Golden Dreg Boy, Book 1

by D. K. Dailey

  “Get your head back in the game, Kade.” Dad’s mantra breaks my concentration. If I had a point for every time he said that, I’d be rich by my own merit. Nonetheless, the saying kicks my brain into action.

  Mom comes back into the kitchen. “Nell’s dad is on his way. She’s waiting on the porch with her shirt buttoned properly.” Mom’s eyes rest on me before she departs. If that wasn’t a passive-aggressive way to tell me to keep my hands to myself, I don’t know what is. I’m no longer zozzled. My parents sitting on my bed deadened that. I tiptoe out of the kitchen.

  “That girl likes you.”

  I stop walking.

  “I would guess something happened between you two tonight. Something you two could get in real trouble for.”

  “All we did was kiss.” I turn back and lean against the counter opposite him.

  His body is straight, not the loosened posture he usually has when he’s talking to me about girls. “Kissing could make you both sick. But let me guess…Party broke up before you got further?”

  I shift where I stand. “How’d you know?”

  “That’s how it always happens.” He chuckles, probably remembering a moment that ended the same way. “Your first kiss…first time being unchaperoned…”

  I look down at my hands. Not the first time being unchaperoned, but okay.

  “You’re coming to adulthood soon, where you can start courting girls and…”

  “Uh, Dad, I don’t think this is the right time to have this conversation. Nell’s waiting.”

  “This might be the last advice I’m ever able to give you!” His voice rises suddenly. “Timing has nothing to do with it.”

  If I keep quiet, the speech will be over faster.

  “You need to pick up on the little things girls do when they like you.”

  “Like what?”

  He takes a few steps closer, then his shoulders fall into an easier stance—we are back to a good father and son moment. “Like when a girl wants you to kiss her, she gives you a sign. Maybe it’s a small one: she leans over, stares a little too long, brushes her hair behind her ear, or squeezes your arm or your leg.”

  Nell touched me several times, leaned in, and put her hands on me. I missed all the signs Dad mentioned. How many have I missed with other girls?

  “You don’t know these things?”

  “How am I supposed to?”

  He slaps me on the back. “You’re not, but let me tell you a secret.”

  I nod.

  “Girls like surprises, thoughtfulness. Give them a kiss while they’re in midsentence. Give them flowers to show you care. Gifts are good.”

  “Bennett, are you telling our son how to pick up girls?” Mom’s eyes and accusatory tone as she walks back into the kitchen cause Dad to go silent.

  The embarrassment ruling my body makes my back straighten.

  “You’re supposed to tell him what he did is wrong.” She gives him a shame-on-you look everyone usually cowers under. “How he could have gotten a citation. How he’s practically an adult. How he—”

  “You missed that part, Mom.”

  She swipes a huge glass from a cabinet, then grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge and pours and pours. One large sip, and she focuses back on us. “You need to go outside with Nell. She insists on waiting on the porch, and it’s windy out there. She shouldn’t be alone. I’ve been keeping her company, but I’m not much for small talk.” My mother guzzles most of the dark red liquid in her glass in one gulp. “What a night.”

  Yeah. What a night.

  Happy to escape my parents, I exit the kitchen. Dad’s talk was a wake-up dial. I’m going to be eighteen come November, and that means I’ll be an adult. I walk out to the front of the wraparound porch, knowing my parents will watch us as they are supposed to, according to the Intercourse Under Eighteen Law.

  “Thought you’d never come out.” Nell looks small standing on the porch. “Your mom is pretty scary.” She walks toward me but stops short, breaking into an uncontrollable coughing fit. Earlier, the darkness made it hard to spot any signs of sickness, like changing skin color. But temperature change, coughing, and throwing up are the first signs. “You positive you’re okay?”

  “Just shook up from the party, that’s all.” A cough finishes her sentence and then she stares into my eyes. “And thank you for saving me. I can’t afford even one citation.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Then why’d you go?”

