Damaged Goods

by Jennifer Bardsley

  I fidget with my chip-watch. It won’t work in the cloistered building. “Why try to scare me?”

  Keung’s smile fades immediately. “I didn’t! Oh, Blanca. I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention at all.” He points to the chair next to him. “Here. Take a seat, and I’ll explain.”

  I sit down on the edge of the pleather.

  “I’ve known the FBI was watching you for a while,” Keung begins.

  “Watching me? What?”

  “Agents Plunkett and Marlow. They’ve been taking your pictures.”

  I think back to the image Agent Marlow showed me of Seth and me kissing in front of his apartment building. Where did it come from? Why didn’t I wonder about it before now? “Go on.”

  “You’re definitely a person of interest to them,” Keung says quietly. “Have they asked you questions about me?”

  I nod. “But I didn’t say anything, of course.”

  Keung reaches out and takes both of my hands. “I know you would never.”

  We stare at each other a moment. All of a sudden I’m not nineteen anymore. I’m sixteen and sitting in the supply closet of Tabula Rasa. Keung is my tutor and the only person who’s ever taken any interest in me personally. I feel special—noticed—I’m not just Fatima’s sidekick but my own human being, worthy of attention.

  But I’m not that girl at Tabula Rasa anymore. I’m Blanca McNeal with a parent who cares about me and a future that includes college and endless possibilities. Plus there’s Seth, who might be confusing as hell, but still means everything.

  I pull my wrists away.

  At my movement, Keung removes his hands too. “I tried to warn you. But I didn’t want anyone to figure out it was me.”

  “Warn me about what?”

  “About how insane the world’s become. I’m the delegate to the Silicon Valley Tech Council, you know.”

  “That’s wonderful, Keung.”

  “No. It’s horrible. You wouldn’t believe how fast things are changing. Have you heard of invisi-chips?”

  “Yes. My friend Ethan had prototypes implanted last year.” I think back to that night, hidden at the Vestal corporate banquet where Ethan first showed me he was connected. A few days later, my mother cut his hand off as punishment.

  The smallness of the dressing room makes me dizzy.

  “Invisi-chips are rolling out to the general public soon.” Keung grins at his flexed fingers. “Everyone will want them.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Not you, tiānshĭ. Your boyfriend.”

  “Seth? What about him?”

  “You need to convince him to get his finger-chips removed.”

  My quick laugh spews out air. “I try all the time without any luck. But maybe with invisi-chips he’ll want to upgrade.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what? I don’t get it.”

  Keung stares into my green eyes. “Seth should respect what’s important to you.”

  I smile slyly. “You sound jealous.”

  Keung tilts his head to the side. “Do you want me to be jealous?”

  “Maybe a little bit.”

  Keung leans closer. “Tiānshĭ, I want you to be happy.”

  I lean in too. “I am happy.”

  Our faces are mere inches apart. For the first time since we met, Keung and I have complete privacy. Nobody working on the soundstage, no Tabula Rasa teacher patrolling the aisles, and nobody watching us here together.

  Keung cups my face with his hands. “Are you really happy or pretending?”

  For a moment, I don’t know. So I pull back. “I’m trying to be happy. But it’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  Keung grimaces. “Try harder then.”

  “What?”

  “The McNeals are decent people—I’ve watched them. That Virus of yours is a legitimate good guy. If you stick with them, you’ll have a normal life.”

  “I know.” I sit up straight and feel my spine crack.

  “So be careful,” Keung says. “Don’t mess it up.”

  “I won’t!”

  “That video in front of Tabula Rasa? Tonight hanging out with the Defectos?” Keung’s voice is fiery. “Avoid all of it. Don’t let the Vestals suck you back into their vortex.”

  “But I have friends who are Vestals. Fatima and Beau and—”

  “Be their friends,” Keung says. “But don’t get wrapped up in their problems.”

  I think of Fatima about to pop out a baby in a few months. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

  Keung takes both of my hands in his. “Then try harder,” he says. “Maybe focus more on The Lighthouse.”

