spots on the tile floor left by our good man Liam Vanderveen.
I was moving backward toward the foot of the staircase when a body bumped into me. I turned and stiffened. It was Miss Zoe Vanderveen herself.
Her long, blond hair hung down her back, still damp from a recent shower and smelled strongly of scented shampoo. She wore shorts and a loose blouse and had a startled look on her perfect face. She surprised me by actually speaking to me.
“Excuse me, what was your name again?”
I kept my expression blank even though I couldn’t believe she didn’t know. “Noah.”
Footsteps echoed from the hall above us. Paul and Alison Vanderveen were talking and their muffled voices floated across the high ceilings.
Alison's brassy voice echoed, “Do other maids send their sons to do their work?”
My heart lurched as I realized she was talking about me. Zoe never budged, but her eyes widened slightly and I knew she heard her mother, too.
“He does a good job,” Paul responded. “That's the main thing. Besides you know they need the money.”
“So we're charity now?”
Wow. Stab me in the heart, Allison.
“What's wrong with a little charity?” Paul continued. “Besides, they're not just anybody.”
We’re not just anybody.
“I don't care. I still don't trust him.”
I felt sucker-punch. Humiliated. My lips pulled into a tight line across my teeth as I tried to keep my expression stiff. My heart thudded and my chest heaved. I felt like punching something.
At least Zoe had the decency to look mortified.
“Did you know the Pikes have a household robot now?” Alison, again. The woman just wouldn’t stop. “Apparently it’s very efficient, and at least Mary doesn’t have to worry about things going missing.”
I turned my back to Zoe and attacked Liam’s dried and dusty water spots like they were on Alison Vanderveen’s face instead of the floor. I didn’t breathe until I’d turned the corner out of Zoe’s line of sight.
The rest of the day was uneventful and I worked hard at not replaying that stupid conversation over and over in my head. Or worse, recalling the look on Zoe’s face. Embarrassment at her mother’s lack of tack I could handle. Pity for me, I could not.
I cleaned and assisted the kitchen staff with setting out dishware and setting up tables. The surfer-theme birthday cake arrived. One of the staff told me the evening affair was a surprise party for Liam and that Zoe was in charge of making it happen. I hadn’t seen Liam since the run-in in the hall earlier that morning. I was betting he’d guessed about the party and opted to stay out of the way.
He was extra-smart, being a GAP and all.
The band arrived and candles were lit.
Zoe Vanderveen descended the stairs in a short, sparkly dress. I confessed to staring at her legs a little longer than I ought to.
Zoe’s friends arrived; I recognized them even though when I saw them they usually just wore bikinis. All blond and beautiful, they passed me without so much of a nod. Here I experienced something I never felt at home and in the square—what it was like to be a minority. My dark hair and skin didn’t belong here.
Thankfully my shift ended before the party officially began. I slipped out the back door and around the corner in time to spot one of Liam’s friends heading toward the main entrance. The tall, wooden doors opened and Zoe waved him in.
“Jackson! You’re late. Hurry up before he catches you.”
I pumped my arms as I marched away from the Sol City gates, breathing deeply of the smelly, soiled air—the sour scent of too many people spending too much time in the oppressive sun, wafts of smoke from cigarettes and marijuana, and as I neared the downtown center, colliding spices from ethnic food being hawked by street vendors.
Normally my chest would loosen as I fell into step with my familiar surroundings, but today my agitation didn’t subside, instead the roots grew and twisted, going deeper. I shouldered my way through the stream of bodies and dodged clusters of humming traffic.
I passed by a flashing digital sign in front of a glass high rise: SLEIMAN ENTERPRISES AWARDS EXTRAVAGANZA.
The back-patting and self-serving accolades event was being held at Sleiman Center tomorrow—an all day affair. They couldn’t celebrate at the Sleiman Headquarters in Sol City, where all those GAPs actually lived. No, they had to parade their egos in front of those who wished they were like them.
The building towered above those surrounding it, including my church, another symbol of the strength of the GAP minority population who lorded their will over the naturals, flaunting their wealth.
I hated how intimidating they were, even with their architecture. The muscles in my face tightened as I came to a decision.
