Weeping Justice

by Jennifer Froelich

  “Yes. I—”

  “You need pepper spray,” Zhu Ruo interrupts. “And a weapon.”

  She circles the front desk and grabs her purse, which she hefts onto the black, lacquered surface.

  “Pepper spray.” She pulls a canister from the depths of her bag and hands it to me. “I have two. One in purse, one in pocket.” She raises a finger and wags it in my face. “Never go outside without pepper spray, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “I have brass knuckles too.” She pulls them out and fits them to her fingers. “See? They pretty. Look like pretty rings but cut skin. You get some at Madam Marie’s on Broadway. Little shop, so don’t miss. Behind burned-out bank.”

  “Thank you.”

  She pats my hand and shoves her purse back under the desk. “You work today?”

  “No. Mr. Chen said not until tomorrow, but I was hoping I could log in.”

  Zhu Ruo hands me a tablet. “You go ahead, Sugar. First hour’s on me.”

  I thank her again, then settle into my favorite booth near the window and login to Dally. I feel exposed, jumping when the door opens, jumping again when someone rattles a teacup or bumps a table. I take a deep breath and scroll through my Dally messages. Only one is from Sam. He, Adam, and Bess have left Windmill Bay to get closer to the fighting, and—hopefully—closer to finding Paisley. He’s safe, working on something new to help the cause, and wants us to hurry back.

  At least it gives me something to tell Reed tonight.

  After posting a short message to Sam and another to Adam, I write a longer one to Xoey, then another for Paisley, not knowing if she’ll ever receive it. By the time I’m logging out and uninstalling Sam’s gaming apps from Mr. Chen’s tablet, I’m wiping tears from my eyes. I can’t believe how much has changed in the last few months—can’t believe I’m thousands of miles away from my friends, living under an alias. What have we accomplished? Oliver is still missing, and Reed and I still haven’t rescued Lexie. When Xoey made us vow to be together again, I was so sure it would happen soon—that we would all be reunited in just a few months. Instead I’m alone, cowering in the corner of a tea shop, barely able to make it out of my locked room without falling apart.

  “Hey.”

  I look up and see a tall boy peering down at me. He must take my silence as an invitation, because he scoots into the seat opposite me and leans against the table, blinking while my confusion sorts itself out. He looks like he might be my age, but I’m not sure.

  “I’m not looking for company,” I finally say.

  He isn’t deterred. In fact, his mouth curls into a slight smile and he leans back in his chair, stretching long legs out at an angle so as not to tangle them with mine. He drums his fingers on the tabletop while his dark eyes continue to bore into mine.

  “Are you selling something?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Because I’m not buying, whatever it is.”

  He keeps drumming on the table.

  “So what is this, then? Are you hitting on me?”

  He doesn’t respond, but his smile deepens.

  “Ridhaan? What are you doing? Ugh!” A girl who looks a few years older than both of us pushes him farther into the booth and settles gracefully next to him. “I told you to wait for me.”

  “I waited,” the boy says. “I haven’t said a word. Ask her.”

  She shakes her head, which is covered in a deep purple hijab. “Honestly. You have no manner of…well, you have no manners.”

  “Excuse me, who are you?” I ask.

  The girl reaches across the table, offering me a delicate hand. “I’m Zoya. This is Ridhaan. We’ve been waiting for you to…well, to emerge, I guess. From hiding.”

  Suddenly my memory stirs, drawing me back to the dark alley where I was attacked by Sokolov’s thugs. Two people rescued me. One was tall and thin. The other wore a head scarf.

  “Are you… Did you help me a few weeks ago? In the alley?”

  Zoya nods, her eyes bright. “But we heard about the second attack. You poor thing! No wonder you’ve been hiding.”

  “I haven’t been hiding!”

  Zoya wrinkles her nose. “You kind of have.”

  “Anyway, thank you,” I say. “But what…”

  “What do we want?” she asks.

  “Or why are we harassing you?” Ridhaan winks at me.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “No.” Zoya shoots a dark look at Ridhaan. “We’re here to help.”

