by Kate Moretti
McDaniels raised her brows.
“What happened to Zavier and his uncle?”
“Both Zavier and Alexander Tonkin are in jail, awaiting arraignment,” she said.
Philly scoffed. “I never thought I’d see the day Alexander Tonkin went to prison.”
The agent pressed her lips into a thin line. “The FBI got a hold of a nano camera with a series of very incriminating conversations.”
Philly laughed. “Is it considered irony for Velocom to be done in by the same invasive technology they created?”
McDaniels’s eyes softened. “Velocom wasn’t done in by a nano cam. It was done in by you and your smarts. What you and Aiden and Tonio did wasn’t right. You tried to steal money from Velocom, and for what? You did two years. Aiden was murdered. And your brother is on the lam.”
“I know,” Philly whispered. “But we made it right in the end.”
Agent McDaniels stood up and gave a curt nod. Stacia stood up, too.
“Wait, is that all?” Philly asked. “I’m not going back to Pig Pen?”
Stacia smiled warmly. “You made good.”
Philly felt her cheeks redden. “So… we’re—”
“Even,” McDaniels said. “For now. We’ll be in touch, Philomena.”
Stacia nodded and said, “See you next week.” She stood and made her way to the door.
The agent followed Stacia and then stopped. “One more thing. Alexander Tonkin’s lawyer is making some wild accusation that a hundred million dollars was moved from his household accounts. The FBI is looking into it, but it seems Velocom has no record of the money existing to begin with. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Philly looked McDaniels squarely in the eye. “Not at all.”
McDaniels nodded. “I didn’t think so. We’ll be in touch.” She left the office, following close behind Stacia.
A moment later, Philly appeared outside the office, her hand out, waiting for the list of the day’s assignments.
Ralph took a bite of his salami hero before he handed her the tablet. “It seems you’re in the clear. What did you say to get yourself off the hook?”
Philly shrugged. “The truth, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, most of it.” She winked. “Going to make my maintenance calls now.”
Ralph put up his hand to stop her and handed her a badge. “I’m making you the new assistant manager. You earned it.”
Philly smiled and pinned the badge to her uniform. She didn’t have the heart to tell Ralph she wasn’t planning on sticking around. “Thanks, boss.”
Philly walked along the cemetery path and inhaled the crisp autumn air. Dried brown leaves fluttered down and littered the walkway. For the first time, Philly felt as though her life was beginning and not ending. Everything made sense.
She stopped in front of Aiden Tonkin’s grave. The access panel and keypad to his gravestone had been replaced with a tougher, thicker piece of metal. There was no way Philly would be able to destroy this one. Of course, she doubted she would have to now. Philly pressed her thumb to the biomarker and replayed the message. The entire message.
Aiden’s hologram gleamed in front of her. Philly looked around to make sure the cemetery was empty.
Aiden nervously played with his tie as she checked the hologram recorder. His chest heaved as if he were out of breath. Philly felt a familiar stinging behind her eyes. The pain was still fresh as if Aiden had died yesterday.
“Philly, girl. You are so brave. When Tonio and I asked you to be a part of this, we had no idea how much you would have to sacrifice. You went to jail so Tonio could escape. We love you for it.” Aiden’s hologram flickered, but instead of garbling the message, he reappeared. He sighed, making Philly miss the sound, the way his chest would heave as if he carried the weight of the world on his privileged shoulders. He winked at her and then held up a large piece of paper with a sequence of numbers written in black magic marker—the number to his father’s accounts. With that, along with an encryption key, a girl could move a lot of money out of Velocom’s systems and into her own Caymans account. Soon, Philly would be depositing money into the accounts of all those families Velocom had screwed over.
Aiden picked up another piece of paper, this one with a set of coordinates: Tonio’s location. The boys had said it was best she didn’t know where Tonio was going. And now Alexander Tonkin wouldn’t know, either.
Philly smiled. “Done and done.”
Aiden shook his head. “I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you earlier, but we didn’t want to risk you having to lie.” Philly’s tears welled. “When you find Tonio, tell him I’m sorry I never got to go with him. I miss him so much.”
“I will,” she whispered.
“I hope the two years weren’t too bad. It was never supposed to go down like this.”
Philly wiped her nose along her sleeve. “I miss you,” she told Aiden.
“Miss you, too, girl.” He pressed his fingers to his lips and kissed them before his hologram went out.
Philly sniffled before meandering along the path, happy to do whatever Ralph had asked.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kimberly G. Giarratano lives in the woods of northeastern Pennsylvania with her husband and small children. She is a former ESL teacher and YA librarian. Kimberly dreams of moving to Key West where she can write in a small studio, just like Hemingway.
THOUGHTS ON BRAVE NEW GIRLS
Kimberly is excited to participate in the anthology and show her baby daughter that girls can and do make big contributions to science and engineering.
Illustration for “Graveyard Shift” by Evelinn Enoksen
A LITTLE BIT TRUER
by Valerie Hunter
I wake up to rain lashing against my bedroom window, which is hardly surprising. Amal is not nicknamed the Mudhole for nothing. The sound of the rain comforts me, and I keep my eyes shut and imagine how it will look against the pane. When I finally open my eyes, I let my gaze trace every droplet and dribble, marveling at how gorgeous it looks. It may have rained ninety-nine out of one hundred days for the almost fifteen years of my life, but I’ve only been able to see it for the past six months, since my last surgery.
