by Sharon
Unlike the daytime commuter, the late bus wandered the streets of Nonactown, picking up and setting down an astonishing variety of passengers, most of whom stared at her coveralls and sweater like they'd never seen a student before, and two who were definitely the kind of people that Father Looked At. People Father Looked At inevitably looked—and often moved—away. Without Father there, they stared, and then they'd moved, all right. They came over to sit in the seat behind her, whispering loud enough for her to hear.
"Fluffy-headed dacky girls shouldn't be on the bus all alone, should they, Vinter?" the first whispered.
"Dacky girls think the whole world's safe," the second, presumably Vinter, whispered back. "Dacky girls think the Eyes never close."
"The Eyes don't watch everything—even we know that!"
"Got another maybe," Vinter said.
"What's that?"
Vinter's voice sank, though it was still perfectly intelligible to Theo, where she sat very still, with her head turned toward the side screen, pretending hard not to notice them.
"Maybe not a dacky girl at all," he whispered.
There was a moment's silence, then the first one whispered hoarsely. "You mean—a Specialty? Down here?" As near as Theo could tell, he sounded genuinely awed.
"Happens," his friend said sagely. "Knew a techie saved up a whole half-year's cred to have a Specialty come down from the station all dressed up like a Liaden."
"But who'd pay for a fluffy dacky?" the first wondered, and the two of them laughed noisily. Theo bit her lip.
The route map she was staring at flickered, the upcoming stop limned in green.
"That's us, then," said the whisperer named Vinter. There was the sound of shuffling behind her as the two of them got up—while the bus was still moving!—and stepped toward the exit. Theo watched them out of the side of her eyes.
The first nonac looked down at her, giggled, and moved on, shaking his head, as he casually put his hand against the low ceiling, saying, "Wow, this is a rough section of road, ain't it? Hold on tight!"
As if his warning had made it happen, the bus hit a bump, bouncing Theo a little in her seat. The standing nonac slipped, and snatched at the ceiling, his hand covering the Eye mounted there.
The second . . . paused next to Theo. "Hey, dacky girl."
Theo turned her head carefully, trying to arrange her face into Father's Look. Judging by the way the nonac's grin widened, she didn't do a very good job.
"Be careful," he said, and before she understood what he was going to do, he'd put his hand against her shoulder and shoved her against the screen.
"Stop that!" Theo yelled, but the giggling nonac was already on his way to the opening hatch.
"Go back inside the Wall!" he called over his shoulder—"where a rough bus ride won't bang you around like that!"
His buddy smirked, took his hand off the Eye, and the pair of them were gone, down the ramp and into the low-lit night. The hatch rose, and with a whine of electrics the bus got moving again along its extended route.
Theo looked around her, but she was the last one on the bus. She settled into the corner of her seat, rubbing her shoulder where he'd pushed her. . . .
The Quad Eight belt stop was coming up, she realized, her attention suddenly on the reality at hand. She grabbed the bar and swung onto the platform.
For a moment she stood still, eyes closed while she took a deep breath, like Father had taught her to do. She tried to clear her mind, too, but all her mind wanted to do was try to figure out how mad Kamele was going to be, and what she could say to defend her actions that didn't sound either stupid or antisocial.
Well, she thought, taking another deep breath; I'll just have to improvise.
* * *
"Theo? I'm home!" Kamele's voice slid off the slick walls, coming back to her in a faint echo. There was no other answer to her call.
"Theo?" Half worried and half irritated, she walked into the dim, untenanted dining alcove. The door to the kitchen was shut tight. Frowning, Kamele opened the door, and touched the kaf's query button. As she had suspected, the last withdrawal on record was breakfast.
Kamele shook her head, irritation edging over worry. This antipathy to the kaf—obviously, she needed to have a chat with her daughter—now. Kamele spun on her heel and headed for Theo's room at a determined pace.
The status light showed that the room was occupied, and Kamele's irritation spiked into anger. Sulking in her room, pretending not to hear—she slapped the entry override.
