People like criminal Movers.
Immigrant Shadows.
Hiding from BMAC.
‘Hello?’ he says. ‘Kid?’
This guy. This person on the phone is from Hexall Hall? I know she’s been doing stuff that BMAC wouldn’t like, but I always assumed she was doing it with other people like her – Mover Moms and Dads and anti-Shelving activists. People with day jobs and kids and phase forms to sign just like Mom. Not people from Hexall Hall. What is she getting herself into?
Before I can ask, the droidlet is yanked out of my hand.
‘Yeah, yeah!’ says Mom. ‘Hi, it’s me! Give me a sec.’
She shoves a bud in her ear and the droidlet goes mute. Whatever’s being said by the man, Mom’s the only one who can hear it now. She’s all decked out in a fancy white dress that makes her look like some big-time business lady.
She says yep a bunch, before she taps off without even saying goodbye.
‘Who was that?’ I ask.
‘Just a friend.’ She flings open the closet and I can hear her digging through the clutter to get to her secret second closet that I’m supposed to pretend doesn’t exist. Hard to pretend when she rifles through it right in front of me.
‘Just your friend from Hexall Hall?’
Mom freezes.
‘Why are you talking to people from Hexall Hall?’ I ask.
She cracks open the panel at the back of the closet and starts counting the number of droidlets she needs. ‘One, two, three …’
‘Mom!’
She slams the panel closed, clicks the closet door shut and turns to face me with a sigh. ‘I’ve asked you not to worry about this stuff, Pat.’
‘Yeah, but Mom—’
‘Pat,’ she says, closing her eyes with a sigh, ‘the people in Hexall Hall are not like what you see on the news, all right? Leonard is my friend and he uses the skill set he has to help a lot of people.’
‘What kind of—’
‘Pat,’ she says, almost pleading. She doesn’t want to have to lie to me. Same old stuff. She doesn’t need to anyway. I’ve got a pretty good guess who this Leonard is. He must be the person who’s been programming for her all these years. Mom’s FIILES guy.
I want to ask her more, but she’s already moved on from the conversation, smoothing out her freshly straightened hair. Her eyes are painted and she’s tossing the little spheres into her bag. She usually just takes one, two max.
‘Why do you need three—’
‘I’ll walk with you today,’ she says, cutting me off. ‘I’m going in with Maggie anyway, to speak with her teacher.’
Sibichendosh.
Then she’s just standing there, staring. Her eyes are dead, like she can’t see anything but whatever’s happening in her brain.
‘Mom?’ I say, pointing at the virtual forms glowing on the desk.
‘Hmm?’ She’s back briefly, nervously spinning her wedding ring on her finger.
‘My phase forms. You need to sign them.’
Her hands fly into the air, ‘Right, right!’ and she waves me out of the desk chair. She sits down and starts reviewing what I’ve done. She gets past the name and birthday and then her pen stops. She starts spinning the ring again.
‘Mom?’ I sit down on the bed just behind her. ‘Maggie’ll be OK …’
She says nothing.
‘Really, Mom,’ I try. ‘My friend at school’s Phase 2, and she’s … cool.’ I feel sick lying to her – Gabby’s not exactly cool, and she’s not exactly my friend – but I’ve never seen Mom like this. Well, maybe once.
Mom can’t help herself and laughs, grabbing my nose like she’s done since I was a baby. ‘Of course it’s OK. Her teacher’s just an idiot.’ That sounds more like her. ‘Your sister does not need an upgrade, bottom line. Now hop to it. Don’t want to be late.’
I nod, and take my empty bowl to the sink as Mom keeps working on my forms.
‘Marigold!’ Mom shouts. Her voice is pretty deep for a mom’s, and whenever she yells like that I can feel my brain reverberating against my skull. ‘Pat, will you go get her, please?’
It’s not really a question.
Reluctantly I head to the bathroom. The door’s closed and I knock. ‘Mags?’
When there’s no answer, I open it up. The bathroom’s empty.
But I can hear her whispering.
‘I told you, I’m not allowed.’
I take a step inside and there she is, hidden behind the shower curtain, huddled over the drain. ‘My mom wouldn’t like it. It gets people in lots of trouble.’