I go to the kitchen and try to appreciate the beauty of my cereal, but it tastes far better than it looks, and I find myself staring out the window again. After breakfast, I’ll head over to Compound Nine, to see what Jarek’s up to and whether he can use my help. Maybe Dr. Kavindra—
My train of thought is interrupted when Aunt Ramana sweeps into the kitchen then pours juice into her travel mug and grabs a breakfast bar. “Don’t forget we have to meet your mom’s transport at eleven,” she says, combing her hair with her fingers. “You know she’ll be put out if no one makes a fuss.”
We both know Aunt Ramana cannot be depended on to make a fuss.
I didn’t forget today’s the big day; I’d just been trying not to think about it—or obsess over it. I try to look enthusiastic for Aunt Ramana’s sake. Not that it matters—she’s already exited the kitchen, and a moment later, I hear the front door shut. As usual, she’ll have to dash to catch the Compound Twenty-four bus.
I watch the rain fall a little longer. Will I recognize my own mother? Logically, I know I will. I’ve watched dozens of Intrepid broadcasts now that I can see them, and I’ve looked at a ton of pictures. Not to mention, she’ll probably be the only person departing the transport at Amal, so there won’t be a lot of room for confusion. I guess what I’m really wondering is what it will feel like to see my mother for the first time in person.
I blink and take my dishes to the sink. No use going all fuzzy-brained about it when it’s only a few hours away from happening. That’s what Aunt Ramana would say if she knew what I was thinking
.
I wash the dishes, grab my slicker, and head out into the rain. Compound Nine is close enough to walk, and I make my way there quickly, watching the way the mud splashes up beneath my boots.
Compound Nine looks the same as all the other compounds from the outside—a big, plain, boxy building—but inside, it’s my second home. Seera’s manning the front desk today, dictating something into her netbox while she shuffles through a bunch of graphs. She waves me through to the lab with barely a glance. I’m not a visitor; I belong here.
I shut my eyes as I enter the lab. Sometimes, seeing everything is still a little overwhelming. I breathe in the smell of antiseptic and mint, feel the faint vibration of the air control vents, and listen to the deep humming of Veronica. The combination makes me feel calmer than I’ve felt all morning.
“Can I get a hand, Zay? Or are you just going to stand there all day?”
I walk toward the sound of Jarek’s voice without opening my eyes, though after five steps, I realize I’m being silly. Not because I might trip—I know every inch of this lab; I knew it long before I could actually see it—but because it might help to know what Jarek needs a hand with.
I blink, thinking my eyes are deceiving me again. Veronica is wrapped around Jarek’s neck, her paws on either side of his head as if she’s wondering how to unscrew it. She looks over at me quizzically, like maybe I can assist her. Jarek’s expression is pretty calm considering the circumstances, but his eyes are bugging just a little, like he may be about to freak out.
“What are you doing, Veronica?” I coo, and she leaps off Jarek, whipping his face with her tail on the way down and coming to nuzzle my legs. I grab an ammick slice to feed her, and she chatters happily. Jarek rotates his neck as if he’s checking to see if he’s still intact.
“She’s crazy,” he whispers to me, as if he’s afraid Veronica is going to overhear and be offended.
“She’s a lemling. She likes to climb. Maybe she thought you were a tree.”
“I’m used to the climbing. It’s when she starts treating my head like a potential food source that I start to worry!”
“Unless you’re secretly a fish, I think you’re safe,” I say, giving Veronica a cuddle. Lemlings aren’t native to Amal, but Dr. Kalindra got special permission to have her here after Veronica was found in one of the illegal labs on Timmons when she was just a baby. Her one eye was badly damaged, and Dr. Kavindra spent a year figuring out how to fix it and then performing the surgeries. Veronica’s been here nearly two years now, and she’s one of my best friends, if you can be best friends with another species that doesn’t speak your language and occasionally mistakes your head for a plaything.
“I’m supposed to be charting lab results for Dr. K,” Jarek says. “Can you keep Veronica occupied?”
“Sure,” I say, crouching down on the floor and finding her rope toy. Soon, we have a good tug-of-war going, with Veronica humming happily as she attempts to dislocate my shoulder. Luckily, I’m stronger than she is.
“So, what’s the final application count?” I ask Jarek, trying to sound as though I’m just mildly curious.
“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” Jarek says, but then he adds, “Fifty-six.”
It’s not that huge of a number, but it still makes me frown. That’s fifty-five other kids who might get the Compound Nine apprenticeship over me. Do they all want it as badly as I do? Will they love Veronica as much? Be as good a friend to Jarek?
“Quit moping,” Jarek says, going to grab a chart on another counter and poking me on his way past. “You’re going to get it.”
I know he’s just saying it to cheer me up, not because he knows anything. If he or Dr. Kavindra were choosing, I’d feel certain, but the apprentices are chosen by some government committee. Plus, the whole point of the program is to get kids from other planets to Amal, to get them interested in staying here to work once their apprenticeships are over. I’m already here.