  “But I use that to write about the Vestals.”

  “Move on, Blanca. You have lots to say. But now, when the world looks at you, all they see is a former Vestal.” Keung slowly kisses both of my hands. “But I see so much more.”

  I leave my hands in Keung’s. “Seth and I. We haven’t … you know …”

  Keung holds both of my hands together tight. “Why not?”

  I shrug.

  “Tiānshĭ, not every guy you sleep with will get tortured.”

  “I know. But I still feel guilty. I should have said something—stopped Headmaster Russell from hurting you.” Tears roll down my cheeks.

  Keung wipes them away. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe it was.” I cry harder. All the things I’ve felt for months pour out. “Barbelo was my father. My mother helped him. And they ruined so many lives.” My head is on Keung’s shoulder before I know it, his strong arms around me.

  “It’s not your fault,” Keung murmurs into my hair. “None of it was your fault.”

  “But don’t you see?” I say, wrenching myself away. “I have to fix it! I can’t stay away from the Vestals. I have to make things right for everyone.”

  “No!” Keung’s eyes flash. “You only have to solve problems in your own life. That’s it.”

  “I have fixed my life. Now I need to help other people.”

  Keung shakes his head. “No, my angel. You’re not well yet. You still need healing.”

  “How?” I ask. “How am I supposed to get better?”

  Keung smiles. “I already told you. Keep yourself private, and everything will be all right. Avenge all wrongs, especially when your honor is at stake. And what do you deserve?”

  “Relationships and a feeling of importance,” I answer. “I’m not sure Cal would agree with the revenge part.”

  Keung’s voice holds a sharp edge. “That part’s taken care of.”

  I nod. Then I ask the question I need to ask. “If you’re so wise about all this, then why are you still a Guardian? Why not drop out like me?”

  Keung’s face is perfectly still. “Who says I haven’t?” Then he leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “It’s time for you to go home before I screw everything up.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I don’t go home. Instead, I go to the place that makes me feel terrified, relaxed, and exhilarated all at the same time.

  I have security codes to Seth’s apartment, so I don’t need to wait for the doorman to buzz me up. When I knock on Seth’s front door and nobody answers, I let myself in and deactivate the alarm.

  It’s almost midnight. Too late, I realize I should have texted Cal to let him know where I am. I click my chip-watch and hurriedly leave Cal a message.

  Seth’s apartment is full of shadows. Silvery light from downtown filters in through the windows. Seth’s couch and coffee table loom like monsters. The touch screens are down but on sleep mode. A faint buzzing sound resonates from the kitchen.

  Waking Seth up isn’t part of my plan. Actually, I have no plan.

  I run my fingers through my hair and feel snarls. I don’t smell that great either. My day started with a tutoring session and went downhill from there. But maybe it can end well.

&nbs
p; I slip into Seth’s bathroom and turn on the shower. But I also lock the door, just in case.

  The water is hot, not scalding like I prefer, so I adjust the faucet as high as it goes. Pretty soon the stress of the day singes away. The photograph of myself as a baby. Tiffany defending me to Agent Plunkett. The Defecto support group. Keung ordering me to be happy. The pounding water brings relief.

  Unfortunately, Seth’s soap options are abysmal. Hopefully his dandruff shampoo doesn’t make my hair fall out. There’s no conditioner or decent cleanser. I wash my face with the same bar of soap that probably cleans Seth’s feet. I rinse the suds off extra-well and try not to think about fungus.

  But when I step out of the shower and look in the mirror, none of it matters. My brown hair streams down my back and my clear skin glows. I’m as fresh and pure as I always was.

  “Blanca Nemo,” I whisper at my reflection. “The girl who could sell soap.”

  The mirror fogs up with my breath.

  I wipe away the condensation and try again. “Blanca McNeal,” I say a bit louder. “The girl who can be whatever she wants.”