  I stand up, grabbing Chen’s tablet. “Look, I appreciate your help in the alley. But I’m fine now. I don’t need to…hire security. Or whatever.”

  I walk to the front desk, where Zhi Ruo takes the tablet and my thanks. When I push open the door and step on to the sidewalk, I am feeling decidedly more comfortable outside. What I told Zoya and Ridhaan was true. I don’t need help. And since nothing is ever offered for free in Slick City, I definitely don’t want to pay whatever price they’re asking for it.

  I turn and walk toward Broadway. If I can find Madam Marie’s, I’ll buy self-defense jewelry and a can of pepper spray. Maybe then Reed will lose that haunted look he’s been wearing lately.

  I barely take ten steps to the east when I hear Zoya call me from behind.

  “Wait!”

  I turn around, anger surging. “Listen, I’m not interested, okay? And you can’t just…you can’t just follow me around!”

  “Actually, we can.”

  Ridhaan rests his elbow on her shoulder. “And we have. Ever since your first day here, Riley.”

  We’re back inside Chen’s, this time in a corner booth he reserves for customers with deep pockets. I’m still reeling from hearing my name spoken out loud on the streets of Slick. My eyes narrow as I watch Ridhaan give a heavy stack of coins to Zhi Ruo.

  “No one disturb,” she says as she scurries away. “I’ll bring tea.”

  I fold my arms over my chest again, but somehow it makes me feel defensive, so I unfold them and sit on my hands instead. “You have five minutes.”

  Zoya nods. “We first saw you and Reed at the Garden on the outer edge of Slick. You remember, yeah?”

  “The Garden?”

  “The abandoned amusement park.” Ridhaan’s eyes shine. “People don’t often come straight to us. You made it so easy.”

  I frown. “I’m an easy mark, then? Is that what you think?”

  Zoya turns to Ridhaan. “Can you please stop teasing Riley? She doesn’t know you well enough to understand your quirks.”

  “And can you stop saying my name out loud?” I whisper.

  Zoya lifts her pretty hands. “Fair enough.”

  “So you’ve been following us since we got here? Why?”

  “Not constantly,” Zoya says. “But when we figured out who you are, we had to keep track of you.”

  “And how did you know who we are? Or anything about us?” No one else in Slick City has recognized us, despite our notoriety in the Sand. Reed and I just figured our faces are not particularly recognizable.

  “After the Liberty Bell heist, your photos were all over the Internet and dark web. Surely you know that.”

  “Yes.”

  She shrugs her slim shoulders. “You might look like any other teenagers to the guards at the UDR gates, but not to us. We couldn’t believe our good fortune, to have you walk right into our city.”

  “So you live in the old amusement park.”

  “Yes.”

  “Just you two?”

  “No,” Ridhaan says.

  “We are part of a network of Underground freedom fighters,” Zoya says, “so our numbers change all the time, but Ridhaan and I are kind of…gatekeepers of the Slick delegation.”

  “And part of your…directive is to stalk me? Why?”

  “That’s simple,” Zoya says. “We want you to know you’re not alone.”

  37

  Xoey

  It is two o’clock in th
e morning by the time I get back to my father’s place. I tiptoe through the front door and down the hallway to my room, where I cover the camera, kick off my shoes, and strip off my blood-stained dress. My hands are shaking, and I want nothing more than a warm shower, but that is not an option. My father is a light sleeper and always complains if anyone runs water, turns on the pixel wall, or even opens the fridge after he’s gone to bed.

  “We all need to support my rest,” he’s said more than once when the cameras were off. “My face is what makes this lifestyle possible. Please respect that.”

  The exception is anything that puts us in the spotlight, like a night out with Trinidad Ray, something he will ask me all about tomorrow when the cameras are rolling. I know I need to come up with something good to say, but right now, I just want to hide under my covers and cry.