“Fifty-six is nothing,” Jarek goes on. “Compound Three has over a thousand applicants.”
Compound Three works with baby puffles, quite possibly the cutest creatures in the galaxy. “Who wants to work with baby puffles when they could have you?” I ask Veronica, and I swear she nods as she gives the rope a particularly vicious tug.
“Anyway,” Jarek says, “it’s too soon to start obsessing over the apprenticeship. You don’t see me getting keyed up about my placement, do you?”
Jarek’s apprenticeship is about to end, which means he’ll be getting a permanent job, probably right here at Compound Nine. But even if he doesn’t end up here, he has a whole lot of back-ups. He knows he’ll be working somewhere on Amal.
“Maybe you should be,” I tease. “Maybe they’ll decide to send you to Styxx or something.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Okay, time to change the subject. Your mom’s coming today, right?”
“Yup.” I tug harder on Veronica’s rope, and she starts growling in an attempt to sound intimidating.
“I watched The Intrepid Tours Brinch last night,” Jarek says. “It was pretty awesome. Really sunny. Lots of snakes. Your mom was totally fearless with them.”
“Uh-hunh.” I watched it last week. I’m not supposed to spend too much time staring at my netbox screen until my eyes get stronger, but I still watched it several times.
“Is she staying awhile? I bet they’d love her in Compound… what’s the snake one again? Sixteen?”
I yank the rope a little harder than I mean to then pat Veronica’s head as an apology. “Seventeen. And I don’t know how long she’s staying.”
Jarek looks over at me and then shuts his mouth, but it’s too late. I’ve been trying not to think too much about Mom’s visit, but my mind is full of her now. I can leave with her. I’m no longer a preemie baby, dependent on the machines of Compound One to keep me alive. I’m no longer a sickly little kid who might not survive her Intrepid lifestyle. I’m no longer a blind girl lucky enough to be living on the same planet as the famous oculist Dr. Kavindra. I’m healthy, and my surgeries are over, but I don’t know where Mom thinks I belong. I don’t even know where I think I belong.
Veronica bats my hand, reminding me that my first priority is to pay attention to her. For a lemling, life is simple.
I’m a little envious.
The morning passes quickly. I play with Veronica and help Jarek organize data. He explains statistical accuracy to me and then goes on about this new game on his netbox he’s become addicted to. No further mention is made of either Mom or the apprenticeship, for which I’m grateful.
At a quarter to eleven, I’m waiting outside. Aunt Ramana pulls up in a van she’s borrowed from one of her co-workers, and we ride over to the dock in silence. This isn’t surprising; Aunt Ramana’s never very chatty, and the knot in my stomach is cinched so tight, I may be incapable of speech.
We arrive a few minutes early and take a seat in the tiny waiting area. Amal gets regular deliveries of food and supplies but not much in the way of visitors. Mom must have paid a ton to get a transport to make a stop here.
Sure enough, Mom’s the only passenger to exit the loading dock. I run over, and she engulfs me in a hug. She smells just like I remember, an exotic scent that I can’t quite place except that it means Mom.
After a long hug, she holds me at arm’s length, and I get my first good look at her. She has the same dark hair and eyes as Aunt Ramana, but her hair is less messy and her eyes brighter. She looks a little older than she does on the broadcasts, but she’s still beautiful. And her smile is the biggest I’ve ever seen on anyone.
“Well?” she asks. “Do I look as good as you expected?”
“Better!” I say, and her smile threatens to split her face.
“My baby girl!” she says and hugs me tightly again. Then she hugs Aunt Ramana—a quick emb
race, no squeezing involved.
“Good to see you, Wenda,” Aunt Ramana says, as though she’s seen Mom more recently than four years ago. Maybe when you’re older, four years doesn’t seem like such a long time.
We grab the luggage and exit the transport building. It’s still raining, of course. Mom wrinkles her nose as we load the suitcases into the van. “I’d forgotten just how wet this place is. Whoever thought this was going to be the next hot place to settle must have been out of his mind.”
“I thought you said it was going to be the next hot place to settle,” Aunt Ramana says. “I believe that’s an exact quote from The Intrepid on Amal.”
Mom laughs. “I just said what they told me to say back then.”
“Good thing no one listened,” Aunt Ramana says. Her tone is deadpan, the sarcasm underneath unmistakable. I know my Amalian history. People flocked here after The Intrepid on Amal convinced them it was the next great frontier. Then they were miserable because all it did was rain. And then the Association of Inter-Galactic Scientists got permission to kick out all the settlers, some of whom didn’t like being told they had to leave even if they were miserable. But AIGS won out in the end, and Mom left.
I used to think it was unfair, like the planet literally booted Mom off. I had to stay; the machines in Compound One were breathing for my preemie, underdeveloped lungs. I used to wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t had Aunt Ramana here. Would I have been raised by scientists? Made to sleep in a little caged-in bunk in a laboratory at night?
Eventually, I figured out that no one made Mom leave. She could have stayed here with me, just like plenty of families with sick relatives being treated at Compounds do today. She chose not to.