  I pull on my shirt and lace panties but fold the rest of my clothes into a neat pile on the bathroom shelf. Then I unlock the bathroom door and tiptoe into Seth’s bedroom.

  The room is pitch-black. It takes a minute for my eyes to dilate so I can see where I am. But the sound of Seth’s soft breathing leads me straight to his bed.

  His big, warm, inviting bed.

  This was a horrible idea.

  My worst decision yet!

  I root myself to the carpet, too nervous to move. The stupidest thing of all was leaving my pants in the bathroom.

  Right when I’m about to hightail it out of there, Seth rouses himself awake. I see him stretched out with one leg outside of the covers.

  He must see me too because he yelps.

  Suddenly, lights turn on all around me.

  “Whoa!” I cross my arms over my T-shirt. “It’s me!”

  “Blanca?” Seth exclaims. He springs up to his knees. Seth’s dark hair is wildly disheveled. Plaid boxers hang on his hips. I get a nice view of his naked torso, each muscle defined by a different tattoo.

  “I should go.” I spin around at top speed only to feel Seth grab my fingertips and pull me toward him.

  “Not so fast.” Seth kisses me tenderly, his hands at my waist. But soon a rising heat engulfs us both. Seth’s hands move down to the bare skin of my ass, his thumbs grazing under my panty line.

  “I came here to sleep,” I declare, tearing myself away from his kisses.

  “Uh-huh.” Seth grins. He takes a deep whiff of my wet hair. “Is that my shampoo?”

  “Yes,” I answer. “I borrowed it.” I de-wedgie myself. “Scoot over and make room for me in the bed.”

  Seth leans back on his heels. “What is this? A slumber party?”

  “What’s that?” I ask, confused.

  “Um. Never mind.” Seth pulls away the covers and fluffs up a pillow for me. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  I lie down next to him and pull the blankets up to my chin. The glare from a dozen lights assaults my vision.

  Seth flicks his finger-chips, and most of the lights turn off except a soft bulb up above. “So you came here to sleep, did you?”

  I bite my lip and nod. “And to say I’m sorry. For earlier. I should have trusted you. It doesn’t matter who your lawyer is or how well you know her.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Blanca.” Seth leans his head on his elbow, and I see the McNeal Family tattoo, a brilliantly inked sun, next to the angel for his mom. “You said you wanted details, and I can’t give you any of those, but you do deserve an explanation.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t really want to hear it.”

  “You need to hear it.” Seth sits up and leans against the headboard. I rise too, only I take the covers with me.

  “I was so angry with my dad after my mom died that I created Veritas Rex and posted that awful video about him. I thought it showed Dad sleeping with a redheaded woman, but really it was my mom in a wig.”

  I grimace at the memory of the first time I saw that video. Cal’s eyes filled with shame when he showed me. “Sophia would have been mortified,” Cal had said. “I protected her reputation by sacrificing my own, but I didn’t know it would cost me my son’s respect.”

  Seth’s shoulders rise and fall. “The video didn’t get much traffic for a few days, but by day five—boom. The founder of McNeal Solar cheating on his dead wife was big news. Some other sites picked it up, and it went viral. I moved out of the manor before Dad could stop me.”

  “Before he could explain.”

  Seth nods.

  “Where did you go?” I’ve never heard the full story before.

  “Tiffany’s house. Her parents were really cool about it and let me stay in their spare bedroom. I was seventeen.”

  “Is that how you finished high school?”

  “Yeah. Luckily it was only a few months until graduation. Then over the summer I turned eighteen and my trust fund kicked in.” Seth looks around his room. “I’ve been in this apartment ever since, blogging away.”

  “You didn’t want to go to college?”

  Seth looks down at his finger-chips. “I did. That was always the plan before my mom became sick. I got into a bunch of places too. But success with Veritas Rex happened overnight. I decided to stick with viral blogging for a while, to see where it went. I had no idea how famous I’d become.”

  I take a deep breath. “So where does Tiffany fit in?”