  “Because the probability of us getting caught is always slim. I’ve been to five parties and three beach bonfires.” She grins. “Never been caught.”

  Keeping track of risky behavior is funny, of course, and a laugh spurts out. “You do know how probability works?”

  She shakes her head as a coy grin plays on her lips.

  “The more you do something, the higher the chance of getting caught.”

  Her smile expands, and my attraction deepens. “I’d take the risk to spend time with you.”

  That makes me grin so hard. We sit on the bench, talking for about ten more minutes before her father stomps up the steps and ushers Nell away. She waves goodbye, her hand failing to make the swaying movement and I return her sad, sad wave.

  My parents don’t bother me when I come back inside. The fifty-two steps to my room have me wishing I took the elevator.

  Tonight’s little adventure plays on my mind before falling asleep. I do need to get my head in the game. I didn’t get caught this time, but what about next time, what about my future? You have a promising future. You’re next in line. How many times has this been pounded into my head?

  Weariness overtakes my body, spelling me into a deep slumber. The vision that won’t go away—the none-of-your-business Dreg beauty—conquers my dreams.

  Chapter Seven

  “You want to visit that girl we caught you with? Nell? Are you out of your mind?” Mom’s uncharacteristically loud voice echoes through the downstairs space. I slouch into the couch. My request wasn’t unreasonable.

  “You think because you haven’t been sick you’re indestructible? You’re my baby boy, and I won’t allow you to make stupid choices…for a girl.” When she turns her body toward mine, she crowds me.

  “Where’s Dad?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Working late at the lab.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “But it’s after ten.”

  “His work is important.” Her voice rises in annoyance. “You know he has late nights.”

  “Can you dial him and ask his opinion? I bet he’ll let me go.”

  “We make decisions together, and I said no.”

  “Sounds like you decided on your own. But what would Dad say?”

  “I don’t care. And don’t back talk me, boy.”

  “It’s so unfair.”

  She changes the subject. “Did you do anything with that girl?”

  Facing my legs away from her, I peer at the floor. “You let me see Noodle that one time.”

  “That was a special circumstance. You’ve known him practically all your life. But this girl…”

  “Incoming communication from Marcus Cooper.”

  Mom stares at me. Is there no privacy?

  Annoyed, I tap my wrist to initiate my comm. Pixels transmit wavelengths, creating an image of the dialer. “Hey, Noodle!”

  “What up, man.” His voice is solemn.

  I move my hand to the side to show a view of Mom. “My mom’s here. Make it quick.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Shaw.” He waves.

  “Hi, Marcus.”

  “Bad news.” He looks away from the screen and then back. “Efren died a few hours ago.”

  I gape. “For reals? That was quick!”

  Mom gasps. “We’ll have to send his family condolences.”

  “Yes, we will,” but, “Mom, can I please get some privacy?”

  She places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to check the news on the kitchen flashscreen. I’ll be in there if you need me.�
� Of course, she can check her c-chip, which projects the same see-through virtual touchscreen. But she never likes to use that.

  Noodle shakes his head and then tilts it like it’s too heavy. Taking a deep breath, he leans forward. “Nell and a couple of others are sick too.”

  “We kissed.” I slump further into my man-eating couch.

  “That’s all you did?”

  “Yeah, but that’s enough to infect me.”

  “But you’re lucky, man. If you were infected, you’d have caught it right away. I got a stroke of luck this time, too.” He grins but doesn’t show teeth.

  I zarding hate that word. Luck. You’re lucky is filled with the implication that I’m different because I’m a Golden who’s never been sick. “It was my mom’s fertility treatments!” I want to scream, but no one outside our family is supposed to know about how I benefited from Dad’s research.

  “You know I got jail time, right?” Noodle says.

  “Yeah, when do you go?”

  “Next week. They delayed it, and I got one day instead of two. Thank your dad for me.”

  Footsteps echo behind me. Mom.

  “It’s only been a minute. That’s not privacy.” It’s hard to keep attitude from slipping into my voice, but she’s so annoying with the hovering.