The door opened, displaying the desk, school book jacked in, but the student nowhere to be seen. A small ball winked red lights at her from beneath the chair. The closet was against the left-hand wall, and a packing cube, too; on the right were two bowls, one filled with water, the other with kibble, and a litter pan. Regardless of the assurance of the status light, the room was empty.
Or not.
"Prrhp?" the orange-and-white cat commented, strutting out from behind the cube. He wove a long, welcoming hug around her ankles before strolling out into the hall.
"Coyster!" Kamele called, but the cat, predictably, kept to his route. She took a breath, adding smuggled cat to the list of her daughter's transgressions. How long had the girl thought she'd get away with that? she thought, snatching her mumu out of her pocket.
She tapped up the parental oversight section and keyed in the tracking request as she walked back down the hall.
Her mumu squeaked.
Startled, Kamele looked down at the screen.
Out of range. The letters were red. Kamele tapped the query button.
The unit you attempting to contact is not responding. The help text scrolled, as if she didn't know that. This may mean that the device has been damaged, or that it is presently located at a point outside the university network. A systemic lapse may, rarely, return a false negative. It is suggested that you wait a few moments and try again. If a second negative is returned, please contact the Office of Academic Safety.
Out of range? Kamele eased down into one of the rickety plastic chairs in the receiving parlor, and pulled Theo's message out of archive.
Gone to buy a rug, back before ninebells. Terse to the point of rudeness, with no please or thank you or request for a bluekey . . .
Kamele bit her lip, staring hard at the blameless floor. Request for a bluekey . . . If Theo's mumu was outside the college's network—but surely not! No question that she was headstrong and willful—but even Theo wasn't foolish enough to go Outside without a bluekey—
Unless, she interrupted herself, Theo had a bluekey. What if she had applied to Jen Sar?
Kamele shook her head. No. Theo might have asked, but she would not have talked Jen Sar Kiladi into violating the proprieties. Which left two possibilities: Either there had been a rare momentary stutter of the Wall intranet, or Theo had gone Outside without a bluekey, without asking permission, and without telling her mother where she was going.
Well, thought Kamele, there's a way to test that proposition.
But she didn't immediately tap her mumu. Instead, she sat with it in hand, her eyes on the rug she had brought from home. She and Jen Sar had bought it together, at an eccentric little shop in Nonactown. They'd laid it on the floor of the common room in his house, and there it had stayed, a delight to the eye and the foot until—Kamele shook her head. They'd put it away years ago—she no longer remembered precisely why—and forgotten about it until—
The apartment door twittered, clicked and opened. There was the sound of quick steps, and a quiet, "Oh no, the door!"
Theo stepped into the room.
* * *
Her mother sat poised on one of the stupid plastic chairs, mumu in hand and an expression of cool remoteness on her face that Theo knew all too well. Kamele was in what Theo privately called her Mother Scholar Mode. What it meant was that Theo was about to be questioned, lectured, then questioned again to be sure that she had internalized her lesson.
She felt her sh
oulders crawling up toward her ears, fingers unoccupied with handwork curling in toward the palms. She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest was so tight, it—
"Prrpt?" The query was followed by a vigorous bump against her knee. Theo looked down as Coyster finished weaving himself around her ankles. He sat on her foot and wrapped his tail 'round his toes.
You should've told her about Coyster at breakfast, Theo scolded herself. She wouldn't have heard you, anyway.
"Good evening, Theo," Kamele said coolly. "Would you like to tell me where you've been?"
Well, no, Theo thought; I wouldn't. Unfortunately, she couldn't see any way out of it.
"I left a message in your queue," she said, sounding sullen in her own ears. "I went to buy a rug."
"I saw that message. You promised to be back before ninebells, but you failed to tell me where exactly you intended to purchase this . . . rug."
Theo bent down and picked Coyster up, which at least gave her something to do with her hands. He hooked his front paws over her shoulder and stuck his nose in her ear, purring.
Kamele raised her mumu and Theo saw the glint of red letters on the screen and the unmistakable shape of the Safety Office logo. She swallowed. Had the Eye reported her, after all? But she'd been inside before ninebells!