  “She helped me through all of it when my mom died, especially during that summer. Then Tiffany went off to Berkeley, and we broke up over winter break—six years ago. But we’re still friends. So when she graduated from law school, I put her on retainer as the lawyer for Veritas Rex.”

  “Why did you tell Tiffany about me?” I bite the inside of my lip.

  “Why wouldn’t I tell her about you? If I never mentioned you at all, that would be weird. Plus I had to tell Tiffany when I deactivated the security system to Lydia’s house. I knew it was potentially illegal, and I didn’t want to risk getting you or my dad in trouble.”

  What Seth says makes perfect sense, but lying here with his glowing blue finger-chips puts my senses on high alert.

  “I take risks to be with you all the time,” I say. “I’ve begged and begged you to get your finger-chips removed and you won’t consider it.”

  “Because that’s nuts!” Seth’s voice gets louder.

  “It’s not!” I pull my knees up and hug them tight. “I’ve given up everything to be with you, and you won’t even switch to a chip-watch.”

  “I’ve given up things for you too.”

  “Yes?” I snap. “Like what?”

  “Stories,” he grumbles. “Leads. The best headlines around. Being with you makes me a shitty Virus.”

  “All Viruses are shitty,” I say before I can stop myself.

  “What the hell? Why would you say that?”

  A scumbag Virus like him. Headmaster Russell’s words echo in my head.

  “You were so wrapped up in Veritas Rex, you got us both kidnapped.”

  “By your crazy Vestal stalker!” Seth counters.

  “Not all Vestals are crazy! If you can’t see that, then what type of future do we have together?”

  “Blanca,” Seth says darkly.

  “No,” I say. “You’re addicted to tech, and I’m old-fashioned. How will this work?”

  “It’ll work,” Seth says. “It’s got to.”

  I hold out my wrist and show him my chip-watch. “How can it if you won’t meet me half way?”

  “I do!” Seth declares. “Who the hell wore those freaking lead-lined gloves the other night? You’re the one who won’t budge.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The white wardrobe. The antique chip-watch. Th
e blank skin. Tiffany has ten tattoos, and you don’t have a single one.”

  “You did not just compare me to Tiffany!” I throw the covers back exposing my two perfectly shaped legs. Then I jab my finger into Seth’s side where Tiffany’s name is written in elaborate cursive. “Maybe you and Tiffany would be better off together.”

  “Maybe we would.” Seth’s face blotches red with rage. “At least Tiffany knows how to have fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Yeah! Fun. You won’t even leave the house.”

  If I stay one moment longer I’ll burst into tears. Only my years of Vestal training keep me together.

  “You’re my brother now. Not my boyfriend.” I run to the bathroom and pull on my pants. Then I grab my shoes and dash out of the apartment barefoot.

  “Blanca!” Seth calls after me. “If you don’t come back, I’m not chasing after you!”

  I don’t bother turning around.

  I have the whole ride home on my motorcycle to think. By the time I arrive at the manor, it’s almost two a.m., but I don’t let fatigue stop me now. I wave my chip-watch against the great hall hearth, and a fire springs to life. It casts an eerie glow against the darkness. Then I curl on the ground in front of one of the sofas and open up The Lighthouse, which I have sorely neglected these past few weeks.

  Keung said that I had lots of things to say. He said I should use The Lighthouse to talk about more than what it’s like being an ex-Vestal. So I decide to take him up on his suggestion. I stare at the fire a moment, and then type.

  Loyal Lighthouse Friends,

  I am more than my present. I am more than my past. I am more than whatever name the world wants to call me this week. My name is Blanca, and my future is as limitless as yours.

  A friend reminded me tonight that human beings want two things: relationships and a feeling of importance. You, my friends, deserve both.

  Choose the person in front of you, not your finger-chips.

  Online connections are powerful tools that you must respect, not fear.

  But a stronger force is love. We must never allow technology into the middle of our relationships.

  I pity everyone who can’t see that.