Angelyn frowned back. “You’re trying to figure out how you can take one of those bikes out, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” I said, but I wasn’t at all convincing.
She shook her head. “You’re going to get in so much trouble.”
“Only if they catch me.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. But she also looked a little bit thoughtful. Intrigued, maybe. Because what if I really could get away with it?
“You’d need a keycard,” she said. “If the bikes are part of the groundskeepers motor pool, they probably keep the cards right there in the garage. That’s what they do at my parents’ place, anyway.”
I had to think about that for a minute, that her parents had a place big enough to have its own groundskeepers. But I could process that later. Right now, I had a plan.
“Interesting,” I replied, as if it were just an observation.
Student supervisor Franteska stalked over to us, arms crossed, glaring like some military drill sergeant. “Less talking, more lifting, girls.”
I matched her glare as she stalked off and didn’t even care if she liked me or not.
Angelyn seemed worried. “Polly, whatever you do, be careful, okay?”
“Always,” I said. “Can you help me put another two kilos on this?”
10
I figured if I went extra early in the morning, I’d be okay. I’d stay out for fifteen, twenty minutes, tops, and be back in time for breakfast before anyone missed me.
That night, I set the alarm on my hand terminal and slipped it under my pillow. I shouldn’t have bothered, because I hardly slept anyway, I was so worried about making sure I shut off the alarm before it woke anyone. If Ladhi knew what I was planning, she’d freak out, and Marie would roll her eyes and think I was being immature, if not actually report me. I kept waking up all night long, so I finally shut off the alarm entirely. My heart was thudding, my head was fuzzy, but that only made the adventure more exciting. This was way more interesting than the artificial, slow-cooker drudgery the school had been pounding at us.
Quickly, I slipped on my exercise clothes. I stuck a cap on my head, pulling it down so the brim shadowed my face. I’d set the maintenance program to cut off power to the cameras for a half an hour, starting right about now, but just in case my hack didn’t work and the cameras spotted me anyway, I hoped I’d be hard to identify. I shouldn’t even look like a student.
Doors recorded every exit and entry and who made it. I used the same maintenance program to trick the doors between the room and the garage into thinking I was a repair operator passing through, and not a student. I hope it worked.
I ducked through the door and into the corridor outside the room, looking over my shoulder to see if the noise had woken my roommates. They didn’t so much as flinch—so far so good. I continued down the hallway like I belonged there, striding confidently. If everything was going as planned, the cameras weren’t even recording me.
I reached the garage, and one last door—the larger overhead door leading outside. I keyed in the code and waited for a heart-stopping minute until the door slid upward with a sigh. The sky outside was a dull cottony gray of predawn. A slight breeze blew, carrying a chill. Angelyn and the others said sky like this meant rain was on the way, and wouldn’t that be something to see? Nothing like the dusty winds of Mars.
Now all that was left was the cycle.
I’d studied these things up and down: chemical-battery operated, solar recharge, carbon-fiber struts and frame, rubber tires. Most of the controls were on the handlebars for easy reach, with an instrument panel in the middle showing speed, direction, and power output. And they did in fact have an activation key. I hunted around for it, and wonder of wonders, Angelyn was right: the activation keys were in a cupboard on the wall. It wasn’t even locked. On top of that, the keys were helpfully labeled with numbers that matched the cycles’ ID plates. It was like someone wanted me to borrow one.
In another cupboard I found helmets, took one that fit, and was ready to go. Looking over the cycles, I picked the one that seemed like the zippiest, released its brakes, and wheeled it to the open garage door. The driveway stretched ahead, curving along the mist-touched lawn, an undeniable invitation. The path was flat, paved, and smooth, obviously designed for someone to go very fast on it. I already felt better. I could sense all the stress of the last few weeks blowing away on an artificial breeze.
I straddled the cycle and double-checked the controls—my fingers around the brake lever, thumb on the accelerator button. Just fifteen minutes, I reminded myself. Once around the building and back, just like at home. No one would ever know.
The electric motor hummed; I felt it more than heard it, a vibration rumbling up through my legs. I took a moment to get used to the sound, the feel. The front wheel turned on its fork for steering. The seat bounced a little on shock absorbers. I had to get used to the balance, which was a lot different from the scooters at home. These had rubber tires on the ground rather than hover lifts, which couldn’t fall over. But apart from that, this would be familiar.
Finally, a grin on my face, I put the cycle in gear and revved the motor.
I wobbled a bit. I wasn’t proud of that, but no one was looking, and the way my blood was rushing I was lucky I didn’t fall over. After coasting a few meters, I got my balance and turned up the speed. A few more meters like that, a bit more acceleration, I was really cruising. And it was marvelous. I wore the helmet, but nothing on my face—no goggles, no breathing mask. The wind hit me, skidding across my face, making my eyes tear up.
The land slipped past. I was doing something. Going somewhere. Forward movement. I couldn’t even feel the gravity anymore. I was flying. I laughed out loud.
I could have just kept going. Down the road, off school grounds. The solar recharger on the cycle’s battery meant I wasn’t going to run out of fuel. I wanted to see the ocean. That would probably shake me up even more than the open, breathable sky. If I was going to spend all this time on Earth, I ought to actually see some of it, right?