I tapped my ComRing and spoke into the phone mirage that appeared along my palm.
“Dexter.”
A three inch tall holographic image popped up, the head of a grinning, toothy guy with a shock of red hair.
“Hey man?” he said.
“Hey, Dexter. You up for some fun?”
“What you got in mind?”
“Demonstration in front of the Sleiman Center.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
He whistled. “Dude, that’s pretty short notice.”
“I know. The GAPs are showing off. I want to crash their cocktail party.”
The toothy grin spread wide. “Ultimate. I’ll call the troops.”
A surge of excitement shot through my system. “Meet at the church tomorrow afternoon.”
I wished I could go straight home—being around all those GAPs sucked the lifeblood from me—but my day wasn’t over yet. I still had to work my own job.
The square was my turf. My church with its iconic clock tower had been crowded out and shadowed by newer glass and steel buildings. The hub of the sky train, subway and MagLev pod transit was there along with the food court one floor underground.
I skipped down the steps, wrinkling my nose at the first assault of the mixed smells. Kiosks with every kind of ethnic food clamored for the attention of its customers.
I was used to the dingy, litter-prone place, and skirted around the myriad of red-painted tables to the Indian booth in the back corner.
I checked the clock on my ComRing. Just made it in time. There were loads of other kids who’d love to snag my job from under me, and I didn’t want to make being a late a habit.
Jasminder was cool, though. She had known my dad and I thought she had a soft spot for me, though you wouldn’t know it by the permanent frown on her face, engraved there by a life defined by hard work and long hours.
I manned the counter, taking orders and payment for meals when it was busy, and wiped the counters and tables when it wasn’t. Katie and Beth, a couple protest groupies, showed up during a slow spot.
“Hey, Noah,” Katie said. She always batted eyelashes and stared at me a little more than was comfortable.
“Hey.” I glanced away, and moved condiments around to look busy.
“Dexter messaged us. Protest at Sleiman Center tomorrow?”
I looked around, hoping her voice didn’t carry.
She noticed. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that so loud.” She turned to Beth. “Do ya want a soda?”
Beth nodded and I brought two cans to the counter. Unlike most customers, they paid with cash. They didn’t have to, but they knew what it meant to me.
Katie giggled and took a sip without moving away, her eyes not leaving mine. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was interested in me. And there wasn’t anything wrong with her, either. She was tall and blond, had a cute face. I just didn’t feel anything for her, and I didn’t want to lead her on, so I stayed cool.
She wiggled her fingers and led Beth away to one of the empty tables. I watched them go and for some reason out of nowhere an image of Zoe Vanderveen crossed my mind. Her platinum blond hair, ocean-blue eyes, impossibly long legs and that sh
ort sparkly dress.
A warm flush crept up my torso and I cursed myself. What was the matter with me? She was a gorgeous GAP, out of my league, and not of interest to me. At. All.
Maybe I should date Katie? She’d be a good distraction to those kinds of unwanted desires.
My gaze darted to her table where she sat with Beth. She was looking at me and giggled when she caught my eyes.
I glanced away and chastised myself. I couldn’t do that to her. There was no way she wouldn’t end up hurt and it would definitely kill our friendship. It was a jerkish idea and I shrugged it off.
I woke up the next day with excited apprehension. These protest plans were always good ideas the day before the execution. I fought a growing sense of panic when the time actually came.
I tried not to think about it too much.
Ma went to work again—clean up now from the surprise party—and she looked a bit better after having the afternoon off the day before. I hoped she wouldn’t call for me again, since I had plans.
I spent the morning watching cartoons with my little brothers. After I made them a lunch of mac and cheese, I headed out to the church. My cousin, Skye, said she’d take the boys out for the afternoon, which was nice of her. The last thing I needed was to have to worry if my brothers were okay and staying out of trouble.
The guys were waiting behind the church when I got there.
“Hey man,” Brian said. “You made it.”
“I’m only five minutes late, dude,” I said.
I unlocked the door and entered. The girls brought placard paper and pens. Brian brought the posts to attach them to.
Dust swirled in the light that streamed in from the upper stained