been by my side,” I say, cupping his cheek with my hand. “Even now, when I know you disagreed with my plan, you were there to save me.”
“I’m sorry, Joan,” Justus says, and his eyes burn into mine.
“You’re sorry? Why?”
“I tried to control you. I threatened you, instead of helping you from the beginning. Next time, I hope you listen to me. But if you don’t, I’ll still be on your team.”
My vision gets blurry as I process his words. I love him.
But instead of telling him, I swallow the words and change the subject. “How did you get that Mac at the party to help me?”
Justus draws in a deep breath and sits up. His body is tense. I sit up next to him.
“I told my dad what you were planning. He was the Mac who helped you. Everything was his plan, from infiltrating the party as a waiter, to arranging the getaway car, to securing this safe house for you. I’m not your hero. He is.”
A crowd of thoughts jostle around in my head, and it’s hard to grab even one and make sense of it. Justus’s father, the clumsy leader of an ineffective group of protestors, organized my rescue in a matter of hours and executed it himself? And I didn’t recognize him, even though he’d been at the rally where Justus confronted the headmaster. All of the times I called his movement pathetic flash through my mind, and I want to sink through the floor.
I meet his eyes. “I’m ashamed for how I dismissed your dad and his movement, and then he—and you—saved me anyway.”
Justus’s mouth drops open. “Is that nearly an apology?”
I nod, and Justus’s face splits into a grin. The sight warms me, but I’m still too broken inside to return his smile.
“I’m stunned that after all I’ve done, that you’d ever trust me again, much less help me.”
Justus is quiet for so long that I worry he’s changed his mind, so when he speaks, his words surprise me. “I’d follow you anywhere.”
I hide out in the safe house for three days, which are made particularly torturous without my phone, until I give Harriet money from my account to buy a new one. I spend a lot of time pacing the room, reviewing my mistakes and scheming for the future, as well as watching as many of the vids on Jo’s tablet as I can cram in. The information she shares on Strand is outdated, but her strategy to efficiently pass legislation to make Throwbacks’ lives better is sound. I nod along as she discusses which seats we need to win in the House and Senate in order to begin to make real change. Why didn’t Crew try to execute Jo’s plan?
On my third day of hiding, a vid file appears on Jo’s tablet that hadn’t been there before.
When Jo’s
face fills the screen, the difference in her appearance is stark. Her hair is duller, pulled back from a gaunt, pale face. The whites of her eyes are red, as if she hasn’t slept in a long time, which may also explain the dark shadows under her eyes.
“I’ve used facial recognition software to provide you with this vid when you’re alone,” Joan says, startling me. “I don’t trust anyone, except myself, any longer. But you are me, in a way.”
It’s like we’re video chatting, and for an instant I almost forget that this is a message from the grave. The faraway look in her eyes makes me think that she might be a little crazy.
“They’re all evil. Not just Strand, but the government, the people on the streets, even the leaders of our own rebellion. Maybe it’s us, the rebels, who are the worst. We hide our dark hearts inside us, while the Evolved wear their sins on their sleeves.”
Yup, crazy.
“There’s always another impossible choice. Do I save the ones I love the most? Do I save the greatest number of people? Is there any way out? Everywhere I look, what I believed to be good is distorted.”
Jo begins to pace, and that’s when I notice the silver weapon in her hand. She holds it carelessly, but the sight of it makes my heart race. Her wild eyes snap back to the camera.
“Is it wrong to want the easy way out? To avoid the decision? To have peace, if nothing else?”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she raises the weapon to her temple. It’s an old-fashioned laser gun. One press of a button will get the job done.
“No, Jo, not you, too, please,” I beg, even though this all happened long ago.
Jo’s hand trembles, and she squeezes her eyes shut tight. My entire body tenses in anticipation of a burst of noise. But none comes. Instead, the screen flicks off, and the tablet goes dark.
“No! Damn it, Jo! Did you do it?”
I check the battery life on the tablet, trying to turn it back on, but the machine won’t come to life. She spared me from watching her brains spatter against the wall, but she’s gone. For a split second, I wonder if that will be my end, too. If some chromosome in my DNA will finally overload from seeing too much, and I’ll choose the same way out.
No.
I’m not alone like Jo was. I will never share her fate or Sparkle’s. I will fight every dark impulse and never stop striving to be the best version of myself.
This promise keeps me from suffocating with grief and fear, but the memories of Sparkle’s body in my arms and Jo’s wild gaze are weights I cannot bear alone.
My body is still shaking when Harriet comes in. I almost tell her what I saw on Jo’s tablet, but then change my mind. There is more than enough pain to go around these days.
Harriet tosses me a sandwich. If I hadn’t screwed up, this food would go to the Lab rats, who need it more than I do.
“I’m not hungry,” I lie.
Harriet purses her lips. “Eat. You need food in your stomach for what I’m about to tell you.”
I gulp the food down as fast as I can, eager to hear Harriet’s news. I need something, anything, to get me out of the fog of pain that I’ve been trapped in.
“The headmaster declined all requests for a memorial for Sparkle,” Harriet says when I’m done.
My fists clench. “Someone should break his jaw.”
Harriet’s lips twitch in a quick smile. “That’s one option. But instead, Justus and I planned a memorial of our own in the Lab tonight. It’s time for you to come out of hiding, especially since there have been no signs of Headmaster Hunter or Strand searching for you. They probably don’t want to draw any public or police attention to what they’ve been up to.”
While I plotted my revenge, Harriet solved a problem. I hug her tightly, and after a surprised pause, she squeezes me back.
“Thank you.”