‘Mags?’
She jumps, noticing me for the first time. She looks as if I’ve caught her snooping on my droidlet.
‘Who are you talking to?’
She looks tired, like she hasn’t slept or has a fever. She’s clammy and pale.
‘What’s the hold-up, you two?’ calls Mom.
‘We’d better go,’ she says, climbing out of the tub. She hurries by me and runs to the front door where Mom’s waiting, but I don’t follow. My eyes are on the tub. It’s empty, just empty. I don’t know what I hope I’m gonna see there – a kitten maybe, or some other secret pet she’s been hiding. Anything would be better than what’s actually there. Nothing. Just our empty salmon-pink bathtub and a green bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo.
Variety of behaviours.
‘Pat! Let’s go!’
‘Uh, yeah,’ I say, and shut the bathroom door quietly.
I want to believe it’s cos she’s just a kid. Imaginary friends – kids have them. Like a purple unicorn or something lame. But all I can hear are the questions she asked me yesterday. About Oscar Joji, about the East Grove lady. And part of me worries Sibichendosh is right. Maybe Maggie will have to write something different in the Sworn Testimony box.
FOUR
I can’t take my eyes off Gooba. I’ve been watching her all day, studying her. That’s what Phase 2 looks like. She’s sitting in her usual spot, against the north-east corner of the roof. She’s never had a problem being so close to the fence. I have. I won’t even retrieve a ball if it rolls too close. Really. I know I’m just being a baby. Sixty-four floors is nothing, next to the Avin Turbine looming a couple of blocks away. My dad told me that when people finally started to accept that the Eventualies weren’t going anywhere, the government figured they might as well use the winds to help power cities and stuff. The Avin Turbine was the first-ever city turbine erected for the Eventualies. The giant landmark is 1,814 feet high. I watch its mighty blades slice through the grey sky. Mom took me up to the observation deck once. I was eight. She didn’t have any Hexall Hall friends in those days.
‘Am I on my own here?’ says Ollie. ‘Pat, hello?’
He’s sitting beside me, his droidlet on fire with the holographic flames of SpaceDraccus5.
I shake my head. I’m not really in the mood for SpaceDraccus.
‘Fine,’ he grumbles. ‘Some fun you are.’
‘What’s your problem?’ He’s been in a sour mood all morning and it’s starting to grate on my nerves. ‘I said I’ll pay you back for the points! Breezes!’
Ollie just sits there, pouting and looking down at his dragons.
‘He did it again today,’ he says finally.
‘Kevin Prenders?’ But I don’t need to ask. I already know what Ollie’s going to say.
Ollie nods. ‘He asked me if my mommy remembered my phase forms.’
Ollie doesn’t need phase forms. He’s not a Mover. But he’s short and his parents are from somewhere in Europe and when we were younger they used to send him to school with this weird-looking purple soup. That was enough for Kevin Prenders to decide Ollie was a freak, and the rest of our grade usually agrees with Kevin Prenders.
So, Ollie and I sort of had no choice but to stick together. It was either that, or end up loners like Gabby Vargas. But since Ollie spends all his time around me, kids have started to think he’s a Mover too.
‘Could be worse,’ I say.
‘You could actually be a Mover.’
‘Oh, please. You’re barely a Mover.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Tell that to BMAC.’
‘No, but really,’ says Ollie, ‘you never even talk about your Shadow.’
‘That’s because I’m barely aware of my Shadow.’ My Shadow is nothing for me. For some Movers, like the 2s and especially the 3s, their Shadows are a constant issue. They say the 3s know everything about their Shadow – age, gender, how far ahead they are. The Shadows are there, in their heads, all the time. I saw a documentary once on this Phase 2 whose Shadow gave him a list of recipes of his favourite foods that no one in our time had ever eaten before, and the dude opened up a restaurant and made himself filthy rich. At least until BMAC shut him down and took his money. Like I said, Nowbies don’t like that Movers get an unfair advantage.
‘See? Cos you’re barely a Mover.’ Ollie scrolls through his droidlet. ‘Still though. At least you have a Shadow. Everyone thinks I’m a Mover and I don’t even get the bonus of having someone in my head telling me secrets about the future.’
