Middle Ground

  ***

  The next night, everyone celebrated. We built a bonfire on the beach and set up speakers for music. I sat on a blanket next to Scott and Molly and watched the students in the firelight. It was the mangiest group of people I’d ever seen. The girls all had ratty hair, and some of the guys still had scruffy beards growing in. They were wearing borrowed clothes that were too big on most of them, hanging off their lanky bodies, but they didn’t care.

  News started to leak out about the DC break-in. Molly anonymously sent a press release containing all of our research and evidence. We watched the story unfold on a wall screen Scott hung in the airport hangar. The cops pulled out the weary staff from the gates. The staffers looked battered and traumatized. They had the same expressions we wore for six months.

  Journalists and police were investigating the LADC, as well as other detention centers around the country. All centers were on a lockdown and until investigations were over, no new students could be enrolled. At the same time, no students would be released. The news avoided giving information about Molly’s reports. Even the honest journalists Justin said we could count on were hesitant to speak out against the DC.

  I knew who could make a difference. One person. One man could set the record straight. Even though I wouldn’t admit it, I knew my father still held the torch in his hands. He could sway the public either way. One memory gave me hope: the anger I saw in his eyes at the detention center. He would have to choose DS or his daughter. It finally was coming to a head and it was time for him to make a choice and show where his true loyalties lay.

  I tapped my feet to the music and watched Gabe dancing with Clare. He had obviously grown up dancing—he smoothly spun her around and caught her hands, only to spin her back again. Even Scott and Molly got up and joined the crowd. I wanted to join in, but my thoughts were still weighing me down. I felt like Justin had said goodbye to me last night. I kept thinking back to what Pat pointed out to me, that Justin never told me he cared. Every time I remembered those words, it felt like a sting.

  I’d hardly seen him during the day. A trail of students always followed him, eager to introduce themselves. After all, he was one of the founders of this group, he brought people together, he sacrificed more than anyone. There was always a line of people pursuing him, thanking him for inspiring them. It was like what Gabe said: he had become a household name. He was a spark that shot through the air. He was an event, a zephyr, a force. Now he was tangible for the first time. I watched girls shake his hand and hug him and giggle like they were meeting their celebrity crush. But I felt like I couldn’t touch him.

  When he wasn’t being idolized, someone was bugging him to take a call or answer a message. Our eyes met a few times throughout the day. But it was only for an instant and then he was distracted by someone tugging on his arm or shouting his name. And I couldn’t read what was in his eyes; it was the intense look he always gave me that had thousands of meanings.

  I tried to focus on the students. Gabe eventually dragged me into the mob of dancers. The music helped me forget. I let my problems escape through my pores and more light filled in the spaces. I let myself laugh and dance because I earned it. You have to take the time to celebrate your miracles.

  I was flushed and sweating and headed over to a stand stacked with water jugs. Before I got there, warm fingers grabbed my arm. I looked over and Justin was there and his face was impatient. His eyes were lighter; he was finally seeing me again.

  “I’ve been trying to get you alone all day,” he said, and I let him pull me away from the crowd. We walked fast through the sand, avoiding the bonfire and noise to find some privacy. I stumbled over a mound of weeds and he pulled me up, his hand wrapped tight around mine. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me. He just breathed hard and focused on a spot ahead of us. We finally stopped in a shallow valley of sand.

  He grabbed my face in his hands and I looked up at him but only for a second because then his lips were on mine. He lifted me up and pulled me closer until our chests pressed together. I jumped up and straddled my legs around his waist and we fell back on the ground and kicked up sand all around us. We started coughing and brushed the sand away.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear, but I found his lips again because I didn’t need to hear it. I already knew.

  “Wait,” he said, and pried my hands off his face. He rolled me over so he was leaning on top of me. He eased off enough to let me breathe but I grabbed his arms so he couldn’t get far.

  “You know what I realized last night?”

  “That you’re an idiot?” I asked.

  He brushed his hand against my cheek. “I realized when I couldn’t get to you, when I was too late, I realized I never told you I loved you,” he said. My stomach fluttered at the word coming out of his mouth.

  I shook my head slowly.

  “I thought I’d never get the chance. God, Madeline, that almost killed me. That was worse than anything, to think that I never told you how I felt. And how much you deserved to hear it. I’ve never hated myself so much in my life. I felt so selfish and stupid for holding that back.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but he interrupted me.

  “I love you so much. I need you to know that.”

  I nodded because I couldn’t say anything.

  “I always have,” he said. “Since the second I laid eyes on you. No one’s ever had that effect on me. You made my head spin. You changed my life.”

  I smiled at him and touched his lips, but he pulled my hand away.

  “I’ll always love you. Forever. Do you believe that?”

  I nodded. “Forever.”

  “You’re the only thing that matters,” he went on. “Nothing can ever happen to you.” I pressed my fingers over his lips because he was going to make me cry.