  “There was a list of kids who recently died on the newsfeed.” She walks closer. “Three.” Mom’s face is taut with grief, and she’s wringing her hands. She sits next to me and places a hand on my knee. “Efren, Cedric, and…” She closes her eyes. “And I’m so sorry, but Nell, too.”

  My lungs depart my chest for a second, and I struggle to breathe. Nell is dead? The pretty, funny girl I’ve shared all these great moments with is dead? Her watermelon scent still fills my nose. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t even know she was dying. She only coughed a few times…

  Dipping my head, chin to chest, I want to cry, but Dad says crying isn’t manly. “I’ll dial you later, Noodle.”

  He bows his head, too. “Damn, man…Later.”

  His image dissipates into thin air.

  “Some people go quickly. Their bodies never adjust to the millions of strains of sickness out there. The Centers for Disease Control says that being around other people should help build our immunities, but some people are weaker.” Mom’s attempt to make me feel better doesn’t, but at least her perfume is calming. Though I’d love to smell watermelon again, the familiarity of Wildflowers Hidden in a Deep Forest—yes, I named the scent—is needed.

  “It’s not fair.” Leaning my head on her shoulder, I breathe her in a few times.

  She lets me sit for a long time before saying, “I set the humidity cleanser to activate, so we can circulate new air through the air system. I didn’t order meds this time, but you’re going to have to get into a biosuit so we can make positive you weren’t infected.”

  She’s all business now. I nod because I expected nothing less.

  Chapter Eight

  I hate the biomedical suits. But since I kissed Nell, I’m forced to wear one. “As a precaution,” Mom says.

  Putting on my suit to lie in bed is stupid. The dots and wavy lines flash green. Efren’s turned red right away. “Green means clear.” I say it like I will win a prize.

  “Still, it’s best you stay in it for a few hours.” Mom hangs in the doorway with my sister on her hip.

  “He’s okay then?” Ems bites her lower lip nervously.

  “Yes.”

  “So, Mama, it’s just a pre-um, a pre…”

  “A precaution. Yes, sweetie.”

  “Then can we play astronaut?” She smiles at me. “You can be Captain Kade.”

  “Only if you put on a suit, too.” Mom sets Ems down on the floor, and she beams.

  I readjust my body inside the suit, which is like wearing a leech for a second skin…beyond uncomfortable. “What if I don’t want to play astronaut?” I ask, but Emmaline has already run from the room to get her suit. Then I understand, like tag-team parenting, Mom is pulling a slick trick. She’s making positive my sister is safe too.

  The next night, I’m lying on the backyard deck with Ems. Being with her is like touching a piece of heaven. Emmaline’s spirit and curiosity are refreshing. Cherished moments because in this day and age—riddled with catastrophe and disease—every moment is special, suspended in time.

  Although she’s six and I’m seventeen, our age gap doesn’t matter. She’s a miracle child. We’re both miracles, as my parents explain it. Not naturally fertile, they needed plenty of help from the government to get pregnant. Had we been born before the worldquake they would have faced the one child law. But luckily Dad created some miracle approach that saw me, and my sister born, and helped with our immunities. But it worked better on me than on Ems. She’s been sick plenty, and I haven’t ever been.

  “How come we see the stars from here better?” She lies next to me with her head on my chest.

  “What do you mean?” I brush my hands through her hair, then touch her cold cheeks with my palm.

  She nuzzles closer. “When we’re in the market, I can’t see the stars.” Her big eyes wiggle, like she’s trying to see everything at once. That makes me smile.

  “Stars are reserved for seeing only from special places.” Providing unrehearsed answers to random and often difficult questions is hard, and it still amazes me that I’m able to do it.

  “And this is our special place?” Her voice is full of wonder, and her eyes are glued on my face.