It would have been so easy to keep on going.
But I didn’t. I was good. Sensible. Even Charles would have admired how responsible I was being when I got to the edge of the school grounds, marked by two tall steel pillars and an automated security checkpoint. I slowed and stopped, putting my foot down to help brace the cycle upright. The pillars probably had a motion-sensitive beam across the way, tracking whoever entered and left. Through the gates, the flat black road and trimmed lawn continued, then curved around a forested hill. I couldn’t go past it. I considered riding another fifty meters or so until I could see around the hill, but I’d already been out longer than I should have been. So I turned around, opened the power, and sped back to the garage, enjoying a last few moments of freedom.
I’d left the garage door open behind me. I probably shouldn’t have done that.
My plan was to ride the cycle into the garage, park it exactly where I’d found it, close all the doors, put away helmet and key, sneak back to my room by the time my hack on the surveillance cameras expired, and no one would know I’d done anything. Except Charles, if he noticed, would ask why I was so giddy happy.
But that didn’t happen, because Stanton and three others in Galileo security uniforms were standing in front of the open garage, blocking my way in. I turned sharply, not really sure where I thought I was going, just wanting to get away. Maybe I thought I could run. I should have just put on the brakes and faced them. But I turned, yanking the handlebars, and the cycle’s tires slid out from under me. I crashed to the pavement, skidding another two meters before stopping. The ground scoured my clothes and skin. That really hurt.
I lay there for a moment, the right side of my body burning, the cycle’s front wheel spinning next to my head. The motor had cut out, at least. I tried to move, discovered I could, because the pain was all on the surface. Nothing broken. But maybe I should have pretended to be concusse
d so that they’d carry me to the infirmary and I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. When I looked up, Stanton and the others were staring down at me.
“Are you all right?” she asked in a flat tone.
“Um. Ow?” I said.
The guys in security uniforms lifted the cycle upright, and I slowly pushed off the ground. Stanton didn’t offer to help, of course. The right side of my clothes was shredded. The skin on my arm and leg under them weren’t much better, scraped raw and red, and embedded with grime. It was tender now, but it was really going to hurt in an hour or so.
“Can you explain yourself, Ms. Newton?” she said. I didn’t say anything, because the answer, essentially, was no, I couldn’t explain myself. I didn’t think I had to—it seemed self-evident: I’d taken a motorbike out for a ride.
“Go to the infirmary, get cleaned up. I’ll meet you there to discuss repercussions.”
Maybe they’d send me home. I hadn’t thought about that and felt suddenly hopeful.
Gravity had returned full force. It took forever for me to bend my bruised limbs and get myself to my feet. Stanton watched the whole time. In lighter gravity, I wouldn’t have smeared on the pavement quite so hard. It wasn’t fair.
The infirmary was part of the dorm complex, down another corridor. The nurse there wasn’t much more sympathetic than Stanton. After peeling out of my clothes—what was left of them—I put on standard hospital scrubs. Then I sat while the nurse washed the cuts and scrapes on my arms and legs, and doused them with an antiseptic spray. That really hurt, but I clenched my teeth, kept my mouth shut, and blinked back tears. I didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry when it was my own damn fault.
The moment the nurse finished wrapping the cuts in an antiseptic gauze, Stanton appeared, gaze focused like laser beams. She didn’t get close, didn’t get in my face. Just stood there regarding me from the edge of the exam room. I felt like a bug in a petri dish.
“Feeling better, Ms. Newton?” she said.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
A long pause followed. I could feel my own heart beating, faster than normal, nervous.
“May I ask: How did you sabotage the security protocols?”
I picked at the gauze on my arm. “I didn’t sabotage them, I just … worked around them.”
“All right. How did you work around them?”
They could find out how I did it by going over the computer network maintenance logs. They’d probably already done it. This wasn’t about finding out how I did it; it was about getting me to admit I’d done it. I talked faster than I was thinking, as if I could just say the right thing to make her understand. “It wasn’t that big a deal. I just went through the maintenance program to temporarily shut down power to the cameras. Didn’t touch security at all.”
She blinked at that, startled, as if that had never occurred to her. Which meant they’d lock that hack down and I’d never be able to use it again.
“Ms. Newton. You do understand that the security is here for your own protection. This isn’t a prison.”
A little voice in my head, one that sounded suspiciously like Charles, told me to lower my gaze and say, “Yes, Ms. Stanton, I understand.”
Really, I’d already won. I’d gone for my ride. I’d gotten out. Despite falling and getting scraped up and Stanton glaring at me, I felt better. I’d escaped gravity, however briefly. Now it was just a matter of whether or not I’d be kicked out of Galileo entirely.
“What did you hope to accomplish, Ms. Newton?”
“I just wanted to go for a ride.”
“Organized PE isn’t enough for you, is that it?”
“This is different, I just—” I shook my head, because she wouldn’t understand. Shut my mouth and didn’t try to explain.