  “I know,” I said, and I pulled him down close to me so I could taste his words.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Two days later we left for Eden. The good news was the students who’d escaped were safe. The list of enrollment in each DC was confidential, so the police had no way of acquiring the students’ names. The only person who could release that information was Richard Vaughn and the news reported he was still recovering from a serious health incident and wasn’t available for questioning. For the time being, we’d won. No one was going to order students back to the DC until more investigations took place.

  We arrived the night before the spring festival. It was an annual all-weekend event to honor the spring equinox. Stores closed down, shuttles stopped running, and the streets became an open promenade to welcome a parade of music, food, and art.

  About two hundred students were relocated to Eden. They were scattered around the city in hotels and volunteer homes. The entire city donated food and supplies. Justin and I escorted about fifty students to a hotel downtown. His parents were covering the expenses.

  “How can your parents afford all of this?” I asked Justin after we checked the students in and were heading back to his parents’ house. Now that I thought about it, it occurred to me his parents didn’t even have jobs. They had been full-time volunteers most of their lives.

  “Are they independently wealthy?” I asked.

  “More like dependently wealthy,” he said. “Remember, my dad invented the Cerberix. And it can hack into anything.”

  He grinned at me and I caught on. “They’re stealing the money?” I asked. “From bank accounts?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “My dad owns the rights to a dozen patents. He does pretty well. But we get a little help from a private investor.” He looked at me. “Your father.”

  “You’re stealing from my dad?”

  “We tap into the digital-school corporate accounts and draw money out when it’s needed. Your dad’s got a couple hundred mill in there. Might as well put it to use.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, my dad’s company funds everything you guys do?”

&
nbsp; Justin grinned. “We don’t feel too bad about it,” he admitted.

  ***

  The next day, Clare and I got ready for the festival at Justin’s parents’ house. The late afternoon was warm and humid, so we both wore sundresses. The house was swarming with visitors and guests. A blues band was performing in the living room and music filled the house like light. It warmed and polished everything. The front door was propped open to let anyone inside.

  I followed Clare downstairs and we headed to the kitchen and Elaine was sitting at the table drinking a glass of wine with two of her friends. When she saw us she smiled.

  “Madeline, you’re wearing makeup,” she told me. “And a dress.”

  “Sometimes her inner girl breaks through,” Clare said.

  “I was just trying to cover up this bruise.” I pointed to the narrow scab on the top of my forehead, just below my hairline, where my head had hit the boat’s windshield.

  “Well, you look gorgeous,” she said. “And Clare, you grew your hair out.”

  Clare nodded. “I’ve been too busy to cut it,” she said. She’d curled her hair tonight in soft waves, and her coral lipstick made her blue eyes stand out. We sat down at the kitchen table, and Clare and I helped ourselves to handfuls of sugar peas.

  “You both look refreshed,” Elaine noted.

  “It’s hard not to be when I’m here,” I said.

  “Maybe you should come out here more often,” Elaine said.

  “Why is it so good to be here?” I asked. “What is it about this place? Is it all the ocean air? Or the climate?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nope,” she assured me. “You can bring this place with you anywhere.”

  “How?” I asked. I needed to know her secret.

  She took a sip of red wine. “Look around you, Maddie. It’s the people. That’s the energy you feel. That’s what you’re reacting to. We slow down and enjoy life.” She pointed to the sugar peas in our hands. “When you rush what you eat, you hardly taste it. You get a stomachache, right? It’s the same with life. Just slow it down and enjoy every bite. Eat at the table. And fill up all the chairs around it with people you love.”

  Noah came through the door and raised his hands. “There you two are,” he said. “Can we get going? I’m starving.”

  We stood up and followed Noah outside, where Justin and Pat were waiting for us in the front yard. We walked downtown and followed a path through the street lit by tin-can luminarias decorated with vines and leaves. The candles inside flickered and moved with the breeze.

  I asked Justin why Eden celebrated the vernal equinox.

  “Equinox means ‘equal night,’” he told me. “It’s the first day of spring, when there’s equal amount of day and night.” He explained that cultures have been superstitious about it for centuries. It honors the idea of lightness and darkness and of death and rebirth.

  I discovered quickly that the spring festival revolved around eating. When we reached downtown, the streets were filled with food stands. I tried baked apples, gooey with caramel and brown sugar drizzled on top. There was barbecued pork, grilled portobello mushrooms as big as my hand, roasted sunchokes, and squash. For dessert there were chocolate truffles and apple and marionberry pies. There were fruit smoothies and home-brewed beer and wine. There were deep-fried doughnuts and dried plums, pears, cherries, and apricots that tasted as sweet as candy.

  The food alone was intoxicating. It made my taste buds scream, since I had barely used them in the last six months. I wanted to try everything, so Justin and I ended up sharing portions. We split pizza and crepes and doughnuts and cake. All my senses were on overdrive after being dulled for so long.

  The DC students paraded through the streets like they were in a movie set, stunned to the point of surreal. Wherever we glided, Justin and I were stared at and pointed out like we were some celebrity couple sauntering down a red carpet. Between the two of us, it took an hour to walk one single block. People stopped to thank us or congratulate us on what we did. Secretly, I loved the attention. In my gut I had a feeling this was the way it would be when we were together and I realized I loved all the eyes on me. I was fine with being in the spotlight. It might be a lifestyle I was cut out for. And one year ago, I was just a single girl sitting in her room, staring at a screen.