  “By returning to the Sand, you’ll need to look past what would normally set’ye on yer heels, Xoey,” Bess told me. “There’s a lot that goes on. Ugly, unfair things that could pull you away from yer goal. Are’ye gonna be able to handle it?”

  I blink at my reflection in the mirror. The girl who stares back, with her trendy hairstyle and mascara-stained cheeks, barely registers as me. Can you handle it? she asks.

  Tonight? I just don’t know.

  I wipe off my makeup, pull on pajamas, and switch on my tablet. It takes half an hour to run all the interference I can think of, especially when my mind keeps returning to the boy in the alley. My hand shakes as I tap open several tabs, stream music through my headphones, start a game of Tilted, and scroll through page after page of posts on my fan pages. I answer several fans, just to make sure it is part of my pattern. When I cannot stand it anymore, I click on a post from Michael LeMont and decrypt it:

  X, Sorry I haven’t written. Everyone is okay, but GK sent us to crash a surprise party not too far from P. She warned us about it, which makes her a hero in my book. Q, Oz, B, and I were the first round of party-crashers. S insisted on coming too, even after J threatened to withhold food from his cat. GK agreed, keeping him at the rear to handle tech. The party has been a two-day brawl so far. We hoped everyone would go home after the first night but looks like they’re just getting started. I will leave it at that, but X? If prayer is your thing, maybe amp them up for us? Let me know if you’ve started your own party or run into our old friend O. Be safe.—A

  My friends are fighting in a battle and I did not even know it? I check the timestamp for Adam’s post. It is two hours old. Does that mean they are safe for tonight? But then, what happens tomorrow?

  I set my tablet aside and start praying. Why have I been so bad at it lately? I should have been praying for them every night. Don’t stop praying! That’s one of the first things I learned about being a Christian. Instead, I feel like I am losing ground, losing faith, losing myself in this charade. And for what? Kino has not shown up, like I hoped she would, I have no more insight about Oliver’s location than I did back at Fort Liberty, and even the smallest signs of progress—like Trinidad’s drawing on my hand—dead-ends in the labyrinth of Sand living.

  Today is always a new beginning, Xoey.

  That’s what Mom used to say. I take a deep breath, open the Tilted encryption window, and begin typing a response to Adam.

  Middlebrooks bursts into the kitchen. “It sounds like last night was a great success!”

  My father lowers his tablet and smiles at both of us. “I was just reading about it, Yvonne. Look at these pictures TMZ got of Xoey entering the club.”

  Middlebrooks leans over his shoulder, swiping the images and making comments. I sip my orange juice and wish they would lower their voices. I can’t imagine what kind of hangover Trinidad has this morning if this is how I feel with no alcohol in my system.

  “Trinidad’s assistant is handsome, Xoey,” Middlebrooks says, raising her eyebrows. “What’s his name again?”

  “Kelan Thomas.”

  “You two look good together.”

  I set down my fork. “Please don’t.”

  They frown at me over the top of my father’s tablet. “Xoey?”

  “I am sorry, it is just that… Yes, Kelan is nice. I have met several nice boys, in fact. But I’m not… I’m still adjusting to being home. Please don’t insinuate romance for me. Not yet.”

  My father’s brow clears, and he reaches his hand toward me. “Still Daddy’s girl?”

  I take his hand, hoping my breakfast does not revolt. “Still Daddy’s girl.”

  “So will your father be an acceptable date for the Recording Guild’s Music Awards?” Middlebrooks claps her hands while my father all but leaps from his chair.

  “What? Xoey’s going to the Grammys?”

  “Not only is she going, she’s scheduled to sing!”

  Recording a song with my father is not as hard as I thought it would be, mostly because Jada puts us in separate iso rooms, and he turns out to be able to carry a tune. When we finish the first run through, Jada pulls off her headphones and sighs.

  “I love genetic harmony. It just always sounds like it was meant to be.”

  My father grins at me through two layers of glass and gives me a thumbs up. I smile, but I don’t know how long I can keep this up.