“I’m afraid this episode can’t go unremarked,” Stanton said. “You’ll be put on restrictions for a month. Private study hall. Additional work in every class. You will not be allowed to raise your hand in class. You’ll be watched, Ms. Newton, so don’t think you’ll be able to repeat your little expedition. Breakfast is in an hour. Go to your room, wash up and get changed, and join your classmates in the dining hall. Understood?”
I glared, trying to return the laser gaze, but she’d had a lot more practice at it than I had.
11
If I’d acted a little more hurt—if I really had gotten a concussion, maybe, instead of just having to pick dirt out of my skin—I probably could have stayed in bed all day. Maybe next time.
When I entered the dining hall, everyone went quiet and stared at me. Who knew what kind of rumors were flying about me? I didn’t want to find out, but I didn’t see how I could avoid it. I scanned the tables, and found Ethan, Ladhi, Marie, Tenzig—and Charles. He nodded at an empty chair next to his. Chin up and shoulders straight, I went to the counter, picked up my tray of food, and joined the rest of the offworld freaks.
As soon as I sat down, conversation started again in a wave of hushed whispers. I could guess what every single person in the room was talking about.
“Oh, my gosh, Polly, what happened?” Ladhi studied me and my gauze bandages with wide eyes and gaping mouth. “When we got up and you weren’t in bed—we thought you’d died or something!”
“If she’d died she would have still been in bed,” Marie said. “We figured you ran away.”
“No. I just took one of the cycles out for a ride, that’s all,” I said casually, shrugging off the episode.
“Wow, you really did it,” Ethan said. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I just got a little scraped up.” I’d have to be careful not to wince every time I moved … I glanced at Charles, waiting for him to say something snide, but he was entirely focused on his food.
“So how much trouble are you in?” Tenzig said.
“I don’t know. Stanton was pretty unhappy.”
“How could you tell?” Ladhi asked. “She always looks so … so pristine.”
“Oh, I could tell.”
“You fell, didn’t you?” Tenzig said. “Pretty much everyone falls the first time they take out a cycle.”
“Have you ever ridden one?” I said.
“Yeah. They’re a lot of fun, but you really have to know what you’re doing. You should have asked me for advice.”
“I did fine,” I said. “And you’re right, they are a lot of fun.”
“This is really going to mess up your record, though,” he added. “Flight school doesn’t much like reprimands.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, I hadn’t intended on getting caught. Best not to think about it.
Breakfast ended, and everyone filed out to go to classes. Charles stayed at the table, though, and I lingered, waiting until we were alone.
“So,” he said, “what really happened?”
“I had to get out. I had to go for a ride, so I did.”
“You hacked security on the doors?”
“No, I hacked maintenance to cut power on the cameras. But I had to tell Stanton about it so it probably won’t work again. You know, if you were getting ideas.”
“I’m almost impressed.”
“Gosh. Thanks.” I smirked.
“Polly, this isn’t Mars. You can’t just … carry on like that. In case you haven’t noticed, they don’t trust us here. They don’t trust anyone.”
“I wasn’t hurting anything,” I argued, and he frowned at the bandages on my arm. I added, “Much. I wasn’t hurting anyone else.”
“That’s not the point,” he said. “What are they going to do to you?”
“I’m grounded. Extra study halls, extra work, extra monitoring, and no social time. I thought Stanton was going to send me home,” I said, then sighed. “If I do something even crazier next time, maybe she’ll send me home.”
“Don’t do that,” Charles said.
“Why not? I hate it here.”
“Because if they send you home, I’ll be here by myself. At least with each
other, neither one of us is the only kid from Mars.”
There was that, I supposed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll try to fit in from now on.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Just … try to be more subtle.”
“Subtle as a Martian dust storm, that’s me,” I said.
He might have actually twitched a smile at that.
* * *
Life under restrictions was about the same as before, only even more annoying. No one to talk to at study hall. Having to sit through class without saying a word. Extra PE. The good side of all the extra work was I slept very well at night.
The worst part, though, was my mother sending a message full of dire warnings and disappointment. Stanton must have reported on me about the stunt, and now Mom was convinced I was going to flunk out and destroy my chances for any kind of successful future. It freaked me out a little, when I kept thinking getting kicked out meant going back to Mars and my old life.
My old life. Right.
I was two weeks into restrictions when I got a video from Beau. Not an e-mail, a whole video, which I was excited about at first because I’d get to see him and hear his voice on the screen of my handheld. But right away I knew something was wrong because he couldn’t look straight at the camera. His gaze sort of drifted all the way around it, to the ceiling, then the floor, then over his shoulder as if something were following him, even though he was only sitting at the desk in his room. His hair was rumpled. I knew exactly what it would feel like if I touched it—rough, warm, a little greasy.
“Um. Hi, Polly. How’s it going?” He’d never sounded so nervous before. So reluctant. Maybe someone was standing to the side, holding a gun to his head. “So, yeah. Things are okay here, I guess.” He glanced offscreen and pressed his lips together before continuing, and the knot in my stomach tightened.
“Oh, just spit it out, why don’t you!” I shouted at the screen, because I knew what was coming.
He mumbled some more. “There’s … we really need to talk. Or I need tell you something, I guess. We can’t really talk.” His nervous chuckle sounded stupid. “Yeah. Um.”
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