  Clare and Gabe caught up to us and we ran into Molly and Scott and the six of us stayed in a group as we walked down the street. I pointed out a booth with a line of people ranging from toddlers to elderly. It was the busiest tent at the festival.

  I asked Justin what they were doing and he told me it was a long tradition.

  I watched people sorting through boxes of seeds and bulbs and shoveling dirt into small brown pots. People took turns watering the pots after the seeds were planted.

  “It’s symbolic,” he said. “You’re supposed to think about a goal you want to achieve in the next year, or a wish you hope will come true. That seed becomes your goal. So, you plant it and see if it grows.”

  I looked back over at the stand.

  “Have you ever done it?” I asked. He nodded and said when he was little he did. He said every year he wished for telepathic powers but since it never came true he stopped trying.

  I told him I wanted to try it and I pulled Clare’s hand and got in the back of the line. When our turns came, we both looked over the seeds and tried to choose something that represented us. I didn’t know flowers very well, but my mom loved lilies and she’d sometimes splurge on a bouquet of them. I liked that they were tall and confident. I chose a lily bulb and they handed me a bowl full of soil. Clare chose a tulip bulb.

  I rolled the bulb between my fingers and thought about what I wanted to accomplish this year, what wish I wanted to see grow. I put my thoughts and energy into that wish and let it travel through my hand and imagined it floating through my fingers into the bulb itself. I planted it a few inches deep and poured water on top and I liked the idea my wish was safe and secret but had the potential to burst through.

  Clare and I found Gabe in one of the food lines. His eyes were wide, like he was trying to soak in as much of the atmosphere as he could. I asked him if he was overwhelmed with the choices and he shook his head.

  “Not with the food,” he said. “It’s the women. They’re everywhere.” He pointed out the tan girls around us in dresses and spaghetti-strap tank tops. “For the last six years all I’ve met are girls that get weak in the knees every time I come near them. And not for the sexy reasons.” He handed me a piece of paper. “Look what someone gave me.”

  Clare and I ducked down to read a plastic business card. A lot of single people carried these, to list their favorite profiles and contact numbers.

  “She told me she’s visiting here from Sacramento for the weekend and I should chat her up. Does that mean I should call her?”

  Clare pointed to the loopy black print. “She gave you her CMO.”

  “Her what?”

  “It’s her profile number for Contact Me Online. It’s a really intimate friendship site. And she gave you her ID number on date2go.com.” She raised her eyebrows like he should be impressed.

  “I don’t speak robot,” Gabe replied to her look.

  “She’s interested,” I explained. “She wants you to find her online so she can study your profile. Then she wants you to go to this dating site and request a questionnaire to see if you’re compatible with her to meet for a virtual date.”

  Gabe still looked baffled.

  “It’s how most people meet these days,” Clare said.

  He frowned. “Why didn’t she just talk to me?” he asked. “I was standing right here.”

  Clare and I looked at each other to try to explain. “Because that’s backward to a lot of people,” I finally said. “Most people think you’re weird if you want to meet face-to-face. You don’t talk in person until you know each other first.”

  “No, thanks,” Gabe said, and threw the plastic card into a trash can. “I’ve b
een waiting six years to meet girls. I don’t want to date a computer screen.”

  When we found the rest of the group, Justin grabbed my free hand. We passed more tents full of activities: people painting eggs and ceramic mugs and making bookmarks and decorating photos with dried flowers.

  We walked down to the beach where there were bonfires burning as far as you could see. We sat on a blanket and started discussing things we wished for, one thing we wanted to accomplish in the next year.

  I didn’t mention what I really wished for, I didn’t want to jinx it, so I said I wanted to learn how to read sheet music and play the guitar. Clare wanted to travel to Europe. Gabe wanted to mountain bike. Pat wished Angelina Jolie would be reborn.

  “Angelina Jolie Salt, or Angelina Jolie Tomb Raider?” Scott asked.

  “Definitely Tomb Raider,” Pat said.

  We asked Justin what he’d wished for and his eyes went straight to me. He paused for a second and smiled.

  “Ninja powers,” he finally said.

  “Poor choice,” Noah scoffed. “Ninjas are overrated. They have such limited weapon selection.”

  “They don’t need weapons,” Justin argued. “They’re cunning.”

  “They don’t even wear armor,” Scott pointed out.

  “They don’t need it,” he said. “They’re too fast. And their senses are so heightened, they can smell something from three miles away.”

  “You made that up,” Pat insisted.

  “So? It’s my dream,” Justin said.

  We made yearly goals for each other. I gave Scott the goal of fine-tuning his people skills.

  “You’re really not a bad guy, you just come off as such an ass at first,” I told him.

  “He has to work on his interpersonal communication,” Molly agreed.

  I told Molly she needed to water down the science jargon.

  Gabe nodded. “You sound like a medical dictionary,” he informed her.