Perhaps a case of luck over intention, Theo? Father's voice asked from memory, and Theo bit her lip. Great. Like it wasn't bad enough that Kamele was going to lecture her . . .
"Could you," her mother said quietly, "be a little more specific?"
Might as well, Theo thought, reaching up to stroke Coyster, get it over with. She raised her head and met Kamele's eyes.
"I went to Nonactown," she said. "To a store called Gently Used." She hesitated, then decided that explaining a bit further wouldn't seem to be a excuse. "Father had taken me there, when . . . before."
Kamele . . . blinked, her expression wavering. She looked down quickly, and cleared her throat.
"I see," she said after a long moment. "And you went alone on this . . . expedition?"
"Yes," Theo admitted, adding, "I knew exactly where I was going," which might have been—just a small—excuse.
"Sometimes," Kamele said, glancing down again, "the unexpected happens, even when we know exactly where we're going." She sat up straighter in her chair and put the mumu on the battered table top.
"Traveling to Nonactown by yourself demonstrates an extreme lack of judgment, Theo. I'd thought you were more mature, but obviously I was mistaken. For the remainder of this grade-term you will go to school and to teamplay, and then you will come home. We'll revisit this subject at the Interval, and evaluate. If, at that time, I see evidence of more mature behavior, we'll discuss an adjustment to these arrangements. Am I clear?"
Theo stared. No lecture? And hardly any questions? That was so unlike Kamele that for a moment Theo forgot to be upset about being grounded.
"Theo," Kamele repeated sternly. "Am I clear?"
"Yes," Theo assured her, hurriedly. "However, I have . . . conflicts."
Kamele looked stormy. "And they are?"
"Tomorrow after teamplay, I have an appointment with Marjene," Theo said hurriedly. "And on Oktavi, I'm . . . Father and I meet for dinner."
Her mother sighed. "You may keep your appointment tomorrow with Marjene, of course, and will come directly home afterward. As for the Oktavi arrangement with Professor Kiladi . . ." She glanced down—maybe at the floor, or maybe, Theo thought, holding her breath, at the rug.
"I will consider that, and let you know my decision tomorrow. Is there anything else?"
"No, Mother," Theo said meekly.
Kamele nodded. "Where's your rug?" she asked suddenly.
"My—rug?"
"You went to Nonactown to buy a rug, you said. Where is it? Or didn't Ms. Dail have anything to your liking?"
"I . . . she . . ." Theo closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment on the solid presence of Coyster beneath her hands—soft over hard, she thought, and stroked him again before opening her eyes and looking at her parent.
"It's going to be delivered," she said steadily. "Tomorrow. After teamplay."
"Delivered," Kamele echoed, and sighed. Theo waited, shoulders tense despite Coyster's warmth—but Kamele only sighed again and shook her head.
"Very well. My last subject for the evening." She frowned. "Smuggling a cat into this apartment shows another disturbing lack of judgment. How long did—"
"I didn't smuggle him!" Theo interrupted, stung. "He brought himself!"
Kamele frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"He brought himself," Theo repeated. "I was packing—he must've jumped into the cube when I wasn't looking, and then I was in a hurry, so I just sealed the lid without—and when I opened it here, there he was!"
"And you didn't bother to tell me?"
"It was late," Theo said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible about her mother's state last night, "and you were—you were tired. I was going to tell you tonight, but—"
"But other matters intervened," Kamele finished for her, lips pressed tight. She sighed. "Call Professor Kiladi, please, and ask him to arrange to retrieve his cat."
Theo stared at her, tears rising, hands pressing Coyster so tight against her shoulder that he grumbled a complaint and squirmed. She let him go, barely attending as he dropped to the floor and strolled over to sit next to Kamele's chair.
"Kamele . . ." Theo began, horrified to hear her voice quavering. Her mother raised a hand.
"Now, Theo."
Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she pulled her mumu out, tapped the quick-key, and raised it to her ear.