‘My Shadow can’t tell me anything about the future,’ I say.
‘You must know more about it than I do. What time is your Shadow in?’
My attention’s on Gooba. She has her head in her hands and she’s shaking it, as if she’s trying to get a bug out of her ear. No wonder she’s a loner. Her lips are moving too, and her face looks like she’s either concentrating or having a real bad migraine.
She’s talking to herself – like Maggie did this morning.
Her eyes flick to me – and she jumps when she realises I’m watching her. She blushes and looks away.
‘Pat!’ Ollie.
‘What?’ I snap, startled by the sound of my name.
‘Your Shadow, asshole. Tell me what you know.’
I don’t like it when Ollie tries to understand Movers. As much as everyone thinks he’s one of us, he just isn’t. He’s my friend, sort of, but the Movement thing, that’s not something he’ll ever understand. ‘I told you, nothing! It’s not anything.’
‘Boy? Girl? Old? Our age?’
‘I’m Phase 1!’ And I’m annoyed. ‘I can’t tell anything about my Shadow. It’s just …’ I stop. Explaining a Shadow to someone who’s not a Mover is like explaining sadness to a droidlet. It’s not concrete enough; you have to feel it. It’s like … ‘Fog,’ I say finally.
‘Fog?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘a fog. But like a small ball of it. I know it’s there and that it’s …’ I wave my hand in front of myself, ‘I dunno, ahead of me. But I can’t tell how far. Or who’s inside the fog, but I know they know I’m here.’
Ollie stares at me blankly. I’m out of ideas. That’s the best way I could put it. Without thinking, I find my brain wandering to that part that’s connected to it – my Shadow. I can feel him, like cold seeping through a cracked window. I don’t even know it’s a him, not really. I’ve just sort of always imagined my Shadow was male. I’m Phase 1, so the connection’s too weak to know for sure. There’s a faint surge in my temples as he becomes aware of me and I force myself to block him out again.
‘That’s creepy,’ Ollie says finally, back to focusing on his droidlet. ‘Talkin’ like that around Officer Dan’ll get you Shelved, for serious.’
I know he’s kidding, but that’s no joke. Shelving to a Mover, even Phase 1, is never a joke.
‘At least you’re not as weird as the Gooba.’ And then Ollie shouts out to her. ‘Isn’t that right, Gooba?’
Gabby looks up again, right over at me.
‘Goooooooooooba,’ moos Ollie.
The red in Gabby’s cheeks gets darker – from anger or embarrassment I can’t tell. Both probably.
‘Leave her alone, Ollie.’
He frowns. ‘Like you’ve never called her that.’
I watch Gabby’s eyes go blank again, and I feel like she’s escaping. Escaping into her own head. Escaping the sudden attention. Escaping us – and I’m afraid for Maggie.
‘I just don’t see why you have to pick on her all the time.’
Ollie frowns. ‘Me?! You say it plenty, Mermick.’
That might be true. ‘But not in front of her. You’re as bad as Kevin Prenders.’
‘Watch it,’ warns Ollie, ‘Shelf-Meat.’
‘What are you gonna do about it, Real-Time?’
His eyes narrow at the dig. There’s plenty worse names for Movers, but for some reason Nowbies don’t like to be reminded they’re isolated in the present.
Ollie stands up, his mouth tight as he glowers at me and I rise to meet him. I’m a solid head taller, but still the little squeak stares me down.
Until the thunderclap.
A fierce crack explodes above us, the flash of lightning illuminating everything on the roof yard.
Ollie and I both look up. The clouds just above us are churning in a spiral, black and circling, dulling the light from the flickers of lightning. The thunder deafens our ears. That spiral – the way the clouds are turning – leaves no doubt: this is Movement activity. A door to the future is opening.
I’ve only been this close to a Move once. Dad’s Move. But this is more violent than I remember. All the Moves I’ve seen since Dad’s just looked like really bad thunderstorms, but as the swirling mass above us roars so loud that my body starts to tremble, it’s clear this is very different. With a crack that nearly blows open my skull, the storm lets loose a bolt of lightning so bright I’m seeing spots. Everyone on the roof yard hits the deck and the ground beneath us begins to shake.