  I’m the oddball among my family. My bright blue eyes and lemon-blond hair don’t match my family’s vibrant hazel eyes and brown-paper-bag-colored hair. Their skin tones have a tan undertone to them, while I am fair skinned. Sometimes our physical differences upset me, but I rationalize: Not all families look alike. Genetics are strange like that.

  “How many stars are there?” Ems’s question breaks through my thoughts.

  “I don’t know. Millions or billions, I guess.”

  “I guess eighty-fifty-hundred.”

  I laugh. “There’s no such number.”

  “You always say that, but you don’t know.” She harrumphs and moves on to another subject without hesitation. “Are we rich?”

  “What do you mean?” That’s my one follow-up question when she asks a loaded one.

  “We don’t live in the slums. We have meds, biohealers, and lots of food, and we can see stars from our backyard. Dregs only have a tiny little bit of food, dirty clothes, and broken toys.”

  Emmaline makes lots of observations, especially since the Internet no longer exists and school is only a four-hour day with optional rec time after. My family and her personal tutor teach her what she must know to be a productive citizen.

  “We live in the richest hill sector, and Dad works for the government. But don’t go rubbing it in anyone’s face.” I nuzzle her nose with a finger. “Dregs can’t help being poor or living in the slums.”

  “Was that girl’s doll Dreg, like her?” So this is what’s been on her mind.

  “Dolls can’t be Dreg.”

  “Her doll needed a bath and a doctor.”

  “Yeah, it did.” I snort. To her, the mangled doll must represent the Dreg’s lack of bathing, food, and healthcare.

  “Kade, Emmaline, food’s ready!” Mom yells from the house.

  I sit up and put a hand in the air. We interlace our fingers into a paused high five, fingers down, and then she breaks free. “Race you in.” Shooting up, Ems sprints inside before I have time to stand.

  “Cheater!” I don’t bother running after her.

  She touches the glass on the inside, and the privacy feature darkens. Most likely, she’s making funny faces, having a laugh behind the mirrored glass. A second later, the lock clicks, and Ems’s footsteps retreat as the door slides open.

  I enter, and Ems’s expression jumbles. “Come and get me, Kade. Come and get me.”

  I make a choking gesture and mouth to her, “I’ll get you later.”

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nbsp; “Mom, Kade says he’ll get me later.” She sticks out her tongue at me.

  I pretend to punch myself in the eye.

  “Emmaline, if you didn’t mess with him, he wouldn’t mess with you at all.” Mom huffs. “Now, Kade, get your father from his office.” She waves from the kitchen entryway.

  “Why don’t you use the intercom?”

  “Why don’t you do what I tell you?” She wipes her hands on her apron. The gesture looks weird, considering she never cooks, only technowaves prepared meals.

  Our house is about thirty thousand square feet with thirty rooms, ten bathrooms, an opulent wraparound deck, and a backyard swing set. On alternating days, we have maids clean. For special dinner parties, we hire cooks and servers. Only the cooks are Golden. No reason I should have to walk to tell my dad to come down to dinner when a Dreg servant could do it. But I have to do it. Taking the long walk through the house doesn’t interest me, but racing through one of the secret passageways that skirts around our panic room—all the way to the other side of the house—does. My feet glide across the slick marble floors and then the shiny wooden floors on the way to my father’s office. Before I know it, I’m snapping a fireplace wall back into place, leaving that room and padding down the hall. Outside the door, I reach to knock, but what I hear makes me freeze in place.

  “We’ve got the genome sequence up and running.”

  Dropping my hand, I press my ear to the door.

  “All citizens will be tested per your orders…Yes, that will weed out the ones that are treasonous…The raids…mm-hmm…okay.” My father laughs. “We will. I will talk to you later, Premier.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth. My father was talking to the leader of the Americas. Dad’s company, Shaw Technologies, partners with the government to help run the country, and he was talking to the premier! What an honor.

  The dead silence reminds me why I am there. I lightly stomp my feet in place before knocking. Don’t want him to think I heard anything.

  “Come in.”

  “Time for dinner.” I open the door.