  Middlebrooks keeps me busy the rest of the week with interviews, online Q&A sessions, strategy meetings about my “brand,” and public outings designed to seem random. “Up two points in People’s latest popularity poll, Xoey. And the album hasn’t even come out yet!”

  It is late by the time I get home, turn on my tablet, and run through my safety protocols. The first message I decrypt tonight is from Riley.

  X, R has made contact with my sister, but things are moving slowly. Are you okay? I keep seeing you in the press. You look different, which makes me want to talk to you in person. I’m scared, X. Our project isn’t going as planned. As much as I’m determined to see it through, I can’t help wondering what we will lose along the way. With you out there, searching for O, I wonder the same thing. Just be careful, okay? Love and miss you, R

  I frown, not sure how to answer. Riley is such a fighter—I expected her to be the one person who was completely behind my decision. Reading her doubt is depressing. I miss the days when I could corner her in our dorm room and make her tell me why.

  Just as I am about to logoff and go to sleep, I am pinged with an instant message alert. It’s Kelan.

  K: How are you, Xoey?

  X: Okay.

  K: Good. Wanted to make sure.

  X: Thanks for your help the other night. Any news on our friend in the alley?

  K: I told you there wouldn’t be.

  X: I know. Just hoping.

  K: Trinidad wants you to join her for another party tomorrow night.

  K: Xoey?

  X: IDK. I do not think clubbing is my scene.

  K: This one’s at her house.

  X: Will you be there?

  K: I’m always there.

  K: Xoey?

  X: Ok. Where is it?

  K: I’ll send a transport.

  38

  Reed

  “Wait, WHAT?”

  “Reed! I told you not to freak out.”

  I stand up and start pacing the floor. I’m totally freaking out.

  These people know our real names? And they’re here in Slick, following Riley around?

  “Seems like a good thing to worry about, Riley.”

  She just nods and heads to the window, a new habit of hers. She’s biting her fingernails too, which she picked up from me. Something else to feel guilty about.

  And since I’m going there, here’s my current list:

  Spying on Lexie as a pervy preteen, a mistake with consequences so far-reaching, I may never see the end of them.

  Leaving Oliver and Paisley behind. We still don’t know whether Oliver is alive or dead, and Paisley has the threat of death hanging over her every day.

  Failing to free Lexie.

  Failing to help Xoey find Oliver.


  Failing to help Sam rescue Paisley.

  Failing to keep Riley safe from human traffickers—twice!

  Failing to notice that we’ve been followed for weeks by people we don’t know. People who have agendas we don’t understand.

  “Reed, seriously. Breathe!”

  Riley is at my elbow now, looking concerned. That’s when I realize I’m practically hyperventilating.

  Great. I can’t even handle stress well.

  Riley guides me to the bed and tries to make me lie down, which is annoying because my breathing is almost back to normal now. She tries to take my pulse and I brush her hand away. This must be how Xoey felt last year when she kept getting injured, then claustrophobic, then sick.

  I stand up. Riley protests.

  “I’m fine. Just tell me what you know. Don’t leave out any details.”

  So Riley tells me how they approached her in the tea shop one at a time, then how they followed her out to the street and how she went back in with them to find out how they know who we are.

  “Maybe you should have—”

  “Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to second-guess what I did or said.”

  I hold up my hands. “Okay, I’m sorry! So what happened next?”

  “I told them I would talk to you, then left. They said they’d give us some distance. That they’ll be at the Garden if we need them. Then I went to Madam Marie’s and bought some dangerous jewelry.”

  “Some what?”

  Riley shows me her wicked new spiked rings and can of pepper spray. Suddenly I feel a little better.

  “Well, we’re not going out there,” I say.

  “Who says we’re not?”

  “Are you serious? You want to voluntarily leave Slick—by going through a UDR checkpoint—enter a rundown amusement park that gave me the creeps even when I didn’t know it was hiding a band of stalkers—and all for what? What exactly is there to gain?”

  “Reed, do you know exactly what we’re going to do when—or if—we get Lexie free from The Rose?”