"Good evening, Theo." Father didn't sound surprised to hear from her. On the other hand, he didn't sound pleased either. Neutral, that was it. Inside her head, she could see the bland expression that went with that tone.
"Father," she said miserably. "Um . . ."
She took a breath, ducking her head to wipe her damp cheek on her shoulder. No word from Father. He would, Theo knew, wait until she told him what she was calling for. Silence didn't bother Father, like it did some people. . . .
She cleared her throat. "Coyster's here," she managed, voice shaking.
"Ah. I'm pleased to know where he is. I'd thought he was angry with me for having misplaced you, and was sulking."
"No," Theo said shakily. "He packed himself into my cube and I didn't know he had come along until I opened it last night."
"I see. Well, he appears to have decided upon his posting. I can hardly argue with his choice."
"Yes, well . . . Kamele, um . . ." She closed her eyes, picturing him in her head, black eyes sharp, face attentive, waiting politely for her to continue. "Kamele asked me to call you and—and ask you to, to arrange to . . . take him back."
The silence from his side continued longer than she had expected. Her stomach had almost tied itself into a knot when he sighed.
"Theo," he said gently—no—carefully. "Please ask your mother if she will speak with me."
"Yes, sir." She diffidently looked to her mother. "Father . . . wonders if you'll talk to him."
For a second, she thought Kamele was going to refuse. Then she sighed sharply and thrust out a hand. Theo crossed the room and gave her the mumu.
"Jen Sar?" she began, in her briskest, coolest voice. "I—" She stopped. Closed her eyes. Coyster stood up, stretched—and jumped into her lap.
"Yes," Kamele said. "I am aware of your thesis that cats are symbiotic rather than parasitic. However, the fact remains that—" She stopped again, mouth tight. Coyster bumped his head against her free hand; she raised it absently and rubbed his ears. Theo held her breath.
"That's nonsense!" Kamele exclaimed. "There's nothing strange to her here! She has her Team, and her school work, and her—" Another sharp silence, while her fingers continued to rub Coyster's ears.
"Very well," Kamele said finally. "But only until the end of the term, are we—You're quite welcome, Jen Sar . . . Yes, of
course—and you, as well." She turned the mumu off, placed it on the table next to hers, and sat staring at the pair of them for a long moment. Theo kept as still as she could, hardly daring to breathe. Father had talked Kamele into letting Coyster stay, but that didn't mean that Theo couldn't talk her right out of it again by being a nidj.
Finally, Kamele looked up, and gave Theo a small smile.
"Professor Kiladi makes a strong case for the benefits of Coyster's continued residence here—at least until the end of the term," she said moderately. She picked Coyster up and put him gently on the floor, then rose, brushing cat fur off her coveralls.
"It's long past time for dinner," she said, and held out her hand. "Shall we see if the kaf will provide anything moderately edible?"
That was a peace offering. Theo smiled, reluctantly, and came forward to put her hand into Kamele's.
"All we can do," she said, "is try."
Nine
Teamplay: Scavage
Professor Stephen M. Richardson Secondary School
University of Delgado
"Four Team Three is the next to lowest ranked team in Fourth Form," Roni said, loudly, as they left their Ready Room for the first class of the day. "Why do you think that is, Theo?"
You know better than to answer that, Theo told herself, and bit her lip. Roni wasn't just bad at consensus, sometimes it seemed like she was actively against it.
"I guess you never earned the Team a down," Kartor said, hotly. Theo blinked. Kartor never got into arguments.
"'Course I have," Roni snapped. "But even you have to admit that five in one day is . . . exceptional."
Kartor's ears turned red. "What's that supposed to—"
"Casting blame is antisocial," Lesset spoke up. "We're a Team; we're supposed to help each other." She stared at Kartor, which was, Theo thought, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach, not fair. Kartor hadn't started the argument.
"Are we supposed to pretend that we don't know which member of our Team is pulling the rest of us down with her?" Roni rounded on Lesset, her chin and shoulders pushed forward. "We're supposed to practice intellectual honesty, aren't we?" She threw a nasty look over her shoulder at Theo. "And advertency."