She gives my back a gentle pat before releasing me. “Everyone needs to remember her, honor her, and let her go. Especially you.”
Harriet leads me to an entrance to the Lab near my safe house, and we descend into the darkness. As we navigate the tunnels, images of Sparkle pass through my mind. I remember her empathy when she dressed my wounds after the headmaster beat me, her glee when she talked to her sister, and her brilliance as an actress.
I’m pulled from my memories when Harriet leads me into the room where I attended my first party in the Lab. Tears threaten to fall when I see that every nook and corner of the room is filled with flickering LED lights. Someone unrolled a flat-screen monitor onto one of the walls, and it projects images of Sparkle, many that I’ve never seen before.
Justus is adjusting his speakers, but he looks up, and our eyes connect. His gaze is like his touch; it calms and anchors me.
The room is full, not just of classmates, but also of people who must be from Sparkle’s past or maybe her current job. Would Sparkle have killed herself if she knew how many people loved her?
“Hi, everyone.”
Alison’s voice is lyrical, even in her grief, and it stills the murmurs in the room. For the first time since I’ve known her, she’s not wearing any makeup. Her eyes are puffy, and her voice comes in shaky gasps.
“You’re here tonight to remember the most beautiful of us all, inside and out. My friend.”
Alison steps to the side of the room, into Tupac’s waiting arms, where she sobs. One by one, classmates and friends share memories of Sparkle. Ken confesses to a crush he had on Sparkle after she slapped him for a rude comment about her breast size. A waitress who worked with Sparkle shares how much she loved Sparkle’s ironic comments in between serving obnoxious customers. Mozart talks about a duet he delivered with Sparkle in music class that moved everyone to tears.
There isn’t a dry eye in the room, including mine. But I avoid sharing my own memories of my roommate with the crowd. For once, I’m out of words to describe how much Sparkle’s loss hurts.
A girl a few years younger than Sparkle speaks last. She has long dark hair and wide brown eyes. Her face is familiar, but I don’t recognize Sparkle’s sister, Sunshine, until she speaks.
“I know you won’t believe me, but my sister was the strongest person I know,” she says, her voice small. “For me, she was a slayer of monsters, who smoothed every path for me. I thought I would follow her anywhere, until she went to the one place I’m not ready to go.”
Sunshine stops to blow her nose. “But I’m not mad at her. She tried until the fight got too hard, and I hope you all know exactly who made her life unlivable. Her headmaster, Dr. Hunter, deserves to die for what he did to my sister. I hate him. I’d kill him myself if I could. But that wouldn’t fix anything because I know there are a hundred more like him who will hurt anyone in order to get their own way.
“Sparkle couldn’t take being pushed around just because she’s a Throwback, so she took herself out of a battle that she thought she’d never win. I can’t take the injustice anymore, either, but I’m going to make a different choice. Sparkle isn’t here to fight my battles along with her own. But I’m going to keep on fighting, and I hope you’ll all fight, too.”
The room is hushed after Sunshine’s words. Everyone stares at the girl who looks like a doll but speaks like an orator. Someone cheers, and it breaks the spell on the room. Sparkle’s friends throng around Sunshine, and I move away from the crowd until my back is against a wall.
Everyone in this room carries at least as much grief as I do, but I’m the only one carrying the guilt of knowing I could have saved her. If I’d brought her into the rebellion, shown her what we were planning, maybe she’d have had enough hope to keep going.
Or maybe she’d have given up anyway. Maybe Justus is right, and I’d have gone for a shower and found her overdosed on her bed.
No rationalizing lets me squirm out of this guilt. I made a mistake that I can never undo. I’ll carry it with me for the rest of my life. But maybe I can make it mean something, if I follow Sunshine’s advice and keep on fighting.
By the time the last of the sniffling
mourners has left the memorial for Sparkle, my grief has hardened into something more productive, something forged by rage and purpose.
“You’re thinking about something awfully hard,” Justus says, sitting next to me against the wall, where I’ve been staring at the flickering LED lights for the past half an hour. “Care to let me in?”
“I know how we’ll nail the headmaster.”
Chapter 42
“You’re an idiot.”
Elizabeth is up in my face when I enter Crew’s classroom through the trapdoor in the stage. Her anger is oddly refreshing. It cuts through my grief more effectively than any words of sympathy ever could.
“Shut up, Betty,” I growl, brushing past her.
But Elizabeth isn’t the only one who’s furious at me. The entire class is glaring at me. It’s intimidating, seeing some of the greatest faces from history regarding you like a traitor.
“Great to see you all!” I bellow, and push my way through the crowd to Harriet, who’s giving me a half smile.
“Are you going to act like you still belong here?” Sacajawea hisses.
“Back off,” Marie says, crossing the room to stand next to me in solidarity.
Crew enters the room, and his shrewd gaze assesses the faces around him, stopping at me. His eyes are as cold as my classmates’, but seeing anger on his face is far more terrifying. For an instant, I can imagine him pillaging villages in northeast Asia, beating the citizens whose cities he conquered into submission.
I take a step back, almost tripping over Nic. His face is red, but his anger is the type that burns me, instead of freezing me out.
“Cast her out,” Elizabeth commands.
Her voice is low, but it somehow carries throughout the room, like she’s holding a microphone. It must be another one of her queen skills.
“No, your majesty,” I reply, fixing her with my steeliest stare. “Nic and I are in a position to make a public spectacle of taking down the executives at Strand in a way that no one will miss. I know I screwed up, but I know how to fix it. Hear me out.”
The muscles in Crew’s face subtly shift from tense and angry to calculating.