As suddenly as they came, the vibrations disappear, like ripples on water, and the stunned roofyard can’t do anything but listen to the deep purr overhead.
‘W-w-was that normal?’ asks Ollie.
I don’t think so.
‘Gooba!’ Leelee Esposito is on her feet with wild, panicked eyes zeroed in on Gabby. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?!’
Oh no.
Everyone turns to look at Gabby, who’s hugging the ground. Her mouth hangs open, like she doesn’t know whether or not she should answer Leelee. I glance back up at the spiralling clouds, their coil getting tighter and tighter. How long before the lightning strikes again?
Our recess supervisor, Miss Farley, slowly rises to her feet. Her silver bun is in shambles. ‘Miss Vargas,’ she says to Gabby, approaching her like she’s got a gun.
They think Gabby is doing this? I look at all the faces watching Gabby, some crying, some dumbfounded, most frowning. Gabby’s the only Mover at Romsey higher than Phase 1. The whole yard thinks it’s her.
‘I need you to take a deep breath,’ continues Miss Farley. ‘Movement is a choice. You don’t have to do this.’
‘Make her stop it!’ someone shrieks.
‘Gabby, please don’t,’ cries someone else.
I feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. She’s still only Phase 2.
‘Maybe we could knock her out?’ says Ollie, looking at me.
‘What?’
‘Well, she can’t Move if she’s unconscious, right?’
‘She’s Phase 2!’ I tell him, furious that I seem to be the only one to remember that. ‘She’s only Phase 2!’
Just like Dad.
Ollie looks at me like I’m speaking gibberish, and Miss Farley keeps coming at Gabby. Gabby’s frozen on the ground, terrified eyes scanning the angry faces surrounding her.
They’re all shouting now, pleading and jeering at her. They’ve made up their minds and suddenly I’m mad at them, mad at all of them – for Dad’s sake, for my sister’s, and now for Gabby’s.
I get up and start moving towards Miss Farley. What am I gonna do? Push her away from Gabby? Doesn’t matter cos a second blast, bigger than the first, erupts from the surging cloud. A bolt of lightning, crooked and forked like a dead tree branch, explodes above my head and strikes the antenna above the doors that lead back into the school.
I’m thrown off my feet as the whole building
starts to move, like a sleeping giant waking up. People run in all directions, teachers and students pushing and shoving for the doors. The screams and wails in the panic drown out my thoughts, but I can hear the building groaning, beams and brick struggling to hold together.
Besides me, Gabby Vargas is the only other still body on the roof yard.
‘Pat!’ Ollie’s running for the door. ‘Come on, man!’
My eyes are on Goobs, down on all fours at the edge of the yard, her face buried in her hands. And all I can think of is Maggie – variety of behaviours.
‘Pat!’ Ollie again. ‘We’ve gotta go, now!’
That’s when I hear it – the cracking.
The roof yard begins to split, the whole north side separating away. Gabby is alone on the north side.
I sit there, helpless, as she frantically looks for something to grab onto. I can’t process it, can’t think; all I can do is watch the cement beneath her crumble, the protective fence at her back lean and fall away over the side, and Goobs – Gabby – disappear from sight.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m scrambling to my feet, running to where she fell.
‘Are you crazy?!’ screams Ollie.
She can’t be gone. She can’t.
I approach the destroyed edge of where the north piece fell away. The Eventualies are intense and whip around me, whistling in my ears as I inch closer. A wave of vertigo threatens to make me faint when I see the street below. My knees buckle and for a second I think I’m going to black out, but Ollie’s voice snaps me out of it.
‘What the hell are you doing?!’
Deep breaths. This is going to take huge monster breaths. I force myself to open my eyes and peek down, over the edge. Gabby. I almost laugh with relief. She’s there, clinging to a metal beam, her hands turning white from the strain of taking the weight of her body.
‘Hang on!’ I call to her. I look back at Ollie. ‘Help me!’
He’s fighting the Eventualies to keep the door open. The last of the other students disappears inside and it’s just us now. Ollie doesn’t move.
Movers Page 4
